AtCS - Back of Beyond

Back of Beyond

Detective Kate Lockley sat at her desk staring at the files in front of her. Only one had her attention, but it wasn't open. It didn't need to be; by now she had memorized the content. Six bodies found in the basement of their apartment building. Drained of blood, eyeballs removed. Adding to that was the four women found, individually, in the week previous to the basement massacre, with their hearts as well as eyes removed, and there were in total ten known victims of the same mad man.

The eyeballs that Kate had seen during her terrifying encounter with the killer were later recovered when they mysteriously appeared at the front desk. No one had seen who had placed them there. Kate had her suspicions on who had dropped them off, but she'd kept quiet about them. Along with that information was a composite of the suspect based on Kate's observations. Lastly, the file included the details of Kate's attack, also based on her testimony.

Unaware of his identity, she had accompanied the suspect to his apartment, only to find that she was intended to be his next victim. As the killer attacked her, Kate claimed she'd drawn her weapon and had fired several times, but was not sure if she'd managed to hit the suspect. Only by luck, and perhaps the killer being startled by the gunfire, had Kate been able to escape with nothing more than minor injuries. Her only excuse for the delay in calling for backup to apprehend the suspect was shock from the attack. That's what the report said, and only Kate, the murderer, and probably, Angel knew that it was a pack of lies.

There was no mention that Angel had tried to warn her earlier in the evening or that he apparently knew the man who called himself 'Michael Penn'. Not a thing about the fact that she'd shot her attacker several times with the only result being that he became annoyed. And certainly nothing of Angel's claims that this psycho was a mythical creature that surely could not exist. She didn't know why she kept Angel out of the report, but she had.

Kate had thought she knew which side Angel was on. He had saved her life once and, over the last few months had become a friend. Someone she liked and, what was more important to her, trusted. And now this. Kate didn't know what to think. If Angel knew this person, why wouldn't he be straight with her, help her find him before there were more bodies on the ground?

At the moment, the only thing they had going for the investigation was the sketch and a name. There had been no matches with the few fingerprints that had been found at the killers apartment other than to the other known crime scenes. Whoever this Penn was, he'd never been arrested or been in the military.

//And if he's the monster that Angel claims he is, that makes sense, doesn't it?//

She shook the thought away as impossible and looked at the list of people she wanted to interview. With no other leads, the sketch of 'Penn' had been published in yesterday's newspaper and now they had to begin the huge task of talking to every one of these 'tipsters'. The list Kate had compiled consisted of only the most promising sounding tips.

Whatever it took, she was going to find this guy, even if she had to personally talk to every person that had called in. She wasn't sure where this obsession came from, but she couldn't let it go. She would find him, catch him, and lock him up.

And she would catch him, no matter what she had to do.

* * *

Cordelia sat at her desk reading a magazine, while Dinah sat on the floor at her feet working on her latest picture. She had chosen to make her trees green this time as a special favor to Angel.

Angel sat in his office reading, or pretending to read a new mystery novel.

Doyle had moved back and forth between the rooms for the last three hours. Sitting on the couch in the outer room for while, then going to sit across from Angel, then back to sit in the chair in front of Cordelia's desk, then back again to the couch.

They were all bored out of their minds. For the last five days there had been nothing. No visions, no clients, and absolutely nothing to do. It didn't help the general mood of the office that Angel had been brooding almost non-stop since his last run in with Penn. It appeared he was right about his childe not coming back. In fact, it seemed as though Penn had left Los Angeles altogether. But Cordelia and Doyle were worried about his possible return, just the same.

Cordelia glanced at her watch for the fourth time in the last hour. This was getting ridiculous. She wanted to just tell Angel she was going, and take Dinah home. The little girl was looking a bit flushed. Of course, her natural skin color was rather red, but it wasn't usually that particular shade. She had also been tired all day. She had taken two naps already, when it was usually a trial to get her to take one. Cordelia looked down at the little one, studying her for the umpteenth time that day. She wasn't sure if she should be concerned or not. It was probably nothing. Just the same, maybe she should take her home early and make some chicken soup or something. Wasn't that supposed to make everything better? Just a little while longer, she decided. She still kept hoping that some client would come walking through the door. It had yet to happen, but if there was one thing Cordelia Chase had always possessed in abundance it was optimism. And if there was one thing they needed right now, it was money.

She was about to check her watch again, when Doyle suddenly sat up straight from where he'd been lying on the couch, dropping his newspaper. "I think we may have company," he said softly.

Cordelia looked up to see a shadow out in the hallway. She couldn't clearly see what it was, but it was definitely standing outside the door. Cordelia immediately sat up straight, while Angel stepped into the doorway between the inner and outer offices.

"Dinah, go into Angel's office," Cordelia said, beginning to feel nervous as the shadow remained where it was and didn't come any closer.

"But..." Dinah's protest was cut off with a sharp glance from Cordelia.

"What did I say about doing what Cordy says?" The little girl sighed and grabbing her pad and crayons, she slipped past Angel into the inner office. Angel carefully shut the door behind her as the shadow finally moved and came toward the door.

The door opened, hesitantly, to reveal a truly terrifying sight...

Angel: the Cyber Series

"Back of Beyond"
Written by Cleo & Michele

Edited by
Starlin Jordan, Katarina Hj�rpe, & Ellen

Produced by
Ellen

Based on the characters created by Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt, and the series produced by Mutant Enemy,
Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, in association with 20th Century Fox Television. No
copyright infringement intended, no profit received from this work of fiction. Story copyrighted © 2001 Cleo
Calliope, AtCS, and Prosephone's Lyre Productions.

This story may not be reprinted or presented in any way without express permission from the author and notification
of the AtCS production staff.

The demon that entered the office was unlike anything any of them had ever seen. It was as tall as Angel, but about twice as broad. It had green scales, a pig's snout, four horns on its massive head... and that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was the tacky, flower print dress the demon wore and the red, obviously fake alligator handbag it was carrying. Doyle's jaw dropped, while Cordelia had to fight not to laugh out loud.

"Is this Angel Investigations?" the demon asked in a high scratchy voice that didn't sound like it could come from a body that big.

Angel recovered first. "Uh, Yes... can we, um... help you?"

