Author's Note: So. Much. Fun! Keep reading and reviewing, guys!

Castle's loft…

The sun was starting to set on another day - a day, blissfully enough, devoid of interruptions. Kate Beckett's phone had not rung once all day, which surprised Castle. With her captain dead and the Twelfth Precinct in shambles, he would've expected a constant string of phone calls and texts, particularly from the boys.

But one text earlier that morning from Detective Ryan to Castle's phone inquiring about Kate's well-being was all they had received. Castle had answered that she was as fine as she could be, all things considered, and received a short reply.

And then nothing.

Maybe Ryan and Esposito were working on something of their own. For that matter, he wondered where the other two Slayers were. Buffy and Faith had been quiet in their own regard since Faith had first told Castle the news about Captain Montgomery. But with Spike on the loose, and Senator Bracken still out there doing God knew what, it seemed everyone was too busy to check in.

Which was fine. Castle appreciated the quiet. And the longer Kate slept, the better he felt. It was far from a restless sleep; just two hours ago, she had broken him out of his slumber with a pained whimper, something in her head driving her to tears even in her sleep. Castle's heart crushed at the sound and the look of anguish on the detective's face, and it took all the self-control he had not to wrap her into his arms as tightly as possible.

Even now, the thought brought the sting of emotion to Castle's eyes.

Even when he slipped his arm out from under Kate's side and crawled out of bed, she slept. Sheer exhaustion overrode everything else right now, and Castle was content to let her rest for as long as necessary. Mostly because if she was here, in his bed asleep, then she was as safe as she could be.

It was ironic, a regular joe like Castle keeping a super-powered monster fighter safe, but who would Castle be if he didn't appreciate a good dose of irony every once in a while? His stomach growling, Castle made his way into the kitchen, casting a glance at the tweed blazer draped over the back of his couch. Giles was upstairs in the guest room, asleep, and Alexis had likely already turned in for the night.

Just as Castle went to open the fridge, there was a knock at his door. With a frown, Castle slowly approached the door and paused by the stairwell to grab a baseball bat he had hidden there in recent days. Not that he could do much with it if what was on the other side of the door was truly threatening, but at least it made him feel better.

Swinging the door open, Castle's face contorted into a confused frown when he saw the dark-clothed man standing in the hallway, hands stuffed into the pockets of a billowy black coat.

"Angel?"

"Castle." Angel's dark eyes scanned the loft from over the writer's shoulder. "Is Kate here?"

Castle's shoulder deflated and he had to force himself to repress a sigh and lean the bat against the wall. Of course Angel would be here looking for Kate; why else would he show up? Castle glanced up the staircase leading to Alexis' room, grateful there was still silence. Turning back to the vampire standing at his door, Castle fought to keep his voice low.

"I don't think seeing her is a good idea right now," he whispered.

"I have something for her," Angel argued, stepping across the threshold into the loft. "Something she needs to see."

Rolling his eyes and shutting the door behind Angel, Castle shook his head. "I'll be sure to tell her when she wakes up."

"Tell her now."

"I'm sorry," Castle responded, moving to stand in front of Angel again and folding his broad arms across his chest, "but when she was in tears and needing someone, who did Kate come to? Hm? You?"

Yeah, it was childish and petty. But Castle didn't care.

Angel's eyes averted briefly before a flash of anger overcame them. His already considerable brow furrowed, and Castle could see the small twitch in his temples. Oh, let this guy change into his vampire face in the middle of my house. I welcome it.

"I was investigating," Angel replied.

"And how's that going for you?" Castle turned to go back to the kitchen, hoping to put as much distance between himself and his bedroom as possible. He really didn't want what was sure to become an argument to wake Kate up; the last thing she needed was to find Angel standing in the middle of the loft.

Granted, Castle's reasons for that were completely self-serving.

"Have you found Spike yet?" Castle's eyes narrowed. "Have you staked him? Have you made him pay for killing Captain Montgomery and two other police officers?"

"This is more than just -"

"Yeah. I know." Castle's jaw clenched and he approached the island in the middle of his kitchen, glad it was situated between himself and the vampire. "I'm well aware of this… grand conspiracy your Billy Idol's gotten himself into. Now normally, I love a good conspiracy. Made a pretty good living on them. But this?"

"I was at the crime scene," Angel explained, keeping his annoyance in check. "After they had already moved Roy's body to the morgue. I found something underneath Kate's desk, something I think might be the key to figuring out who killed Johanna Beckett."

"You're poking around that case again?" Castle's eyebrows shot up.

