Chapter 4

A loud crack of lightning startled Angel out of a deep sleep later that night. He sat up in a daze, trying to figure out what had woken him. When the room lit up because of another flash of lightning, he realized that a storm must have rolled in while he was sleeping. Considering that it was three in the morning, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Concern over whether he'd remember to close the windows in his car had him wearily climbing out of bed. Rain was definitely not good for the leather interior of his car. He stumbled over to the window, rubbing his eyes in the process.

Peering out through the glass, Angel saw that it hadn't yet started to rain. He could hear rumbles of thunder and see flashes of lightning, leaving little doubt that the rain would soon come. After staring at the sky a moment longer, he shifted his gaze to the driveway and to his car only to find it wasn't there. It took a minute for him to realize that he'd parked it in the garage. He'd completely forgotten that the construction workers had finally finished working on it and that he was finally able to park his car there for the first time that day.

Angel laughed at his forgetfulness then looked back up to the sky when a bright flash of light lit up everything. The storm was getting closer, and it looked like it was going to be wicked. That didn't bother him particularly. Storms could be fascinating, except when trying to sleep. He wished the moon, though, wasn't hidden behind the heavy, gray storm clouds so that he could see land below. He could only imagine what the ocean waves looked like when affected by bad weather. It was too dark, though, to see them.

When lightning again lit up the sky, this time in a series of bright flashes, Angel's eyes were gazing down toward the beach. The entire area lit up almost as if it were day. And that was when he saw it; a solitary figure near the water's edge. The glimpse was so quick, though, he couldn't be sure he really saw it. No, Angel was positive he'd seen somebody there. So he waited till the next flash. When it came a long minute later, there was nothing, just an empty expanse of sand and water.

Perplexed, Angel wandered back to his bed and lay down. This was the second time he'd seen what he thought was a woman out on the beach by his house. Was he imaging things or was there somebody really out there? Maybe, he supposed, it was someone who lived nearby. As far as Angel knew, there were only two houses close to his. To the south was another Victorian house similar to his, and then to the north, up on the cliffs, was the large mansion that he passed on his way into town, and which he now knew Giles lived in. It had to be somebody who lived in one of those houses. But as far as he knew, Giles lived alone. So it had to be the other Victorian house. He'd have to wander down there someday soon and introduce himself, and hopefully find out who the woman was who liked to walk the beach at night.

Though he'd convinced himself of the identity of the enigmatic female, Angel still wanted to know who she was. After all, they were now neighbors. It made sense to get to know the people around him, especially if she often took walks near his house. Tomorrow he had to go into town, maybe then he'd ask around and see if anybody knew who lived in the Victorian. Or he could go to the local library and check the public records.

Shaking his head, he wondered why this was bothering him so much. People walked on the beach all the time. What was so special about this one? Why was he so curious about the strange woman? Angel had no idea, but he just couldn't get her out of his mind. He supposed it was because of the fact that the only times he had seen her were in the dead of night, always alone, and seemingly there one minute, then gone the next. Yes, that had to it, he told himself. It was just the circumstances. Still, he'd feel better about it once he knew who she was.

The following morning, Angel rose early and was soon on his way into town. He had a few errands to run to get things for the house, and since it was still on his mind, he planned to ask around about who lived him. Laughing at his own obsessiveness, he flipped on his turn signal and made a right onto the main street of town.

Main Street. How original, he thought, but very typical of a small town. Coming from Los Angeles, the quaint road reminded him of something seen in movies. There was one lane in each direction with parking on each side. Along the street there were small stores, no doubt owned by locals, and the sidewalks were clean and neat. It was such a sharp contrast when compared to a big city like LA. He liked it though, so quiet and unassuming.

Parking his car, Angel climbed out and walked to the meter with a few quarters in his hand. He was surprised to read on the metal contraption that parking on Sunday's was free, and that for a single quarter, he'd get an hour of parking time. That definitely was quite different from LA. Shoving the coins back in his pocket, he turned away and started down the sidewalk, trying to decide where to stop first. He needed to pick up a few more things from the market, plus look for a new cordless phone since his had been acting up. It had probably gotten banged around too much during the move.