The demon came farther into the room and closed the door behind it. "Oh dear, yes I hope so. I'm absolutely at my wits' end and I really don't know what to do." The demon came further into the room wringing its hands, complete with three-inch claws, in a pitiful manner. "I can't believe that I'd ever have to come to a place like this. I'll have you know that I am perfectly respectable, and from a perfectly respectable family. If any of my neighbors knew I had set foot in a place like this... I'd never be able to show my face at the sewing circle again. This never would have happened if my dear Razorka was still alive, he would have taken care of all of this, but since he passed on, may the seven hells rest his soul, I've had to do all sorts of things that I'm just not used to."

Now it was Doyle trying hard not to laugh, and he was beginning to turn red with the effort. Cordelia, on the other hand, had recovered herself. She stood and motioned toward the chair in front of her desk. "Why don't you take a seat? Would you like some coffee?" A client was a client; at this point she was willing to take what they could get, although this was a definite ten on her weird-o-meter.

"Thank you, but no coffee, please. It isn't good for my nerves." The demon settled herself, at least Cordelia was assuming it was a her, into the chair. Cordelia held her breath, uncertain if the ancient thing would be able to hold the weight. With a heart stopping sigh of protest, the chair held.

Angel moved around to lean against the desk and regarded their visitor with a practiced blankness.

"What is the problem, Ms...."

"Mrs. Klavorknos," the demon corrected him. "Mrs. Traynaus Klavorknos."

"Mrs. Klavorknos," Angel repeated, and Cordelia was impressed that he'd managed not to stumble over the strange name.

"We assure you, Mrs.... er... ma'am," Cordelia broke in. "We are totally discreet. Anything you have to say will not leave this room."

"Well, I certainly hope not," Mrs. Klavorknos said. "The problem... oh dear. You see, it's my son." She pulled out a lace handkerchief and began dabbing at her red eyes, although Cordelia couldn't see any evidence of tears there. Did demons cry?

"Your son," Doyle prompted, having finally mastered his laughter enough to come around and lean against the wall behind Cordelia, who had resumed her seat.

"Razorka Klavorknos Jr. He's such a good boy," she said. "He's never been in any trouble. No mother could ask for a better son. Since we lost his father he has looked after me, he's always there when I need him. But now..." She started dabbing at her eyes again, and sniffing dolefully. "He's gone," she wailed.

"Gone?" Angel asked. "He disappeared?"

Mrs. Klavorknos nodded. "He went to go to the store and get me some tea, my nerves, you know. But he never came home."

"How long ago was this?"

"Nearly two w-weeks!" the demon sobbed. "I've just about run out of excuses to the neighbors. They'll begin to suspect something soon. I just don't know what to do. Respectable families don't allow their children to be demon-napped!"

"How old is your son?" Cordelia asked, trying to appear sympathetic. Surprisingly, it wasn't hard. All she had to do was think about what she would feel if Dinah disappeared and her throat closed up.

"Eighty-five. Barely more than a child! Oh, I almost forgot." She dove into her hideous purse and produced a picture. "This is him." She set it on the desk for all of them to see. "Isn't he handsome? Just like his father at his age."

The three looked down at the fussy picture of a demon who looked very much like the one in front of them, except that he was thinner and wore a Jean jacket. They nodded solemnly.

"I'm more than willing to pay, of course. My dear departed Razorka was a wonderful provider." She sniffed again. "I just can't understand how this could have happened. Junior has always been such a good boy, so very much like his dear father."

Cordelia breathed easier at the mention of money and settled in to take notes.

* * *

Kate had pulled every man she could get her hands on to follow up on the information garnered from the called in tips. So far, they had come up empty handed and if this went on for very much longer she would no longer be able to justify the use of the officers.

Her head began to pound as she drove to the next interview. There had been nearly thirty of them on the list she'd compiled for herself, the other officers taking the ones that sounded a little more off the wall. She knew that the most responsible thing would be to go to Angel and demand to know how to find the suspect or she'd take him in for further questioning. Possibly charge him if he didn't cooperate. But the same reluctance that had made her lie on her report had kept her away from his office. Truthfully, she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what Angel had to say.

What did she really know about Angel anyway? Not much. Hell, the guy didn't even have a last name. Not to mention the lack of an investigator's license. Then there were his associates, who she knew even less about.

She shook herself out of her thoughts as she parked at the curb in front of the 'Zero X' nightclub. It was still a few hours before opening but the man she'd come to question had given the club as his place of contact.

After going to the back of the building, where she knew there would be an employee's entrance, Kate pounded on the door for several minutes before someone finally answered. A quick flash of her badge and a mention of the bartender's name gained her entrance to the club and instructions on where to find the man she was seeking.

After a quick glance around the main room of the club, Kate headed towards the main bar where a tall, muscular man with long blond hair was stacking bottles onto the shelf behind it.

"Excuse me. Are you Gary Foster?"

The man turned around and nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, what's it to ya?"

"I'm Detective Lockley," Kate flashed her badge, "I believe you have some information for me?"

"Oh, right. About that weirdo in the paper."

"That's right." Kate seated herself on one of the bar stools and took out her notebook and a pen. "You told the desk sergeant that you think you saw this guy in here a few days ago?"

Gary shook his head. "No, it was about a week ago, maybe a little longer. Yeah, I think it was Friday before last. But I took one look at that picture in the paper and knew I'd been right to tell security to keep an eye on him."

Kate cocked her eyebrow at him and waited for him to continue. This was the part of interviewing people who weren't suspects that she hated. They never could just come out and say what they wanted to say, you had to play their 'I know something the cops don't' game and drag it out of them. "I see. And what made you notice this person in the first place? Was he being disruptive in any way?"

Getting into his story, Gary leaned forward and placed his hands on the bar, getting closer to Kate. "Oh, yeah. You might call it that. He wasn't exactly doing enough to get him kicked out, but he was hassling people."

"Hassling people?"

"Yeah, you know. Getting into their personal space, hitting on women who were obviously already with someone, being just a little too free with his hands, stuff like that. This is a fun place and most of the people who come here aren't looking for trouble or anything. But this guy was pushin' it. Acting like he was God's gift to women and all that. I thought for sure he was going to get into it with someone, ya know?"

