Chapter 3

Angel spent the next few days experiencing what publishers consider 'crunch time'. Until he'd been through it, he'd had no idea how many things could go wrong just before a magazine went to print. He couldn't quite say he was looking forward to going through it once a month. By the first week of his second month on the job, though, Angel felt like he was really beginning to settle in.

He'd spent most of Monday on the telephone making arrangements with Sunnydale University's anthropology department for the photo shoot he was doing there later in the week. He hadn't realized how much red-tape there was to go through just to take pictures of some old Native American artifacts that the university's archeology professor had dug up recently in the area.

To the average person, Sunnydale seemed to be one of those quiet little California towns that was, for lack of a better term, ordinary. The houses were ordinary, the buildings were ordinary, just about the only thing that wasn't ordinary was the ridiculous amount of cemeteries located within its City limits. But apparently, as Angel soon found out, the town was full of history, and most of it was buried, some literally and others metaphorically.

Deciding he needed to view artifacts he was soon to photograph, Angel made a trip to the University. As he browsed through the display cases at the Chumash artifacts that had been discovered only a couple of weeks ago, he tried to concentrate on which objects he wanted to single out for spotlight pictures. The task at hand was becoming increasingly difficult as not one piece out of the twenty-six recovered were standing out to him. Normally he could walk into a situation and something would jump out at him as needing to be photographed, but for some reason today, it was just not happening for him.

Reaching into the open display case, Angel picked up a knife that had once been used by a Chumash warrior. He eyed it carefully, looking for something that might make it stand out from the rest of the pieces. As he continued to turn the knife over and over in his hand, his thoughts began to drift.

"Mr. O'Meara, I'm sorry but we'd prefer that you not handle the artifacts until necessary for the photographs," a soft spoken female instructed.

Angel turned to see a woman in her mid-thirties with dark brown hair eyeing him in annoyance. "Hmmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry about that." Angel answered slowly as his mind switched back to work-related topics. "You must be Jenny Calendar," he said and held out his hand.

"That's me," Jenny answered with a smile and shook his hand. "The artifacts are fragile, and handling them, plus the natural oils on people's hands, can deteriorate them further," she explained.

Jenny watched as Angel carefully placed the dagger back into its case and continued studying the other objects. He was quite handsome; she had to admit, though he was too young for her tastes. Still, the muscular build, spikey hair, and deep brown eyes were enchanting. If only she were closer to his age!

The young man had only moved to Sunnydale a couple of weeks ago, but he'd been the talk of the town for much longer. It wasn't often that a small 'burg like Sunnydale had a famous photographer take up residence within its limits. Most people wondered why such a rich and successful man would choose Sunnydale, and others just didn't care. Jenny, herself, held an idle curiosity about the man, but nothing more than passing interest.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" she asked him when she noticed Angel's continued stare at the display.

"Mr. O'Meara?" Jenny tapped his shoulder, noticing he seemed lost in thought.

Angel snapped himself out of his internal musings and faced Jenny. "Call me Angel, please. And no, I'm just trying to decide which would be best to use for the photo spread."

"Perhaps it would help if I told you a little about each of them." Jenny then launched into an extensive lecture about the Chumash and the artifacts on display which Angel tried his hardest to pay attention to.

Once back in her office, Jenny picked up her telephone and dialed the familiar number. "Rupert, hi. It's Jenny."

"Hello, Jenny. I presume Angel has been by. How did it go?" the man on the other end of the line questioned.

"Good, though you forgot to tell him he was not to handle the artifacts," Jenny appropriately chastised him.

"Oh, dear." Though she couldn't see it, Jenny knew he'd removed his glasses and was now wiping at the lenses. "I'm so sorry. It slipped my mind. Everything has been so hectic lately.

"Don't worry, Rupert. He didn't harm anything." She took a seat on her desk chair.

"Was your meeting productive?" Giles hoped it was. They needed to get this article done quickly, he thought as he mentally made a checklist of things to accomplish in the next few days.

"Yes. We talked quite a bit. He seemed a bit distracted, though," Jenny explained to him.

Giles frowned to himself. "Really? Did he say why?"

"No. It just seemed as if he had something important on his mind, but I wouldn't worry about it." She held back a chuckle at his concern. Rupert worried too much about everything.

"Okay. I'm glad the meeting went well." Giles didn't know why, but Jenny's words about Angel bothered him. Perhaps he'd pay a visit to his new employee tonight to see how things were going.

"Listen, I've got to run. Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?" she asked while gathering the materials she'd need for her next meeting.

"Of course. I'll meet you at one." As he spoke, Giles double checked his planner to make sure he'd written in his lunch with Jenny.

"Good, see you then!"

"Goodbye, Jenny."

After spending nearly four hours at the university's museum, Angel felt as if he were now an expert on the Chumash Indians. Jenny Calendar was a sweet woman, but she was quite passionate about her work. She tutored him not only on each individual artifact, but also the tribe itself and the decimation it faced at the hands of the white settlers. The history lesson had been interesting and informative; Angel just wished she hadn't been so long-winded. At least he now had a better idea of what to photograph for the article.

He had planned to explore the town a bit after his work obligations were met, but now Angel simply wanted to return to his home. Perhaps a night of laziness and TV watching would ease his frazzled mind. Or maybe a book since television wasn't something he typically enjoyed. Either way, he planned to relax. The move, the restoration of his house, and his new job had kept him on the go constantly lately, and he was just plain old spent. So, yes, a night of kicking back was definitely in order.

