Slouching in his chair, Darien Fawkes stretched his long legs out before him as he laced his fingers over his abdomen. His partner, Bobby Hobbes, was sitting next to him, his posture slightly relaxed but still appearing to be almost at attention. Claire, the Keeper, was casually perched in her chair on the other side of Darien with her hands folded neatly in her lap, while Eberts stood in his usual position next to the Official. It had started out like any other Friday morning, but when Claire had followed him and Hobbes up from her lab in the basement of the Agency, Darien had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to have to postpone his plans for a monster movie marathon for another weekend.

"Gentlemen, your next assignment is in Los Angeles," announced the Official, a smug grin on his face as Eberts handed each of them a manila folder. "Due to the nature and distance of your assignment, the Keeper is going with you to handle the counteragent."

"Angel Investigations was founded in July of 1999 after Angel O'Shea moved to Los Angeles and purchased both an apartment and an office," began the plain man, reading from his folder. "He was joined by Francis Doyle, now deceased, and Cordelia Chase, a native of Sunnydale which was also Mr. O'Shea's last known address. Since then, they have been joined by two more employees, Charles Gunn, a Los Angeles native, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, an Englishman who also came to Los Angeles through Sunnydale. They often deal with cases of a supernatural nature, and if a person is in trouble but can't afford their bill, Mr. O'Shea will waive the agency's fee. When their office building was blown up, Mr. O'Shea purchased the Hyperion Hotel and has furnished it as an office for Angel Investigations and an apartment for himself."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Darien, staring at Eberts in disbelief. "Are you telling me that this guy is rich enough to buy an old hotel and yet he's still working?" When Eberts nodded, the lanky man frowned. "Where did his money come from? I mean, this Angel has to be at least as rich as our pal Stark, if not more so, to buy the Hyperion and not declare bankruptcy. The hotel alone takes up nearly a block; and to be able to refurnish it to make it hospitable, you're talking some healthy money."

Eberts consulted his notes briefly. "It appears that Mr. O'Shea inherited a sizable fortune from his family as well as valuable antiques and a prosperous stock portfolio," he reported.

"Anything else we should know about these characters?" inquired Hobbes, addressing the Official directly.

"Only that they seem to operate mostly after sundown," remarked the Official before turning to shuffle some papers on his desk, effectively ending the meeting and dismissing the agents. Exchanging amused glances, Darien and Hobbes stood up and left the office with Claire right behind them.

Claire glanced at her watch before looking at the two men. "Give me an hour to pack the counteragent and a bag," she requested, turning to head for the elevators and her lab in the basement. "I'll meet you back here so we can leave in that van of yours, Hobbes."

When she vanished behind the metal doors, Darien turned to Hobbes with a grin on his face. "You notice she never mentioned Pavlov in that little explanation," the lanky man mused, his voice full of mock-innocence that didn't quite match the mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes.

With a nod and a wave, Darien easily makes his way back out into the warm October sunlight. Casually, he slips his dark glasses on as he folds his lanky form behind the wheel of his used car, and a slight grin crosses his face as the engine easily starts. Still wearing the grin, he steers the black car down the slightly crowded San Diego streets on his way back to his apartment. The wind was ruffling his spiky hair through the open window. He still found it hard to believe that it was only a few days from Halloween because the trees were still green and the weather warm enough for short sleeves. He could remember, as a child, hiding in a pile of leaves and then jumping out at his brother, Kevin, when he walked by with his nose buried in one scientific book or another. The year before Darien was convicted with his third strike, he had gone with Liz to a costume party at a club in Seattle. After hearing about his brother's obsession with "The Invisible Man", she somehow managed to convince Darien to dress as the lead character while she had donned a slinky Catwoman costume.

He chuckled at the memory. {Kinda ironic how things turned out. I'm still the Invisible Man and she's still a thief,} he mused, a touch of bitterness in his thoughts, as he maneuvered the car into the parking lot near his apartment building. Locking his car, he easily scaled the stairs to his apartment and dug in his closet for a duffel bag. Tossing it onto his bed, he proceeded to stuff it full of enough clothes to last him a week. When he came across a black bag shoved into the farthest corner of his closet.

