Kate Lockley's Journal

12:16am: Day in the life of a California P.I.
Oh right, I have an lj. I've been keeping up with everyone else's the last few months, but I've been too busy with demons, divorce, and debt collection to update my own. Well, this is probably the right place to vent about the worst parts of my day, including...Vehicular homicide. Mine.

Rest in pieces, Milhone. My shiny gold Miata was an innocent victim of J. Vincent Hirasky, ex-husband of a client who found himself paying a little more alimony than he wanted, thanks to my photographic skills. Fortunately those skills did not let me down: Mr. Hirasky WILL be buying me a new Miata, once he's explained things to the D.A. Until then, I get to experience the joys of L.A.'s rapid transit system.

Merry freakin' Christmas. Happy deleted Hannukah.

Still, I don't have any regular clients scheduled right now, and I don't plan on taking any on until after New Year's-- just the usual stop at Anne's shelter to make this year to volunteer, with maybe a few parties with friends. This time of year really gets to you if you don't have family, so I'm going to try to head that feeling off at the pass...

...but if anyone knows a good way to get over losing a car, let me know.

12:20am: Deeply concerned.
Ginny is a demon. Say it again: Ginny (Virginia Bryce, sometimes know as Virag, I guess) is a vengeance demon.

Sorry, still trying to wrap my mind around this. And after seeing what she did for this guy in the bar Friday night on a moment's whim, I am completely spooked.

I talked to Wes about this on the phone. He seemed pretty out of it (I don't know what's happening in L.A. now, and I'm not sure I want to), but from what I could get out of him, this isn't a good thing. Ginny's going to lose more and more of her humanity as she grants wishes. And that her "master" D'Hoffryn is no one to cross.

I really have to talk to her about this... but she seems to have disappeared again. And I'm nervous about going back to that bar again, after what I saw there.

Seriously considering return to L.A. if I can't find Ginny and get some sense out of her about what she's doing, but not giving up yet...

10:02pm: The best word I can come up with is... trippy.
So, I'm staying at a B&B because it's actually someone's home, and the landlady seems pretty savvy - I shouldn't be risking vamp invitations staying there. And so far, Sunnydale is .. different... from L.A.

I'm used to the monsters coming out at night, in the shadows and allies; not showing up so obviously at local hang-outs. I'm used to the cops being frustrated by lack of evidence, lying witnesses, or the stark impossible happening with no visible explanation; I am not used to cops being willfully blind and shrugging "stuff happens" when I point out they've got a vamp victim in their morgue.

Why does anyone live here?

Going out to check out the nightlife ( fully armed) - hopefully Ginny will return one of my messages and we'll hook up somewhere.

4:41pm: This is a like a bad movie....
But at least I have my body back. What a relief. Ninja fun aside, I'm used to this body, I like being female (except a day and a half every month where I like being female, but hate the entire world) and being in the body of someone I know was creeping me out.

But waking up in the back of Dracula's limo, with Renfield driving? NOT a good thing.

We had quite the argument when I found out who'd had my body and where they thought they were taking it. Renfield should recover from it. But VampBoy won't, if I see him anytime soon.

But hey, since I'm in Sunnydale, with packed bags (and a new line of underwear - which I am not giving back, just counting it as combat pay) for a stay, I think I'll look up Ginny and see if she's okay, and what she's been up to.

This place is already weirder than Angel always said it was....

9:52pm: *ahhhhh...*
The sun is down.. now is the time to roam... Hmm. So, it has been down for some time...

Excuse me. I found it impossible not to ... indulge my feelings for the lovely Katherine, when given such an opportunity....

*sighhh*

I phoned Renfield. He is sending a limo. It should be here at midnight, and I shall return to Sunnydale.

I must reverse this transformation; as ... delightful as this interlude has been, the natural order of things demands that my body be returned....

However. Perhaps, if Ms. Lockley had already embraced the night, she might find herself more amenable to my overtures...?

I am tempted to find some fledgling to transform her, but I fear that would undercut our blossoming relationship....

Yes, it is best that I return home, and rectify this situation, and *then* introduce her to the wonders of my world...