"And that made you ask security to keep an eye on him." Kate nodded and scribbled a note to herself to pick up her dry-cleaning. So far, this interview was not very helpful. As far as they could tell, none of Penn's victims had frequented this club and this incident had taken place before the first murder. "Do you remember if he left alone?"

Gary appeared to think about it for a moment. "I'm pretty sure he left alone. By the time he left, though, it was pretty crowded, so I could have missed it. I did notice that, after a while, he seemed to have settled down some and was spending most of his time with one woman. But, I did see that she was still here after I noticed he was gone."

"Oh? Do you know who she is or can you describe her for me?"

"I don't really remember much. I do know she's not a regular. But I do remember that she had long, red hair, flaming red, almost orange, um... Don't see hair that color that much anymore since everybody seems to want to be a blonde these days." He grinned and ran his eyes over Kate's hair. "Know what I mean?"

Kate mentally rolled her eyes. "Height?"

"Oh, uh, she wasn't as tall as the guy you're looking for... she came up to about his shoulder, I think. Let's see..." He drifted off and he tried to remember more but shook his head after a moment. "Nope, that's all. I guess she was probably pretty or why else would he bother with her, right? And I'm pretty sure she was alone. At least, she wasn't hanging with anyone that I could tell."

"She didn't order a drink from you?"

"Nope. Someone musta been buying for her or she wasn't drinking."

Kate mentally listed Penn's victims but none had had flaming red hair. Did this mean they had another body to find or another potential source of information? "Have you seen this woman since that night?"

"Hmmm... no, can't say that I have and that hair really stands out."

Kate pulled out a card and handed it to the bartender. "Will you call me if you see this woman again or remember anything else?"

"Sure thing, Detective. Always glad to help the police, especially when they're as pretty as you. You should stop in when you're off duty, I'll be happy to buy you a drink." Gary winked and slipped the card into his jeans pocket.

"I'll remember that," Kate said, insincerely. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Foster."

She turned and headed back towards the door, eager to return to the station and catch up with the other officers doing interviews and to try to follow up on this possible new lead.

* * *

"Alright, why would a perfectly normal demon, who's never been in any trouble, suddenly disappear?" Cordelia sat back in her chair.

"Did we both see the same mom?" Doyle asked, surreptitiously slipping some whiskey into his coffee. "I mean, why wouldn't he take off?"

Cordelia glared at him. "That's not helpful. Well, not if we want that check Mommy Dearest is going to write for us. And I for one do. There are these shoes that I just HAVE to have and I saw an outfit the other day that would look utterly adorable on the Munchkin."

"Uh-huh," Doyle replied. He walked over to the door to the inner office. "Well, what do ya think, Angel? Where do we start?"

Angel stepped out of the room past him pulling on his coat. "I want to start with those friends of his. Cordelia, see what you can find out about this particular kind of demon. There may be something there."

"On it," Cordelia said, turning to her computer.

"Want me t' come with?" Doyle asked.

"No. I want to you check out the seedier joints around where they live. His mother said he was clean, but she might not know everything."

"Right," Doyle said. He finished the last of his coffee and headed out behind Angel.

"Be careful," Cordelia called after them, not bothering to look up from the computer screen.

She searched the web in silence for about twenty minutes. The best demon databases she could find didn't have much. They mostly concentrated on the dangerous varieties of demon. This one was considered generally harmless, and was therefore mostly ignored. Beginning to get frustrated she decided to move downstairs and look through Angel's musty old books.

She stood, glancing over where Dinah was playing. She watched quietly as the little girl arranged her crayons neatly in their box, with the single-minded precision that seemed only to belong to children. She still looked flushed and Cordelia wondered if she didn't look worse. One quick look through Angel's books, she decided. Then she was taking Dinah home.

"Dinah," she said. The child looked up, expectantly. "Let's move downstairs, okay?"

Dinah only nodded and Cordelia helped her gather her things before carrying her down the stairs.

As she settled Dinah down, Cordelia checked her forehead to see if she was warm. It was hard to tell. As a T'Pari demon, Dinah's body temperature was naturally higher than a human's, somewhere around 102 degrees. Deciding whether or not Dinah had a fever was next to impossible.

Cordelia sighed and started looking through the dusty old tomes. Why couldn't they ever publish these things in paperback? They were so damn heavy this way.

She had barely been working for ten minutes, when Dinah came over to the chair were she was sitting.

"Cordy?"

Cordelia looked up from her book. "Yeah."

"I don't feel good," Dinah said quietly.

Cordelia immediately put the book aside and swept the child into on her lap. "How don't you feel good, sweetheart?"

"I feel all achy and my tummy hurts." Cordelia again checked forehead, but like before she couldn't tell.

That was it. Case or no case, she was taking Dinah home, right now. She carefully brushed a few wisps of hair out of the little one's face. "Let's go home, okay?"

Dinah nodded, snuggling closer to Cordelia.

* * *

Nothing. That's what hundreds of man-hours had produced. Nothing. Well, one mysterious 'red-haired woman'. One man, who has never owned a car and had recently been released from the mental hospital who swore the man from the paper stole his car. A prostitute, with as many minor drug charges as soliciting charges, that insisted that Penn tried to get her to go to New York City with him. And last, but not least, a raving, alcoholic, defrocked priest that said he saw 'the devil rise from the pit of hell and strike down the innocent'.

The rest of the calls had turned up people who'd apparently seen Penn or thought they'd seen him, in various parts of the city, doing everything from washing his clothes in the Laundromat to shopping to tap dancing in front of City Hall.

But no one claimed to have talked to him or had any information beyond having seen him, or someone who looked like him.

Kate leaned back in her chair and sighed. She knew she was going to have to face the fact that Penn was either gone or in deep hiding. Not one report had any sighting later than the night after the murders in the basement.

They were at a dead end unless the few very thin leads that had been gathered started producing something. And that wasn't very likely at this point. The calls with information had trickled off to almost nothing and crazies.

There was no way to look for the 'red-haired woman' unless she happened to turn up dead or wander back into Zero X. It wasn't very likely that a stone-cold killer would request a junkie whore's presence on a trip to New York. And it also wasn't very likely that anyone had stolen a car that probably didn't exist. But both things had to be checked out, just in case.

The priests' story she had left on the list only because he had described the 'devil' as having 'eyes of fire and teeth of a beast'. The man was probably having a hallucination, but it was just a little too close to what Kate had thought she'd seen herself to dismiss it outright.

