“Hold on, kid,” Logan shouted, popping his claws and diving after the nearest tentacle. It could have been an Old One, except it didn’t smell right, and none of them were insane yet - well, as far as he could tell.

He sliced in deep to the tentacle, which was slightly resistant to his claws, like its tendons were laced with adamantium or something. There was a sound like a table saw - was that its scream? - and bluish-black blood didn’t spurt so much as ooze, like it was more syrup than water. He looked up, but not in time, as a second tentacle slammed into him with a force akin to a semi-truck (and if anyone should know that, it was him), and he went flying. He tried to catch himself, but couldn’t, and ended up slamming shoulder first into a brick wall. Damn, it probably was a good thing he did have metal bonded bones.

He was too aching and dazed to land on his feet, so he hit the asphalt like a ton of iron. He tasted blood, but managed not to lose consciousness. From where he was sprawled on the pavement, he could see Angel struggling with metal bars on a window, kicking the base of it until he was able to wrest away a single black iron bar. He avoided the tentacles and simply jumped down the nearest open manhole. Damn it, he should have thought of that.

Rags staggered over to him as Logan pushed himself up to his knees. “So, does this live ‘ere?”

Logan looked up at him, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “What? Do you know what this is?”

He shook his head, but briefly, as it almost made him fall over. “Naw. I jus’ assumed it was a local.”

Logan almost asked if there were a lot of sewer monsters in L.A., but then reconsidered, as that was probably one of those things you were better off not knowing.

That table saw noise ratcheted up higher to painful levels, ones that sounded like a dentist drill was trying to bore into your brain, and the tentacles thrashed wildly, finally withdrawing into the sewer. Logan stumbled to his feet and went to the nearest sewer opening, intending to get in there and join the fight, but suddenly a blue-black splattered hand appeared grasping the edge of the opening. It was Brendan.

Logan grabbed his hand and pulled him up, back up onto the street. He was well spattered in the beast’s blood (which smelled quite oddly like soy ink), and in his spiky demon façade, breathing hard. “Fuck, what the hell was that?” he asked, panting.

Logan shook his head, not sure what to tell him, and suddenly a metal bar came flying out of the manhole. After a moment, a blood splattered Angel came climbing out. “It’s retreated for now,” he said, before he was even half way out of the sewer. “But we’ve got a problem.”

“You just figured that out?” Logan sniped.

“That was a th’Ulaban, a scavenger demon.”

Angel was now standing on the street before him, and Logan shrugged, holding his hands apart. “Yeah, and?”

Angel wiped some th’Ulaban blood off his forehead with his arm. “They’re not native to this dimension. They live in hell dimensions, feeding off the … remains, the pieces of others. They have no intelligence at all, they’re bottom feeders, creatures of pure instinct. There’s no way one could have come here on its own, and there’s no reason why anyone would go to the trouble of transporting one here.”

“Hey,” Brendan exclaimed. “Are you saying it thought I was a corpse?”

Angel shook his head. “Did you see how clean those sewer tunnels were? It’s probably starving; it’ll hunt if its forced to.”

“Why didn’t you kill it?” Logan asked.

Angel glared at him, like that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “I’m not sure they can be killed. I’ve never heard of it.”

“Everything can be killed,” he insisted, before grudgingly admitting, “Well, almost everything.”

Brendan looked at Rags, who was still standing on the sidewalk, looking like he was waiting for a bus, and asked, “Could you send it back home?”

Rags scratched his head, and seemed to list slightly. “Other dimension? Naw, not without ‘elp. “

“So what do we do now?” Brendan wondered.

Angel and Logan exchanged questioning glances, aware that they were both stumped. After a moment, Logan said, “We get Angel to the hotel. It’ll be sunup soon, and we need to beat it. Will that thing come out in sunlight?”

Angel had to think about it a moment, but shook his head. “I doubt it. It probably has no idea what a sun is, and avoids it out of fear. “

“Okay, then we have time to brainstorm until tonight.”

“Brainstorm with whom?” Brendan asked pointedly.

Logan sighed, shooting him an evil look, but the kid was right. Still, he had some people he could turn to for help - if he was willing to swallow what little dignity he had left. Shit. “I have some contacts I can hit. If they don’t know what to do, they’ll know someone who can help me.”