Frowning, he pulled it out and unzipped it to reveal black clothing and a coil of rope resting on top. It was his bag of burglar tools that he hadn't used since Liz was last in town. They had used her gear when they were breaking into the Feds' building, but he still had his. Hesitating for just a second, Darien closed the bag and tossed it on the bed next to his other bag. A few more minutes, and he was packed for however long he was stuck in Los Angeles; and ready to try and avoid falling into Chrysalis's hands while digging up the dirt on this detective agency. He shrugged as he scooped up both bags and deposited them next to the apartment door. Maybe he'd be luckier this time than he had been in the past, and actually be able to get into a place, get what he was after, and get out again without getting caught.

{I can hope at least,} he thought, as he stocked up Darien the rat with extra food and water for the duration of the assignment. Shaking his head, the lanky man grabbed his bags and descended to the street just as the battered agency van pulled up to the curb. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long assignment.

The door to the Magic Box opened and Spike waltzed in as if he owned the place. His duster floated around him; earning glares from Buffy, Xander and Giles and a timid glance from Willow. Anya only rolled her eyes at the bleached vampire's actions and went back to counting money. He strolled over to the table and threw himself into a chair across from Willow who blushed an even deeper red when he winked at her.

"So what do you need the Big Bad for?" he drawled, leaning back to put his boots up on the table. "Finally decided to let me end your miserable lives?"

Buffy snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "In your dreams, Fangless," she retorted before turning to Giles. "Is it really necessary to send him?"

"I'm afraid so," apologized the Watcher, removing his glasses to absently polish them. "He can protect Willow, and he also has a reason for wanting to leave Sunnydale right now." Spike tried not to wince at the memory of the Initiative commandos that had practically taken over the night, forcing all of the smart demons to run from the Hellmouth. Those that weren't as smart or not as cunning found themselves in a sterile white cell where various scientists experimented on them before they died. There was no way he was going to let those tossers capture him again, chip or no bloody chip. Shoving those thoughts aside, he focused on the conversation that was going on. Apparently, they needed him to protect the redhead when she went somewhere, but that was all he had managed to get from the conversation.

"Pet, what do you need me for?" The soft question was directed at Willow while Buffy and Giles continued arguing about the necessity of sending Spike with the witch.

Startled green eyes flew to meet glittering blue. "I need to go to LA to get a book from Angel," she confessed in a soft voice. "It's too old for him to mail it to us, and apparently it has information in it about some demon that's rumored to be heading here to open the Hellmouth."

Spike leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a serious look. "And this has nothing to do with the rumor that Angelus is on his way back thanks to some law firm." Willow looked at him with fear evident on her face. He sighed, "Apparently, you hadn't heard that one."

"Then I have to go to LA immediately," she whispered, her words carrying to the vampire. She gazed at him, seriously. "I found a spell to permanently anchor his soul." Her calm announcement floored him and he looked at her in shock. A spell to permanently anchor the Poof's soul, and make sure that Angelus never terrorized the Earth again? But did he really want to participate in that decision- never to have his sire again?

{He was hardly decent to you the last time he was here,} whispered his demon, drawing forth the memories of abuse he had suffered at the hands, and mouth, of Angelus when the wanker had lost his soul. {He didn't have the balance that he had before he was cursed.} Spike could definitely agree with that observation, and had to wonder if the soul had somehow driven the demon crazy. The Angelus that he had known in the last century never would have tried to suck the world into Hell where he would just be a small lackey with no real power. No, being feared and having that control over others was too important to the Angelus that had taught William the finer points of being a vampire.

"When can you leave?" inquired Spike, watching her as he came to a decision. He definitely didn't need the crazed version of Angelus back, especially since he was unable to feed from humans. If he thought what had happened when he had been stuck in a wheelchair was bad, he didn't want to imagine what he would be put through because of the chip.