So, really, the only thing left was Angel.

* * *

Cordelia frowned at the thermometer in her hand. 103.2. That counted as a slight fever, but nothing too high.

"Dennis?" she asked, holding the thermometer out. It was taken from her hand and floated to the coffee table to lay next to the half-eaten bowl of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. Cordelia settled Dinah more comfortably into her arms and searched her mind for everything she had ever heard about fevers and how to deal with them. Aspirin, she thought. Wasn't aspirin supposed to help a fever? And, of course, lots of sleep, and liquids.

Cordelia brushed the hair out of Dinah's face as the little one stared listlessly at the television. "Do you feel any better, Munchkin?"

Dinah glanced up at her and nodded. "A little."

Cordelia smiled. She knew it, chicken soup. "Well, lets have you take a little aspirin and get you to bed, okay?"

"Will you read to me first?"

"Sure, any book you want."

In twenty minutes, Dinah was settled into her bed in the small second bedroom. Cordelia carefully tucked her in with her new stuffed rabbit. The parenting books had said it was healthy for a child to have stuffed animals and Cordelia had gone a little crazy in buying them for her. But of the ones she bought, Dinah had latched on to the little blue rabbit with the pink ribbon around its neck.

Cordelia pulled out her old book of Grimm's fairytales, which she had had since she was a child. She started reading Cinderella, but Dinah was asleep before the end.

Cordelia closed the book and remained seated on the edge of Dinah's bed for a little while, just watching her. "What's wrong with her, Dennis?" she whispered. The ghost answered by taking the book from Cordelia's hands and carefully putting it back on the shelf with Dinah's meager collection of children's books. Cordelia took the hint and leaned over to lightly brush Dinah's forehead with her lips. "Sleep tight." As she rose, Dennis shut out the lights and turned on the little night light by Dinah's bed. Cordelia carefully closed the door only part way and turned on the new night light in the hallway.

Cordelia watched television for about an hour, then went to bed herself.

* * *

The office was empty when Angel returned to it a little after eleven o'clock. He shrugged out of his coat and noticed a note sitting on his desk. He sat down and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of peace before he looked at it.

It wasn't that this case was overly hard or very dangerous. In fact, it was just the opposite. It was turning out to be so easy that it was almost boring. The truth was that he was just tired. Since Penn's arrival in LA over a week before, Angel hadn't been sleeping well. And when he did sleep, he was often haunted by dreams of the time he and his childe had spent together, dreams of hunting and of killing. What he really needed was a case that was hard and dangerous. A chance to immerse himself in his work and get this out of his system. Maybe he would go patrol down by the harbor tonight. There were always things that needed to be killed down there.

Angel sighed and sat up. He glared at the note for a moment before picking it up.

Angel,

Jr. is a Macrios demon. I couldn't find out much about them except that the entire race seems to be seriously addicted to chocolate (who isn't?). Explains Mommy Dearest's figure, though. They are not normally dangerous and are native to the Pacific Coast.

Dinah isn't feeling well, so I'm taking her home early. If you want to go on with the research I didn't get much past the Trayk Chronicles.

Cordelia

Angel's brows drew together for a moment. He hoped that nothing was seriously wrong. Probably not. He put the matter out of his mind as he heard the front door open.

Doyle strode in and threw himself back into the chair opposite Angel. Angel placed the letter back on his desk and regarded the half-demon.

"What did you find out?"

Doyle shrugged. "Nothin' much. The kid hung about at one of the local bars a bit. He was into some small time bettin' and the occasional fight, but nothin' that would put him in any danger. What did his friends have to say?

"That he couldn't stand his mother," Angel said dryly. Doyle grinned. "It seems your initial suspicions were right. He'd been talking about leaving for years, but lately he's been just about ready to snap."

"With a mother like that, who could blame the kid. She was here less than an hour and I was fed up wit' her."

Angel's lips quirked. "She is a bit much to take. It seems likely that he left town on his own."

"Does anyone know where he'd have gone?"

"He talked a lot about going to San Diego or Long Beach. I'll look into it tomorrow."

Doyle nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Doyle sat up. "Well, I guess I'll be getting' home then." He rose and then paused. Then spoken again, with a forced casualness. "You up to anything? Patrollin' or somethin'."

Angel hid his smile. Doyle's attempts to avoid returning to his empty apartment were always very transparent. "I was going to patrol around the docks. See if anything is going on."

Doyle nodded. "Ah, okay... I'll leave ya to it then."

Angel rose and slipped his coat back on. "You're welcome to come with me, if you want," he said, turning away.

* * *

"Cordy?"

Cordelia rolled over too look with confusion to where Dinah was standing by her bedside. "What is it, Munchkin?" She sat up and pulled Dinah onto the bed with her. That's when she noticed that the little girl was shivering.

"I don't feel good."

Cordelia put her hand on Dinah's forehead, and this time she could feel that she was too warm. The thermometer floated in from the living room before Cordelia even had time to ask for it. Dinah's temperature was over 105 degrees.

Cordelia could feel panic starting in her, but trampled it down. "Okay, sweetheart. Cordy needs to go make a phone call," she said, laying Dinah down on the bed and tucking the covers around her. "Why don't you stay right here, and I'll be back in just a minute, okay?"

Dinah nodded, and Cordelia nearly ran into the kitchen. She snatched up the phone and franticly dialed Angel's number. She glanced at the clock as it rang. It was nearly four in the morning. Please, let Angel be there. Please, please, please...

"Hello?"

Cordelia sighed in relief. "Angel, it's Cordelia. There's something wrong with Dinah, and I don't know what to do."

"Okay, slow down. What's wrong with Dinah?"

"Remember the note I left you this evening, saying that Dinah wasn't feeling well?"

"Yes."

"Well, I got her home and took her temperature..." Cordelia raced through the events of the evening, ending with a description of Dinah's present state. "What do I do?"

Angel paused. "You should call Doyle."

"What? Why?"

"He used to be a teacher, if you remember. Cordelia, I don't know anything about sick children, but he might."

"Okay, I'll call him. Thanks Angel."

"Cordelia?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep me updated, okay?" Cordelia could hear the worry in Angel's voice, and adversely it seemed to calm her.