_{And buy her more suitable nightwear. Really, cotton boxers? So unflattering...}

Renfield, make a note: an order from Lily de France for Ms. Lockley upon her arrival in Sunnydale.

_{And I really don't want to think what the Brides' reaction to this will be... must get my body back....}

10:15pm: Whaaat on earth...?
_{.... ow ....}

I... one moment. This is not my home. This is not right, what is going---

Calmness! I must be calm! And I must--- breathe!? What the...

Someone is going to pay for this, as soon as I-- wait. What is that? Over there on the wall....

Detective Lockley?! In the mirror---

_{Oh, noooooo.}

RENFIELD! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME?!

10:56pm: What kind of week has it been...Busy.
No, I wasn't eaten by a G'shrek demon. No, I wasn't arrested for punching out that guy at Venice Beach (he saw things my way, and didn't press charges). No, I was not, sadly, holed up somewhere with Ewan McGregor in his love nest. That was a different blonde from me, unfortunately.

I've just been:
Helping with the clean-ups of vampire nests * Writing down plausible lies for the LAPD * Getting refugees back into their homes * Accounting for missing people who have become... things * Grouting my tile * Contributing to the media cover-up * Disposing of bodies * talking with the Lt. Governor (nice guy) * and occasionally, hanging out at the beach.

Apocalypses take it out of you. Anyway, I haven't heard from Giny in weeks; need to see if she wants her apartment back. And maybe check in with A.I., and congratulate them a job well done - word on the street is that they dealt with the Beast, and Angel is Angel again.

Now, what do I do about Faith...?

12:06am: Venice Beach...
One of my favorite places. Didn't visit it when I got here, because it was too dangerous. Damn, it looks beautiful. Too cold for swimming, but not too cold for wading. Can't believe it's daylight; I wonder how many vamps got caught out when the lights came back on, and are now part of the haze on the horizon? I don't know who did this, but they deserve a medal.

Ginny took off a few hours ago; I'll be staying at her place until mine is done being fumigated (you don't want to know what moved in while I was out for the last few days). I I finally checked in with the precincts. There's still clean-up efforts going on all over town; I'll be helping out when the sun sets again. Right now? I have the day off.

The phone's off. Leave a message at the beep.

6:19pm: That was stupid. But necessary.
I'm getting a little too old for drinking binges. And alcohol has never been my friend. But after what we went through last night, the ice cream wasn't enough.

_{Oooo, Virginia, could you, you know, open the fridge a little more quietly?}

So, what have we accomplished?

1 big ugly demon splatted into jam at Travel Town.
1 more confrontation with Angelus survived.
1 Tinkerbell spell eliminated from all further use, because Tink is a whacko.
1 teenage super-powered terror returned to the semi-custody of people who can sometimes reason with him.
1 sorta-evil guy helping out Virginia, which must be *some* kind of accomplishment.

You know, I think that's enough for now. I had nightmares last night-- I can still hear Angelus gleefully calling me "Katie" as he got closer.... and I wonder why, now, I ever gave him crap while he was Angel. I was such an idiot. A soul *can* make a difference. He's Exhibit A. At some point, when he's really dead, I'll be able to mourn the guy who I crushed on and who had save me. Not now, though. Now he's worse than dead.

But boy, do I owe Ginny and Wes on this one. I would not have walked away-- okay, ran away-- with all body parts attached if she hadn't called in the cavalry, and if Wes hadn't gotten me out of the immediate area as soon as Angelus hit me. Connor, too; he might be hyperactive and obsessive, but he has his priorities - save people, then kill vampires - straight. Ginny just deserves props all the way down the line, from showing up, to not running away to doing really heroic stupid self-sacrificing crap which I have to dope-slap her for when I can stand up again. You go, girl.

As I lie here on the floor, studying the nice mural Ginny has on the ceiling of the living room, I can't come up with any lessons I'm getting out of this, except: Apocalypses still suck. Friends make even mind-numbing terror survivable, especially when they let you crash at their places and give you ice cream afterwards. And champagne is still evil.

_{Now, if the demonic steel drum band in my head would just finish their set, I'd be a happy woman....}

9:34pm: Too easy.
I'm gonna enjoy this.