The first thing that caught his attention, though, was the wonderful smell coming from a shop to his left. Looking up, he saw a sign that said 'Java Bytes'. He chuckled at the name, wondering where people came up with these things. The store appeared to be some sort of coffee shop from what he could tell. The smell made his stomach growl and Angel figured he might as well grab something to eat and some coffee since he hadn't before he left his house.

Walking in, Angel was surprised, to say the least, to find that the shop was actually an internet café. The shop's name made more sense now. He wouldn't have figured Sunnydale as a place to have one, though. The place was nice, in a small town kind of way. It was decorated in muted tones of beige and green with an earthy theme to the paintings and other knick-knacks. All in all, it was rather welcoming, the kind of place he wouldn't mind visiting regularly.

There was an empty seat at the counter so Angel sat down on the chair, finding it comfortable. Soon, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a nametag that said 'Pat' came over and took his order. A minute later, she returned with his cranberry muffin and large coffee. Efficient, he said to himself. So he settled back into his chair, content to enjoy his breakfast in the quiet shop.

"Pat makes the best muffins doesn't she?" a male voice to his left soon spoke.

Twisting in his seat, Angel saw a man with floppy brown hair and a medium build. He looked to be a few years younger than him, though no more than three or four. "Yeah, they're pretty good," he answered, not used to having complete strangers start up conversations. In LA, people tended to mind their own.

"Everyone comes here for her muffins," the young man stated, smiling at Pat. "You're new in town aren't you?"

"Yeah, just moved here recently," Angel supplied, sipping his coffee, sighing internally over the tasteful, strong brew.

"Why? I mean, Sunnydale's not exactly an exciting place," he said, giving Angel an odd look.

"That's exactly why," laughed Angel. "I'm from LA. Just wanted to get away from all the noise and such of a big city. Plus, I used to travel a lot and I got tired of it."

"Ah, a city boy," nodded the stranger. "Anyways, I'm Xander Harris, and this," he pointed to another young man sitting next to him, "is my buddy Jesse."

"Nice to meet you." Angel stuck out his hand, smiling, finding it relaxing to chat with the locals. "I'm Angel O'Meara, and before you say it, I know, interesting name."

Xander chuckled and shook his hand. "Hey, you said it, not me. So...where are you living in our nice little 'burg?"

"I just bought an old Victorian house down on the beach," Angel answered, taking a sip of coffee while contemplating ordering another muffin.

"Wow, really? I heard that place was bought. You must have some money saved up to afford all the work that place needs," Xander spoke, realizing the dark-haired man wasn't just some random person. Being in construction, he knew the old Victorian would cost a pretty penny to make livable.

"It's mostly surface work. I can handle it," he replied evasively, not comfortable with talking about his wealth. People tended to get weird when they found out one had money.

"Okaaayyy," drawled Xander. "So, what do you think of Sunnydale so far?"

"It's nice. A lot different than Los Angeles," Angel answered, glad the topic had shifted away from money. He didn't want people to think of him as some rich prick from the big city.

"I can imagine," Xander said with a grin. "I've only been up there twice. Too hectic for my tastes."

"Which is why I moved here," pointed out Angel.

"I don't blame ya, buddy," chuckled Xander, giving Angel a pat on the back.

Angel laughed as well, feeling comfortable around the young man. He wasn't normally the type of person Angel would make friends with. Well, actually, he didn't have many friends period, but this was a bit of a new start for him. It would be nice to get to know some people for once.

Just then, a thought occurred to Angel. He set his coffee cup down and looked once again at Xander. "Hey, maybe you could help me out with something."

"Sure, if I can," Xander responded, shrugging his shoulders.

"I was just wondering who lived in the houses near mine," Angel asked the pressing question on his mind.

"Why?" Xander replied tersely, his hands stilling suddenly.