"I will. Bye."

She related the same information to Doyle when he answered groggily after eleven rings. He woke up right away when she said that Dinah was sick, relieving Cordelia's worry that he might have been drinking again. He said not to bother with the particulars, that he'd be over in just a few. Cordelia nearly sighed in relief as she hung up the phone and went back into her room.

Dennis had brought Dinah her rabbit and she was curled up with it in a little ball under the covers.

Cordelia crawled into the bed and pulled her into her arms. She looked up. "Dennis, Doyle will be here in a little while. Could you please open the door for him?" A little breeze was her reply.

She began stroking Dinah's hair and singing lullabies softly.

* * *

For once, Doyle was glad of his habit of falling asleep on the couch with his clothes still on. Cordelia's call had awakened him from a deep sleep and it had taken a moment or two to register what she was saying. After he hung up he scrambled for his shoes and jacket and was out the door in less than five minutes. Only then did he remember that he had no way to get to Cordelia's.

Somehow, the ride in the smoky cab seemed to take longer than it should have, but that might have been Doyle's desire for a cigarette and a drink. Neither of which he could have right now. Cordelia never let him anywhere near Dinah when he smelled like either. He wasn't sure what exactly he could do to help Dinah, but he didn't want to leave Cordelia alone either.

When he arrived the door opened for him before he could knock. He stepped in noticing that there was no one there.

"Uh, thanks Dennis," he mumbled, still rather unsure of the ghost, even though Cordelia had assured him that "Phantom" Dennis was a wonderful roommate.

"Doyle?" Cordelia came into the living room. "What took so long?"

Doyle shrugged. "Cab ride. I got here as soon as I could, Princess."

"Uh-huh. Look, I don't know what to do. She had a temperature of 105.4 last time I checked, but she's still shivering and says she's cold and hurts all over and she threw up just after I called you."

Doyle was impressed that she'd managed to get all that into one breath. "Where is she?"

"In my room."

The room was dark, and Doyle made his way over to the bed by the light from the hallway. He switched on the bedside lamp as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Dinah opened her eyes and blinked up at him.

"Hey, Dinah," he said softly. Dinah's only response was a little smile. Doyle felt her forehead.

"I told you," Cordelia said coming up behind him. "Her temperature is 105.4. I checked right before you got here."

"Well, first thing's first." Doyle began pulling the quilt off of Dinah.

"But she's shivering," Cordelia objected.

Doyle paused, then rose and pulled Cordelia aside. "Listen, Cordy. I know she's shiverin', but the best thing we can do for her is to bring down tha' temperature."

Cordelia nodded, but didn't look pleased. "How?"

Doyle paused for a moment. "Go an' get a bowl of cool water and a washcloth."

For once, Cordelia did as she was told without argument and left the room in search of the requested articles, casting a reassuring smile Dinah's way as she left. Doyle sat back down on the bed.

"We're gonna make this better, darlin'," he promised, hoping that he wasn't wrong. She looked bad, he thought. He didn't know that much about children's illnesses, except what he had picked up years ago when he still taught. He stripped away the layers of covers Cordelia had wrapped her in. Her shivering increased as he did.

"Cold," Dinah murmured softly.

"I know, but I promise this is for the best, okay?"

After a moment Dinah nodded, looking up at him with complete trust. Doyle felt like he was going to be sick. What was he doing? What would he do if this didn't work? He pushed the thoughts aside as Cordelia returned. She set the bowl of water on the nightstand and Doyle took the washcloth, dipped it in the water and began to carefully bathe Dinah's forehead and neck.

Please Gods, let this work, he prayed silently.

Over the next two hours, he and Cordelia took turns bathing Dinah and fetching new water. Doyle tried to get Dinah to drink some juice, but she couldn't keep it, or anything else, down.

By six, when the sky began to lighten, Dinah's fever had finally gone back down to a more manageable 103.2 and she had fallen into a restful sleep.

Cordelia fell asleep lying beside her.

Doyle stayed up until he was relatively sure that Dinah wasn't about to get any worse. He called Angel from Cordelia's kitchen, informing him that Dinah seemed to be better and that, obviously, he and Cordelia wouldn't be in that morning. Then he made his way in the living room and flopped down on the couch. He was asleep before Dennis covered him with an afghan.

* * *

"Hey, Lockley!"

Kate sighed and stopped half way to her desk, taking a sip of coffee while she waited for Browning to catch up to her. The man was worse than the little yippie dog that her neighbor owned. Always yip, yip, yipping about his accomplishments and others failings like he couldn't get enough of his own voice. She knew it was useless to try and ignore him since he usually just kept talking anyway.

"Morning, Kate. Made any progress with your case yet?" Detective Browning chuckled and answered his own question before Kate could say a word. "Of course you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't have spent half the night interviewing crazies, would you?"

"Don't you have something a little more productive to do?" Not a comeback up to her usual standards but she was just too tired to deal with this particular annoyance this morning.

"Well, now that you mention it, I do. I'm due in court in two hours to testify in that gang banger case I closed last month." He smiled proudly, puffing out his chest. "That's number thirty seven since I transferred in. How many arrests you got now?"

Kate swept past Browning and placed her coffee and purse on the desk. "More than thirty seven. Was there anything else you wanted to brag about?"

The other detective frowned and followed Kate to her desk. "Oh... well..." He shoved his hand in his pants pocked and then quickly removed it again, holding a paper. "Oh yeah, Mike called from the lab about twenty minutes ago. Something about blood samples from one of your crime scenes. He sounded pretty upset so you better call him right away."

Kate picked up the phone, finger poised to dial. She lifted an eyebrow at Browning. "Anything else or can I get to work now?"

Browning threw the message onto Kate's desk and stalked away in a huff. Kate never could figure out if he was flirting with her or if he just had some perverse need to annoy her in particular. She quickly punched the number to the lab and sat down, sipping her morning coffee while the phone rang.

"Hi Wilma. It's Kate. Mike called me?"

'Morning Kate. I'll get Mike, hold on a sec.'

Kate was put on hold while Mike was called to the phone.

'Kate?'

"Yeah. What's up Mike? Browning said you called about one of my crime scenes?"

'It's the weirdest thing, Kate. Some of the blood samples... they, uh... well...'

