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  Enigmatic Absurdities 
 by eponine  

 "Honestly, you know how much I hate driving in weather," she grumbled to
her husband as she pushed a lock of graying brown hair behind her ear,
where it refused to stay. "Look at this; barely even afternoon and yet we
need headlights!"

"Easy, Linda," he urged, wincing when it came out sounding more whiney and
less soothing than he'd planned. "For God's sake, it's a bit of rain."

She shook her head and peered through the windshield anxiously, knuckles
white around the steering wheel. "I know, I know. I just wish I didn't
have to drive in it. You know how nervous it makes me."

Phil rubbed his left shoulder with a grimace, silently admitting to
himself that it was raining pretty hard. "I told you I'm perfectly capable
of-"

"You most certainly are not," she interrupted harshly. "I'll not have you
getting behind the wheel with liquor in your system."

"'M more relaxed than you, anyways," he grumbled quietly as he massaged
the left side of his chest with his knuckles, but he didn't bother
pressing the argument he'd already lost several times before. She ignored
him, choosing wisely to concentrate on the road instead.

"See that?" he said after several long minutes of silence. "Almost home.
You did good."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but he noticed she also blushed a little
at the compliment as she turned on to their street. "Should I bother with
the back lot?" she asked.

"Nah, there's an open space on the curb up ahead," he said dismissively
before smothering a loud burp with a clammy hand.

Taking note of the space he indicated and mentally lining up the parallel
parking job ahead of her, she shook her head. "I told you not to get the
ribs," she scolded. "You always get the worst heartburn-"

"Linda, look out!" he shouted as a large figure shot out of the alleyway
next to their building and rolled into the street just ahead of them. With
a strangled shout, Linda managed to stomp down on the brakes just in time
to avoid running over the tumbling figure, who had managed to land in an
awkward crouch in the opposite lane.

"Oh, thank goodness," Linda breathed the second it became clear she hadn't
hit the man. The words had barely even left her lips when an oncoming SUV
slammed into the man she'd narrowly avoided.

"Call 911," she gasped needlessly, her husband already punching the
numbers into his cell phone.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Brow knotted in concentration, his fingers steady in a way only a medical
professional's could be, he carefully lowered another card into place. His
eyes never left the structure before him as he took three more cards from
the pile, aware that even the slightest tremble of breath upon the
half-built wall would mean certain disaster. He'd considered using
double-sided tape as a means to avert said catastrophe, but he didn't
actually have any cases to work on at the moment, so he had more than
enough time to hunker down and be meticulous enough to accomplish his task
sans cheating.

The rush of air as his door was thrown open had him catching his breath,
his hand frozen mere centimeters from the structure as the threat
thankfully passed without collapsing his fragile card wall. Given time
he'd have an actual house of cards on his desk, please appreciate the play
on words here, but thus far it was little more than a partition.

"Oh, good," the business-mannered brunette announced as she breezed into
his office, "I was hoping you were bored."

"Dr. Cuddy, always a pleasure, though admittedly more so when you show a
little cleavage. And who said I was bored?" House asked, still not looking
away from his cards as he dropped a Queen of spades onto the horizontal
bridge.

"Call it intuition," she answered, rolling her eyes. Not that he actually
saw her roll her eyes, as he was very preoccupied, but he was familiar
with the tone of voice. She was probably glaring at his cards, too, he
thought smugly.

"And whether or not I'm currently entertained is important to you
because..." he trailed off, sounding disinterested enough that the
statement couldn't be confused for a question. Not that she wouldn't
answer, but she'd at least know that he didn't particularly care.

She waved a manila file in front of his face, dangerously close to the
card structure. "This," she said smugly. "And I happen to know you don't
have any cases right now, so don't even bother with excuses. I want you on
it."

House finally looked up at her, making sure to raise an eyebrow as he did
so. He wordlessly took the file and leaned back in his seat to open it,
all the while leveling a gaze on Dr. Cuddy that made it clear he was not
expecting to be impressed. Scanning the papers inside, he found no reason
to change his opinion. "You recall that I'm a diagnostician," he stated
dryly, knowing he'd have to lead her to the point if he wanted to get
anything out of her.

"I do," she responded, the shadow of a smirk letting House know she'd
anticipated this line of questioning.

"And therefore I would have no interest in someone who was hit by a car,"
he continued.

"Look at his BP," she suggested.

Leaning forward over his desk, he did just that. Twice, actually, mentally
cursing himself for doing an outright double-take in front of Cuddy. He
hated letting on when she actually managed to surprise him.

"You're assigning me to a corpse?" he asked, confused.

The hint of smirk remained. "He was pronounced dead at the scene. They
were about to black bag him when he temporarily regained consciousness.
The paramedics performed CPR on him while they rushed him here, but
despite the fact that he regained consciousness several times during the
trip, they never actually managed to get so much as a blip from his
heart."

House raised his eyebrow again, taking a few moment to flip through the
file some more. "It still doesn't exactly fall within my realm of
expertise," he reminded her.

"Nor does it fall into anybody else's field," she countered. "Quite
frankly, we don't have a clue what to do with him. I was hoping you'd at
least get started on his case. Maybe as a favor?"

After one more cursory glance at the chart, House leaned back in his chair
and grinned, tossing the file onto his desk and completely decimating the
stacked cards in the process. He steepled his hands and looked Dr. Cuddy
in the eye.

"I'll bite," he said finally, "but you know these little favors I do for
you come with a price."

She rolled her eyes again. "I'll take of six of your clinic hours."

"Ooh, that's quite the high starting offer from you," House said cheekily.
"Twelve."

"Don't push it," Cuddy snapped. "Eight."

"Ten, and you pretend to be my girlfriend for a week," House suggested
with a grin.

"You're an ass," she said evenly. "Eight."

"Well aren't we exceptionally humorless today. Fine- eight hours, but I'll
have you know I expect sexual compensation for this at a later date,"
House agreed and started paging his staff. It was going to be a very
interesting day.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Cameron, how nice of you to join us this lovely afternoon," House greeted
cheerily from his seat on the edge of the table.

"Why is our patient restrained?" Cameron demanded, ignoring his greeting.
House tried not to laugh at her indignant posture and angry pout.

"Excellent question," he congratulated before turning to Chase and
Foreman. "Any ideas?"

His other two staff members appeared to be at a loss, exchanging glances
and shrugs.

"Oh, come on," House scolded. "It's not a trick question, I promise."

Again with the exchanging of glances, but this time Chase spoke up. "The
only reason to restrain a peatient would be to prevent him from harming
himself or others," he said, knowing he was right even if he didn't have a
clue as to how it pertained to the case. House like that about Chase; he
could almost always be counted on to give the obvious answer even when he
admittedly didn't know what House was getting at.

"Very good," House said, his tone predominantly sarcastic. "And does
anyone know why I believe this precaution necessary with this particular
patient?"

"Seeing as you haven't actually filled us in on his condition yet, no,"
Foreman said, not quite rolling his eyes.

"Did he attack someone?" Chase asked, ignoring Foreman's sarcastic remark.
"Perhaps he appeared violently delusional?"

"Oh for two," House stated. "As a matter of fact, he has yet to regain
full consciousness so far, and he shows no signs of doing so again any
time soon. What else?"

"Was he exposed to a substance that might make him behave violently?"
Foreman suggested. "A psychodysleptic, maybe?"

"Another perfectly reasonable answer," House said. "Also wrong. Come on,
people, why would I possible order double hard restraints on a man-"

"What do you mean by `double'?" Chase interrupted, earning himself a glare
from House.

"He means exactly what it sounds like," Cameron answered cuttingly. "He's
got him in two sets of hard restraints. That poor man is practically
chained to the bed!"

"As I was saying," House interjected, pulling them back to the
conversation at hand, "why would I order double restraints on a comatose
man with over a dozen broken bones throughout his body? Come on, people!"

His only answer was a dark look from Cameron. He let the silence continue
for a few seconds, pretending to be inordinately interested in his cane,
before giving an overly dramatic sigh.

"Alright, alright, so I didn't actually expect any of you to know the
answer," he admitted. "Truth is, the reason is a little more personal than
medical. Well, sort of, anyway. You know, now that I think of it, maybe it
was a trick question."

"You had a patient restrained for personal reasons?" Foreman asked
incredulousy.

"I said `sort of'," House reminded him irritably. "Here's the thing:
pretty soon, I'm going to start writing things on that whiteboard over
there, as I so often do. However, just to shake things up a bit, I'm going
to write things that none of you will actually believe."

"And this will accomplish... what, exactly?" Chase asked dryly, certain
now that House was working his way to some obscure point that would
probably teach the three of them some sort of lesson House deemed
important.

"I'm not sure, really," House said, making a show of rubbing his chin
thoughtfully. "It could be a part of my campaign for world domination, but
it may just end up being some elaborate ploy to get Cuddy into bed with
me. Of course, I could just be trying to diagnose some poor schmuck's
bizarre and as of yet inexplicable symptoms, but how likely is that,
really?"

Three blank faces answered him.

"Fine," he sighed. "These unbelievable things I'm planning on sharing with
you three are, in fact, the truth. The fact that I don't expect you to
believe them does nothing to alter their veracity."

"I take it that there's something a bit unusual about this case, then,"
Chase observed.

"I was wondering when you were going to get around to stating the
obvious," House said as he got to his feet and began pacing. "As I'm sure
you're all aware, a great many of our cases are abnormal. That's why they
get assigned to us instead of being diagnosed at, say, the clinic.
Generally what we see goes a bit beyond the average flu and food poisoning
cases. We end up with the more challenging cases, rare diseases or
uncommon presentations of more ordinary pathogens. This case, however, is
a little further up the ladder of unusual than even we're accustomed to.
I'd even go as far as to label the man's symptoms as impossible, if it
weren't for the fact that he is actually suffering from them."

There was exactly one beat of silence before Cameron spoke up. "That still
doesn't tell us why you had him chained to the bed."

House stopped pacing. "You'd think my announcement would be at least a
little bit diversionary," House grumbled. "And I'll have you know that I
have every reason to believe that this particular patient poses a
significant threat to the entire hospital," he added smugly.

"So you know what's wrong with him," Cameron stated questioningly.

House gave her a look, eyebrows cocked for maximum shaming effect. "If I
did, then it wouldn't be much of a case, now, would it?"

"Then how do you know-" Chase started, but House cut him off.

"While it's true that I don't know what's wrong with the man, I do have a
bit of experience with a similar case. I've seen these symptoms before;
only once, mind you, but the experience was fairly memorable."

"What happened? Did you lose the patient?" Cameron asked, always on the
lookout for something to be sympathetic about.

"I didn't lose anybody: he wasn't my patient," House corrected. "And he
was only lost in the most literal sense. He was brought in through the ER,
completely unconscious after an MVA, much like our guy. Unlike our guy, he
was pronounced dead. I happened to be there when they were wheeling him to
the morgue."

"Wait- he was pronounced dead? Our guy's alive, right?" Foreman asked.

"Yes, he was, and yes, he is. We think," House added before brushing over
the odd statement. They'd get to that later. "As I was saying, I happened
to be there when this guy, who had been pronounced dead, leapt off the
gurney and tore a nurse's throat out. Before anybody had time to react,
the guy was off. By the time somebody called security, he was long gone
and the nurse was bleeding out on the floor. Like I said, a memorable
experience."

Blank stares and blinking seemed to be the order of the day, judging by
his staff.

"He tore out her throat?" Chase asked, wavering between disbelief and
disgust.

"How very sexist of you, Dr. Chase," House chided. "Yes, the patient tore
out his throat. With his teeth, by the way. The whole incident was all
very B horror movie."