“Great, I’ll come with you,” Brendan volunteered.

“No you won’t. You smell like demon blood.”

He looked down at himself, seemingly noticing how blood covered he was for the first time. “I can shower,” he claimed, but something in his voice indicated he knew it was a lost cause.

And he was honestly glad. Because he really didn’t want Brendan to see where he was going after this.

5

The hotel actually turned out to be nice. It had an old fashioned, blocky look about it, but inside the lobby was airy and spacious, and most of the rooms had water views, although Angel couldn’t enjoy it before sunset. Even Angel had to grudgingly admit it was nice, and the old fashion styling of the place seemed to appeal to him, although he wouldn’t admit it in mixed company. Funny old guy.

Logan had Rags call Thrak from the lobby, and eventually his cab screeched up to the front of the hotel. Although he had many reservations about putting the kid in a car that Thrak was driving, he did, entrusting

him to get the drunken Rags back home in one piece. Brendan wasn’t too worry - he’d ridden with Thrak before, apparently - but he was disappointed he couldn’t come with him. Logan, conversely, was glad he wasn’t.

He had time to kill, so he walked down to the beachfront and enjoyed the silence for a little while. He figured this might be his last chance for some quality alone time for a while, so he might as well appreciate it. He sat on the sand and watched the sky turn light, the burgeoning sun turning the water to molten gold. This almost explained why people bothered to live in Los Angeles - almost.

Finally he got up and started walking, wishing the air was a bit fresher, but equally aware he shouldn't complain, because while the air might have stunk to him, it couldn't hurt him in the slightest. He was luckier than most. It was a long walk, but he felt he needed the exercise. Again, it wasn't like it could hurt him, and it wasn't like he hadn't done worse.

Even this early in the day, the crazies were out on Sunset, and he was half convinced that they never left. They staked out their little spot, and with the help of controlled substances, were crazy twenty four-seven, with the help from various controlled substances.

By the time he reached Mandrake's, Argenis was just opening the store, and he was glad, as that spared him from going inside. "Hey," he said casually.

Argenis looked over his shoulder curiously. He fit in with all the crazies in his shapeless saffron colored silk robe and matching turban, all hiding a bizarrely shapeless and sexless body, revealing a soft face that was neither male or female, but just enough of both to leave you scratching your head. Logan thought of him generally as a "he", but it was an arbitrary decision, and he knew he could just as well be wrong as right.

His colorless eyes, as wide as peach pits, studied him carefully. "Well hello sailor," Argenis finally said. "I thought you didn't call these parts home."

“I don't. Thought you might like to know Angel's back."

Argenis stopped messing with his lock box, and turned to face him completely. "Really? So not dead then? I mean, dead dead."

“No."

“Huh. Weird. I heard the Partners had a real mad on for him." He grimaced, thin and pale lips twisting like worms on a skillet. "Best not tell them. They'll probably suck us all into a black hole or something."

He didn't think Argenis was ever a friend of Angel's, just a contact. As a "fixer", he was pretty sure Argenis had no allegiance to anyone at all - his business didn't require him to pick a side. Or a gender, apparently. "Look, I need something to get rid of a th’Ulaban demon."

Argenis cocked his head to the side, like a curious parrot. "A what now?"

“A th’Ulaban . Apparently they're not native, they're a hell dimension scavenger, and there's a big ass one in the sewer. It's probably eaten some people and will eat several more unless we figure out how to neutralize it, get rid of it, anything. I figured you'd know if someone had that kind of knowledge."

“Hmm." After a moment, he nodded, and tried on a smile that was so phony he wondered if he was posing for a headshot. "You've come to the right place, sugar lumps. I'll see what I can find for you. Why don't you check back in with me in an hour? Hopefully I'll have a nibble by then."

Sugar lumps? No, he refused to even think about that for five seconds. He just nodded and turned away, crossing his arms tightly over his chest until the urge to punch him passed.

“Oh," Argenis called after him. "Tell Angel not to be a stranger."

He just nodded, not quite trusting himself to verbally respond. The urge to say, "What could be stranger than you" was just too great.