"You better not have messed up any of my evidence, Mike." Kate half joked. "I do carry a gun you know."

'I swear, we were just doing the usual tests! Well, we were starting the usual tests but...'

Kate could hear Mike take a deep breath and prepared herself for really bad news. "What? And which samples?"

'Your suspects' samples. They kinda... turned to ash.'

"WHAT? How do blood samples turn to ASH!?" Kate was on her feet in an instant, yelling into the phone. "What the hell kinda lab you running down there?"

'Now, just calm down, Kate. You know I always come through for you.'

"Fine. Then explain why the only source of DNA from my suspect is now ASH!"

'I took the samples out of storage. There was barely enough to test as it was, so I had all of it in the same container. And I'm telling you, it was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. I set the dish down on the counter and it just went poof!'

"Poof? Poof how? The little blood flakes blew away?"

'No, I mean, they started smoking and then turned to ash.'

Kate sat down hard in her chair, placing her head in her hand and rubbing at her temple. "Mike, I don't suppose you set them down in the sun, did you?"

There was a long pause be Mike answered. 'Um... yeah. But that shouldn't have made any difference! Blood is blood, right? I've done hundreds of tests right there at the same counter, why should it be different this time?'

Kate sighed and shook her head in defeat. Yeah, right, why should sun make a difference? Unless there really were such things as vampires. And vampires had an aversion to sunlight, didn't they?

'Kate? You still with me?'

"Yeah, yeah Mike, I'm here. There's nothing left then?"

'No, sorry Kate. The boys told me how clean the place was. A few fingerprints, some unidentified fibers that didn't come from anywhere in the apartment and a few drops of blood from where you must have winged him. That's it.'

"Damn... Sorry, it's not you. Look, I have to go. Thanks for being straight with me, Mike. I know you could have just said the samples got lost or something."

'Sure, Kate. Uh... Will you let me know when you catch this guy? I'd kinda like to get another sample from him and find out why his blood turns to ash in the sun.'

"Sure thing, Mike. Bye." Kate quickly hung up the phone.

Now, where did a person find out the truth about vampires? A giggle nearly escaped with that thought. The truth about vampires!

Still not quite believing that she was actually doing it, Kate got the phone book out of her desk and started flipping. "This is L.A., there has to be at least one bookstore that carries more than Anne Rice books."

* * *

Angel looked up when the door opened and was surprised to see Doyle. He rose from his desk and stepped into the outer office. "I thought you weren't coming in today."

Doyle shrugged. "Dinah's still sick and somethin' about this just don't seem right."

"I thought you said she was feeling better this morning," Angel said, frowning.

"She was. Well, sorta. We got her temperature down to where it didn't seem dangerous anymore, and she's been sleepin' okay since then. But she's still sick an' her temperature still ain't back to normal. She managed to keep some juice down, but when Cordy tried t' get her to eat some soup, it came right back up."

"And so you came into work because? Doyle, if Dinah's that sick, I think you ought to be back with Cordelia."

Doyle ran his fingers threw his hair in a frustrated manner. "But tha's just it, man. I ain't don' any good there. I don't know what to do! I thought that maybe I'd hit the books and see if I can find anythin'. Cordy ain't gettin' sick, so maybe it's a demon thing."

"But you aren't sick," Angel observed. "Are you? You do look a little pale."

"Nah, there's nothin' wrong wit' me. I've just been up all night. I don't know, maybe it's a T'Pari thing. I just don' know what else t' do."

Angel nodded. He'd rarely seen Doyle this agitated. Although, he more than understood. He couldn't even imagine how Cordelia must be feeling at the moment.

"I'll research, you go back to Cordelia's."

Doyle looked surprised. "What about the case?"

Angel shrugged. "I'm pretty sure that I've tracked Junior down. He's in Long Beach. I'm going to go tonight to make sure. But I can't go anywhere until sunset, so I may as well do something productive."

"Sounds like a plan." Doyle turned towards the door. He suddenly swayed slightly and had to grab on to the doorframe for support.

Angel stepped forward. "Doyle? Are you sure you're alright?"

He reached out to his friend, but Doyle took a deep breath, pushing himself away from the frame and turning back around.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I didn't sleep much last night." He smiled wryly. "Besides, Cordy won't let me smoke at her place and she doesn't have any drinkable coffee. And she doesn't have..." He paused and slipped past Angel to the side table where they kept the coffee machine. "Any of this," Doyle finished, pulling out a bottle of scotch. He took a swift drink from the bottle and then another. "There," he said, turning back to Angel. "Good as new."

Angel didn't say anything. What would he say? He had only recently begun to realize just how much Doyle drank. It was starting to worry him, but he knew Doyle wouldn't listen to any efforts to get him to slow down. Well, at least under Cordelia's constant pressure he was smoking less.

"I'm off then," Doyle said, replacing the bottle and turning toward the door. He then paused and turned back. "Angel, can ya remember any good home remedies from when you was human? I know it was a long time ago, and all, but it ain't like we can take Dinah to a doctor or the hospital."

Angel looked down at the floor. He was quiet for a long time and Doyle began to think he wasn't going to answer. When he did speak, his voice was very soft. "I remember there was some sort of tea that my mother gave to me once when I was sick. It was very bitter, but I don't know what it was made out of. My... my sister had a fever once, but..." Angel looked up and his eyes were far away and sad. "I'm sorry, I don't really remember anything helpful." He went to turn away.

"Angel," Doyle called after him. Angel looked back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories or anythin'."

Angel gave him a sad little smile. "It's alright, Doyle. I don't mind. I just wish I could help more." He seemed to pull himself out of whatever memories had gripped him and continued in a stronger voice. "Go back to Cordelia. I'll see what I can find out."

Doyle nodded and, casting one last look at Angel, left.

Angel descended into his apartment and began pulling out books. The few passages on the T'Pari were familiar due to the hours of research he, Doyle and Cordelia had done looking for some trace of Dinah's clan. Angel started with those and then moved on to other resources. In all truthfulness, he had very little hope of finding anything useful. The books he had were mostly concerned with how to kill various demons, not how to cure them. And there was almost nothing on those of mixed blood, since they were rarely dangerous.

All in all, he felt that it was a fruitless endeavor, but it gave him something to do, instead of concentrating on his growing concern.