"If the patient was pronounced dead after an MVA and an autopsy was never
preformed, how do you know that patient and this one display the same
symptoms?" Foreman asked.

"We're fast approaching the part where I write really weird stuff on the
board," House said, picking up a marker. "How do I know? Because both
patients were pronounced dead, only to regain some sort of consciousness
later. Luckily, ours didn't become lucid enough to try and kill anyone,
but it's safer to assume he will at some later point. There's a pun in
here somewhere about watching our necks, I'm sure of it... At any rate,
their apparent lack of a heartbeat-" House uncapped the marker and wrote
`NO PULSE' in large letters- "is a distinctive enough symptom that I'm
fairly confident in lumping the two cases together."

Predictably, this revelation was met with yet more blank stares. House was
not surprised.

/\/\/\/\

Wilson sighed and tossed the last file onto his desk. Grinning, he looked
at his watch and stood up, giving his office one last perfunctory scan
before he left. He officially had nothing to do, which meant he was free
to do what he always did when he'd fulfilled his obligations for the time
being.

Even from halfway down the hall from the conference room, Wilson could see
that today's visit was going to be slightly more interesting than usual.
Disagreements between House and his staff weren't exactly abnormal, but
from what Wilson could see through the large windows, they were in the
middle of a doozy.

Not bothering to knock or otherwise announce his entrance, his presence at
the doorway went pretty much unnoticed. Deciding to enjoy the show rather
than jump right in, Wilson leaned against the door frame and watched.

"Because it isn't possible," Foreman said insistently, punctuating the
sentence with gestures.

"This file seems to say otherwise," House pointed out, waving his hand at
the manila folder in question.

"Then that file has to be wrong," Chase argued. "There is absolutely no
medical precedent for this combination of symptoms! Everything we know
about the human body says that this is impossible."

"And yet there it is, in black and white. Of course, if you'd rather see
it in the flesh, you could just saunter down the hallway for a little
look-see," House said sarcastically.

Wilson decided it was getting to be about time to step in, as he wasn't
getting a whole lot of information on the discussion this way. "See what?"

"House's imaginary patient," Foreman answered.

"For god's sake, this isn't nursery school," House grumbled. "We're not
playing make-believe."

"He isn't imaginary," Cameron said.

"No, just his symptoms," Foreman shot back.

"Imaginary or not," Chase cut in, "we've got an extremely hypothermic
patient on complete heart/lung bypass. We need to make a decision, and
soon."

"Do you have a donor lined up?" Wilson asked.

"He's not a transplant patient," House explained. "Some idiot in emergency
medicine decided to put him life support."

"I'm confused," Wilson said.

"Join the club," Foreman said under his breath.

"He's on life support because he's asystolic and he's not breathing on his
own," Cameron supplied wearily.

"And you induced hypothermia because..." Wilson prompted.

"We didn't," House answered. "He did that all on his own."

"What happened?" Wilson asked.

"MVA," was House's curt response. 

"Okay, so now I'm very confused. Why are you taking care of a hypothermic
auto accident victim? You're a diagnostician," Wilson pointed out.

"Because he was hypothermic before the accident," House explained
impatiently.

"How do you know?"

"His core body temperature was about 20 Celsius when they brought him in,"
Chase offered.

"And he's still alive?" Wilson exclaimed. "And how does that prove he was
hypothermic first?"

"Depends on your definition," Foreman supplied, "and because that
temperature was taken about half an hour after he was hit."

"How long was he in the water?" Wilson asked.

"What water?" House said, more statement than question.

"MVA victim with hypothermia, I assumed he drove into the river," Wilson
said with a shrug.

House shook his head, a touch of smugness in his expression. "Nope. Our
guy was a pedestrian who got run over by an over-sized SUV. No water
involved, unless you count the rain."

"And his core temperature is down to 20 half an hour later? That's...
well, I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure that's not possible," Wilson
said apologetically.

"Preachin' to the choir, here," Foreman said, leaning back in his chair.

"If it weren't possible, the guy wouldn't be here," House insisted.

"You said he was a pedestrian," Wilson pointed out. "This implies he was
upright at the time of the accident?"

"According to the witnesses, he was running," House said.

"Running," Wilson stated, earning an affirming eyebrow raise from House.
"With severe hypothermia."

"From all accounts, the guy was pretty limber," House said. "Still is."

"According to House, there's absolutely no rigidity or hypoflexia evident
in our patient," Chase said disbelievingly, his superior's name sounding
like an accusation.

"At 20, I'd expect rigor mortis to be setting in," Wilson observed.

"Which it isn't," House informed him. "Between that and the noteworthy
absence of a scary guy in a dark cloak with a sharp stick, we're pretty
sure he isn't dead."

"Pretty sure?"

"You're not dead until you're warm and dead," House reminded him.
"Besides, his brain's a little active for a dead guy."

"Pretty active for someone with hypothermia this severe, too," Cameron
interjected. "His EEG should be completely flatlined at this stage."

"EEG?" Wilson asked weakly. He was starting to understand the duckling's
issues with the case.

House smirked. "Yup. ER doc fixed him up. Brain's just motoring away in
that ice-cube of a noggin of his."

"What about hyperkalamia? Barbiturates? Sedatives?" Wilson asked, choosing
to ignore the brain issue for the moment.

"Ooh, I'm so glad you asked!" House said gleefully. "I hadn't gotten to
this part yet."

"This part?" Cameron gaped. "There's more?"

"Of course there's more," House said smugly. "What I hadn't gotten around
to telling you yet is we also ran a few little blood tests, checked out
his potassium levels, that sort of thing."

"And?" Foreman prodded when he didn't continue. "How's his potassium?"

House shrugged. "I have no idea."

"What do you mean, you have no idea?" Cameron asked. "Haven't the tests
come back?"

"Oh, the tests came back alright," House told her. "I just don't know how
his potassium is."

"I'm sorry?" Wilson sighed, knowing how much House was enjoying drawing
this out.

"I don't know how his potassium is because I have absolutely no idea what
the potassium levels in his blood should be. His blood isn't human."

"He's not... he's not human?" Chase asked slowly, as if he wasn't sure
this was the question he was supposed to be asking.

Apparently, House seemed to think it was the perfect question. "Oh, he's
human," he stated with a smirk. "It's just his blood that's not."

"I don't understand," Cameron said.

"Just for kicks, we tested some of his other tissues. They all came up
pretty much normal. His blood, however, appears to be a mixture of several
different types of mammal blood. He also has trace amounts of human blood
in two different blood types, as well as a little bit of something I'm
told looks kind of like finger paint," House read from the chart.

"Can I ask why you're so... happy about all of this?" Wilson asked. "I
mean, this case... its not diagnosable! There's no way you can get this
one right!"

"I'm happy," House informed him solemnly, "because this case is not only
driving Cuddy up the wall, it's entirely outside the box."

"But that's the problem exactly, don't you see?" Chase begged desperately.
"The chances of us actually finding a cause for this thing are- are-
astronomical! Absolute best case scenario, we end up calling it House's
Syndrome and watching him die!"

House just rolled his eyes. "As cool as it would be to have a disease
named after me, I don't think the guy is in any imminent danger of
becoming deceased."

"We're still talking about the hypothermic corpse with brain waves,
right?" Foreman asked sarcastically.

"The hypothermic corpse whose condition has been improving steadily since
his admission," House pointed out.

"I never thought I'd be accusing you of heedless optimism," Wilson said,
shaking his head.

"Says a man who's on his third marriage," House snarked.

"House, you've said it yourself," Chase practically shouted in
frustration. "The man's autonomic nervous system is almost entirely
unresponsive and we haven't been able to coax his core temperature any
higher than 32! And that's not to mention how long his brain went without
oxygen. Even if he does somehow survive this, the chances of this man ever
waking up-"

"Excellent moot point, Chase," House interrupted, looking down at his
beeper and walking toward the door to the conference room. "Let's go."

"What? Go where?" Cameron asked, voicing everyone's bewilderment.

"Guy's awake, come on," House shouted back over his shoulder, not even
looking to see if anyone followed. Wilson ran after him without waiting
for House's staff to finish gaping; they'd be along soon enough.

/\/\/\/\

"I honestly don't know if I'm more surprised that he's awake or that
you're voluntarily going to visit a patient," Wilson commented as he
caught up to House.

"Personally, I'm more surprised at Cameron's new highlights than
anything," House diverted as he pushed open the door to the mystery
patient's room. "You're awake!" he announced. "Now you can tell us who the
hell you are."

The man, a tall guy in his mid-to-late-twenties with dark hair, regarded
the doctors warily. "You first," he stated.

"Oh, all right," House sighed dramatically. "But only because you asked so
nicely. I'm Dr. House, and I'm currently in charge of your case. This is
Dr. Wilson. Now it's your turn."

"Angel," he answered simply. House waited for more, but it didn't come.

"And... that would be first or last?" he finally enquired.

"Am I in a hospital?" Angel asked, ignoring House's question.

"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital," Wilson answered before House
could antagonize the patient too much.

"Can I ask why, exactly?" Angel pressed, speaking a little slowly, as if
he were trying to restrain either anger or frustration.

House just raised an eyebrow. "Because you got hit by a car. Of course, if
what you're actually asking is `why are you in the hospital as opposed to
the morgue', the answer's a little more complicated."

"We could always try `why am I chained to the bed?'" Angel said, nodding
toward the restraints around his wrists, ankles, and waist.

"Because I'm kinky like that," House answered sarcastically.

"Yes, please, by all means continue butting heads. I feel as if we're
finally getting somewhere with all of this," Wilson muttered with a roll
of his eyes as the ducklings filed in.

"Oh my god," Cameron gasped before she could stop herself.

"Well, he does call himself `Angel'," House said.

Cameron blushed. "Sorry, I just- umm..."

"She's trying to tell you that she didn't believe you were really awake
without being insensitive," House told Angel. "She's funny that way."

"You weren't expecting me to wake up?" Angel asked cautiously. He didn't
sound surprised; more like he was attempting to get information without
giving any.

"Between the severe hypothermia and the complete lack of any pulmonary or
respiratory activity, most of the staff had you pegged as a bit of a long
shot," House explained.

Angel narrowed his eyes. "Has anyone ever told you what a wonderful
bedside manner you have?"

"Most people find me charming," House huffed, feigning hurt.

"Most people find your personality `grating and repulsive'," Wilson told
him. "And before you ask, yes, that is a direct quote."

House just clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Unappreciated in my own
time," he said mournfully. "So, care to tell us why your body temperature
was somewhere south of 68?"

Angel suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "I- ah, I don't know what you're
talking about."

"Alright. How about the anomalies in your blood work?" House asked, as if
completely unconcerned with Angel's evasion of the previous question.

"Blood work?" Angel repeated weakly.

"The results are interesting reading, that's for sure. Something about
multiple blood types, not to mention the part where the vast majority of
the stuff in your veins isn't human."

Angel opened his mouth, but apparently thought the better of it and
snapped it shut again.

"I thought as much," House muttered.

"House, I'm not sure interrogating the patient like this is really going
to get us anywhere," Chase protested, sounding surprisingly confident in
the face of such a bizarre situation. "I mean, your assuming he even knows
what's wrong-"

"Well, it's not like he doesn't have some idea," House shot back. "He's
practically a walking, talking corpse full of pig's blood."

"House!" Cameron gasped, her look of horror mimicked to lesser degrees on
her colleagues' faces.

"What, like me being an insensitive prick is a surprise?" he asked
sarcastically.

Cameron looked taken aback. "Well, no, but-"

House cut Chase off. "I know, I know, you're not supposed to speak ill of
the dead, how thoughtless of me." He turned to Angel. "Do you mind if I
try something?"

