In The Dark Spike: How can I thank you, you mysterious black-clad-hunk-of-a-knight-thing? --- No need, little lady. Your tears of gratitude are enough for me. You see, I was once a bad-ass vampire. But love, and a pesky curse, defanged me. And now, I'm just a big fluffy puppy with bad teeth. No! Not the hair! Never the hair. --- But there must be some way I can show my appreciation. --- No, helping those in need's my job. And working up a load of sexual tension and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough. --- I understand. I have a nephew who's gay. --- Say no more. Evil's still afoot. And I'm almost out of that Nancy-boy hair gel I like so much. Quickly! To the Angel-mobile! Away! Spike: Go on with you. Play the big strapping hero while you can. You have a few surprises coming your way: the Ring of Amara, a visit from our old pal Spike, and -- oh yeah -- your gruesome, horrible death. Radio: It's eleven-oh-five... do you know what your karma is? Cordy: This is so awesome! Our first walk-in client. Everything is going according to plan! See girl in distress. See Angel save girl from druggie stalker boyfriend. See boyfriend go to jail. And see, invoice! Ta-Da! ... Why are you not rejoicing at our first paying client? Doyle: Cuz that's not money in your hand, darlin'. That's mail. Cordy: She has to pay. Invoice! That's the rule of our whole, like, society! Doyle: "Defaulting." It's another popular rule in society. Especially with the down-and-outs. Not that I've perpetrated said heinousness myself. Doyle: All I'm saying is, if you and I ever hope to take that cruise to the Bahamas together, we're going to need a lot more clients with means. Cordy: And an alternate reality in which you're Matthew McConaughey. Cordy: Oz? Oh my god. Oz! I am so happy to see you! Good old Oz! Oz. Oz! Doyle: Let me just take a stab at this, but... you'd be Oz? Oz: Good guess. Cordy: This is so cool I mean, here you are, in L.A., and you're the total embodiment of all things Sunnydale! Oz: Well, it's a burden, but I manage. Cordy: Okay, we have serious catching up to do. How's everything? How's... how's the Bronze? Oz: The same. Cordy: And the gang? Oz: They're good. Cordy: Good? Good. Good. Oz: Are we done? Cordy: Completely. Cordy: This is Doyle. He, uh, er, quote, works here. Oz: You guys are, like, detectives? Cordy: No. I'm an actress. Doyle: And quite a captivating one at that. Cordy: And between my many gigs, I sometimes choose to help Angel. Doyle: He's the detective. Oz: Does he have a hat and gun? Cordy: Just fangs. Oz: Well, that works. Angel: Oz. Oz: Angel. Angel: Nice surprise. Oz: Thanks. Angel: Staying long? Oz: Few days. Doyle: They always like this? Oz: No, we're usually laconic. Doyle: Just think of it, man: pool-side tanning, bargain matinees, plus there are several strip clubs I know of that have a fabulous luncheon buffet that's really quite tasty... I've heard. Cordy: And she didn't even send a note? Wow, that's really... this is one of those times when I should shy away from the topic, isn't it? Doyle: I got something that'll boost your spirits. Why don't you put it on, and here, I'll stake ya. It'll be fun! Doyle: Okay, you have it your way, but I'm still going to celebrate with a drink down at the pub. Cordy: He'd celebrate the opening of a mailbox with a drink down at the pub. Doyle: You know what'd feel really good right now? One of those mind-numbing, head-cracking visions that I get from time to time. Because that'd really kill me. What, is there some kind of trick to this? Cordy: I think the trick is laying off the ale before you start quoting "Angela's Ashes" and weeping like a baby man. Doyle: Hey, that's a good book. Cordy: So I've heard. But I doubt very much that the main characters are Betty and Barney Rubble, as you so vehemently insisted last night. Also, I don't think Oz appreciated being called My Little Bam Bam all night. Angel: Might as well go home, Spike. The Gem of Amara stays with me. Spike: Why? Cuz you're Angel, Vamp Detective now? Ooo. I'm so scared. What's next? Vampire Cowboy? Vampire Fireman? Oh! Vampire Ballerina! Angel: I do like to work with my legs. Angel: So, you and I duke it out, huh. This your big strategy for getting the ring back? Spike: I had a plan. Angel: You? A plan? Spike: A good plan. Carefully laid out. But I got bored. All that watching, waiting. My legs started to cramp. I hate to quit. Just tell me where the damn ring is. Angel: It wouldn't go with your outfit. Spike: Cordelia. You look smashing. You lose weight? Cordy: Yes! You know, there's this great gym on... hey! Cordy: I couldn't get comfortable here if the floor was lined with mink. I mean, how can you live like this? Doyle: Well, I didn't until last week, and I saw what you did with your place. Then I just had to call my decorator. Cordy: Oh! And this one time, he and Dru raised this demon that burned people alive from the inside. It was this whole weird thing with an arm in a box. Doyle: An arm in a box? Cordy: This is bad. Doyle: Maybe not. Maybe he got rid of Spike in short order and decided to give a go at surfin'. I bet you he's hanging ten off the shores of Malibu right now -- wind in his hair, bikini babes a whistlin'. Spike: Marcus is an expert. Some say artist, but I've never been comfortable with labels. Spike: He's a bloody king of torture, he is. Humans, demons, politicians -- makes no difference. Some say he invented several of the classics, but he won't tell me which ones. Marcus: Creatures with souls have something to lose. Spike: Souls, fingers, toes -- let's get chopping shall we? I want my damn ring. Spike: Someone's having shishkebab. Marcus: What do you want, Angel? Angel: House in the country. A good pair of running shoes you can also wear out to dinner. Spike: Why do you keep playing that bleeding Brahms? Marcus: Actually it's Mozart. Symphony 41. I find it very effective. Spike: Yeah, well personally I prefer his older, funnier symphonies myself. Angel: You hired a vampire. What do you think he's going to do with the ring when he finds it? Hand it over to you? Spike: Oh! Good lord! Why didn't I think of ... oh, half a mo... I did! Spike: It's called addiction, Angel. We all have them. I believe yours is named Slutty the Vampire Slayer. Speaking of little Buff. I ran into her recently. Your name didn't come up. Although, she has been awful busy jumping the bones of the very first lunkhead who came long. Good looking fellow. Used her shamelessly. She is cute when she's hurtin', isn't she? Angel: She's cuter when she's kicking your ass. Doyle: Where's Angel? Spike: Um, tall, brooding guy? Caveman brow? He's having the living hell tortured out of him. Cordy: It's not in the freezer, and it's not in the toilet tank. In the movies, it's always in one of those places. Cordy: This is not a needle in a haystack. This is a needle in Kansas. Cordy: We need to get him to a hospital. Oz: I hear you, but which one? They all tend to specialize in humans. Doyle: So, how long's it been between sunsets? Angel: Two hundred years, give or take. Doyle: You got a real addiction to the brooding part of life, did anyone ever tell ya that? Angel: Once or twice. Angel: I was brought back for a reason, Doyle. And as much as I'd like to kid myself, I don't think it was for eighteen holes at Rancho. Angel: I don't know about you, but I had a nice day. You know, except for the bulk of it where I was nearly tortured to death.