* * *

It was late when Angel finally returned to the office. The traffic had been terrible, but the trip had proved worthwhile. He'd found and even talked to Junior, or Raz, as he liked to be called. Raz had been surprised and a little embarrassed to hear that his mother had hired a private investigator. It hadn't taken too much convincing to get him to call his mother, letting her know that he was all right.

Angel hadn't stayed for the reaming out he was sure the boy had been about to receive.

Case closed, and for once, with a happy ending.

It wasn't until Angel had opened the office door that he realized there was someone there. He recognized Kate's scent before he saw her.

She rose from where she had been sitting at his desk and watched him carefully. Angel had been expecting this visit for nearly a week, but he still didn't know what to say.

"Kate," he said, nodding to her.

"I have some questions," Kate began, deciding not to beat around the bush.

Angel nodded. He turned, slipping off his coat and dropped it on the couch opposite his desk. He turned back to her slowly.

"Actually, I had expected you before now."

"I've been busy." Kate motioned for Angel to sit down and, after a moment's hesitation, he complied.

Kate seated herself in the 'client' chair and began to tap her fingers on the arms. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Kate finally began.

"You weren't lying to me, were you?"

"No."

"Vampires are real," Kate said, almost as if she were just confirming that they were speaking about the same thing and not really asking a question.

"Yes."

Kate nodded her head and fell silent, processing everything she'd learned at the bookstore once again.

"Kate, I..."

Kate held her hand up, stopping Angel from saying more. "Just answer my questions for now, okay? I don't think I could take in any more right now."

Angel nodded and waited. Waited for her to continue. Waited for her to start asking the really hard questions that he couldn't or wouldn't answer.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

Kate shook her head. "You're lying."

"I'm not," Angel said softly. "I haven't seen him since you did and I don't know where he is."

"Would you tell me if you did?"

Angel paused for a moment before answering. "Probably not," he said finally.

Kate snorted. "Well, at least you're honest about it."

"I've never lied to you, Kate." Angel held Kate's gaze for a moment or two, willing her to believe him. After a moment, she nodded.

"Even knowing what you know, you're not equipped to deal with him. You understand that, don't you? How truly dangerous he is? That you can't just arrest him and have him sent to jail?"

"And you're more qualified to 'deal' with him, I suppose?" Kate snapped back. She hated to admit that Angel was right that police methods were not going to get the job done.

"Yes, I am. Leave it alone, Kate. File this away in Unsolved and let me handle it."

Kate pressed her lips together, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Angel's request. "How did you know?"

"Know?"

"What he is. Who he is."

One of the hard questions that Angel had been expecting. "I've... seen his work before." Not a lie, but not the entire truth. "And I've dealt with his kind before."

Kate cocked her head and studied the man in the half-light of the office. She knew that Angel knew more than he telling, but she couldn't figure out just why, after going as far as he had, he wouldn't tell her everything. Time to put on a little pressure.

"I could have you arrested and held as a material witness you know."

"You do what you feel you have to do but it won't make any difference. I've told you what I can."

Kate shot to her feet and glared angrily at Angel. "Told me 'everything you can' but not everything you know!" She placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward, almost spitting the questions out. "Why, Angel? Why can't you tell me everything? Why won't you help me catch him?"

Angel remained seated and tried to remain calm under the onslaught of Kate's questions. "I told you what he is so that you'd stop trying to find him. He's been killing for two centuries and you are not equipped to deal with this. I've told you that I don't know where he is, but if he does start killing here again, you've got to let me handle it. Do you understand?"

With a growl of frustration, Kate straightened and snatched her purse from the floor next to the chair. She then angrily placed the strap over her shoulder and turned back to the man seated behind the desk. "Let's get something straight here, Angel. I am a cop. I will do whatever it takes to find this... this thing and put him away. If that means I have to stake him instead of shooting him, that's what I'll do, but I will take him down. With or without your help."

With that, Kate turned and walked out of the office, not even pausing when Angel called after her to wait.

Angel stepped over to the window and watched as Kate left the building. She walked quickly across the street to her car and left. Then Angel's eyes focused on the window glass in front of him and his own lack of reflection.

"Kate, you just can't understand."

Angel turned and sunk into his chair, suddenly exhausted. He closed his eyes and leaned back. He sat quietly for nearly a quarter of an hour before the phone rang.

It rang five times and only then did Angel realize that Cordelia must not have turned on the answering machine before she left. Stifling a growl he picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Angel! God, where have you been! I've been trying to call you forever. Your cell phone is turned off again."

Angel sighed. "What is it, Cordelia?"

"It's Dinah. She doesn't seem to be getting any better, Angel. We just don't know what else to do." The fear in Cordelia's voice was evident. Angel sat up. "I need Mommy Dearest's number, from the other day?"

"Why?"

Cordelia sighed. "She might know some demon doctors. Angel, we have to do something."

Angel rose quickly to his feet. "Alright, where is it?"

Cordelia told him where to look on her desk. Angel found it and returned quickly and gave her the number.

"How bad is she?" he asked softly.

Cordelia was quiet for a minute. "To be honest, I just don't know. She seems to be doing okay and then she's burning up again. Doyle and I could really use some help."

"Of course, I'll be over in just a few minutes."

Cordelia hung up without saying goodbye.

* * *

Kate slammed the car door, automatically locking it once it was closed. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself and then pulled out her notebook.

The information she had found at the bookstore had been a real eye-opener. There were literally hundreds of books about vampires, ranging from out and out fairy tales to books that were an almost clinical recitation of facts. With the help of Mr. Orleans, the man who ran the bookstore, Kate had been able to narrow down her reading to only the most relevant.

It had been enlightening and sometimes horrifying reading but there was nothing that was going to lead her to the specific creature that she sought. There was a certain amount of conflicting information from book to book about the accounts of these creatures' methods, habits and even if a particular one was still walking the earth. But two things they all agreed on was that they really did exist and how to kill them.

And, even less helpful was that most of the books referred to these vampires by the names they'd apparently been called by others, not their given names. Names like, 'The Kiss of Death', 'The Reaper', 'Blood Rose', 'The Widow Maker', 'Angel of Death'. Nothing that could help her in finding the creature that called himself Michael Penn.

But Angel had let slip something that would help. He'd said that Penn had been doing this for two hundred years.