Angel stared at him a minute before answering. "Go ahead."

House limped over to the HLM, eyes on the wary patient the entire time.
"You know what this is?" he asked, patting the machine in question.

"Some kind of life support, I assume," Angel answered.

"Heart-Lung machine," House confirmed. "Oxygenates your blood and pumps it
through your system, since your pulmonary system seems to be sleeping on
the job."

Angel nodded in understanding. Seeing this, House moved his hand from the
machine to its plug. Angel watched but made no move to protest. The two
men exchanged a series of significant glances while they played what
Wilson would always think of as the most terrifying game of `chicken' he'd
ever witnessed.

Apparently, the two men came to a conclusion. House pulled the plug.

"Are you insane?" Cameron exploded as she, Foreman, and Chase leapt across
the room only to be stopped by House's cane.

"Chill out. The guy said it was okay," House said without even looking at
his panicking staff. Wilson watched from across the room, hoping to hell
his trust in House wasn't misplaced and wondering if the Ducklings noticed
just what it was House's eyes were currently glued to.

"You're killing him!" Chase cried as Angel began to gasp and convulse.

Foreman watched the unfolding scene in horror. "You're fucking insane."

Cameron tried again to push her way past House, unsuccessfully. Meanwhile
Angel's movements came to a crescendo before stopping entirely, leaving
the constant tone indicating flatline from the electrocardiogram as the
only sound in the small room.

"You killed him," Cameron whispered, face white with shock.

House rolled his eyes. "I did not."

"The man's dead, House," Chase disagreed, waving toward Angel's body.

"He's faking," House proclaimed loudly.

"How'd you know?" Angel asked suspiciously, cracking an eye to glare at
House.

"EEG," House explained over the cries of surprise from his staff, waving
his cane at the machine. "Never even blinked."

Angel groaned.

"That machine also happens to be why you aren't in the morgue right now,"
House continued. "Pesky little piece of equipment, isn't it?"

"I don't understand," Cameron said weakly.

"Neither do I, but I'm betting he does," House said, nodding toward Angel.
"Not that I think he's going to tell us anything, seeing as he doesn't
trust us, but he knows."

"Doesn't trust you? You've got me chained to the bed!" Angel cried
indignantly. "You unplugged my life support!"

"Yeah, and you said it was okay!" House reminded him.

Angel sighed and leaned back against his bed. "What are the chances of me
getting out of here any time soon?"

House wasn't the only one to raise an eyebrow at this question. "You're
hardly in any condition to be getting out of bed, let alone leaving the
hospital!" Chase said. "You're still severely hypothermic, not to mention
the fact that for whatever reason you're asystolic."

"So I'll leave against medical advice, or whatever," Angel stated. "You
can't keep me here against my will."

"It's not that easy, I'm afraid," House said smugly. "For one thing, we
still don't know what's wrong with you, nor do we know if it can and how
it might be transmitted to others. Nope, I'm afraid that you are a public
health risk, and therefore I would be seriously remiss in my duties if I
were to allow you to leave this hospital. And that's not to mention the
fact that I'm not convinced you wouldn't attack us if we removed your
restraints."

"Attack you?" Angel cried. "Have I given you any indication that I'm
dangerous?"

House's face grew serious as he leveled his gaze on the man. "I've had an
experience with a patient before who, superficially, at least, appeared to
have many of the same symptoms as you. When he regained consciousness, he
reacted violently and killed a man. Until you awoke and regaled us all
with this stunning display of rationality, I had no way of knowing that
you wouldn't behave in the same manner."

Angel couldn't find fault in his logic. "And now that I'm awake?"

House smirked. "Now that you're awake you've expressed a desire to leave
and suggested that you're willing to do so against medical advice. Since
you're a public health risk and all, you've left me no choice."

Wilson bit back the urge to point out that House didn't seem to have any
intention of actually contacting the CDC. He'd bring it up later, when
they weren't right in front of the patient.

Angel sighed, apparently conceding momentary defeat. "I need to make a
phone call," he stated.

"House," Foreman warned, but House just waved his hand.

"Don't worry, I'll let him make a call," he assured his staff. "It's not
like he's a prisoner or anything." He waited a few moments, staring at his
staff expectantly. They stared back, clueless. "Well? How about some
privacy, people?"

Cameron was the only one who had the decency to blush, but everyone except
for House filed out of the room.

"So why are you still here?" Angel asked.

House grinned. "Somebody's got to hold the phone for you."

"You're a real nosy bastard, aren't you?" Angel grumbled.

"So I've been told. So- who are we calling?"

/\/\/\/\/\

House casually took a seat at Angel's beside, who glared at House
balefully. House just pulled out his cell-phone and waited. "It's long
distance," Angel warned.

House snorted. "Dude, I'm a doctor. I think I can afford it."

"Fine." Angel rattled off a number.

"Cleveland, huh?" House asked as the soft sound of the line ringing
drifted from the tiny speaker. "You want me to put it on speaker phone?"

"Just give me the damn phone," Angel grumbled irritably. House rolled his
eyes and held the phone so Angel could wedge it between ear and shoulder.
There was a long silence while the line continued to ring.

Finally, Angel's face lit up. "Dawn! Hi! When did you get back to
Cleveland?" He sounded genuinely surprised, though his expression quickly
turned to exasperation as the other person spoke. "Um, no, I didn't mean-
Never mind. I'm actually in kind of a hurry here. Can you please get Giles
on the phone?"

"Giles? You want to talk to the butler?" House muttered. Angel shot him a
quick glare before focusing on the phone again.

"Fine, then. Look, just get me whoever's in charge of- What? Um, no
offense, Dawn, but I really don't think he'd- Dawn-" Angel rolled his eyes
as the girl apparently steam-rollered his attempts. He listened
impatiently for a few moments before managing to find room to speak again.
"I'm sure he did, but how long was he expecting Robin to be gone? ...
Uh-huh. That's what I thought. You realize Giles is going to kill you if
you screw this up... Whatever. I just need someone to come out and- What?
No, New Jersey." Angel flicked a nervous glance at House. "I was looking
into a, um, a situation. Everything's under control, but I need some help
with a- uh- different situation."

Angel was starting to look very embarrassed and flustered. House grinned
as the man mumbled something completely unintelligible into the phone.
"There's no way she understood that, pal," House chided.

Apparently, Angel's friend agreed. "I'm in a hospital, alright?" he
repeated. "I'm fine, but I need-" Angel was cut off by a burst of maniacal
laughter that even House could hear. Looking at the ceiling, Angel waited
for the laughter to die down. Once it did, the girl must have asked a
question, because Angel looked more sheepish than ever. "I got hit by a
car... Ah, they actually won't let me leave. Apparently I'm a, um, public
health risk. I'm sort of chained to the bed."

House couldn't help but smirk at the renewed peals of laughter.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad I could be so amusing," Angel shot crossly into the
phone. "If you could just get someone here to help me- Whoever's closest,
I guess." Angel went pale at her reply; quite a feat, given how pale he
was to begin with. "What? No! Dawn, don't you dare- Dawn? Dawn, do you
hear me? Do not send Andrew! Dawn?"

"Oh, will you look at that?" House said, taking back his phone. "I think
she hung up on you."

Angel groaned. "Laugh it up. If she sends Andrew, I won't be the only one
suffering."

"That bad?" House asked skeptically.

"He speaks six languages. Five of them were created for Star Trek and Lord
of the Rings."

House winced. "Lord of the geeks, I take it?"

Angel sighed wearily. "You have no idea."

House got to his feet and pretended to dust off his hands. "Well, as much
fun as this has been, I have to go talk about you behind your back. You
want me to turn that thing back on?"

Angel followed House's pointing finger to the HLM. "Um, I'd sort of prefer
if you didn't. It's kind of uncomfortable," he admitted sheepishly.

House grinned and slipped off Angel's pulse monitor. "Oh, this is going to
be fun. Hey, do me a favor and refrain from falling asleep for a few
hours?" he asked as he made his way toward the door. "I really don't want
to take a trip down to the morgue looking for you." 

/\/\/\/\/\

"What can you tell me?" House asked as he entered the conference room. His
question was met with three hate-filled glares and one look of amused
curiosity, the latter courtesy of Wilson.

"I can tell you that I honestly don't know who is insane anymore," Foreman
answered.

"This case is- is- is- incredible!" Cameron cried, equal parts frustration
and fascination. "The fact that this man can survive, can be lucid and-
and communicative with no discernible source of oxygen to his brain, it's-
it's-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, incredible," House supplied. "So, Foreman, you're the
neurologist. Shouldn't you be a little more excited about this?"

"I would be if it were even remotely possible," Foreman said. "Everything
we know about the brain says that this is impossible. There is simply no
conceivable way for a brain to function without constant blood flow for
longer than a few minutes, and even then, there would be considerable
irreparable damage. Nothing about this case makes any sense."

"Even if it weren't for his lack of any pulmonary activity, the blood in
his system shouldn't be capable of delivering oxygen to any part of his
body," Chase pointed out. "His body should be so busy rejecting that
ridiculous concoction in his veins to do anything else. For him to be
conscious, it's simply-"

"The next person who says `impossible' is fired," House interrupted. "I
want you all to wipe that word from your vocabulary. If it weren't
possible, then it wouldn't happen, end of story. That's actually the
definition of the word, if you'd care to look it up. The bottom line is,
impossible things don't happen. Whether or not we knew they were possible
is completely beside the point. Whether or not we can explain how and why
they happen is also beside the point, but seeing as the explaining part
is, in this particular case, what we're getting paid to do, we'd damn well
better try. Any questions?" Nobody spoke up. "Good. Now, considering the
complete and utter lack of any precedence in a case like this, we're going
to have to wing it as far as how we proceed. Since we don't have a clue
what we're looking for, we're just going to have to look at everything and
see what looks funny.

"Chase, Foreman, I want you to two go over every blood and tissue sample
you can get from the guy with a fine-tooth comb. Test for anything and
everything you can think of, no matter how ridiculous. Test for sea
monkeys for all I care, but just find out what makes him different from
normal, healthy human beings."

"What about cat scans, MRI, that sort of thing?" Chase asked.

House just waved a hand. "We'll worry about that sort of thing later. As
far as the emergency room docs were concerned, he doesn't seem to have any
broken bones or internal bleeding. As long as he doesn't seem to be in any
immediate danger, I'd just as soon keep him in that bed."

"What about me?" Cameron asked before Chase or Foreman could enquire
further about their assignments. "What do you want me to do?"

"You are going to be doing some research," House informed her.

She nodded. "You want me to get his medical history?"

"Nope," he stated, surprising her. "Guy doesn't trust us. We're not
getting anything out of him until the cavalry arrives. Right now he's
waiting on some buddies from work or something to come back him up, give
him a hand with this whole deal, and until they do, I can pretty much
guarantee he won't give us anything useful."

"So what am I researching?" she asked, confused.

House sighed and spun his cane a few times while his staff waited
patiently for an explanation. "There's a word, as I'm sure you're all
aware, that we've been avoiding ever since this patient came in. Several
words, probably, but one in particular that no one has said because, to
break my own rule, it's impossible. I'm not saying, of course, that this
word would accurately describe what's wrong with him, but at this point we
can't afford to exclude any possibilities."

"Are you saying you think that man's a zombie?" Chase asked incredulously.

"For crying out loud," House snorted. "Have you never seen a horror movie?
Zombies rot. They drool. They do not hold semi-intelligent conversations
or lie to their doctors. And for the record, I'm not saying our patient is
anything. I'm merely suggesting that we look at all the possibilities."