"---Thank you for saving us! You came just in time!"

The big blood-sucking neanderthal stops for a second; he's still mad, but now he's confused, and he's not desperate like the four of us. Okay, three of us. Connor still wants to rip his head off.

Wes grins and picks up the line immediately. "If it weren't for you, we'd be dead!"

Virginia stares blankly at him, then me, then she brightens. "That's right! Angel, you're our hero!"

The vamps recognized Angel. The vamps *loathe* Angel. Angelus gets it one second later. He isn't anything like stupid.

"I am not Angel, I'm---"

One of the vamps cracks his knuckles. "Dibs on breaking the pretty-boy's face."

"Hey, we can share the meat-puppets. Or I can kill you, then eat them myself---" He ducks. He weaves. And then he's fighting off all four vamps, getting their Angel-hate out in the open and letting it loose on him.

"You're gonna pay for this, Katie!"

"Bye!"

We pretty much have to drag Connor back by his hair ("Ouch! Quit it, Virginia!") to get him to leave the fight. Wes is talking sweet reason that doesn't do anything for the kid's attitude problem.

Me? I'm just glad the Becksteins *didn't* listen to me, and are nice enough to give us all a ride back to Wes's car.

And now, if anyone wants me... sleep. I'm going home after this. Tinkerbell conned us, the train wrecked me, and Angelus hates our guts even more.

Coulda been worse.

3:07am: Calling all units.
Can anyone hear me? I hate Verizon. Piece of crap phone!

Calling all units. Attack at Griffith Park, off the foot path near Travel Town, officer.. shit. Civilians down! Get a goddamn ambulance and some back-up here!

cough ow, ow, ow, damnit hurts to breathe, ow

God. Damn. It. FUCK.

My goddamn phone is still getting the incoming "REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM" message! I can't get it to stop! How is that possible!?!

Can anyone hear me besides these nice people who just put a band-aid on my head?

Have to get back there, I have to help, you don't understand --

oh. No. Tell me I'm not seeing what I'm seeing over there.

That's what I thought.

Hell.

Wes and Connor are going to get overpowered again.... I have to go, no, really, thanks for the help, I... No, I am *not* dizzy.

I'll be fine. Gotta be. I've got the only gun with bullets.

6:46pm: Hunh.
Okay, good thing I keep one gun full of real bullets --- I stil think we're so very screwed.

Chain busted. Kiddie train unlocked. It looks like - yeah, it's got diesel fuel. Keys keys keys, where would they put -- right. No keys, just turn it on.... Pull up on the brake--- This is so weird....

It's moving! Yes! Yes! Right, give it some gas.... Hey, this thing can move....

Where the hell are the brakes? Shit.

They better get him into the right place--- Wow. They did. He's just standing there, like a freakin' wall---

Oh, I have to do this.

Choooooo-choooooo!

Uh-oh. I think I better jump, why didn't I think of it sooner, it's going to----

*CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH*

.....ow, ow, ow, ow......

_{...Did we get it?....}

1:21pm: *Craaaaaaaaaaaassssssshhhhhh!*
*bang*
*thud*
*screeeeeech*
*bang!*

"Owwww."

*hissssssss*

"I think the radiator is busted."

"Suicidal pixies should be banned. I'm just sayin'.... Christ. You okay, Ginny?"

"Yeah, just bruised from the seat-belt. Oo, you're bleeding!"

"I am? Ouch! Hunh. Great. Another scalp scar for the collection. Let's see if the people in the other car are hurt...."

"Ohmigod!"

"It's so obvious you grew up in the Valley."

"Shut up, Kate. The hell I grew up in 818 hell. We hit Wes! I mean, Wes hit us!"

"Okay, that's just freaky. What are the odds on this?... Don't tell me. Don't wanna know, and I think I'd be frightened if it turned out you knew."

"Kate? Virginia? I'm so sorry --- there was this bright light---"

"Bad Tinkerbell!"

"No apologies necessary, Wes. Is that Connor in there with you?"

"Yes, we ran into each other at ... never mind. VIrginia? I can't believe you'e still here... but it is good to see you."