A cocky grin crossed his face as he gracefully rose to his feet. "Got my smokes, my coat, an' my cash," he announced. "What more do I need?"

His answer coaxed a giggle from Willow before she glanced at the still arguing Watcher and Slayer. "We're leaving now," she announced, only to shake her head, as no one seemed to hear her. Sighing, she grabbed a piece of scrap paper and scribbled a quick note before snagging Spike's arm on her way out the door. "Let's go before something happens."

Spike laughed and followed her out of the store. A comfortable silence surrounded them that lasted until they were on their way to Los Angeles in Willow's car. Finally, the hacker was unable to ignore the question that was scampering through her mind like a crazed animal. "Spike, why are you so anxious for Angel's soul to become permanent?" The question startled the blond vampire out of his thoughts and he turned crystal blue eyes on her in puzzlement. "I mean, it doesn't seem like you two can even stand each other and yet, you're willing to let me permanently secure his soul and prevent Angelus from ever re-emerging."

A soft sigh slipped from pale lips as Spike returned his attention to the front windshield. "The Angelus that terrorized you and your mates wasn't the Angelus that I knew," he confessed his voice emotionless. "True, the stalking and killing was Angelus, but he did things that he never would have done before the soul. Like trying to suck the world into Hell." {Or leaving me stuck in a wheelchair for nearly six months} he added silently. "I think that somehow the soul or the curse warped his demon."

"You too?" Willow asked.

Spike's head whipped around so fast to stare at her that he would have suffered from whiplash if he weren't already dead. Willow nodded in agreement. "I read all of the Diaries that talked about Angelus," she said, "and I couldn't understand why he was so anxious to awaken that Alcatha just because Buffy kept defeating him. Everything I read made him appear to be the ultimate Alpha male; not wanting to submit to anyone or anything no matter how strong it was." Willow gestured with one hand while she steered the car with the other. "Surely he knew that sucking the world into Hell would drop him down to one of the lowest people on the totem pole instead of being one of the most feared vampires on Earth."

The peroxide blond vampire continued to stare at her as her words echoed through his mind. He knew she was the smart one of the group, but this was a level that he had never expected from her, and it surprised him. He had come to the same conclusion after living with Angelus for nearly a decade, about the same time he had adopted the nickname "Spike", and here she had picked it up from reading the Watcher's Diaries. "Yeah, but with your little spell, that wanker will be gone for good," he replied with false cheerfulness.

Willow sighed. "There's a slight danger," she warned, nervously biting her lower lip. "If the spell is interrupted for any reason at all, then he'll be Angelus forever and no amount of cursing will return his soul to him."

"Then we make sure that nothing disrupts the spell, pet," announced Spike, his voice firm. He stared out of the front windshield as silence once more descended on them, and tried to ignore the feeling of dread that threatened to envelope him.

A few hours later, Willow pulled her car into the covered garage attached to the Hyperion Hotel, and stifled a yawn as she followed Spike through the door that lead into the spacious lobby. She heard him mutter something about the lack of security, but didn't pay attention to him as she sank onto one of the plush lounges that were scattered around the lobby. From the lack of threats directed at Spike and friendly greetings for her, she figured that Angel and his employees were out on a case.

{Hope everyone's all right,} she mused, shaking off the drowsy feeling that was trying to envelope her. It was only going on eight pm, but for some reason, it felt much later to her. {Gotta be the driving. Long trips always make me tired.} She could see little signs that stated that Angel Investigations wasn't all divorce cases and missing children: a large case displaying a variety of axes, swords, and daggers, an old book resting on the counter with gold letters spelling out something in Latin, and a couple of sharpened stakes resting in a pencil holder.

Spike tromped back into the lobby holding a mug in his hand and grumbling under his nonexistent breath about "friggin' cow blood" as he flopped onto the lounge next to her. "So now what do we do?"