"You want me to research vampires," Cameron said flatly.

"For a start. I want you to research any less than conventional
explanation for his condition. Vampires seem like the logical place to
begin, but anywhere you go from there is fine with me. Supernatural,
mythology, scientology, whatever."

"What exactly do you expect me to find?" she asked.

House shrugged. "I'm not expecting anything. Chances are there's a
perfectly logical explanation for all of this. At the moment, however, I
think we're all pretty much at a loss for what that might be. The only way
we're going to solve this is by keeping an open mind, and if doing that
means Cameron wading through the internet's vast recesses of
vampire-obsessed freaks and gothic pornography, then so be it."

"Yet another noble sacrifice in the pursuit of truth from the great
Gregory House," Wilson said, shaking his head.

"For your information, I'm sacrificing plenty," House said seriously.
"Unless, of course, you want to be the one to talk to Cuddy about all of
this."

"Hey, don't let me stand in the way of your heroism," Wilson said, holding
up his hands in mock capitulation.

"Chicken," House muttered before turning a glare on his staff. "Well don't
just sit around gawking. Get up! Go! Learn something, for christ's sake!"

His staff shared a few significant glances as they filed out of the room,
but nobody made any protests.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Wilson asked, shaking his head.

House let a slow grin steal over his face. "Oh, yeah."

/\/\/\/\/\

"Well?"

House looked up to see Cuddy standing in the doorway to his office, arms
crossed. "Well, what?"

"I heard your patient is awake," she answered.

"I heard you have breast implants," he shot back. "Anything else?"

"Oh, I don't know, an update on his condition might be nice," she told him
patiently.

"His condition is perplexing," he stated. "Also a little annoying, but
that's beside the point."

She glared dangerously. "House..." 

House threw his hands up in the air and feigned a defeated sigh. "Fine,
you got me. The patient, whose name is Angel, is both alert and lucid,
despite his hypothermia and lack of myocardic contractions. He's very
secretive and entirely too stubborn, as well as being a bit of a whiner,
Chase has never seen a monster movie, and I've got Cameron researching
things that go bump in the night, assuming she hasn't gotten sidetracked
by pictures of naked lesbian witchy voodoo rituals."

Cuddy blinked. "Fine," she snapped, turning to leave, "but you're going to
have to tell me what's going on eventually."

/\/\/\/\/\

"What news do you bring? I want progress, people," House announced loudly
as his staff entered his office, Chase still looking over his files
bewilderedly and Cameron looking decidedly disgruntled, Foreman resigned
and a little grumpy.

"Define progress," Foreman said bitterly.

With a sigh, House leaned back in his chair and set his feet on his desk.
"Do we know more than we did before?"

"Considerably," Chase told him, looking up briefly. "Unfortunately, none
of it leads us toward any sort of cohesive theory."

House nodded and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Cameron, how about you?"

Shaking her head, she pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"There's just too much information," she admitted as she shuffled through
her papers. "The sheer volume of material out there is pretty daunting,
and most of it's completely worthless. I managed to find a few sites that
examined mythology and the occult from more scientific and logical
standpoints, but so far none of them have proven very helpful. There are a
few leads I'm planning on following up on, but..." she trailed off and
shrugged. "Quite frankly, I doubt I'll be able to find anything useful, at
least not without a lot more time."

"Time that we have no idea whether or not we have," Foreman pointed out.

House just shrugged. "He's not rotting yet."

"Yeah, but his heart still isn't beating," Chase reminded him.

"If that were a recent development, I might be worried. As is, I'm not
planning on using it as a yardstick for his condition," House replied
easily.

Foreman sighed. "What exactly are you planning on using? Seriously, how
are we going to know if his condition is deteriorating in any way?"

"Same way we always do," he replied. "Watch for changes. The only
difference this time is we don't have a baseline for comparison. That
doesn't change the fact that as far as we're concerned, more dead is
probably bad, less dead is likely a sign of improvement. Case in point: he
woke up. That's a good thing."

"And if he does show signs of worsening?" Cameron asked. "What then? Do we
have even the slightest idea of how to actually treat this man?"

House let out a long, slow breath as he considered her question. "We'll do
the only thing we can do. We'll treat his symptoms as if he were a regular
patient. If it helps, it helps."

"And... if it doesn't?" Foreman asked.

"We do our best to not kill him." House paused and considered his
statement. "Or at least, we try not to make him any more dead than he
already is. Beyond that? Not a whole lot we can do, not until we know more
about his condition. Speaking of which, what do we know? I assume you guys
learned something, even if it's not immediately useful."

"The tests we've run so far have been... interesting," Chase hedged as he
and Foreman exchanged wary glances.

"I'm guessing that by `interesting' you actually mean `bizarre and kind of
freaky'?" House suggested. Nobody argued.

"So far, we've mostly just gone over the blood and tissue samples we
already had," Chase explained. "As we didn't have much of a starting
point, we looked at... well, pretty much everything. Not all of the
results are back yet, but what we have is..."

"Severely messed up," Foreman finished. "A few of the tests came back
completely normal, but for the most part? This guy's just weird."

"We know that," House reminded them. "Weird how?"

"Weird dead, mostly," Foreman answered. "None of his tissue shows any
signs of cellular respiration. There are no traces of waste products, no
ATP, no oxidized particles, nothing. The cells are where they're supposed
to be, but they aren't active in any way."

"Which leads us to the question of how his body is able to heal itself,"
Chase said. "Its obvious that he is able to overcome injuries, seeing as
many of the visible contusions that were present at the time of his
admittance to the hospital are now partially healed. In fact, as far as we
can tell, he's healing at an incredibly accelerated rate. Already most of
his wounds look days old. This suggests that despite the lack of cell
respiration, his tissue is able to regenerate somehow. His body is also
extremely resilient to injury; other than his prolonged period of
unconsciousness, he appeared to suffer very little for such a serious
accident. He had no bone fractures of any kind; in fact, his worse injury
aside from the head trauma was a dislocated shoulder. If it weren't for
the other anomalies in his physiology, I'd write it off as sheer luck, but
as it stands, I'm inclined to believe his lack of broken bones is due to
some other quality. I'd like to test his bone density at some point, but I
haven't gotten around to it just yet."

Foreman picked up the thread of conversation again. "We also ran blood gas
and a full tox screen. I'm not sure what the results mean, as none of the
blood inside this guy actually seems to belong to him, but we've got `em
if we need them. The tox screen came up with a few random steroids that
are mostly used on pigs and cattle, not surprising since the majority of
his blood appears to have come from livestock. The blood gas doesn't make
any sense; some levels are extremely low, while others are through the
roof. His potassium in particular is well beyond lethal, and as far as I
can tell, most of it's coming from the trace amounts of the unidentified
substance in his blood."

"Any luck on figuring out what that stuff is?" House asked.

Foreman just shook his head and shrugged, at a complete loss. "I managed
to isolate a few of the anomalous cells under a microscope; whatever it
is, it isn't human. It has some of the same characteristics as red blood
cells, but I couldn't even begin to tell you where it came from. Whatever
it is, it should be poisonous- it's got extremely high levels of potassium
and lead. It also contains a lot of iron oxide and lead pigments, which
are generally used to color paint and dyes."

"Not particularly useful in oxygenating the body, but at least he bleeds
pretty," House commented. "So, anything else before I send you folks back
to the salt mines? Questions, comments, final words?"

"You're just going to accept everything we just told you?" Chase asked,
surprised. "All of it, no questions asked?"

"I don't see why not," House said with a shrug. "The guy's got no pulse.
I'd be more surprised if everything came back normal."

As there was no arguing with that simple logic, his staff shared a few
significant glances and returned, if somewhat grudgingly, to their work.

/\/\/\/\

"Nice place you got set up here."

Angel looked up and scowled. "Xander."

"Good to see you too, old buddy," the one-eyed Scooby greeted cheerily.
"So, get hit by any good cars lately?"

"I thought you were in Africa," Angel said, glaring.

Xander just shrugged. "Off and on. What about you? I heard you were busy
with some apocalypse in LA- causing it or stopping it or something, nobody
was terribly clear about that part."

"It went down about four months ago," he said with a slightly shadowed
look in his eyes.

"Loose anybody?" Xander asked quietly, showing the serious side Angel
rarely saw and usually forgot he possessed.

"Wes."

"Sucks."

"Yup." The two stared at the wall for a few minutes. "Well," Angel sighed,
"I guess you're at least better than Andrew."

Xander grinned. "He's parking the car."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

House was in his office looking over some of the test results Foreman had
sent up to him when he felt someone staring at him. He hadn't heard anyone
approach, which was unusual, as few people in the hospital cared to even
try to walk quietly. Looking up, he found a young brunette woman lounging
in his doorway, eyes assessing him with an almost disturbing intensity.

"Nice to see Cuddy finally took me seriously when I said I wanted a hooker
for my birthday," he greeted.

She grinned widely and sauntered over to his desk. "Only if you've been a
very, very bad boy," she purred.

Smirking, he nodded his approval. He liked this girl. "So how can I help
you?"

Turning the sexuality down a notch, which House assumed was the closest
she got to "getting down to business", she hopped up and sat on the corner
of his desk. "I'm looking for somebody."

"Somebody in particular, or would any rugged, good-looking doctor with a
cane do?"

Her chuckle was deep and throaty, matching well with her smoky eyes and
full lips. "A patient. A very specific one, as a matter of fact."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know, there's this great nurse's station where
they try to keep track of all the patients. Also, unlike me, they'll
actually pretend to give a rat's ass about visitors. It's probably in your
best interest to go bother them."

"I came in the back way," she said breezily. "So, where can I find my boy
Angel?"

"Ah! So you'd be a `friend' of our favorite quasi-corpse, then," he said,
giving her a significant head-to-toe look on the emphasized word.

"Give the boy a prize," she said with a smirk, obviously enjoying House's
game.

"I don't suppose the `prize' is you telling me why your friend seems to
think it's okay to just waltz in here and make a complete mockery of
medical science," he probed.

"If I say no, do we get to the part where you start spanking me with that
cane of yours?" she countered, leaning in with a sultry look.

"Ah, er..." Wilson stuttered from the doorway, announcing both his
presence and his discomfort.

The brunette turned and gave him a good, long look up and down, making the
oncologist squirm in his lab coat. Apparently, something about his
expression amused her, making her chuckle to herself as she glanced back
at House.

"Something you want to share with the class?" House enquired.

"Just thinking maybe somebody wants to play doctor," she said with an evil
smirk as she pushed herself off the desk and pulled a vibrating cell phone
out of her pocket.

"Excuse me?" Wilson gaped as she flipped the phone open, earning himself a
wink and a wave.

"Faith," she announced into the phone. "Yeah, I was just... looking for
his room," she said with a significant pause. "You find him?" After a
brief wait for a reply, she snapped the phone shut and paused in the
doorway. "I'm off. Don't wait up on my account," she told the doctors
suggestively.

"Down the hall a ways and on your right," House told her.

"Thanks a bunch, doc," she said with a wink as she disappeared.

Wilson stared after her. "Did she just-"

"Insinuate that you want to have sex with me and then leave us to our own
naughty devices?" House supplied. "That she did."

"Just checking," Wilson said weakly.

"I think it's about time we go check on our patient, don't you think?"
House asked as he got to his feet.

"Um, yeah, sure. Why not," Wilson replied dazedly as he waited to follow
House.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Faith? What are you doing here?" Angel asked as the brunette in question
waltzed into his room.

"Yo, Fang," she greeted with a smirk. "What's this, no hug?"

"Umm, a little tied up, here," Angel said, pulling at his wrist restraint
to illustrate his point.

