An Angel/CSI crossover. This story is set immediately before Angel episode 3.01 "Hearthrob", and contains minor spoilers for that episode and for Buffy 6.15 "As You Were". All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators and publishers; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis.
This is the first of a series of BtVS / Angel / CSI crossovers which can be found archived on various sites, most notably fanfiction.net and Twisting the Hellmouth.
Should Have Gone To Vegas...
By Marcus L. Rowland
Part 2 of 3
If Angel was surprised to see three people in Catherine's office he didn't show it. He just stood at the entrance, as though waiting for the others to leave. Catherine wondered if he needed an invitation, and decided to give him one.
"Come in, Mister Angel." said Catherine. "My colleagues and I have been hoping to speak with you. This is Gil Grissom, he runs CSI, Nick Stokes has been researching you. Do you prefer Angel or Angelus?"
"Angel." He walked in and sat, and seemed to relax when Nick pulled out a mirror and tried to look at him in it. "Okay, you know who I am, what I am. When Kate called me I guessed that you might work it out. Just as well, it saves a lot of explanations. And since you aren't throwing holy water at me or chasing me with crosses or stakes I'm assuming that you know that I'm unusual, even for a vampire."
"How do you do that?" asked Nick, still staring at the mirror.
"Damned if I know. It just goes with the territory, same as the fangs and the sunburn problem. It's a real nuisance when I'm shaving."
"Fangs?" asked Grissom. Angel's face rippled, with a noise like cloth tearing and became a demonic mask for a moment. He opened his mouth for a moment, revealing sharp teeth, then his face rippled again and went back to slightly goofy handsome. Grissom stared and said "That's... fascinating."
"Holy... What was it you wanted?" asked Catherine. Nick just kept looking back and forward between Angel's face and the mirror.
"I need your help, and I think you need mine. Something was stolen from me, and I'd like to get it back before more people get hurt."
"More people?" asked Grissom.
"Nuns, priests, holy people. Good people. According to the papers I read you've already got one dead. Believe me, there'll be more."
"I think you'd better explain." said Grissom, and began to take notes.
"I just got back from Sri Lanka. It was supposed to be a spiritual retreat at a Buddhist monastery, but when I got there some demon monks were terrorising the place. I had to take them out, which was kind of messy, and afterwards the real monks asked me to help with the repairs. I'm a lot stronger than human; it comes in handy when you have to clean up after demons. While we were doing that they found something nasty."
"Go on."
"Ever hear of the Holy Hand Grenade? What the monks found was more of an unholy death ray. It's a rod, about two feet long and two inches thick, made of wood and covered in carving. Seems pretty harmless, if you don't look at the carvings too closely, and for most people it is. Except that if it's pointed at someone who is truly good and you say the right words, or just touch them with it, it rips their soul from their body, destroys the life force that binds the body together so thoroughly that it explodes. It killed the first monk that touched it; none of the others dared go near the thing, so they asked me to get rid of it for them. I had it in my luggage when I got here two nights ago, but somebody stole it from me."
"I think we've seen what it does." said Grissom grimly, "Sister Marie Therese, murdered yesterday morning. Why in the world did you bring it to Las Vegas?"
"Something like that rod, until you know exactly what it is you don't just smash it up or set fire to it or throw it into the sea. I've tried that sort of thing a few times now, more often than not it backfires; the smoke kills everyone it touches, or a tuna swallows the rod and ends up being eaten by the Pope, or a hole opens and snatches your best friend to another dimension, that sort of thing. The carvings show enough that we could work out what it does, but that's about all. In LA there are people who can research it and destroy it safely, or maybe find somewhere safe to bury it. But there didn't seem to be any particular rush about it, and Las Vegas was on the route home, so I thought I'd stop off for a couple of nights and take in some shows. Big mistake."
"Somebody used Calynthia powder to knock you out and steal the rod?"
"You've done your homework. The rod, some presents I bought for friends, and most of my laundry."
"I'm surprised they didn't kill you when you were helpless."