First, though, he needed to stop at the market and pick up some food. His refrigerator was seriously devoid of things to eat. Already making a list in his head of things he needed to pick up, Angel pulled his sleek, black BMW into the parking lot of the local food store and parked.

As he wandered slowly through the aisles of the store, he had the eerie feeling that he was being stared at. Every so often he would glance up and catch people quickly turning their eyes away from him. Wondering if maybe he had toilet paper stuck to his shoe or something, Angel checked out his body and found nothing. He couldn't figure out why people were so keen to stare at him. And if he were honest, it wasn't the first time it had happened either. He'd been stared at when he'd went to the hardware store to buy a hammer, at the bank when he'd opened up a checking account, and pretty much everywhere else he went.

Unnerved by the other shoppers, he finished his shopping as hurriedly as possible. The sooner he was out of the market the better he'd feel. Wheeling his cart up to the nearest empty register, he unloaded his groceries and stood silently as a young woman with strawberry-blonde hair rang up his order. Her nametag said 'Anya' and she, too, was staring at him, but unlike the others, she didn't cast her gaze away when he noticed.

"You moved into that old Victorian down on the beach didn't you?" she asked quite loudly.

"Uh, yeah," Angel answered warily.

"Why? I mean, that house is crap," Anya stated bluntly.

Angel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This woman had no tact whatsoever. "It's a nice house."

"Whatever," she waved off his defense. "Have you seen anything...weird?"

Perking up at the question, Angel gave his full attention to the annoying cashier. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she shrugged noncommittally. "I was just wondering."

"Oh, uh, no," Angel lied. He couldn't help but feel that there was something the woman wasn't telling him. Why would she have asked such a question for no reason? Of course, maybe he was so worn out he was imaging everything.

"Oh." Her reply was more a sigh of disappointment than anything else. "Your total is 85.32," she told him and promptly held out her hand for payment.

Angel gave her his credit card and waited while the bagger finished packing his food. He couldn't have been more glad to get out of the small store. Everybody there was giving him the creeps. He couldn't brush off the feeling that there was something strange about this town. The way people stared at him, the whispers he'd heard more than once behind his back at work, and the strange woman walking the beach at midnight. It just left him with a general feeling of unease. What the strangeness was about, he didn't know, and he didn't particularly want to know. He came here to relax and to take a break from the fast paced life he'd been living, and that was what he planned to do.

Hours later, Angel was feeling much better than he had been earlier that day. He'd come home, unpacked his groceries, and then checked over the progress the workers had made on his house that day. After making some notes for himself about the photo spread for the Chumash article, he took a shower and then settled onto the couch with a recent novel he'd picked up.

He was just about to take a break and find a snack when a knock on the door sounded loudly. Wondering who in the world could be coming by this late at night, Angel set down his book and walked toward the large oak door. Opening it, he was surprised at who he found on the other side.

"Giles, hello. I wasn't expecting you." Angel opened the door wider and waved Giles in.

"Yes, I do apologize for that. I was on my way home and thought I would stop over to see how everything is going," the older man explained casually.

"No problem. I wasn't doing anything really," Angel dismissed his concern. "Do you live near here?"

"Yes, actually, quite near here. It's the large house up on the cliffs." He gestured in the direction of his house.

"Oh, I didn't know that was yours." Angel thought of the house he could see some of from the beach outside his house. "It's quite a large place. Do you live there alone?"

At the question, a dark look passed over Giles' face, but was gone so quickly Angel wondered if he'd imagined it. "Yes, it's just me there," Giles answered and then quickly changed subject. "How did your meeting with Ms. Calendar go?"

"Fine. The shoot should go well."

"Good, good. Jenny said she was looking forward to seeing the article when it's done," he mentioned for lack of anything else to say.

"I expect it'll be a great article," Angel told him, curiously wondering at the kind way Giles spoke Jenny's name.

"I'm glad. So you shouldn't have any trouble with the pictures?" he asked next.

"No. I'm going back in two days to shoot some of the artifacts," Angel relayed his plans.

"Sounds good," Giles nodded. "How is everything else? Are you settled in?"

"Mostly, though it's hard with all the restoration still going on." Angel grimaced as he remembered all the noise the workers tended to make.

"I can imagine," Giles laughed wryly. "What do you think of Sunnydale so far?"

Angel pondered the question for a moment before answering. "It's a nice town. The people are a bit strange, though."

"Why do you say that?" Giles wanted to know, his voice a bit anxious.

"People keep staring at me and some woman asked me where I lived and if I'd seen anything strange," he explained the weird situations he'd experienced but left out the mysterious woman on the beach for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

"Oh, well, they are probably just curious. Sunnydale is a small town. It's not often someone of renown moves here," Giles answered quickly.

The swift dismissal puzzled Angel somewhat. For the second time that day, he felt like he wasn't being told something. He considered questioning Giles, but intuition told him the man had no intention of speaking further on the subject so he let it drop.

"I guess," Angel shrugged.

"Well, I must be going. It is quite late." Giles gave Angel a long look, wondering internally what his employee had on his mind, before walking to the door.

"Thank you for stopping by." Angel stuck out his hand and shook Giles'.

"Good night."

TBC