The smirk grew. "Kinky. I like," she purred as she slunk on to his bed and
threw a leg over his waist.

"I'm afraid we ask that you do not climb on the patients," Dr. House
announced as he strode into the room, a still slightly gob-smacked Wilson
in tow.

"Ah! Dr. Mengele, I presume," Xander greeted from his chair, feet perched
against the railing of Angel's bed. He offered a hand, but didn't get up.

House tisked and gave Angel a chastising look. "Somebody's been telling
stories," he said, shaking a finger for added emphasis.

"Dr. House, these are my associates, Xander Harris and Faith," Angel
introduced. "Guys, this is the insane doctor I was telling you about."

"I'm flattered," House said, rolling his eyes and shaking Xander's offered
hand. "So, seriously, this is your cavalry? The poster girl for sexual
liberation and a pirate?"

"Hey, I'm a carpenter pirate, thank you very much," Xander corrected. "And
there's also the uber-nerd, but he's-"

"Greetings and salutations, oh fallen warrior of the light!" a young
blonde man crowed as he entered the room.

"-Right there," Xander finished. "Andrew, Dr. House and some other guy who
hasn't been introduced. Dr. House, Other Guy: uber-nerd."

"Dr. Wilson," Wilson supplied, reaching out to shake Andrew's hand.

"Is this guy for real?" House asked incredulously, gesturing toward
Andrew.

"Hey, standing right here!" Andrew reminded him indignantly.

House rolled his eyes. "I can see that. I was being dismissive."

"So, the Great Concusso here tells me that you guys are having a little
trouble diagnosing him, but you won't let him leave?" Xander cut in before
Andrew could reply or, worse yet, whine.

"Sounds about right," House replied. "Until we know what's wrong with him
and how it's transmitted, we can't afford to let him back among the
general population."

Xander blinked a few times. "And that's bullshit doctor-speak for what
now?"

"I'm curious about him and I have a perfectly legal excuse to keep him
here," House explained.

"You realize our lawyers are going to kill you, right?" Wilson groaned.

House just rolled his eyes. "If they were going to sue me, it would be
about me unplugging his life support. They'd have a way better case for
it."

"Anyway, you're saying you're going to keep him here until you know what's
wrong with him," Faith elaborated.

"You guys aren't in any way military, are you?" Xander asked suspiciously.

"Nope," House responded simply. "So, are you guys going to tell me what's
going on with your pulse-less friend over here?"

"I'm afraid it's not that easy," Andrew told him solemnly. "You must
understand that secrecy is of the utmost importance to our people."

"These `people' being, what, some super-secret sect of socially
incompetent D freaks?" House snarked.

"Hey!" Andrew pouted with all the expertise of someone a third his age.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're really mean?"

"You know, I may have heard someone mention that, yes," Wilson said to
House.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt widdle poindexter's feelings?" House said
sarcastically.

Andrew stamped his foot huffily. "Jerk! Honey works better than vinegar,
pal!"

"Assuming I would actually want to catch flies," House pointed out.

"I'll have you know that mine is among the oldest and most dignified
professions-"

"Right up there with turning tricks, I'm sure," House interrupted.
"Although I have to tell you, you're probably better off sticking with
your day job."

"Xander!" Andrew wailed. "Seriously, he's being a total smeghead! Make him
stop!"

Doing his best to hide the twitching at the corners of his lips, Xander
pulled out his wallet instead. "How about this- I saw a great little comic
shop about two blocks over. Here's twenty bucks."

Andrew glared at the bill in Xander's hand. "You said you wouldn't try to
get rid of me! You promised."

"I'm not," he protested. "This is, um... a reward! You know, for standing
up for the council and... stuff."

Andrew looked at him suspiciously, not quite buying it.

"I heard the latest Uncanny X-Men is out," Xander sing-songed.

"Fine," Andrew snapped, grabbing the twenty and whirling to face House.
"But don't you go thinking this is over, mister," he spat before stomping
out.

House just stared after him. "Seriously, is he for real?"

/\/\/\/\/\

"So, here's the thing," Xander announced, breaking the silence.

"There's a thing?" House asked when Xander paused to ensure he had
everyone's attention.

"There's always a thing, baby," Faith responded. House smirked while
Wilson tried not to look uncomfortable.

Sighing, Xander continued, "We need to know what you guys have figured out
so far."

"So far?" House said as he referred to the file at the foot of Angel's
bed. "So far we know that Angel here doesn't remember if he had any
childhood illnesses, doesn't remember if he has any family history of
cancer, heart disease, diabetes, or mental illness, and- get this- doesn't
remember if he's ever received any vaccinations."

"He made me fill out some kind of patient history form," Angel explained
to Faith and Xander apologetically.

"Fat lot of good it did us," House muttered. "There's not one useful
answer on here."

Angel looked hurt. "Well, I did tell you that I'm not on any medications-"

"But it looks like that chances of you actually remembering if you were
are slim to none, so pardon me if I remain skeptical," House interrupted.

"Great. So now that you've told us what Angel told you, how about you tell
us what you've managed to learn on your own?" Xander prompted.

"You know, I've never been very good at the whole `medical ethics' thing,
but I'm pretty sure there's some kind of confidentiality clause in there
somewhere," House said thoughtfully as Wilson rolled his eyes.

Xander grabbed the knapsack at his feet and pulled out a stack of papers.
"Read `em and weep."

House quickly skimmed through the first few pages and raised his eyebrows
at Xander. "Is it okay if I chuckle instead?"

"Go ahead, I did," Xander said with a grin.

"What? What's going on?" Angel asked. "Those look like legal documents."

"Pretty impressive ones, too," Wilson observed as he read over House's
shoulder.

"According to this, these guys can ask me pretty much anything they want,"
House told him. "They also have Power of Attorney, all the rights of next
of kin, and, assuming I'm reading this correctly, the right to lock you in
a small, reinforced cell if someone named `Rupert Giles' deems it
necessary. Man, these guys own your ass."

"They what? " Angel shouted, not nearly as amused as everyone else in the
room.

"Yeah, sorry about that. The locking you in a cell part isn't supposed to
be included in this copy," Xander explained gleefully. "Dawn must have
accidentally slipped it in before she printed it out for me."

"Let me see those," Angel demanded.

"I'm not sure I'm legally allowed to do that without their permission,"
House said smugly, holding the papers out of Angel's line of sight.

"We'll show you later," Xander assured him. "Don't worry about it. They're
just something Willow drew up in case... well, in case something like this
happened."

"There's no way those are legal," Angel accused.

"You kidding me?" Faith countered. "Man, ain't no way those wouldn't hold
up in a court of law. Red does good work, yo."

"Granted, she had to draw on a few precedents set by Wolfram and Hart,"
Xander admitted.

"This is interesting. `Any and all samples of blood, tissue, bodily fluid,
or other material taken from the person of the patient must be promptly
turned over to the offices of The International Council of Watchers and
Associates, along with any written material concerning said samples and/or
any tests preformed upon said samples'," House read. "I guess this means I
won't be keeping your fingernail clippings in a jar on my desk after all."

"You guys seem to take employment pretty seriously," Wilson observed.

"Andrew's name had better not be in that document," Angel threatened,
making Faith laugh.

"As much fun as that would be, even Giles isn't willing to give Geek-Boy
that much power," she assured him. "Not even over you."

"We, however," Xander said, indicating himself and Faith, "have the power
to make this guy here hand over whatever paperwork he's got so far."

"Against my objections, of course," House noted. "Not the most strenuous
of objections, mind you. I'm actually kind of looking foreword to doing
it, after seeing how much it bugs you."

"You've really got that whole bedside manner thing down to an art form,
don't you?" Angel shot back.

"Yeah, I'm a real people person," House said.

"Jackass or not, we still need those test results," Xander pointed out.

"You mean like the ones that say his heart hasn't beaten in, oh, say,"
House glanced at his watch, "a little over six hours now? And you'll
probably want me to include the ones that say his blood type is B for
bovine, too."

Xander looked a little uncomfortable. "For starters. Hey, you guys
wouldn't happen to believe in secret government doctors using experimental
transfusion methods on willing volunteers, would you?"

"Of course I do. Its Scully here that's the skeptical one," House answered
flippantly, indicating Wilson.

"Wait, how come I have to be Scully?" Wilson protested.

"Um, because it makes for a better punchline? Besides, I just don't have
the calves for those pumps," House told him.

"You sure about that?" Faith asked him, smirking. "I'll bet your boy there
wouldn't mind seeing you in anything more than a nice pair of-"

"Hey, remember when we were talking about test results? Cuz man, do I miss
talking about test results," Xander interrupted, much to Wilson's relief.

"Did anyone else ever get the feeling that Mulder and Scully had the hots
for each other?" House mused.

"I do now," Angel muttered under his breath.

"Hey, you doing alright there, big guy?" Xander asked Angel in a desperate
stab at a subject change. "This whole finagling with your doctors thing's
got to be a little boring for you."

Angel gave Dr. House a scathing look. "I'm not sure boring is the word."

"So, when were you planning on untying my boy Angel, here?" Faith asked
House as she fingered the restraints suggestively.

"Who said anything about untying?" House asked. "I'm still not convinced
he isn't a flight risk."

"What if we gave you some kind of collateral?" Xander suggested. "We could
give you, I don't know, Andrew or something as insurance that Angel won't
go anywhere."

House snorted. "I'd almost be willing to let Angel go for you to take that
kid away from here."

"You wouldn't have to keep him. I'm pretty sure he has all his organs, you
could probably make a killing on the black market," Xander suggested.

"Didn't you promise Giles you wouldn't try to sell Andrew's kidneys after
the incident in Mombasa?" Faith asked.

"I'm not. I'm asking him to do it," Xander pointed out. "Besides, he
doesn't have to sell the kidneys. He could keep those for himself. Make a
nice conversation piece for his office, put them in a nice jar by his
computer or something."

"I thought you guys like Andrew," Angel said, confused.

Xander shrugged. "He's alright. I just get a little tired of him-"

"Pining after you relentlessly? Mooning after your fine ass night and day?
Doodling `Mr. Andrew Harris' on the back of all his notebooks?" Faith
suggested.

"Wow, and I thought Cameron's little crush was awkward and terrifying,"
House commented. "Hey, Wilson, remind me of this the next time I want to
tie a bag of rocks around my neck and jump into a river, it'll really take
the edge off."

"Two words, Faith: singing telegram. He sent me a singing telegram on
Valentine's Day. I think I'm entitled to a little illegal organs trade,"
Xander said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't even think about it," Wilson ordered House, who did his best to
look innocent.

"I would never do something to embarrass you like that," House protested.
"And I certainly wouldn't do it without some sort of special occasion to
mark the event- say, your birthday, which is a mere month and a half
away..."

"No. Absolutely not." Wilson's face was set determinedly, the angle of his
jaw suggesting the finality of the statement.

"Don't be such a baby. Besides, I'd much rather see the look on Cuddy's
face- hey, do they make stripping telegrams? Because I'm willing to bet
that she doesn't see nearly enough cowboys in ass-less chaps," House
ruminated.

Xander nodded. "But then again, who does anymore? So, test results?
Anybody?"

House steepled his fingers and thought a moment before finally
acquiescing. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. But remember, I'm only doing
this to piss him off."

"Does this count toward my redemption?" Angel groaned as House and Wilson
left.

Xander shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, buddy, but I think this just
counts as good old-fashioned senseless suffering."

/\/\/\/\/\

"You're really going to give them his files?" Wilson asked House
incredulously.

"Of course not," House replied. "At least, not yet. First, I'm going to go
see what Chase and Foreman have come up with. Once I have a good idea of
what kind of leverage we have, I can start some decent negotiations."