"Probably didn't want to risk trying it. Vampires have very good survival instincts, and the effect of Calynthia wears off fast if we're in danger. You saw that yesterday, I was well out of it when you began to examine me, as soon as you started to get too personal I snapped to."
"Exactly what happened?"
"Well, I'd been travelling for a couple of days and I was kind of hungry, so the first thing I did was find somewhere to eat."
"What exactly do you eat? I thought vampires drank blood."
"Yes, but it doesn't have to be human, it's just that most vampires prefer the taste. In LA I buy from a slaughterhouse, but there are alternatives. Most towns you can find a bar that doesn't have mirrors and keeps pig's blood behind the counter. Some places they have human blood too. The local vampires appreciate having a place to relax, usually keeps them from slaughtering the barman. Generally they're neutral ground, places where vampires and other demons and even an occasional human can get together without killing each other."
The CSI team stared at him.
"Did you really think that I'm the only vampire in town? This is a night city, it's full of strangers and it's an easy night drive from LA and handy for other places vampires like to go. When I was through here in the sixties there were at least a dozen resident and lots of visitors, I doubt that there's less now. Just a few months back I ran into one that used to hang with the Rat Pack. They're probably keeping clear of the casinos, there are too many mirrors there for them to feel comfortable, but they're around."
"And killing people?" asked Grissom
"Probably. There are ways for vampires to feed without killing, especially if they can connect to the Goth and SM scenes or make a contact at the blood bank. But they like to kill, like to make more vampires, and they like human blood much more than animal, so probably yes. I doubt that it happens often, not like some places I know, you're smart cops and you'd notice, but it probably happens. They'd be careful, and you won't get much forensic evidence from a vampire kill if they cover the bite-marks. Look for bodies with extensive blood loss that have been mutilated around the neck, a shotgun blast or bad burns will cover it pretty well."
"Not much forensic evidence?" said Catherine, "What about fingerprints?"
"Vampires don't sweat or have oily skin, so we don't leave prints on hard surfaces. You might see them in clay, or if a vampire had bloody hands, but that's about it."
"Getting back to this case..." said Grissom "So you went to one of these vampire bars two nights ago. Where was it?"
"Sorry, no. It wasn't one of the really bad ones, and if you close it down, they'll just find somewhere else. You try to arrest vampires, you're likely to end up dead."
"I'm not sure that I can accept that, but if you don't want us to check the place out, why tell us about it?"
"While I was there I saw someone, human I think, that gave me an odd creepy feeling. Like something walking over my grave."
"And where would that be precisely?" asked Nick, "Don't you have to take a coffin around with you?"
"My grave's in Ireland, the coffin thing's a myth. Unless you're Dracula, of course, but that's a long story."
"I'll bet it is." said Catherine, irritated by the digression. "So, you saw someone who made you feel 'creepy'. Can you describe him?"
"Forties, balding a little, thin. Here's a sketch." He pulled a pad from the pocket of his duster, and showed the investigators a beautifully-drawn sketch of a total stranger. "I got a feeling of power from him... my guess would be a magician, warlock, something of the sort."
"A magician." said Grissom flatly.
"You know I'm a vampire, I've told you about a magical death ray, why should a magician be any harder to accept?"
"Sorry... go on."
"Vampires have keen senses; good hearing, we can see in the dark, and we have a very good sense of smell. He was sitting near the door, when I left the place I picked up his scent. I smelled it in my room yesterday. I can't remember what happened, but I think that he spotted me for what I am and sensed some trace of the magic I'd been handling, tracked me back to the hotel somehow, and decided to see what he could find. The annoying thing is that I've an odd feeling I've seen him before, or smelled him, or maybe I've just seen his picture somewhere, I don't know. I spent last night trying to find him but he covered his tracks well, must have guessed I'd be looking for him. Maybe you have something on him in your records."
"Well, this sketch is a good start; you obviously have a good eye for faces. I'd like you to work with one of our ID technicians to put together a photo-fit picture that the computer can process. Oh, and draw a picture of the rod, it might be useful."