"Look, Spike killing Roy wasn't random." Angel's brow furrowed even more and he pulled a hand out of his pocket to place a mini cassette tape on the island.

"I know." Castle's eyes immediately went to the tape. "Have you listened to that?"

Angel shook his head. "I was saving it for Kate."

Studying the vampire as best he could, Castle had to fight the urge to smirk and shake his head. He considered himself pretty good at reading people, and though Angel wasn't technically a person, he was still easy to read. Especially when it came to Kate.

"How old are you?" Castle asked. "I mean, seriously… you think this tape is gonna get her back? You think you can walk in here with a peace offering and she's just gonna… forget everything that led you guys to break up in the first place?"

Angel's shoulders tensed. "That's not -"

"You don't deserve her, and she doesn't deserve you. She deserves to be happy, Angel. She could be happy."

That word - happy - still rubbed Angel the wrong way. The memory of his curse, the memory of what having that curse lifted did to the woman he loved and those she cared for. Of all the crosses Angel had to bear over the centuries, that was probably one of the hardest. For all of the "acceptable happiness" he had found with Kate, to borrow an old friend's phrase, some of part of him knew it was doomed.

Some part of him knew that Castle was right. But he'd never say it.

Angel crossed to the other side of the island and closed the distance between himself and the writer. Once he was face-to-face with Castle, Angel let his features shift. Hardened ridges on his forehead, yellow feral eyes, and fangs protruding from his upper gum. "Is that where you come in, Rick?"

"I think that's her call," Castle argued, offering no reaction to Angel's change.

Angel grabbed Castle by the collar, a low growl pouring out from the back of his throat. "I could say the same to you."

"Yeah, but here's the thing." Castle reached up to grab Angel by the wrist, eventually pulling the cold hand off of his collar. Angel wasn't really trying to harm Castle, because if he really wanted to do that, he already would have. "Whenever she talks about you, she gets all… tense. Her shoulders hunch. Her eyes go dark. She starts looking everywhere but at me. That sound like someone who's pining to get back together?"

"You've got her all figured out, don't you?" Angel snarled.

"Hardly." Castle's jaw set. "Fact is, Kate Beckett is a mystery I'm probably never gonna solve. But I know her well enough to know that you're not what she needs right now." He reached out to swipe the tape from the countertop before Angel could react. "So thanks for this, but now we've reached the part where I tell you to leave."

Angel's face shifted back to its human form and he shook his head. "You have no idea just how in over your head you really are."

"Oh, I have some idea," Castle said with a rueful smile, pocketing the tape. "But I also know that when things started going really bad, she came to me."

Which meant more than even Castle could properly articulate.

Pursing his lips with a nod, Angel glanced over his shoulder. He knew she was here, and not just because Castle had all but admitted it when he first showed up. Hell, Castle had practically thrown the fact in his face on a few occasions. But he could make out her faint scent the second he walked into the loft, and Angel hated the effect it still had on him.

He wanted to check on her. He wanted to see how she was doing. But it was clear now that Angel wasn't welcome here. So with a sigh, the vampire straightened the coat slung over his shoulders, shot Castle one last glare, and walked out of the loft.

As soon as the door to the loft clicked shut, Castle's phone started ringing. Cursing under his breath, Castle dug the device out of his pocket and frowned when he noticed that his caller ID was showing a blocked number. Part of Castle's psyche screamed for him not to answer, but curiosity ultimately got the better of him.

Castle sat at the island as he brought the phone to his ear. "Castle."

"Richard Castle?"

Castle frowned, not recognizing the voice. "Yeah, that's me."

"You can call me Mr. Smith. I'm a friend of Roy Montgomery's. I'm afraid we need to talk."

Wolfram & Hart…

Lindsey McDonald didn't remember a day spent at the courthouse being so stressful or draining. Used to be, he lived for the trial process. Getting to stand in front of the jury, strutting about like he owned the place - because most of the time, he did. The courtroom was Lindsey's element, the whole reason he started practicing law in the first place.

But once Wolfram & Hart started saddling him with special projects - the sort of thing no normal law firm would ever ask its attorneys to do. What had started as a cushy job protecting wealthy and influential clients had quickly devolved into prophecies and the Apocalypse and a meddlesome vampire who never quite got the hang of the word "no."

Even in death, Lindsey still found himself stuck in that world. So stuck, in fact, that the one place that used to bring him the most joy now sucked the energy out of him. The clock read fifteen minutes til midnight, and most people were probably at home and in bed by now - if not out and about town, enjoying a nightcap.