"Ditto, Mr. Pryce. Can you still drive your car? 'Cause I think Kate's is pretty much totalled."

"And again, I have to express--"

"And again, you really don't. As long as you follow the light, after I get some stuff out of the trunk."

"I beg your pardon? That sounds fairly ominous---"

"Are you still stoned? *That* light, Wes. The one doing the can-can on your car hood."

"I was never stoned! And may I ask where the light is taking us?"

"We're guessing Griffith Park. If we're wrong? At least we'll get to visit the zoo."

"Tinkerbell probably wants to visit the insect collection."

"Right... Connor, please move to the back seat and let Virginia sit next to you to navigate."

"Wes, are you sure you're good to drive now? Maybe I ought to do it."

"Why on earth wouldn't I be capable of driving?"

"Uh, Wes... sweetie... I know what you're like when you're drunk, remember, and some of the things you put on your messages the last day or so? Were *way* more out there than your usual singing of 'Man of La Mancha.'"

"*What*? I'm perfectly--- Kate! Give those back!"

"Get in, and just take the flamethrower, will you? Ginny, hang onto this bag, and make Tink fly below the speed limit, if you can."

"I don't think magic guides know from speed limits. And am I the only one starting to feel like Wendy here? 'Cause this kid's resemblance to Peter Pan? Just creepy. Plus Wes is looking more piratical lately---"

"I've heard the Peter Pan comments before. And you're going to pay for that later."

[About five miles of arguing later....]

"Now where is she--- Damnit! This car was not made for four-wheeling! Everybody out. We're going to have to hoof it."

"Did you bring enough supplies?"

"Yes, kid, I brought enough supplies--- hold this bag open a sec...."

"Dibs on the sword."

"Crossbow!"

"Here, Ginny. Just don't shoot one of us.... Don't look at my flamethrower like that, Wes. Crossbow or sword?"

"Both, thank you. And the shotgun. Wooden shells, I assume?"

"Yeah, yeah... Connor, where are you--- damnit. Damnit!"

"You know, the resemblance to Peter Pan is... Wow."

"---just eerie when he leaps like that. Especially with a twinkling guide. I know. Are you armed, Kate? I don't want them to get too far ahead."

"Gun, gun, flamethrower, stakes. Let's go. Wes, you carry the flashlight. Maybe the kid can see in the dark, but I sure as hell can't. I'll call this in as soon as we're sure where Angelus is."

"Wes? When did you get a Cadillac?"

"Funny you should ask...."

[A mile worth of following an ADD guide-of-light in circles later, and after much cursing and a run-in with some hostile bushes]

"Why is she... *puff*... stopping?"

"Maybe she's confused."

"Maybe she's tired."

"Maybe she's found him, did anyone think of that?"

{chorus} "No."

"Travel Town? Angelus is hanging out in Travel Town? Does anyone else think that his fascination for tracks is getting out of hand?"

"Quite possibly, and... wait."

*whisper* "Did you hear that?"

.....

...

"Oh, shit."

12:23am: Thelma & Louise get lost
It's really difficult to exact justice on a blood-sucking fiend if you can't find him. It's even harder if Tinkerbell steals your shake and gets all hyper. It's just that much worse if you realize that you don't know where you are.

Damnit.

Pulling over to ask for directions, because I may be butch, but I'm not *that* butch.

This kind of thing never happens to Kinsey Milhone.

1:26am: Headin' out---
Wes, Gunn, Connor - Virginia has a--- lead?--- on Angelus's whereabouts. We're heading to Griffith Park to check it out. I've got the LAPD on standby, but we're going to confirm his presence before we call them in. Don't worry, we're not taking any chances, and we're not going anywhere near him if we don't have to. I'm not sure if Lorne's coming with - he was talking to Anne a little while ago, I think he's trying to make up his mind.

If you can, meet us at the entrance of the park in 45 minutes, and we'll go in together. I can't be more specific until we get there. Tinkerbell is a little temperamental.

Please don't ask me to explain that.

9:30pm: Amused as all hell.
Syd dropped me a note - evidently her impersonation of me was completely convincing to the Caped Crackpot, and she managed to save a civilian in danger in the process. Can't tell you how much this cheers me up.