There was no place else for him to go but the Way Station. He knew he should go back to that cheap motel where he once beat up the crack addict for slapping around his girlfriend, but the prospect struck him as terribly dismal. He could technically stay at a better place, but why? He had no idea how long he'd be here, and all he really needed was an occasional pit stop to wash off blood and catch a few z's. There was no point in spending a hundred bucks a night for that privilege.

He was about two blocks from the Way Station when he realized someone was following him.

He had an idea back on Sunset that he'd picked up a tail, but it was easier there for him to get lost in the crowd. The crowd thinned out appreciably the closer you got to the Way Station - the neighborhood wasn't bad so much as it was south of bad; it was a whole new category of terrible. You could probably buy a lot here for a quarter, but no one did, because it'd never be worth that much - and while the guy was reasonably decent as a stalker went, there was no way he could be good enough not to be noticed by him.

Logan ducked into an alley and waited for the guy to follow. He left a good space cushion, the guy clearly was a pro of some sort, but finally he came up, and Logan grabbed him by the throat before he realized it was a trap. He threw the guy up against the wall, pinning him by his throat, and put his fist just underneath his eye. "If you know who I am," he growled. "You know what I can do. Why the hell are you followin' me?"

The guy was big, maybe six two, Chinese, with short but well coifed black hair and casual clothes that were, on inspection, too damn expensive. (LaCroix made t-shirts? Who knew?) Although he reflexively grabbed for the hand on his throat, he didn't try and pull it away, nor did he reach for his gun, an obvious bulge just behind his left hip. The guy was a pro. "Lotus wishes to see you," he squeaked, talking as best he could with a half closed windpipe.

What a baffling statement. He just stared at him for a moment. "Lotus? Who the fuck is Lotus?"

“Wing."

That's when it fell into place. Right, Wing's daughter, Lotus, the one with the bad attitude and killer sniper skills. So this guy was a pro after all - he was Triad.

Logan let him go, but only because he knew he could take him if the Triad wanted to make it a fight. "Why the hell does she want to see me?"

The guy rubbed his throat and coughed discreetly, but there wasn't a hint of anger in his eyes. He was a soldier, and even if he killed you, it never got personal. "I don't know. I was simply told to find you and tell you."

Curious, but pure Triad. Everything was on a need to know basis. "She have her office at the Chen building?" That was where Wing had an office, the one where he liked to conduct his "business". The soldier nodded. "Fine. Tell her, when I have the time, I'll drop by, but only when I'm ready. And if she puts any more tails on me, they'll be sent back to her in a cardboard box. Clear?"

Once again that impassive nod. He couldn't smell fear on this guy, couldn't sense a blip in his pulse - he just didn't care. None of this bothered him in the slightest. Frightening.

He let the guy go, waited to make sure he did in fact leave, and there was no one standing by to take his place, and then he continued on to the Way Station.

What the hell was that about? He had a deal with Wing, they both lived up to their end of the bargain, case closed. Why did Lotus want to see him? To make sure he didn't bother her father again? To offer him a job? To throw a hissy fit over damage done to one of their choppers or some of their personnel? There were too many holes, too many things that didn't make sense.

Much like their problem. They're attacked by some kind of weird albino Berserker, and then attacked by some kind of shit eating demon that shouldn't exist here. The only common thread was the fact that these things shouldn't exist. So what did that mean? Was Lotus deciding to bother him part of that, or just a coincidence?

The Way Station was dark inside, like night never left, and there were a few demons around, apparently over the Berserker scare or completely unaware of it. Lia was tending bar, which was always a mixed blessing.

Her cobalt eyes gave him a withering glance, which she followed up with a tart, "What d'you want?"

What a fucking ray of sunshine. "I want to see Bob."

“Tough titties."

Her hostility used to be amusing, but now it was kind of old. “And you work for tips?”

“Now now, you two are practically family now,” Helga admonished, coming out of the back. She was dressed in a black bustier style tank top decorated with a pattern of small blue palm trees, and a pair of khaki cargo shorts that were big enough that they could have been Bob’s. She looked good, much better than she had a right to this early in the day. Of course, knowing her, she wasn’t just up but still up - she was a night owl.

“Don’t you even bloody joke,” Lia snapped.

He was so glad to see her, a friendly face, he couldn’t help but smile as she walked into his outstretched arms and gave him a hug. “Good to see you, tiger. How are you feeling?”

