Angel Investigations…
One of the few bright spots of Angel's time heading the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram & Hart was the discovery of necro-tempered glass; the windows of his office overlooking the L.A. skyline had been made with it, which allowed Angel to work during the day – and enjoy the view – without the sunlight affecting him.
So impressed with that glass, was Angel, that when he decided to get back into the P.I. game in New York, he made sure the skyline windows in his office were made with it. It cost him far more than he would've liked, but it was ultimately a small price to pay.
Besides, the view of Manhattan was pretty nice. Not L.A. nice, but still.
Angel sat leaned back against the edge of his desk, taking in the midday view of the city. He sipped from a clear glass in his right hand, thankful to have a fridge in the far corner stocked full of an assortment of blood from a local butcher. It was fresh, but most importantly, it wasn't human. Chicken blood and pig blood weren't necessarily as appetizing, but they provided him sustenance without the complicating moral quandaries.
He needed to call Giles. Angel needed to figure out why the Council had sent Faith Lehane to New York in search of Detective Beckett – only for the latter to find the former hunched over a pretty gruesome corpse. Angel knew how bad that looked, and given Faith's past, he understood why Kate had been suspicious.
But he also needed Kate to understand that Faith's past was just that. If nothing else, he had hoped reaching out to Rupert Giles would clear that up. But if he wouldn't pick up the phone, then Angel would have to wait.
Angel looked up when the glass-front door to his office opened, taking care to hide his glass. The last thing he needed to do was scare off a potential client with his dietary habits.
"Welcome to Angel Investigations."
Senator William Bracken closed the door behind him, taking in the office. It was relatively barren, aside from the plasma screen in the far corner next to a mini fridge and a bookshelf behind the desk. He also noticed the framed photo of a smiling woman behind the desk, a plaque underneath that read We help the helpless.
"You Angel?"
"I am." Angel pushed himself off his desk and extended his right arm to shake hands. "What can I do for you?"
"William Bracken," he introduced himself.
Angel frowned. "The Senator?"
"One and the same," Bracken smiled, unbuttoning his navy blue blazer and straightening the red tie loosely resting around his neck. "I understand you specialize in unusual cases."
"More or less."
"I'm considering a career change of sorts," Bracken said cryptically, wandering around the space of Angel's office, examining the photographs hanging from the walls. The man in front of him appeared happy in the pictures, surrounded by another man wearing glasses, a bald black man, two smiling women (one of whom resembled the photograph behind the desk), and…a green-faced man with red horns.
Bracken quirked a brow at that, but said nothing.
"I'm sure you've heard the rumblings on TV," he added. "Everyone thinks I've got a fast track to the White House."
Angel quirked a brow. "Don't you?"
"I'd like to think so," Bracken said with a shrug, his hands in his pockets. "My approval numbers are high enough. Everyone tells me if I ran for a third term in the Senate, I'd get it. But I want more than that, but in order for that to happen, there's something I need to take care of first."
Angel folded his arms across his chest. "Guessing that's where I come in."
"There's a file," Bracken said, turning to regard Angel. "It contains very damaging information, both for myself and for a high-ranking official within the NYPD. I need that file retrieved, and I need it destroyed. Whatever you normally charge, I will pay double."
A smirk crossed Angel's pale face, and he shook his head. Stealing one more glance of the Manhattan skyline, Angel pushed himself off his desk, approaching the Senator with a discerning glare. The man definitely carried himself with an air of self-importance, and Angel caught the impression that William Bracken would do anything necessary to get what he wanted.
The vampire wondered just how far he was willing to go. Angel also wondered if the file in question was the same file Captain Montgomery had tried to hoist onto him the day before. He hoped it wasn't, but something told Angel he wouldn't be that fortunate.
"Listen, Senator…" Angel shook his head again. "I don't know what you've heard about me, but that's not the sort of work I do. I prefer my cases to be more…black-and-white."
"Really." Bracken quirked a brow and smirked. "That's a shame, because you were highly recommended."
Angel scowled. "By whom?"
"Lindsey McDonald." Bracken shrugged. "He said you were as reliable as they come."
No sooner did the words leave Bracken's mouth, Angel was on him, tugging on the lapels of his suit as the Senator's back slammed against the wall. Two of the frames fell to the floor, glass shattering on impact. Angel snarled, and by the time Bracken's eyes focused, he saw that the private eye's face had changed.
Bracken recoiled at the sight of yellow, animalistic eyes, pronounced ridges, and fangs protruding from Angel's top gum. The Senator's eyes widened, and his fingers clawed at the wall, as if there was any way for him to back up any further.
"What the-?!"
"What does Wolfram & Hart have to do with all this?" Angel demanded.
"They-they're helping me," Bracken swallowed. "My…my run for president…"
"And this file…" Angel slammed Bracken against the wall again, hard enough so the back of the Senator's head hit the surface. "It wouldn't have anything to do with a Johanna Beckett, would it?"
Bracken opened his mouth, but no words came out. Angel slammed him back into the wall again.
"Would it?"
The Senator nodded, sighing in relief when Angel released his grip. But before Bracken could regain his bearings, Angel's fist clocked him in the left temple, hard enough to break the skin, and the Senator dropped to the floor as blood began to trickle down the side of his face. With a grunt, covering the wound, Bracken glared up at the monster hovering over him.