They're evidently... recovering together... somewhere else right now. Even impersonators of me have better luck with men than I do. But it's sweet.

That, and the fact that Fred is doing *much* better, thanks to some fancy footwork and expert EMT exprerience applied by Anne, have left me cautiously optimistic about our chances of Virginia's spell working out okay.

Any good vibes out there? Send 'em our way. We're going after Angelus.

Any psychiatrists out there? Same thing. Same reason.

3:08am: Why are all attractive guys who like me evil?
Sent Exley & White back to HQ. It was the end of their shift anyway, and they were getting kind of loopy. Unlike me. I'm just caffienated past all sanity. It's very quiet now at oh-dark-hundred; Anne's finally flaked out on the couch, Lorne's resting on one of the cots, and Virginia's doing some meditation to prep her for the spell in a few hours. Fred's hanging on. Just. Barely.

Sleeping would be pointless, so I'm on the phones, directiong people to other shelters or this one, getting supplies, talking a couple of panic cases down. Calls have tapered off in the last hour, thankfully.

The last few naps I had were segues in bizarre anyway. First I'm undressing Brendan Fraser (in Mummy Returns mode), and just as I'm getting to the good part, I wake up with people screaming because some nutcase is throwing fireballs in a public area. For Christ's sake, he couldn't have invited his target outside?... So we get that dealt with - mostly thanks to Anne,, whose self-defense courses are *definitely* paying off, and Virginia, her macking on flaming nutcases aside - and when the panic finally subsides, Lorne comes in with Fred, who's clinging to life by a thread. This thing never stops.

I caught a few zzz's later, and dreamt I was getting drunk with aforementioned flaming nutcase, who, in my dream, replaced the jacket he destroyed and teleported me home. Weirdest part? I have a new jacket right here. Hunh. Anne must've gotten it out of the donations box.

So I'm going down my track record: Angel, who always had that threat of Angelus lurking underneath. Never got past steamy looks and death threats, and I do *not* count the bite marks as a farewell souvenir. Jack in New York, who was really hung up on someone else anyway, no matter how long we were together. The guy who keeps sending me overly-accented heavy-breathing mash notes in my LJ, who at the very least is condescending. And wickedly charming evil guy, who gets my subconscious drunk and maybe buys me jackets, and who's probably gay or married or both as well as evil, knowing my luck.

It's enough to make me look sideways at Anne, who I could've sworn was checking me out earlier today. And wonder if she's evil. Lorne said something about her aura...

... like I'm going to take the word of the horned guy I just met, no matter how awesome his voice is. Besides. Anne and I compared vampire crush stories years ago, so I know she's both straight and has my kind of luck with men. Angel issues aside, she's no more evil than I am.

These are just the strange thoughts that wander through your head at 4am, when you can't stop the apocalypse, save your friends's lives, stop the bad guys, find the allies who are lost in the city, call for more Thai takeout, or even look forward to the sun rising.

Take no notice of them. I'm fine.

3:54pm: Dispatch, send back-up---
to the shelter, we're under attack! Sixy to seventy civilians in the line of fire, and I mean literal fire, we're returning but it doesn't seem to have much effect--

Watch it Anne!!

Virginia, what the hell is this?!

12:24am: Guh.
I've completely lost track of how long I've been awake, but it feels like days. Luckily, Anne has a couch here which isn't currently occupied, and a pillow as well. Heaven.

As soon as Lornegets us something of Angel's - and let's all hope it's nothing too embarassing - Virginia's going to try that location spell. Crossing my fingers that it works.
For two people I just met today in the middle of an apocalypse, they seem pretty competent... for a debutante and a lounge lizard. (Or is that an insult to Lorne's species? Gotta be careful there.)

Of course, they're still doing better on the 'reasonable' scale than Wes and Gunn, who took off after Angelus again and couldn't be talked out of it. At this rate, I'll be attending their funerals yet.

The civilians who escaped Angel's Flight are tucked into sleeping bags, Anne's talking on the phone to someone, Exley and White are conked out on the nearest Laz-E-Boys... and I am dead to the world.