Two hundred years meant that there had to be some record, somewhere, of his other kills. And his almost accent-less voice meant he'd probably done his 'work' in the US for at least the last decade.

Kate jotted down her theory - not that she was likely to forget it overnight, but a good cop always kept accurate case logs - returned the notebook to her pocket and started the car.

It was late, she was tired and there was nothing else she could do before tomorrow. Kate put the car in gear and headed home.

* * *

Doyle was startled by the knock on the door. He took a deep breath and shook his head. He was so exhausted he was getting jumpy. He opened the door and waved Angel in.

"Did Cordelia call... whatever her name was?"

"Yeah," Doyle nodded as he shut the door. "She gave us a number an' we called it, but we can't seem to get a hold o' the guy. We called a few times, but it looks like no one's home."

"Where's Cordelia?"

"In wit' the little one."

Angel stepped closer to Doyle and lowered his voice. "How bad is Dinah, really?"

Doyle looked grim. "I really don't know, Angel. I don' know what to do. Her fever's up and then down and then up again. She's been quiet for nearly two hours, so maybe this time her fever really has broke. But either way, she needs a doctor."

Angel nodded his agreement and took a deep breath. "How's Cordelia holding up?"

"She's been frantic. She's exhausted, but she won't sleep, an' it's been hard to get her to eat anythin' either. She won't leave the little one for a minute."

"And you?" Angel looked at him hard, until Doyle shifted his gaze away. He knew he looked a wreck.

"I'm okay. I'm just worried, is all." He glanced back up at Angel before shrugging. "Come on."

Doyle led the way back into the bedroom. Cordelia sat on the side of the bed, watching Dinah sleep. Dinah was a small child, but she seemed even smaller at the moment, dwarfed by the size of Cordelia's bed. Cordelia glanced up as they came in.

"Hey," she said, softly. "She's still quiet and seems to be sleeping normally, but that might not last long."

Angel stepped over and Doyle came with him. He studied Dinah closely, looking for any sign of improvement, even though he didn't really know how to tell if she was over the worst or not. Dinah was still flushed but it looked like Cordelia had put a fresh nightgown on her and she did seem to be sleeping peacefully. Angel looked up at Doyle, but Doyle only shrugged. He was out of ideas.

"We tried puttin' her in a tub of cool water," he whispered. "And maybe it helped a bit this last time, but we just don't know anythin' else to do."

Cordelia stood up and sighed. "Can you watch her for a minute? I'm going to try and call that doctor guy again."

Doyle took her place, sitting at the side of the bed, watching for any sign of the fever returning. He glanced up at Angel after a minute. "What d' ya think?"

Angel shrugged. "I don't know much about treating illnesses. Vampires don't get sick."

"Yeah, I know. I jus' hoped that with you being around for so long and all, you might have picked somethin' up. I mean, you can cook and vampires don't eat." Doyle shook his head. "I don' know. I'm graspin' at straws here."

"I understand and I really wish I could help. Maybe I can take over for a little while and you and Cordelia can get some sleep. She seems to be all right at the moment, I could wake you if there was any change."

Doyle shrugged. "I'll stay up, but maybe we can get Cordy to get a little shut eye. She needs it."

Cordelia came back in a few minutes later. At their questioning looks, she shook her head.

"Nothing, not even an answering machine. The guy could be out, or on vacation or... anything," she sounded frustrated and discouraged. Basically, how Doyle felt at the moment.

He looked back down at Dinah searching through his memories of school and teaching for any clue as to where to go from here, but it was difficult. His mind felt oddly fuzzy and it had been years ago. Besides, he hadn't taught for very long. Just long enough to get attached to the children before he had been forced by his newfound heritage to give it up.

"Doyle?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

Angel paused, uncertainly. "Do you think it's possible Harry might know of someone we could contact?"

"Harry?" For a moment it felt as though Angel had been reading his mind as he though about the past. He considered it for a moment and then nodded. "I suppose it's possible."

He stood up and Cordelia resumed her seat on the edge of the bed. "Do you know her number?" she asked. "If you don't, I think I have it around here somewhere."

"I know it," He hesitated. "At least I think I do, been awhile."

He started toward the bedroom door, then turned back. "What time is it, anyway?"

Angel glanced at his watch. "A little after midnight. Do you think it's alright to call her?"

Doyle nodded. "Sure, I mean, this is an emergency. She'll understand." He fell silent, but lingered in the room.

"Well?" Cordelia asked after a moment.

"Right," Doyle said. He was rather reluctant to call his ex-wife. He knew she would understand that it was an emergency and would be more than happy to help, but... She was still his ex-wife and that made it awkward.

Another dizzy spell hit as he walked toward the kitchen and he had to catch himself on the wall. He took a deep breath and shook his head. That was the third one today. Maybe he was hungry. He'd check the refrigerator while he was making the call. He knew he could use a cigarette, and a drink would be nice as well... and then there was the lovely idea of sleeping for the next week. The combination had to be responsible for the light-headedness, he decided. He also reminded himself to check the thermostat; it felt rather warm in here to him.

He picked up the phone and paused trying to remember Harry's number, and convince himself that he really did want to do this. He hit the button to get the dial tone, and began dialing. The phone rang and rang on the other end and Doyle began to wonder if she was out of town again or something.

Four rings. Doyle's vision began to blur and he felt dizzy again. Five rings. He blinked and shook his head trying to dispel the sensation. Six rings. He took a deep breath. What the hell is going on!

Seven. "Hello?" a sleepy voice answered.

"Harry, hey..." Nausea assaulted him and Doyle had to swallow past it.

"Francis?"

"Yeah, look I know it's late an' all..."

Suddenly the dizziness escalated and the room began to spin crazily around him. Doyle tried to catch himself on a chair, but it came down with a crash as he fell. The phone slipped out of his hand and he could hear Harry on the other end asking what was going on. Doyle could hear other voices, but they seemed very far away. The room was getting dark.

"Doyle?" There was a hand on his forehead, but like the voices, it was too distant to matter. "Oh god, he's burning up, Angel." He tried to say Cordelia's name to reassure her that he was all right, but couldn't get the words out.

Someone, he thought it was Angel, called his name again as the darkness covered him.

Fade Out

Closing Credits