Before Angel could explain, Pat walked up. "Would you like more coffee, honey?"

"No, thanks," he shook his head, then focused back on Xander. "I'm just curious, I guess," he went on. "I've seen some woman with blonde hair walking on the beach near my house and I figured she lived nearby."

Silence descended on all those sitting within hearing distance of Angel, causing an odd chill to run down his spine. Frowning, his eyes flickered around him and found that he was being stared at from all directions. It made him feel like he had a scarlet letter stamped on his forehead or something.

"There aren't any women living in that area," Xander bit out harshly, the friendly demeanor he had been displaying completely disappearing.

"Really? I've seen her-."

"Just drop it! There's nobody!" Xander said roughly, cutting off Angel.

"But-."

"If ya know what's good for ya," Pat interrupted, dropping his bill callously on his plate. "You'll forget you saw anything," she finished and stiffly walked away.

Before Angel could even try to figure out what had happened, Xander flicked a few bills onto the counter and quickly left with his friend. Shocked into silence, Angel could only sit there and wonder what he'd done. Moments earlier, he'd been having a nice conversation, and suddenly he was being avoided like the town pariah.

Shaking his head, he finished his coffee, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. No one was talking to him anymore, but he could feel their eyes burning into him. He couldn't get out of the shop soon enough so he pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and sat it on top of the bill. Without waiting for the change, he hurriedly vacated his seat and left, never noticing the two people who followed him out.

Two hours later, Angel was restlessly sitting in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs in the Sunnydale Public Library. He'd gone straight there after leaving the coffee shop, his desire to find out about the mysterious blonde having only grown stronger from the actions of the people in the shop. So far, he had absolutely nothing to show for his research.

The supposedly simple task of figuring out who his neighbors were was starting to feel like looking for a needle in a haystack. He hadn't been able to find anything at all about his house or the people who lived around him. For one thing, Sunnydale wasn't LA, and its library certainly lacked the amenities he would have found there. Plus, whenever he thought he was about to have some success, he'd find the next volume missing, or a page ripped, or blurred so much it was unreadable. It was absolutely strange.

Honestly, Angel was beginning to feel more than a little disturbed by his current situation. What had started out as a simple search to meet his neighbors, and of course find the identity of the mysterious beach-walker, was turning into an unexpected mystery full of secrets and cranky townspeople.

Angel laughed at that thought. He'd spent way too much time listening to Fred's stories about small towns. There was a perfectly logical explanation for why he'd been given the brush off in the coffee shop and why he couldn't find any information. There had to be one. He just hadn't figured out what it was yet.

Unable to think of any other sources to check, he grabbed a book with an archive of the local newspaper. Idly, he flipped through the pages, eyes barely reading the printed text. Towards the middle of the book, his fingers stilled as he took in a partially torn page.

Brow furrowed, he stared at the ripped paper, noticing over half of it was missing. The only part left contained the newspaper's logo, and a partial headline: "3 Bodi-." That was all. Whatever article that had gone with the incomplete headline was missing. Glancing at the date, he read that the page was from July 19, 2000; only four years earlier.

Why would someone tear out the page, he wondered to himself. If he or she wanted the article why didn't they just photocopy it? Curious about the oddity, Angel flipped further through the pages and found more missing. There hadn't been any before the first one, all came after. Whatever the pages were about, they must have been interesting for someone to just rip them out.

So focused on the book in front of him, Angel almost jumped out of his skin when a crumbled up piece of paper landed directly in front of him. He eyed the little wad of paper for a second before looking up to see where it had come from. The only thing he saw was a flash of red hair ducking behind a book case.

Frowning, he gazed back down at the paper, hesitantly reaching a hand out to pick it up. This day was becoming stranger by the second, but he couldn't resist the urge to uncrumble the paper. He didn't know whether he was surprised or not to find something written on the inside.

In small, bubbly handwriting it said:

"You won't find what you're looking for. Meet me in study room 2."

TBC!