Don't wake me unless it's Angelus or zombie cops.

11:57pm: Very mixed results.
Okay, so, good points:
Wes and Gunn are safe.
Fred's not dead yet.
Another handful of other civilians have been rescued as well.
Virginia Bryce came through real well, and we didn't get her killed either.
Twelve vamps dusted.
Angel's Flight human buffet shut down.

Bad points:
Three vamps - including Angelus, the smug sonuvabitch - escaped.
Connor, who is, I'd guess, about 16? 17? - just ran off after Angelus. Crap. And he was pretty high and haiku-composing before that, according to Wes. Joy.
Oh, and I almost shot a civilian. NOT all my fault, but ... still not great. Lucky thing Lorne seems like a very understanding... person.

Weird. Weird. Weird day.

1:50pm: Dispatch, we've got a situation---
This is 4-Tango-12, Angel's Flight, we've got ten civilians freed, at least two seriously wounded, send more ambulances... ten hostiles down and out, repeat, ten down and out ... five, repeat, five hostiles STILL AT LARGE ... Request back-up to ensure containment of the area... hissss*crackle*

Holy shit. What in the hell is *that*?!

*BANG!*

12:59am: Peachy. Keen.
So the power's out here at HQ, which is a royal pain in the a** for trying to book people or get jack done. My powerbook battery is still working, so I'm catching up on back-status-reports, and making a few contacts. As soon as the lights are back on and we can find the keys to the patrol cars, I have to do the following:

1) Get supplies for a major defense operation - it looks like Angel's Flight is the scene of a gathering, whether hostile or amicable still in question

2) Check in with Anne</b> before we take off, to make sure she hasn't heard anything new we need to deal with; also to make sure that the minion I met last night didn't return

3) Pick up Virginia Bryce at 1st & Broadway; she knows Wes, and knows some of what's going on, and we could use all the help we can get

4) Hit Angel's Flight to break up the protest/gathering/flea-market/bake sale or whatever the hell else is happening in the city

5) Get copy of "Bram Stoker's Dracula" to laugh at when I return home, in hopes of discouraging melanin-challenged stalker with the sound of my giggling.

Oh yeah. And more coffee. NEED coffee. I don't need to be hearing the voices of suicidal teenagers in my dreams again. < shudder >

12:06am: one long nightmare later
(and what, exactly, does my subconscious think I did to deserve a dream about The Mummy? Especially since the sexy Arabic guy never even showed up. Just hordes of cockroaches)

I could detail another long night in L.A., but it's all a blur at this point. Saved people. Killed things. Got shoes on sale. Saw Quentin Tarantino at the Mann Chinese. Yadda, yadda.

Did find out that one of the people/things we dropped off last night was actually a minion or ex-minion of Wolfram & Hart, and when I called Anne back, she couldn't even find the woman. Christ, that's frustrating. Best lead on this apocalypse I've run across yet, and it fades into the woodwork. Why don't the evil guys wear name tags, hunh? "HELLO! I am ______, EvilDoer, and I'm here to facilitate the Apocalypse!"

Took three Excedrin plus mocha latte to deal. Then blew up at the station about the X-Files jokes. Pretty satisfying to watch people cringe away from me at the coffee machine. I may still be a joke to them some days, but I am to be *feared* when p.o'd, especially now that they think I'm only half-crazy. Catch them singing the "Why Won't You Love Me David Duchovny" song in the bullpen again. Ha.

Wes & Gunn have been incommunicado for the last 24 hours, and I've got a bad feeling about this. Hope they're okay.

I still don't know what I'm going to say at Faith's parole hearing. Truth 1: We really could use a Slayer out there.
Truth 2: The last time I saw her? She was one seriously-messed-up kid who'd just committed three assaults, one with a deadly, and confessed to several killings. Remorseful? Sure. Sane? Not on your life.
Truth 3: Truth 1 doesn't cancel out Truth 2....

Screw it. I'll figure this out later.

12:42pm: Okay. That's IT.
The next joker to call me "Scully" or say "The truth really is way out there, hunh, Lockley?" is getting knee-capped. Cop, civilian, good guy, bad guy, vampire, demon, hot-dog vendor, lawyer or freakin' game show host, they are going down.