Willow shrugged. "Wait until they come back from wherever they went," she replied. "Not much else we can do until then." She fiddled nervously with the hem of her shirt as her eyes danced around the lobby again as if just by searching for Angel or Cordelia, they would appear out of the shadows. Since the other girl began working for Angel, Willow and Cordelia had started exchanging e-mails. First, they had been about business, asking questions such as "Do you know a spell for..." or "Is there anything about a demon in Gile's books that...". However, Cordelia being the Gossip Queen she is, began asking about the rest of the gang in Sunnydale as she provided information on what was going on with Angel and the others working with her.

Of coarse, one of the secrets that Cordelia had been able to coax out of Willow was the other girl's crush on Spike. After the mess with Oz and the female werewolf, Willow was wary about getting involved with anyone else and setting herself up for another broken heart. Not like it was possible for Spike to have feelings for her. She was just Willow who was friends with the Slayer and whose spells only worked half the time. Shaking her head at the direction her thoughts were going, Willow stood up and wandered over to the weapon's case to examine the various blades displayed behind the glass.

Before the silence in the lobby could smother Willow under its weight, a familiar voice drifted in from outside. The redhead spun around to face the front doors just as Angel and Cordelia entered the lobby followed by Wesley and an unfamiliar man that Willow assumed was the Charles Gunn Cordelia had told her about. All were covered in a smelly purple goo that clung to their clothes and weapons, and Cordelia continued her chatter, completely ignoring anyone else in the lobby.

"..I can't believe those demons. Why do they always have to explode into purple slime when they're killed? Can't they just quietly fall down and die without the messy explosions?" the brunette girl said, glaring down at her goo-splattered clothes. "At least I don't have any auditions tomorrow 'cause it's gonna take me at least a week to get this stench off of my skin."

"Try a little aloe, luv," remarked Spike, watching the quartet of demon-fighters suddenly freeze. "Groquag demons are smelly buggars, but aloe will take the smell right out."

Angel glared at the younger vampire calmly sitting in the lobby. "Spike, why are you here?" he demanded, his voice bordering on a growl.

"He's here with me, Angel," Willow stated, drawing their attention away from Spike. She grinned slightly and resisted giggling as a clump of purple gunk slid from Angel's dark hair to land with a "plop" on his shoulder. "Why don't we talk after you guys have cleaned up."

Once everyone had a chance to use Angel's shower and change into clean clothes, they converged on the lobby and settled themselves onto the various lounges. Formal introductions were made and Angel folded his arm across his chest as he regarded Willow, curiously.

"So what brings you to LA?" the dark vampire inquired.

The red head frowned at him. "There's this demon that is suppose to be heading for Sunnydale and Giles knew you had a book about it but it was too fragile to be shipped and Spike came along to make sure I got back to Sunnydale in one piece until he told me about a rumor he heard that Angelus might be breaking free which forced me to come tonight because I found a spell that can secure your soul permanently, but it's risky and I'm rambling again, aren't I?" A faint blush stained her cheeks as everyone stared at her in confusion when Spike suddenly growled.

"Here's the deal," he announced, stretching his arms along the back of the lounge and laying his one hand on Willow's shoulder. "There's an idiotic demon that is rumored to be on its merry way to Sunnyhell. The Watcher knows that Peaches has a book about the demon, but that it's too fragile to be mailed. So, he decided that Red here would be the best one to get it. I was sent along to keep her safe, especially since I heard a rumor along the demon underground that Angelus was on his way back." A flicker of pain crossed Angel's face before the brooding mask returned, but Spike continued. "Also, Red 'ere has found a way to keep you broody for the rest of yer bloody unlife."

Every eye turned to regard the fidgeting redhead and Willow twisted the hem of her shirt. "Is it true, Willow?" Angel's voice was barely louder than a whisper, and she looked up to meet hopeful chocolate eyes. "Can you secure my soul permanently?"