"Okay. Then what?"
"We hope that we find something. Meanwhile try to think who it is. Nick, look after him."
"Okay." Nick got up and went to the door, saying "This way. So, you were saying about Dracula..." as they went out.
Grissom looked at Catherine. She shrugged and said "Welcome to the Twilight Zone."
* * * * *
"Okay," said Nick, "That's three versions of his face I've put through the computer. We've run the age back ten years, I've tried a beard and glasses, nothing's coming out. Looks like your boy never had a criminal record."
"It's odd - I know somehow that you're wrong. I'm not sure how I know, but I know. Damn it - I can remember the Boxer Rebellion as though it was yesterday, why can't I remember this?" Angel looked frustrated and a little angry. Nick remembered how strong he was supposed to be, and tried to cool things down.
"It'd help a lot if you could remember where you encountered the scent; was there any other scent you associate with it, or any person, or a place?"
Angel sat for a moment, deep in memory, then whispered "A room... no, a shop... Buffy."
"And this Buffy is..?"
"A girl. I think I remember now... Let me make a call." He pulled out his mobile and tried a number, listened, then tried another. "Hello? Dawn? Hi, this is Angel. Yes, I'm good. I'm back in the country - no, I don't think I'll be in your neighbourhood any time soon, but I ought to be on my usual number in LA in a few days. Is Giles there, or any of the gang? Not home yet? Okay, maybe you can help, this is kind of urgent. Could you turn the music down?"
There was a pause, then Angel said "That's better, I can hear you now. Listen, I'm trying to remember someone's name, this would be four years ago, I guess you would have been ten or eleven. He was a magician, did something to people's costumes at Halloween, turned them into monsters. Willow and Giles broke the spell but he got away. He attacked Buffy a few weeks later, tried to feed her to a demon. I never really saw him for more than a few seconds, and I'm pretty sure that someone said he's in jail. I just can't remember the details."
Nick blinked as he listened, trying to imagine how monsters and spells and '..tried to feed her to a demon..' could fit into the world he thought he knew.
Angel listened again, said "Okay, if I have to. Put him on... Spike, I need a name. Magician, British, Giles knew him, caused trouble a few times... what's it worth? So far one life, probably more, he isn't playing games... Okay, PLEASE tell me his name - happy now? Ethan Rain? R.. A.. Y.. N.. E..? OK, got that." Listening, Nick typed 'Ethan Rayne' into the search engine, added nationality and age in the appropriate fields, and pressed 'Send'.
"Any idea what happened to him?... Oh, yeah, Initiative, Riley's friends. They went out of business, didn't they?... No?... Okay, might be a lead... Yes, all right, THANK YOU... Listen, Rayne's on the loose again. I doubt he'll come your way, he ought to know better, but warn everyone to be on their guard, especially Giles. And if he does show up, let me know. Put Dawn back on, please... Dawn, say 'Hi' to everyone for me, and look out for a package from me in the next few days - assuming I get my luggage back, Rayne stole it. Got to go, there's a cop here trying to find him for me and I think he's getting impatient. Yeah, nice to talk to you too. Bye."
"Okay, you heard most of that. The name is Ethan Rayne, he's British. Anything coming up on your computer?"
"Nothing. Several perps named Rayne, none match your picture or the other details."
"I'm not surprised. My contact says the government had him under wraps, they've probably classified him Top Secret."
"The government? The US government?"
"Your tax dollars at work."
* * * * *
"Let me get this straight." said Grissom, flatly. "The US government was capturing monsters and using them for experiments?"
"They exist, the government took notice and tried to take advantage. They blew it."
"Where exactly was this? Area 51?"
"California. My friends helped kill the demons and rescue the survivors; afterwards the place was destroyed. It was a black operation, very black, there won't be any records now, but remnants of the old organisation are still in business hunting monsters. Anyway they had him, they took him to some sort of special Federal prison, looks like they've erased his records. Since he's in Vegas I'm assuming that he's got away from them."