MULDER was the believer, Scully was the skeptic, people! Jeeeez!

Was I the *only* person paying attention? The only woman watching that show who loved David Duchovny for his mind?

*stalks off muttering*

11:48pm: Strangers and dangers
Got a bonus from Mrs. Soon-to-be-Ex-Stupid, so I don't have to take another "day" job for at least two weeks. Which leaves me time for my "night" job non-stop. Joy.

So, in relative order of occurence....

Before we left, got an APB for a - and I'm quoting here - "beast" roaming around downtown; minimal description, but it's left a trail of bodies in its wake, and might be responsible for the slaughter at Wolfram & Hart. I'd bet good money that those guys conjured up something they couldn't control (just desserts, except I feel for the temp workers and hired help), but there's no one left standing to tell us, so the LAPD and emergency services are left with the clean-up. So far, no sign of: 8' tall rock-like creature with large horns, sharp chin, claws, and cloven feet.

Everything else, but not that. Yet. If anyone out there sees it? Run. Better yet, drive like Andretti in the other direction, and call 911.

Did another downtown ride-along with the patrol cars handling Wilshire; again, mostly ferrying people who get caught without transportation to the nearest safe place. One poor guy was hiding under a bench outside the Citicorp Building when his limo didn't show up. Officer White had to flash the cross around his neck and show him that he could actually bleed before he'd come out. He and a homeless man were sharing the backseat while we pulled a semi-familiar-looking 'actress' off a parking attendant outside the L.A. studios; I think she used to show off merchanise on one of the game shows (Price is Right?), but when he wouldn't let her get her car out of storage without paying, she tried to have him for lunch. Teamwork with officers White & Exley resulted in a hostess flambe', although White was somewhat disappointed to find that the actress's - um... enhancements? - which were nearly popping out of that dress anyway, were left quivering on the pavement after her dusting. Can't believe he thought those were real. Men are way too gullible.

Hit Wilshire and took it out to La Cienega and the tar pits again (hoping nothing would be crawling out of them, this time). Found one woman a block away kicking her car, which had evidently broken down completely. Of everyone we encountered last night, I think she was in the worst shape - don't know what she'd seen or been through before we ran into her, but she seemed to be in shock. No visible wounds, but she was a little *too* calm and non-responsive, not reacting at all when we had to take a rather sudden detour in full-reverse along Olympic because of roaming groups of demonic saxophone players. And having that lizard... thing... land in front of us after jumping off the overpass at least startled everyone else into screaming; I'm not sure she even noticed. Just said, "Interesting. I must make a note of this location for further study," and kept smiling at the other passengers. There's only going to be more like her if this blackout keeps going. God, this is disturbing.

We finally got to Anne's shelter, and I made sure she knew that the woman we'd picked up might need some counseling or medical attention. Poor kid. Anne, I mean. She's so
sleep-deprived and overworked, she barely recognized me.

Still no sign of A.I., although I've at least been able to get a few messages back and forth to them through Dennis and their livejournals. They're all alive, but so damn lost that they don't even know where they are. Patrol cars have their eyes out for them though, so hopefully they'll hook up with the authorities soon.

Came home, took a shower, checked on CNN, and I'm now finally able to relax. And freak out.

Where the hell are the good guys? No, I'm serious. Not A.I. - I know they're doing their best to track Angelus. I mean: why hasn't someone - some magician, some white-knight, some I-don't-know-what - brought back Angel yet? Where's another Slayer to clean up this mess? Is no one on the face of the planet calling in the troops? Because I'm starting to think this city really is headed to Hell.

I don't think about this very often. But I know there's a side of Good. With a capital G. They let Angel save me two years ago - they broke every damn rule there is for vampires to let him into my apartment when I'd never invited him. So why the hell can't I help him, when he helped me?

Which brings me to the piece of mail waiting when I got home. The State of California wants me to testify at the not-far-off parole hearing of - wait for it - a confessed murderer I arrested three years ago. Faith. The vampire slayer.

Can't begin to describe my mixed feelings on *that* subject. So I'm heading for bed.