"You…"
"Back off," Angel snarled. "I catch you going anywhere near Beckett…"
Bracken scrambled back to his feet, still covering the side of his head – even as the blood started seeping between his fingers. "You…you know Detective Beckett…"
"Yeah." Angel got in Bracken's face, close enough to make sure the Senator could catch the stench of death from him. "And if you come after her, you'll be dealing with me. Trust me when I say you don't want that."
Angel watched as Bracken stumbled back to his feet, his face shifting back to its human visage. Though it was entertaining to see a man so powerful, so self-important, stumbling around like this, Angel made sure to keep the smirk in check.
He did, however, manage a sideways grin.
"That's gonna leave a nasty scar," he said, opening the door and pushing Bracken through to the other side. "You might wanna get it checked out."
Slamming the door shut, Angel crossed back over to his desk before grabbing the receiver of his phone and pressing it to his ear. After punching a series of numbers, Angel scowled and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning around to glance at the framed picture of Cordelia Chase as the line connected.
"Captain Montgomery," he said. "You'll never believe who just paid me a visit…"
The Twelfth…
"I don't get it," Detective Kate Beckett said as she returned to one of the circular tables in the break room with a fresh mug of coffee – well, as fresh as the sludge they drank in the precinct could be. "How are there not enough Watchers?"
Faith Lehane shrugged, her fingers playing with the flip tab on the top of her can of soda. "The original Council was destroyed years back. Killed almost everyone. Giles tried to rebuild, but then we awakened all the Slayers and…"
Kate nodded and sipped on her coffee with a cringe. "So it's a numbers game."
Before she could respond, Faith caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Glancing through the open blinds, the dark-haired Slayer noticed a man walking through the bullpen, wearing a black blazer over a royal blue button-down, smiling at other cops as they walked by before heading into the captain's office.
Faith shook her head with a frown. "Who is that? He looks kinda familiar."
Taking another sip, Kate turned in the same direction – doing a literal spit-take once she saw Richard Castle smiling and laughing with Captain Montgomery. Her jaw set as she put her mug on the table, shaking her head. "What is he doing here?"
"I dunno," Faith shrugged with a sideways grin. "Maybe he likes you."
Storming out of the break room, Kate crossed over to the captain's office before pulling the door open and leveling a glare at the writer's direction. For his part, Castle just offered her a shit-eating grin, his tan overcoat draped over his right arm.
"Why hello, Detective," he said in an entirely too cheery tone.
Still staring at Castle, and ignoring the fact that Faith was leaning against Esposito's desk, clearly entertained by the display in front of her, Kate's hands balled into fists. "Sir…what is he doing here?"
"Mr. Castle was just offering me a proposition," Montgomery explained. "It appears he's found his next book character, and he wants to serve as a consultant with the Twelfth Precinct in order to conduct research."
Kate couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Research."
"With Captain Montgomery's permission," Castle said, ignoring the glare directed his way, "I would like to shadow Detective Beckett in an effort to better understand the intricacies of homicide investigations and ensure my latest work will be as genuine as possible."
As aghast as Kate was at the request itself, the fact that Montgomery wasn't outright refusing it and tossing the writer out of his office was even more galling. She shot a meaningful look his way, but Montgomery just arched his brows with an amused smirk.
"Sir," she cleared her throat. "Can I talk to you for a second? In private?"
"No," he shook his head. "This has already been cleared with the mayor, and the commissioner thinks it would look good for us. There are still some formalities to sort through, but Mr. Castle, I say welcome aboard."
The two men shook hands before Castle pushed his way out of the office, grinning from ear to ear. He locked eyes with Faith as he stepped out, cocking his head to the side when she gave him a flirtatious wave.
Kate glared at Montgomery as she turned to leave the office, stalking after Castle before he could press the button for the elevator. She grabbed his arm and spun him around before jabbing a finger into his chest.
"Are you trying to make me regret saving your life?"
"What's the big deal?" Castle shrugged, the grin never once wavering. "You'll hardly even know I'm here." The elevator doors pinged, and Castle stepped into the box, giving Kate a wink before the doors closed. "Trust me, Detective, you're going to love this. See you Monday."
Kate rolled her eyes as the elevator doors closed. "Yeah, I doubt that…"
"Who was that?" Faith asked with an arched brow.
"Richard Castle," the detective huffed with a sigh. "Best-selling author and actual nine-year-old on a sugar rush."
Faith smirked, planting herself in the old chair that sat beside Kate's desk. "And now…unofficial consultant to the NYPD."
"Don't get me started…"
"Oh, come on, Beckett," Faith playfully chided. "He can't be that bad."
Kate sighed, tossing her paperwork aside as she heard the phone ringing in Captain Montgomery's office. She saw him pick up the device, and she noticed how his demeanor appeared to sour as soon as he spoke. She frowned at that, before the sound of Faith clearing her throat brought her back.
"No," she relented. "No, you're right. It's just…" Kate glanced over her shoulder before leaning in, keeping her voice low. "He knows."
Faith frowned. "Knows what?"
"What I am." Kate shrugged and shook her head. "Yeah, he says he's shadowing Detective Beckett…but what if he's really after Kate Beckett, Vampire Slayer?"
Faith smirked again. "You ask me? Beats an old British guy in tweed."