"Negotiations?" Wilson asked skeptically. "Why do I get the distinct
impression you're talking about blackmail, here?"

"I'm not going to demand monetary compensation, if that's what you mean,"
House said.

"How terribly comforting," Wilson said sardonically as the reached the
labs.

"Tell me what we know," House demanded loudly as he threw the doors open
dramatically and strode over to his staff.

"Not much more than before, I'm afraid," Chase said apologetically.

"We're pretty much grasping at straws at this point," Foreman admitted
with a casual shrug. "All we've managed to do is rule out possibilities.
There's no sign of any bacterial or viral infection, nothing to suggest
cancer, no genetic abnormalities... The man's not healthy, but he doesn't
seem to be sick, either."

"He seems to be dead," Chase said. "Any number of his symptoms are fatal
by themselves; the problem with him is figuring out why he's alive."

"I assume these symptoms you refer to are his lack of cardiopulmonary
activity and low body temperature?" House asked.

Foreman snorted. "That's not even that half of it. The guy's internal
organs are completely dormant. Heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, intestines,
pancreas- it's like the guy hasn't used his digestive system in years.
Aside from salivation, it's just not active. No half-digested food in his
GI tract, no urine, no bile, no pancreatic fluid, no enzymes, nothing. As
far as we can tell, the only functioning system in this guy's body is his
neural network."

"Which makes absolutely no sense, as the brain is entirely dependant on
all of the other systems to survive," Wilson noted.

"Which leaves the question, what's keeping this guy's brain going?" House
said.

"And there doesn't seem to be any biological explanation to that
question," Chase said, clearly baffled.

"Well, hopefully our own personal Men in Black upstairs will have
something to add to your findings," House said. "Gather up all your
results, we're going back upstairs."

"Men in Black?" Foreman asked.

"Angel's mysterious visitors," House explained. "Come on, we haven't got
all day. Mr. Harris's pet geek's going to be back any minute now."

/\/\/\/\

"Xan-der! Come on, you're totally hogging it!" Andrew wailed plaintively.

"I am not, I'm just, um, performing a quality inspection. You know, making
sure all the pages are-"

"Nuh-uh. No way you get to read it first," Andrew interrupted, making
another grab for the comic book. "Come on, I'm the one who went all the
way out and bought it, this is so not fair!"

"Why don't I have a morphine drip? They always have morphine drips on ER,"
Angel whined.

"Suck it up, Angel-Boy. If I gotta listen to this, so do you," Faith said.

"Oh, like you didn't read it the minute you opened the plastic," Xander
scoffed, rolling his eye.

Andrew deflated somewhat. "Well, yeah, I read it, but-" 

To Angel's relief, Andrew's protest was interrupted by the entrance of a
doctor that was not House.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had visitors," Dr. Cameron
apologized. "I'm Dr. Cameron."

"Don't worry about it," Faith said, extending a hand. "Faith. These guys
are Xander and Andrew."

"Alexander, technically, but I don't actually answer to that," Xander
explained. "Nice to meet you."

Andrew glared at Xander and offered Cameron an aloof nod.

"I'll, um, I'll just come back later..." she offered, turning to make a
rather hasty and embarrassed exit.

"Nonsense!" House cried as he entered the room, blocking Cameron's
retreat. "I'm sure these nice people won't mind if you join us. Aw, crap."

"Dr. House?" Cameron asked as Wilson, Foreman and Chase filed in.

"The dweeb is back," he explained, motioning irritably toward Andrew.

"And what have we here?" Faith asked over Andrew's indignant cry. Slinking
over to Chase and Foreman, she slowly looked both of them up and down.
"Hey, Xander, what do you know? I think I'm feelin' a bit... feverish."

"Foreman, Chase, this lovely young lady is Faith," House introduced.
"However, I am going to have to ask that neither of you `tap that' until
we're done with the case."

"Ooh, somebody isn't getting enough between the sheets," Faith taunted,
giving Wilson a significant look. "Somebody might want to look to that,
see if we can't get Dr. Doesn't-Get-Enough to lighten up a little."

"Are those the test results?" Xander asked, smoothly interrupting any
replies to Faith's barb.

Chase looked at the folder in his hands and then back to Xander. "Well,
yeah, but..."

"Xander Harris," he introduced, "and the guy behind me glaring daggers at
Dr. House is Andrew."

"Pleased to meet you all," Chase said, clearly confused.

"The pleasure is all mine," Faith responded.

"You know, this could probably wait until Angel's visitors are done,"
Foreman said quietly to House.

"Actually, `this' directly concerns them. See, these guys know what's
wrong with our patient," House announced to the room at large, ignoring
Foreman's warning.

"Hey, you know what they say about assumptions, doc," Xander protested.
"Asses and... um... mumptions or something."

"Well, my `mumptions' are telling me that the three of you know exactly
what's going on here," House told him.

"That still doesn't mean we're going to tell you," Andrew said angrily.
Xander discreetly elbowed him and he quickly amended, "You know, if there
were anything to tell. Which there's totally not, because we don't
actually-"

"What he means to say," Xander interrupted with a glare at Andrew, "is
that what we know doesn't matter. We're here to find out what you know.
Except not so much in the conspiracy-nut super-secret government cover-up
way."

"Yeah, because you aren't attempting a cover-up at all," House said
sarcastically.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if you were better at playing dead,"
Xander said accusingly to Angel.

"Pardon me for getting run over by an SUV," Angel shot back.

"I still say we should just get those neutralizer flashy thingies," Andrew
said wistfully.

"Remember when we talked about the difference between `movies' and
`reality'?" Xander sighed.

Sticking his lower lip out, Andrew went into full pout mode. "Whatever!
Willow could totally make-"

"Hey, when you and Ronald Reagan over there finish up, could we get back
to the issue of the dearly not-so-departed?" House interrupted.

Xander and Faith looked at each other. "We may as well," Faith said with a
shrug, answering Xander's unspoken question.

"Assuming they haven't already figured it out," Xander pointed out.

"Um, can I try something really quick?" Cameron asked nervously, fiddling
with something in her pocket.

"By all means," Xander said, waving her on.

"Right," she said, taking a deep breath and walking over to Angel. After a
long hesitation, she took another deep breath and pulled something out of
her pocket. Steeling herself, she flipped open the small compact and
turned it toward Angel.

"Oh, my god" Cameron gasped.

"Okay, seriously, couldn't you guys just cut me a break here?" Angel
shouted, exasperated.

"I need to sit down," Cameron said numbly as she started to do just that,
despite the lack of an actual chair behind her. Luckily for her, Faith was
close enough to grab her before she hit the floor.

"Not that I mind my hands all over you, honey, but all you had to do was
ask," Faith told her with a smirk as she guided the pale doctor to a
nearby seat.

"Did I miss something?" Wilson asked.

House glanced back and forth between Cameron and Angel. "Cameron, care to
explain?"

"I, um... I was actually trying to eliminate one of the possibilities,"
she said dazedly. "Not that I really thought it was a possibility, even,
but I just thought... I thought... here, just... look," she said, handing
House the compact mirror.

"Xander, do something!" Andrew cried. "They're all going to find out now!"

"So? They were going to find out one way or another; at least this way
Giles can't blame us," Xander said philosophically. "Also cuts down on the
whole `burden of proof' thing for us later."

"I'll be damned," House said, staring at the mirror.

Peering over House's shoulder, Wilson moved his head back and forth a few
times to check the mirror from different angles. "Huh," he stated in a
slightly strangled voice.

"And you have an explanation for this?" House asked Xander, still looking
into Cameron's compact.

"Your mirror is defunct?" he offered cheekily. House glared.

"What exactly are we looking at?" Foreman asked.

House tossed him the mirror. "You know, this does explain the hair."

"Hey!" Angel cried.

"Holy shit," Foreman breathed as he turned the mirror on Angel.

"Unbelievable," Chase said as he leaned in to see what Foreman was looking
at. "How...?"

Xander shrugged. "I dunno. Willow keeps trying to explain it to me in
terms of physics and higher planes and mystical crap, but I prefer to
think of it as `just one of those things'. Less headaches that way."

"Actually," Andrew offered, "it has more to do with the fact that they
don't resonate on the same level physically as they do psychically on
account of-"

"Yup, just one of those things," Xander interrupted. "And anyway, why are
you surprised?" he asked House. "I thought you knew what was going on."

"Suspecting and knowing are two entirely different animals. I think one
has horns," House said thoughtfully. "And either way, regardless of what I
suspected, I never actually expected this to be the case. It was more an
amusing theory that I entertained than an actual possibility. Or, at
least, so I thought."

"Are we actually doing this?" Wilson asked, amused. "Are we seriously
diagnosing vampirism?"

"Well, ah, not exactly," Xander offered, grimacing a little. "Or at least,
not officially."

"I'm afraid there is certain information that we simply cannot allow to
fall into the hands of-" Andrew started to add, but House cut him off.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if you just didn't open your mouth
in the first place," House said. "I've only got so much `shut the hell up'
to go around and I have clinic duty this afternoon."

"Anyway, what you're dealing with is actually a very rare and unusual form
of epilepsy that, due to the area of the brain affected often results in
chronic hypothermia and has been known to cause the neurons in the brain
to continue to fire sporadically for several hours after death," Xander
said proudly.

"Damn, Xan, somebody bought himself a word-a-day calendar!" Faith crowed
appreciatively.

"More like Dawn made me memorize, like, half a dozen different speeches,"
Xander admitted sheepishly. "She also made me learn the whole watchery
`the world is older than you know' bit and taught me how to say `please
don't kill me' in fifteen languages. Dda mig inte. Asseblief nee beseer
ek. Refren elejtett vad-"

"I believe we were discussing, gee, was it post-mortem seizures?" House
interrupted incredulously. "We're not actually supposed to believe this,
are we?"

"Silly, silly man," Andrew said as he shook his head dramatically, only to
stop short and scuttle behind Xander when he saw the warning look on
House's face.

"Well, no," Xander admitted, "but I worked really hard to memorize all
that medical bull-honky. I'm not just going to let it go to waste.
Besides, that is what's going in your official report or whatever."

"We're supposed to say that weird epilepsy made his reflection disappear?"
Foreman asked dubiously.

"Noooo, weird epilepsy made him appear to regain consciousness when he
was, in fact, dead. The fact that he's reflectively challenged we can
pretty much keep to ourselves," Xander said patiently. "I realize it
totally sucks as far as cover stories go, but in our defense we weren't
actually prepared for this kind of situation yet. That's technically the
official cover-up for when corpses leap off the table, attack morgue
attendants and take off."

"Has anyone ever actually bought that?" House asked.

"You'd be surprised what people are willing to believe to avoid accepting
the supernatural. According to the newspapers, my hometown growing up was
infested with gangs on PCP and lethal barbeque forks," Xander informed
him.

"Yeah, had a real problem with gas leaks, too," Faith added.

"Wow, that's quite the imaginative company you work for," House observed
sarcastically.

"Nah, my company's actually pretty new at this. The whole `gangs on PCP'
thing was actually the mayor trying to hide the fact that the town was
infested with vampires due to the fact that he'd built it on the mystical
equivalent of a demonic Disneyland," Xander explained.

"Where was this, exactly?" Wilson asked.

"That would be `The Crater Formerly Known as Sunnydale," he responded.

"Right," Wilson said, blinking. "Okay, well, um... good to know."

"So you guys are, what, the vampire police?" Foreman asked, still trying
unsuccessfully to catch a glimpse of Angel in the mirror.

"For you, we can be anything you want," Faith purred.

"You know, I'm pretty sure that line was old when my grandparents were
dating," House pointed out acerbically.