Lindsey? He was back in his office, prepping for a meeting he had first thing the next morning. The process of Ascension had begun, yet Senator Bracken had still insisted Wolfram & Hart begin the process of filing the necessary paperwork for his SuperPAC. Why, Lindsey had no idea; if William Bracken was about to become the living embodiment of Ky-laag, why was he still eyeing the White House?

Lindsey removed his tie and shut the door to the office behind him, bathed in complete darkness save for the lamp on his desk. The computer dinged on-cue, signaling a new email. He sighed and rolled his eyes before tossing the tie onto his chair.

Before Lindsey had a chance to even register that there was someone else in his office, a blow socked him in the face and sent him stumbling back. Lindsey fell onto his ass, his back slamming against the door. Blood was already pouring from his nostrils and his vision blurred. Lindsey tried to grab at the carpeting to give himself leverage to get back to his feet, but a boot pressed into his neck and pinned him against the door.

By the time Lindsey's vision cleared - and he struggled to gasp for air with the pressure on his windpipe - he finally saw who had attacked him.

"Been a while, Lindsey," Faith said. "How ya been?"

Recognition wasn't instant, but once Lindsey realized who had attacked him, a knowing smile crept onto his bloody face. He had honestly expected to be reunited with the former rogue Slayer much sooner than this, considering the circumstances by which she had voided the contract Lindsey and Lilah Morgan had drafted for her.

Some assassin Faith had turned out to be. Hired to kill someone and she wound up living with her mark. At least, until she got a conscience and turned herself in. Shame, too.

"Nose hurts," he quipped.

"Plenty more where that came from." Faith removed the boot from Lindsey's neck, and he had honestly expected to feel a blow to the temple or something similar. But instead, the dark-haired woman kneeled before him, grabbing a tuft of his hair and yanking until it started coming loose from his scalp.

Lindsey hissed in pain. Of course. She wanted him conscious.

"I got some questions for you," she announced. "How much more pain you're in will depend on how you answer them."

Lindsey shrugged and couldn't stop the chuckle that burst from his mouth. "I died, Faith. There's nothing you could do that could be any worse than anything I've experienced."

"See, when you put it like that?" Faith yanked on Lindsey's hair again. "I hear a challenge."

"Whatever you're planning to do," Lindsey paused to spit blood onto the floor, "you better hurry. I'm sure our mystics have cued Security to the presence of a Slayer on the premises by now."

"I wouldn't worry about them," Faith said as matter-of-factly as she could. "The mystics now have knives where their eyes should be. Just you and me now, Lawyer Boy. So tell me… why'd you bring Spike back?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The force of the fist ramming into his gut doubled Lindsey over - and if he had actually eaten that day, the contents of his stomach would be all over the floor by now. She yanked him upright again by the back of his head before he could gather his bearings, and the force was almost enough to give him whiplash.

"Let's try this again," Faith hissed. "Spike. Why?"

"That's really a question for the good Senator," Lindsey muttered, smiling in spite of the throbbing in his head and the blood starting to dry on his chin.

"Senator Bracken," Faith theorized. "He's a client."

"Boy, nothing gets past you." Lindsey huffed a laugh before spitting blood onto Faith's cheek.

Without even flinching, she pulled a dagger from the belt loop in the back of her jeans, pressing the blade against the lawyer's neck. Her nostrils flared and her jaw clenched. "And what about Detective Beckett? Hm?"

Something flashed in Lindsey's eyes – maybe hatred, maybe something a little deeper – and he sat up a little straighter. He ignored the pain as best as he could, even if he could see spots in his eyes and it felt any moment like he might black out.

"Kate Beckett is… a nuisance," he growled. "A pain in everyone's ass, and we'll all be better off the second she's reunited with her mother."

Faith's eyes darkened and she tightened her grip on the dagger. She could feel herself shaking with rage, a potent mixture of adrenaline and pent-up anger she hadn't felt in years. She twirled the blade in her grasp and shook her head.

"Congratulations, Lindsey."

Lindsey's brow furrowed. "For what?"

Lindsey slid the dagger into Lindsey's gut, grinning to herself when his eyes went wide and he gasped in pain. His entire body went rigged, and Lindsey's lower lip quivered. Faith grit her teeth and shoved the weapon deeper into the lawyer's body, twisting the blade until he arched his back and whimpered.

"I haven't wanted to kill someone in a long, long time," she whispered, withdrawing the dagger and holding it up so Lindsey could see the blood dripping down to the hilt. "And if you keep coming after Detective B, I'll finish the job."

Faith kicked Lindsey's body to the side and pushed her way out of his office, leaving the lawyer in a pool of his own blood.