“I’m not actively bleeding, so I figure I’m ahead of the curve.” She smelled good, like cloves and beer, a combination which shouldn’t have worked, but did. “How are you, darlin’?”

“Same as you, I imagine. Bit pissed at Bob, but it would be a rare day I wasn’t for some reason.”

She slipped out of his arms, and he gave her a quizzical look. “What’s he done now?”

“Skipped out, that’s what. He said he had an “appointment elsewhere”, which is his “I’m meeting with gods but I don’t want to admit it” code. Completely fucking annoying.”

He sighed heavily. “So he’s not here, you don’t know where he is, and you don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Bingo.”

“Shit.”

“What’s up? Anything I can help with?”

He considered that for a moment, and realized he really had no choice. If Bob wasn’t around, Helga really was the next best thing. So he told her everything, from Angel returning to the bizarro Berserker to the sewer monster. Although she raised her eyebrow once or twice, she listened without comment, waiting until he was done. She tapped her fingers briefly on the bar as she considered it all, and then told him, “That’s just two new things to add to my list.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Well, earlier, a friend of mine called from Ojai to report that they’d seen a three headed bat, and someone down in Ventura County reported a rain of larva.”

“Larva?”

“You know, little bugs.” She held her thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart, as if he asked for a size. “Maybe inchworms, but she wasn’t sure. Anyways, the inexplicable seems to be piling up. That’s not a good sign.”

Great, it got worse. Why wasn’t he surprised? “Know what it could mean?”

Her tail twitched impatiently over her shoulder. “It could mean a whole lotta things, most of them pretty fucking bad. We’ll have to narrow things down.”

“How do we do that?”

“We don’t do it, I do. You sit tight, I’ll let you know as soon as I dig some stuff up. Better yet, get a shower, you smell like demon blood, and catch a nap, ’cause you look exhausted. Where are you staying?”

He scratched his head, not about to argue with her. She could probably kick his ass, which was one of the things he loved about her. “Umm, well, I haven’t worked that out yet -”

She pulled a key out of the pocket of her shorts and tossed it at him. He caught it in one hand, stopped in mid sentence. “Bob’s industrial zone penthouse,” she told him. “You know, the one by the meatpacking district, with the swimming pool in the roof? Help yourself. Just leave the left side of the bed clear for me.”

He could have argued, but was unable to repress the smile. Not only were those nice digs with guaranteed privacy - Bob was the only one who lived within blocks of that place; it wasn’t technically zoned for habitation, and yet that didn’t stop Bob - but there was always Australian beer in the fridge. And then there was the undeniably fun company. “I’m beginnin’ to reconsider that marriage proposal.”

She wagged a finger at him, a sort of mock scolding. “Don’t even tease. Now get your sweet ass movin’, I’ll call you when I sink my teeth into something good.”

Knowing her, that was just as likely to be literal as figurative.

He left the Way Station, throwing a shit eating grin at the glowering Lia as he left, and she gave him the finger, which made him laugh. He almost felt sorry for Lia, although he didn’t know why. He was very glad he’d stopped by, though.

Outside it was too damn bright, in spite of the thin smog layer, and it was already too damn hot; today would be a scorcher. Was that common for this time of year, or unusual? He really didn’t know Southern California well enough to say. All he knew was they didn’t have winter here.

He looked around, just confirming that no one was waiting for him, when he saw a man on the corner at the end of the street, looking at what appeared to be a PDA. There was something familiar about the curve of his shoulders, his posture, although the identity didn’t immediately spring to mind. He shaded his eyes for a better look, before he started walking towards him. His back was to him, there was no way he was a tail sent by Lotus, but with his white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, he didn’t look like he belonged within seven blocks of this neighborhood.

The wind shifted, and he caught his scent, which was instantly recognizable. But it made no sense at all, and for a moment he wondered if he was now hallucinating. Considering all the weird shit that had happened so far, it was possible.

“Giles?” he asked curiously.

The man turned around, and indeed it was the slightly rumpled Englishman, whose look of surprise probably mirrored his own. “Logan? What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He glanced down at his PDA, which Logan saw was displaying what looked like GPS coordinates. “Oh, I’m doing the usual. Or what seems like the usual, at any rate.”

“Which is ..?”

“Averting an apocalypse.”

Oh yes, of course. That should have been his first guess.