"Yes, but she says it so well," Wilson said, rolling his eyes.

"So anyway, the Watcher's Council is a lot of things," Xander interrupted
before the conversation could dissolve completely, "including the leading
international authority on all things demonic, including vampires."

"Which, by the way, you suck at," House said.

"Which, by the way, we're new at," Xander corrected. "This stuff used to
be handled by a bunch of stuffy guys in England that didn't give a rat's
ass, freelance demon hunters, and the occasional doomed military program."

"Usually vampires just end up in the morgue, anyway," Faith added. "Or at
least, the ones that don't tear the paramedic's throats out do."

"They're not really big on hospitals. Something about HMO's not covering
people once they're, you know, dead," Xander said.

"Yeah, they're real jerks about that," House said sarcastically.

"I thought vampires had fangs," Chase said suddenly.

"Dead boy, if you will?" Xander said, deferring to the vampire.

Sighing, Angel obliged by going into game face.

Foreman, Chase, and Wilson jumped. Cameron whimpered and sank back in her
chair. House, after a moment's consideration, leaned forward to inspect
the vampire's face.

"Ugly bastard, aren't you?" he commented.

"Yeah, like you're Miss America," Angel muttered angrily.

"Jesus, Greg, that's a vampire!" Wilson hissed. "Do you really want to be
sticking your finger in his face?"

"Oh, come on! He's tied to the bed," House said, dismissing the danger
with a wave of his hand. "What's he going to do, blow on me? Oh yeah, he
doesn't breathe."

"Besides, Soul-Boy here is on the wagon," Faith told everyone.

"The... he's what?" Wilson asked.

"Angel now endeavors on the side of the light," Andrew explained
pompously. "He has been cursed with the burden of a soul, and must forever
attempt to make amends for the evil-"

"Seriously, shut the hell up," House ordered.

"What Andrew means to say is the Angel is a good vampire," Xander
explained. "Annoying, but not evil."

"Wow, thank god we cleared that up," House snarked. "That means I can poke
him, right?"

"I'd advise against it," Angel said through clenched teeth, reverting back
to his human faade.

"I think... I think I need to sit down," Cameron said shakily, apparently
forgetting that she was already seated.

"For the love of- Pull yourself together, would you?" House ordered.

"You have to admit, this is a lot to take in," Wilson pointed out.

"I don't have to admit anything," House spat. "And dammit, Foreman, would
you quit with the mirror already? You're not the fairest of them all, get
over it."

"Sorry," Wilson apologized for House. "He's usually much more agreeable
after being proven right."

"I am not," House disagreed. "I'm a horrible gloat. So, you survive by
drinking blood?" he asked Angel.

"Well, yeah," he answered.

"That's just sick, man," Foreman said, shaking his head.

"Hey!" Angel cried indignantly. "Blood is-"

"No. Nu-uh. There is no way I'm listening to you go off on your crazy ass
Pro-Blood crusade," Xander interrupted. "I had to live with Spike. I did
my time, thank you very much."

"You lived with a vampire?" Chase asked.

"More like was forced to share my basement with and tie to a chair every
night... and I'm really digging a hole here, aren't I?" he stopped
himself, blushing.

"Yes, yes you are," Wilson agreed, mildly disturbed.

"Righty then," Xander said, clapping his hands together. "So, can we have
our vampire back?"

"You're not going to just let him go, are you?" Chase asked House.

House regarded Angel and his friends thoughtfully. "Actually, I might do
just that."

"But House, he's- he's-" Cameron stuttered, apprehension clear in her
eyes.

"He's a big pussycat," Faith assured her, rolling her eyes.

Cameron looked up at Faith, confused. "How can you say that? He's- he's a
killer, he takes innocent people and he-"

"Wow, and I thought I was supposed to be the cynical one," House
interrupted. Startled by his accusation, Cameron turned her gaze back to
Angel, apparently re-evaluating her thoughts on the vampire.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," Angel promised her.

"He's got a soul, it's this whole big thing," Xander said with a wave of
his hand. Cameron nodded as if she understood, though she didn't say
anything.

"How do you know?" Chase asked. "That he has a soul, I mean."

"'Cause we know the chick who gave it to him," Faith answered.

Chase looked doubtfully at Angel. "But how-"

"Hey, save existentialist education hour for your own time," House
interrupted and turned to Angel. "Do you promise not to bite anyone if I
take off the restraints?"

Angel rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Alright, but I'm holding you three," he indicated Faith, Xander, and
Andrew, "personally responsible if your pet blood-sucker attacks my staff.
Any slaughter is entirely on your heads, understand?"

"I'm cool with that," Faith said with a shrug.

"Sounds good to me," Xander agreed.

"Okay then. Chase, come over here for a minute," House ordered.

Confused, Chase nonetheless complied. "Why?" he asked when it was clear no
explanation was forthcoming.

House started undoing the restraints. "Because if he attacks me, I'm going
to use you as a human shield."

Angel rolled his eyes as Chase backpedaled so quickly he nearly landed on
his ass. "See? This is me not attacking anybody," he huffed indignantly as
he rubbed his wrists.

"So, why did you restrain him?" Xander asked House.

"Call it a hunch," he answered. "I've had some previous experience with
his type."

"I thought you didn't know about vampires," Faith said inquisitively.

"I didn't," House responded simply.

"Saw a dead guy jump off a gurney?" Xander said knowingly.

"Yeah, it was a real doozy of a `post-mortem seizure'," House said
sardonically.

"Just so we're clear, you're not going to be doing that, right?" Foreman
asked Angel.

"I'm sure he'll make an exception for you," House said. Cocking his head
thoughtfully, he turned to the vampire. "Do black people taste different?"

"House!" Cameron gasped.

"Oh, what, like you're surprised?" House asked irritably before turning
back to Angel. "How old are you?"

"Um, two-hundred and... something..." he answered awkwardly. "Don't you
have, I don't know, other patients to look in on or something?"

"Nope," House answered proudly. "I'm not letting you sneak out of here
just yet. Besides, I'm betting your buddies here won't be leaving until
they're sure I won't just run and tell my boss everything."

"That would probably be a more effective threat if anyone in here actually
believed you'd willingly give Cuddy information," Wilson pointed out.

"It doesn't really matter, anyway," Xander admitted, blushing a little.
"None of this is actually going to make it to any official records."

"I thought you needed us to give you all of our paperwork and lab
samples," Wilson said, confused.

"Well, yeah, but that's more of a, um, formality," he explained.

"What Xan here means to say is that just because we asked nicely doesn't
mean we can't take it by force," Faith said smugly. "Red already made sure
our boy here doesn't show up in any of your computer files; all she needs
to do is say the word and any hard copies you've got disappear."

"Disappear?" House repeated skeptically.

"As in `poof'," Xander supplied, making the appropriate hand gestures.

"You're implying that you have... magic at your disposal?" House asked.

"Not implying, baby, we're saying it straight out," Faith answered.

"Not to mention the fact that nobody would actually believe you if you did
tell the truth," Xander pointed out.

"Granted, but I was hoping for at least a little bit of blackmail
material," House said disappointedly.

Xander just shrugged. "Wouldn't do you much good, anyway. It's not like
you could threaten to go public with this or anything; these sorts of
things tend to get covered up no matter what. Reports get lost, people get
declared crazy- I'm pretty sure the government's involved somehow, not
that I can prove it. The whole `demons exist' thing pretty much stays
buried no matter what, you know?"

"That's incredibly unsettling," Chase commented.

"I'll second that," Foreman agreed.

Xander shrugged again. "You get used to it."

"Now, when you say demons, I'm going to go ahead and assume you mean more
than just vampires," House said thoughtfully.

Andrew stepped forward and haughtily began speaking. "The world is older
than any of you know-"

"Andrew?" Xander interrupted. "This here? So not the time."

"Vampires aren't the only demons out there," Angel supplied. "You won't
ever see most of them, but they exist at the fringes of human society,
going largely unnoticed by the world as a whole. Some of them can even
blend in and live normal lives, while others stick to the sewers, demon
bars, communes, that sort of thing. And just for the record, not all
demons are evil; a lot just try to get by and stay under the radar."

"You probably won't ever have to worry about anything other than
vampires," Xander added. "New Jersey tends to be a bit of a gathering
place for some of your more amiable demons, but the really nasty stuff
usually ends up at a Hellmouth."

"What exactly qualifies as `really nasty'?" Foreman asked.

"Usually big and ugly with lots of teeth, but it varies," Xander answered.
"Basically, I'd stay away from anything that hangs out in dark alleys or
cemeteries and looks at you like you're dinner."

"There go my plans for Saturday," House quipped.

"So what are we supposed to do if we do run across the big bad wolf?"
Foreman asked, ignoring House.

"Get the hell out and call us," Faith replied.

"So not only are you guys the supernatural Men in Black, but you're Van
Helsing and friends?" House asked, eyebrow raised.

"It's a living," Xander said easily.

"Not a very good one, by the looks of it," House pointed out wryly. "What
happened to your eye?"

"Red Rider BB gun," Xander answered quickly. "What happened to your leg?"

"I poked a badger with a spoon," House responded seriously.

"Ornery critters, badgers," Xander observed sagely.

"Are these two making anyone else nervous?" Wilson asked, receiving nods
from several heads around the room.

House smirked. "Xander, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful
friendship."

"The earth is doomed," Wilson and Angel groaned in near-perfect unison.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Remember the part where I was leaving?" Angel asked impatiently.

"Alright, just let us ask a few more questions and we'll let you go,
okay?" House conceded.

"Promise?" Angel asked, his tone skeptic and no little sullen.

"Well, as much fun as it would be to keep you and perform depraved and
unspeakable experiments on you in my basement, I just don't think I can
stand the joy of your company for any real length of time," House assured
him.

"You know, he doesn't actually have to tell you anything," Xander pointed
out.

"True, but if he doesn't I could always call- what was her name? Dawn? And
ask her," House said with a smug grin. "I'm sure she'd be willing to
answer all sorts of questions if I were to reveal a few embarrassing
details about Angel's stay here."

Angel's eyes went wide with fear before narrowing suspiciously. "You don't
have the phone number."

"Au contrair, mon petite cadavre," House said, holding up his cell phone.
"Automatic redial; it's an interesting invention, really useful, you
know?"

"You wouldn't," Angel said with fear in his eyes.

House's smirk grew wider. "One word, my friend: catheter."

Xander sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do you want to know?"

"Who do you guys work for?" House fired.

"The New International Council of Watchers," Xander answered smoothly. "We
identify and train new Slayers and keep an eye on demonic activity around
the globe."

"Slayers?" House asked.

"Can I see that?" Faith asked, referring to House's cane. House looked at
her warily and, after a moment's hesitation, handed her the cane. With
practiced ease, Faith snapped it in half, lined the two pieces up along
side each other, and snapped them in half again. "Slayer," she said,
handing the pieces back to a dumbfounded House.

"Well that was... effective," Wilson said with a barely-suppressed smirk.

House glared at Wilson. "Yes, but was it necessary? I thought it was
politically incorrect to pick on cripples."

"You've got a spare in your office, you'll be fine," Wilson said, rolling
his eyes.

"I could always carry you around for the rest of the day, if you want me
to," Faith offered.

House considered the offer. "Would you?" he asked hopefully.

"House!" Wilson scolded, though he wasn't exactly shocked.

"What?" House protested. "Not all day! I just wanted to see if she'd maybe
swing me by Cuddy's office."

"That won't be necessary," Wilson told both House and Faith firmly.

"As I was saying, Slayers are girls magically gifted with the strength and
reflexes to fight vampires and demons," Xander continued. "Faith, as you
probably guessed, is one of them."