"Do you have any way of contacting these people?"
"No, I never had much to do with them, but I don't think you need worry about trying to reach them. I've mentioned Rayne in a call to a number that they probably monitor, you've asked about him through your computers. I'd give it a day before they're at your door, less if they've already tracked him to Vegas."
"Great. Just wonderful. Meanwhile what should we do?"
"Circulate the picture, warn everyone that he's armed and dangerous. I doubt that many cops will be in danger from the rod, but he may have other tricks up his sleeve. Trying the picture at hotels and motels might be a good idea, if you can do it without alerting him. One thing... I don't think Rayne knows who I am. I wasn't using my real name at the hotel, as far as he knows I'm just a vampire that turned up with some powerful magic that he wanted to steal. That first time we only met for a few seconds in poor light, and my appearance has changed since then. If he did know he would have realised that I might talk to you, or to the Initiative, so he would have killed me - or stayed well away from me. That's my guess, anyway."
"Okay, maybe so. Any other ideas?"
"I want to hit the streets and take another look for him, see if I can pick up his scent, it isn't midnight yet and I might get lucky."
* * * * *
Catherine finished her shift at four AM and headed home. About halfway there she was overtaken by three identical olive Humvees, with Army plates, driving in convoy with dipped lights. A few minutes later she saw them parked by the road, with armed men in commando uniforms climbing out and fanning out around a motel. Putting two and two together...
She pulled in fifty yards past the Humvees and called in to Grissom, then walked back to the motel. One of the soldiers, a woman, moved to stop her; she held up her badge, identified herself, and asked for her commanding officer. The soldier said a few words into her radio.
Another commando walked out of the motel's office, closely followed by Angel, who was saying "...and you let him have that stuff? What else would he do with it but escape?" The commando didn't look pleased.
"Detective Willows? I understand that Angel has told you something about the situation?"
"Enough to know what's going on. You've lost this man Rayne, we've gained him. Incidentally, do you have some identification?"
"Sorry - Agent Finn, Riley Finn." He didn't show a badge. "Angel can vouch for me."
"He's who he says he is. What he is I don't know, what are they calling your outfit these days?"
"We're a federal anti-terrorist task force. No name as such."
"That's interesting," said Catherine, "Don't you need some paperwork to run an operation in my city?"
"I can assure you that the appropriate federal, state and city officials are aware of our presence. They may not know precisely why we're here, but they are aware of us. Right now they welcome us."
"Okay, who's in the loop in the department? It sounds like we need to co- ordinate."
"It'd be better if you co-ordinated directly with us; Angel has my number. We really do want to keep this low profile."
"I don't have the authority for that. Who's in the loop in the department?" she repeated.
"Since Angel tells me there's been a death, I think it would be Captain Brass, Homicide. I expect you know him."
Catherine nodded.
"Nothing here, sir." said the female commando, listening to a headset radio. "I'll get the men loaded and ready to move out."
"Nice meeting you, Detective Willows." said Finn. "Angel, call me if you find anything."
"Sure, and then you can get another fix on my cell phone," muttered Angel as they drove off. "Never liked that guy."
"Why's that?" asked Catherine, suddenly very aware that she was alone with a vampire on a deserted street.
"Well, part of it was he sort of stole my girl, part of it was he started screwing around on her and left her at a very bad time, and part of it is he's still screwing around on the job, his smell's all over Ms. Schwartzenegger there and her smell's all over him."
"Sort of stole your girl?"
"We'd parted... we still loved each other, we just couldn't be together. Never can be, now."
"Oh?" Catherine wondered at the look of pain in his eyes, guessing at some sort of tragedy.
"Long story. Short version, there are good reasons why I'm not going to tell you about it. Okay?"
"I guess. Need a lift anywhere?"
"No, I'm staying here, just hope Riley and his boy commandos haven't made too much of a mess of my room. Oh, by the way, one thing I should say in justice to the man. He's pretty good at what he does. If we can find Rayne they'll be able to take him."
TBC
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