"Yes, but the spell is risky," she warned, her manner serious. "It basically melds the demon and the soul into one entity that is perfectly balanced between the two. You won't be consumed by your guilt, but you're not gonna be going out and turning LA into a buffet. Any disruption of the spell once it's begun will make sure that the demon has complete control. Your soul won't go vanishing again, but it will be smothered by the demon and no amount of cursing will be able to return it to control."

Silence descended on the lobby as everyone absorbed what Willow was saying with mixed feelings. Finally, Cordelia stood up and regarded both Angel and Willow with a level gaze. "Okay, first off, since it appears that I'm the only one willing to voice their thoughts about this, Willow, other than Angel going all grr for good, is there any risk to you with the casting of this spell?" the brunette stated, her voice leaving no room for deception.

Willow shook her head, and the seer nodded once. "Okay, Angel. Now that it is known that this won't hurt Willow in any way, are you willing to take the risk and have your soul permanently secured?"

All eyes swiveled to rest on the vampire and he sighed. "Yes, but what if something happens to disturb the spell?" he asked, closing his eyes wearily. "The last thing I want to do is hurt any of you, again, because Angelus got free."

Cordelia nodded again. "Then before the spell is started, we put you in a circle that you can't get out of so if Angelus DOES break free for any reason, he's not going anywhere," she decided. "Then, while Willow is doing the spell, the rest of us makes sure nothing and no one disturbs the ritual." She glanced at the witch. "Will that work?"

Willow frowned as she thought over what the spell required. Both her and Angel would have to stand in one circle since she was the caster, and it would be her melding the demon and the soul, but another circle shouldn't disturb the spell any. "That should be fine. I don't think it will do anything to the spell, but that means that I'm going to have to pick up a few extra ingredients before I can do it."

"Great!" exclaimed Cordelia with a large smile. "There's a magic store right down the block that we use all the time. You can get your ingredients, cast the spell and make sure that fashion reject never terrorizes us again." She spread her hands. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Groaning, Darien dropped his bags on the floor and fell back onto the bed. What had started out as a simple drive from San Diego to Los Angeles soon became anything but. First a major accident occurred just as the van got onto the freeway, bringing traffic to a halt as everyone waited for the emergency vehicles to clear the three car pile-up out of the way. Then, when they stopped for lunch, somehow Hobbes managed to locate the slowest restaurant possible with servers who took hours to bring them their drinks.

{ I swear the cook must have raised the cow for my burger while we were waiting, } decided Darien, rubbing his face tiredly. When they finally managed to get into Los Angeles, it took them another hour to locate a hotel near the Hyperion, and another fifteen minutes of talking to the manager to get two adjoining rooms. Right now, all Darien wanted to do was dive face first into the pillows on his bed and not come up until sunrise, but Hobbes had other ideas.

"C'mon, partner, we got a job to do," announced the shorter agent, checking his ammo before holstering his gun and letting his suit jacket fall over the weapon once more. "The fat man ain't paying us to lounge around a hotel room while Chrysalis is making everyone's lives miserable."

"And the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get back to that monster movie marathon I promised myself," the ex-thief remarked, trying to convince himself that he had to get moving.

A brief rap on the door heralded Claire's entry and she regarded the still prone form stretched out on the bed. "Aren't we starting the investigation tonight or did the two of you decide to take the night off?" she inquired with one eyebrow gracefully arched.

"No, we're starting tonight," grunted Darien as he pushed himself to his feet. He gestured towards the door with a grin. "After you." Claire sighed and left the room with Hobbes and Darien right behind her.

As they stepped out of the hotel, a cool wind rushed through the buildings to greet them and Darien pulled his jacket closer with a shiver. He had been expecting it to be cooler here than in San Diego but now he was beginning to wonder if a patch of cold air had blanketed the city, making his faded denim jacket seem woefully inadequate for keeping him warm. Several people hurried past the odd trio on their way to someplace out of the chilly air, and Darien fastened the copper buttons up to his throat as he glanced around.

"So now what?" he asked in a soft voice.

Hobbes shrugged as he turned down the street towards the Hyperion. "Simple, you do your stuff, get in and look around while Claire and I watch your back from the street," he stated in a no nonsense tone that Darien was becoming all too familiar with.