"Kind of a whole big `Take Back the Night' type thing?" House suggested.

"They're only girls?" Cameron asked.

"Yup. It has something to do with the price of the spell that created the
first Slayer," Xander explained. "I'm pretty sure Giles told me all about
it once, but I don't think I was actually listening at the time."

"The Shadow Men had to make an appropriate sacrifice in exchange for the
protection-" Andrew began, but a nudge from Xander and a glare from House
silenced him pretty quickly. "Fine, but I'll have you know that I'm a
highly trained Watcher-"

"Is that anything like a trained monkey? Because I'm having a little
trouble telling the difference," House interrupted. Andrew huffed
indignantly and crossed his arms, turning deliberately away from House.

"Again with the anyway," Xander said loudly to regain everyone's
attention. "Was there anything else you wanted to know before we, you
know, left?"

"Actually, I have one," Foreman said, raising a file folder. "We ran some
tests on your man Angel's blood and we couldn't identify one of the, uh,
substances," he said as he handed the test results to Xander.

Xander looked at the papers for a few moments, shuffling through the stack
with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Okay, so I have absolutely no
idea what I'm looking at here," he admitted after several seconds.

"Those are the different chemical and biological compounds present in
Angel's blood," Chase explained. "We've been able to isolate several
different types of mammal blood, but there also appears to be some sort of
unidentifiable cellular matter that doesn't look like anything we've seen
before."

"I, uh, I'm pretty sure I can tell you what it is," Angel said, cringing a
little in embarrassment. "It sort of has to do with the reason I'm here in
New Jersey."

"You know, I was wondering about that," Xander said.

"Yeah," House agreed. "I mean, Vegas has way better hookers."

Angel shifted uncomfortably. "Um, I wouldn't really know. Anyway, I'm
tracking a pack of Hellhounds. I'm pretty sure they've set up a den in the
city somewhere."

"Oh, please don't say what I think you're going to say," Xander pleaded.

"What? It's not like I had a lot of time to just stop and eat, and it was
right there," Angel said defensively.

"That is so far beyond gross," Xander groaned as he pressed the heel of
his hand against his eye.

"Seriously disgusting, dude," Faith agreed.

"Dare I ask what a `Hellhound' is?" House asked.

"Think repulsive lovechild of a vampire bat and a hyena," Xander supplied.

"Okay, that might actually be worse than the image of you sucking on a
pig's neck," House told Angel.

"Hey! I don't- I do not... suck pig," Angel protested, flustered. "And
anyway, it's not that bad."

"Sounds pretty rank to me," Foreman said apologetically. Chase nodded
agreement and Cameron looked slightly green.

"It's not like it was still alive or anything!" Angel grumbled.

"Only making it worse, man," Faith told him, shaking her head.

"Still, it's better than feeding on innocent people, isn't it?" Cameron
said, glaring reproachfully at House, Faith and Foreman. "I mean, this-
this thing, it was a demon, right? An evil one?"

Angel nodded. "This particular pack has been hunting homeless people."

"See?" Cameron said. "He's protecting people, and all you guys can do is
give him a hard time about how he gets his- his dinner!"

"She's got a point, House," Wilson agreed.

"You guy's have obviously never seen a Hellhound," Faith said.

"For the record?" Angel said. "Most of those Hellhounds are still out
there, so if we could just wrap this up..."

"You know, if you have any other questions, you could always just call
someone at the Council," Xander suggested.

"Really," House said, intrigued.

"Here," Xander said, leaning foreward to give House a business card. "I'll
let them know they can tell you pretty much anything, okay? They'll
probably pass you off to a Junior Watcher, but most of them are pretty
cool, and they should have pretty much any information you'd want."

House contemplated the card. "You're using me, aren't you?" he asked
suspiciously.

"Using is such a strong word," Xander said with a grin. "Besides, I'm just
giving you a means with which to gain information. If you should happen to
terrorize certain uppity, pre-tweed Junior Watchers-" Xander shrugged.
"Well, that's hardly my fault, is it?"

"Can we finish this up?" Angel asked, exasperated. "Please?"

"Keep your cape on," House snarled. "Fine, you can go!"

"Am I even wearing a cape?" Angel asked angrily. "Am I wearing a cape?" he
repeated to the rest of the room.

"Hate to break it to you, but you're wearing a hospital gown," Faith
informed him with a smirk, tossing him her knapsack. "Don't worry, we
brought you some duds."

Relieved, Angel peeked into the bag. "Sweats?" he asked incredulously.

"Dude, take what you can get," Faith suggested. "You want to get out of
here or not?"

"What about my real clothes?" he begged.

"The paramedics had to cut them off of you," Chase told him.

"They what? That's- that's- you know what, never mind," Angel growled. "Is
there somewhere I can change into these?"

"The room next door is empty," Cameron answered sympathetically before
House could say anything.

"Thanks," he said, giving Cameron a genuine smile as he headed out the
door.

"Alright, so I get that he's a good guy," Foreman said, turning to Xander,
"but what if he was a different vampire, one that's not so friendly? Would
you still expect us to release it? Let it get back to hunting down
innocent people?"

"If you had a different vampire here, we wouldn't be having this
conversation," Xander told him. "Most likely scenario, we'd have one of
our people sneak in, stake the vamp and take off. No muss, no fuss except
for a little dust in the sheets, and no one the wiser. You'd probably just
assume he climbed out a window or something."

"Basically, the only reason we're here is because Fang sucks at playing
dead," Faith said.

"Which is odd, considering his natural advantages," House commented.

"You know, it's a little difficult to play dead when people are shocking
the hell out of your chest," Angel pointed out irritably as he walked back
in, tugging at the sleeves of his sweatshirt. "So can we get out of here?
Because I actually have stuff to do."

"Yeah, yeah, demons to kill, sheep to drain, I'm sure it's all very
important," House said.

"What exactly are we supposed to do?" Chase asked. "I mean, are we just
going to tell everyone we fixed you and let walk out the front door?"

"Personally, I was thinking we could declare him dead and stick him in a
morgue drawer for a few hours," House said with a smirk.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Angel responded.

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun!" House argued. "I hear it's a great place to
pick up chicks. Besides, there's a fifty in it for you if you jump out and
scare the morgue attendant."

"Really, no thanks," Angel repeated indignantly.

"I'll make it seventy-five if he faints," House cajoled.

"House! That's horrible!" Cameron shouted, while at the same time Angel
said "Really? Seventy-five?"

At Xander's glare, Angel shrugged sheepishly and said, "What? I'm not on
the Wolfram and Hart salary anymore. I could use a little cash."

"And if Angel's done pimping himself out, we'll be on our way," Xander
said, getting to his feet. "Andrew, Faith, if you'll show him where we
parked the car?"

"You know, last time I checked, it was still daytime outside," House
pointed out.

"Covered parking," Faith answered over her shoulder as they left.

"I think I'm going to, um, walk them out," Cameron said with a slight
blush as she hurried after Angel. Chase and Foreman exchanged knowing
looks while House scoffed outright.

"You can send the bill to the Council at this address..." Xander said
distractedly as he leaned out the doorway to watch their progress down the
hall. As soon as Angel was out of earshot, he pulled his head in and
turned to House. "Alright, here's a card with my Council phone number and
email address. You said something about embarrassing details?"

House cocked his head thoughtfully. "I can think of a few."

"I don't suppose you got pictures?" Xander asked hopefully.

House grinned widely. Yes indeed, he thought, it had turned out to be a
very interesting day.

/\/\/\/\

"How did you even manage to get the security tapes?" Wilson asked as he
opened the door to House's office.

"What, I can't have friends in high places?" House asked, leaning heavily
on Wilson as they crossed the room to his desk.

"It's the word `friends' that throws me," Wilson admitted as he lowered
House into his desk chair. "You know, it would have been considerably
easier for me to just bring your extra cane too you."

"Yes, but this way I get to publicly remind everyone that you're my
bitch," House pointed out smugly.

Wilson glared and chose to ignore the gibe. "Is this the file Xander gave
you?" he asked instead, flipping through the manila folder House had
dropped unceremoniously onto his desk.

"Full of all kinds of irrefutable proof that Angel is Joe Normal," House
answered.

"You mean full of falsified test results," Wilson corrected.

"You make it sound so sordid," House chided.

"Far be it from me to pass judgment," Wilson said, rolling his eyes and
handing the file back to House.

"Don't you have dying women to comfort or something?" House asked as he
leaned forward to snatch the folder.

"Or something," Wilson agreed, turning to leave. "So... movie tonight?" he
asked, pausing in the doorway.

House grinned. "I was thinking `Dracula'."

/\/\/\/\

"You released him?"

House looked up from his video game to see an irate Cuddy, arms crossed
under her breasts, standing in his doorway. "It's possible," he said,
eyebrow arched dramatically. "I release a lot of people. Remind me again
who you're talking about?"

"The asystolic patient," she reminded him irritably. "He's gone?"

"Asystolic, asystolic..." House muttered as if deep in thought. Finally he
shrugged and shook his head. "Nope, I got nothing."

"Don't give me that," Cuddy snapped. "You know exactly what I'm talking
about."

House just smirked. "Yeah, but can you prove it?"

"House," she demanded shortly.

"The only patient I've had lately was a guy with a penchant for playing in
traffic and a touch of hypothermia," House told her, not bothering to keep
the amusement out of his voice. "Once he was conscious and warmed up,
there was really no reason to keep him here."

Cuddy blinked, taken aback by his casual dismissal of the perplexing case.
"Dr. Abrahms said-"

"Dr. Abrahms is an idiot," House interrupted.

"And the paramedics who couldn't get a pulse from him?" she shot back.
"They're idiots too?"

House snorted. "Oh, come on. Third graders know how to find a pulse. Draw
your own conclusions."

"What about his test results?" Cuddy asked, exasperated.

House leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "What
about them?" he asked with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

"They're abnormal to the point of absurdity! The lab techs won't shut up
about them," she said. 

"Huh," House said, feigning mild confusion and turning to look at the
patient file that was conveniently still sitting on his desk. "That's not
what his records say."

"Let me see those," Cuddy ordered, grabbing the chart. "This can't be
right," she said after flipping through the various papers. "His blood
work is completely normal."

"Well, gee, that's just weird," House said sarcastically. "Normal blood,
who would have thought?"

"House, what's going on here?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you," he responded, imitating her
seriousness.

"If I hear one word about malpractice..." she threatened, brandishing the
file.

"Something tells me that you'll never hear another word from this guy,"
House said mysteriously.

"You'd better hope I don't," she declared angrily. House gave her a
knowing smirk and went back to his video game. When it became clear that
House considered the conversation over and forgotten, Cuddy spun on her
heel and stalked out of his office in a gesture of grudging defeat. House
doubted that was the end of it, but she'd given up for the time being.

Once he could no longer hear the clack of her heels from the hallway,
House put away his game and pulled a business card out of his pocket. He
quickly dialed the number and sat back in his chair and crossed his ankles
as he waited for an answer.

"International Council of Watchers, how may I direct your call?" a
chipper, feminine voice greeted.

"Hello!" House greeted jovially. "A good buddy of mine told me I could
call you folks for some information. I believe he said something about
Junior Watchers?"

"I'll connect you, please hold," she said.

There was a soft click, and a new voice came on the line. "Um, hello? I
mean, hello. What can I do for you?" The young man sounded very timid and
uncertain. 

House smiled broadly to himself. "Well, for starters, I was hoping you
could give me some advice on what to do when you suspect your favorite
hooker is a vampire..."

Judging by the flustered response from the other end, House suspected he'd
found himself a new favorite pastime.  
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