"I've got some counteragent in my bag so you should be all right, but don't take unnecessary chances in there," warned the blond, brushing her wind blown hair out of her face. "I only brought so much with me and there is no telling how long this job is going to be." Her cool blue gaze focused on Darien's warm brown one, trying to convey the importance of her warning. But with the threat of turning into a red-eyed monster hanging over his head, he was hardly going to fool around on that deadly precipice without the safety of the calming blue liquid that was his key to sanity. Nodding in agreement, he followed Hobbes down the street, desperately trying to shove all thoughts of quicksilver madness from his mind.

Turning the corner, Darien suddenly found himself standing before the sprawling structure of the Hyperion, stretched across the block like a content cat. Only the lobby was lit with a golden light, offering a false comfort to push back the night. Despite the little bit of light that escaped into the street, the shadows seemed to live in the darkness that clung to the old building like a cloak against the day. Darien nervously ran his hand though his spikey hair and glanced around the deserted street. The asphalt path that dared to caress the Hyperion was devoid of all life, as if nothing living was allowed near the dark structure.

"Well, let's get this over with," muttered the lanky man, glancing at his companions before starting across the street. Hobbes and Claire followed him as far as the sidewalk running before the grand old hotel, allowing them to be close enough if Darien needed them for any reason yet far enough away that they wouldn't attract unwanted attention. Tossing his companions a smile that didn't reach his eyes, Darien turned to face the front of the Hyperion and the warm light beckoning him from the lobby when a group of nearly a dozen young men seemed to appear out of the darkness itself.

At first glance, they appeared to be just a group of friends out for a night on the town, maybe college students looking for a bar, but there was something about the way they moved that screamed "predator" to everyone around them. Dim light flickered off of glowing golden eyes and there were occasional glimpses of sharp teeth. Finally the group drew close enough for Darien to make out the ridges that distorted each face, and he tried to swallow past his heart, which had decided to migrate to his throat.

"Hey boys, lookie here," announced one of the men, catching sight of the trio. "We got ourselves a bit to eat before the fight." A snicker rippled through them as the group spread out, trying to shove the three agents against the unyielding brick wall.

Suddenly, a chill raced down Darien's spine that had nothing to do with the weather or the threatening group approaching him. { NO! Not now! } he silently screamed as the quicksilver flowed over him to render him invisible. Acting instinctively, he reached out to latch onto Claire's arm and sent the sheath of cool silver over her body. He knew quicksilvering them both would cut his time in half, but if one of them could get into the lobby and maybe find help, it would be worth it.

"Run, kid, I'll hold these freaks off!" shouted Hobbes, drawing his gun and aiming it at the closest figure. Needing no further encouragement, Darien tugged on Claire's arm and the invisible couple dodged outstretched arms as they ran for the safety of the lobby. Behind him, Darien could hear Hobbes shouting for the things to stop, but refused to look back.

He was so focused on reaching the lobby that the tall man never saw the loose rock in his path until his foot had already come down on it. With a startled cry, Darien's foot shout out from under him and he lost his grip on Claire as he tumbled to the ground.

"Darien!" cried Claire, unmoving from his side.

He glared up at her glowing form enveloped in quicksilver. "Go Claire, before it flakes off!" he barked even as he climbed to his feet. A twinge arced across the back of his skull, warning him that he was dangerously close to his limit. Ignoring the pain, Darien started forwards again just as one of the things appeared out of the darkness and started towards Claire who had lost her protective coating of quicksilver. Shouting, he launched himself at the twisted man like a bull determined to trample the matador, and he distracted the man long enough for Claire to slip through the doors of the lobby.

"That was a foolish move," hissed the man, his lips pulled back to reveal jagged teeth. Before Darien could reply, the man had grabbed his jacket ahd heaved him towards the brick wall. Darien's last thought before his head collided with the side of the Hyperion, sending him into unconsciousness, was { Oh, crap. }