My stomach jumped around in my abdomen like a big fish on dry land.
   Flop...flop...flop... There was blood. There were guts. There were gross
   things I could not identify. Everywhere. Ceiling, walls, floor, bed. No
   part of the room had been spared.

   I have seen bodies, and I have seen grossness before. This, though, was
   amongst the most stomach turning, puke inducing, nightmarish kind of thing
   that I have ever witnessed.

   "Eww," I said, staring at a mushy pile of internal goop, wondering what it
   was. It was long and ropey...intestines...?

   "Yeah," Kate agreed beside me. "He was completely eviscerated." I
   started, having momentarily forgotten she was there. "The body is over
   there." She pointed.

   "May I?" I asked. The body was out of sight behind the room's double bed.
   There was a man bent over it, examining the body. He wore surgical gloves
   and was going over it with a surgical scraper, collecting evidence. I took
   him to be the medical examiner.

   "Sure," Kate said, hanging back. Obviously, she did not want to get any
   closer than she was. I swallowed and gathered my nerve, inching closer.

   "Dr. Weinberg," Kate introduced. "This is Dr. Angel...Smith...
   He's...a...specialist in blood..." I restrained a groan. It was one of the
   worst, but most apropos, lies I have ever heard used to describe Angel.

   Dr. Weinberg only spared me a glance because he was focused on his work.
   "Dr. Smith," he greeted. "Where did you go to school?"

   I nearly swallowed my tongue. "Stanford," I said, naming the first medical
   school that came to mind. Dr. Weinberg hummed, but fortunately, he was only
   making the inquiry to be polite.

   Fighting nausea, I peered over his shoulder at the body. The chest cavity
   had been split clean open and all of the internal organs removed. The arms,
   legs, and head were still intact. The killer had only been interested in
   the insides.

   "As with the previous three victims," the doctor began, "the sexual organs
   have been removed. In all of the previous cases, all internal organs,
   though removed, were eventually accounted for, with the notable exception of
   the victims' genitalia and..."

   Dr. Weinberg kept lecturing, explaining it to us in layman's terms. (For
   Kate's benefit... After all, I was supposed to be an esteemed blood
   specialist from Stanford.) Basically, what it amounted to was that the
   demon was torturing her victims before she ripped out their guts and left,
   taking their sexual organs with her. My automatic assumption was that she
   was eating them...

   Gradually, my overly sensitive vampire nose began to distinguish smells
   apart from the blood. My stomach grumbled because the blood/gore odor was
   really starting to get to me. I wanted to get out of there before Angelus
   flipped out again, but the secondary scent was nagging at me.

   Following my nose, I got up and sniffed my way into the bathroom. Kate
   rose and followed me, watching curiously. "What's that?" I asked, pointing
   to a streak of bright yellow fluid on the handle of the faucet. It was rank
   and nasty, probably some sort of body excretion, and definitely not human.

   Strange, oh strange... Had the killer washed her hands? There was blood
   in the basin. But then, the entire motel room was pretty much covered in
   blood.

   "I'm not sure, nothing like this has been found at any of the previous
   crime scenes," Kate said. "Hold on a sec." She left the bathroom and
   returned shortly with a test tube.

   "Can I get a sample of that?" I asked.

   "Sure," she said, scraping slime into the vial.
   #

   <Film footage of the sun rising over LA flashes by, cueing the reader into
   the passage of time because the author is feeling too lazy to properly
   transition.>

   #

   Wesley showed up at the office bright and early Thursday morning. He
   arrived before Cordelia, which I thought rather strange. Why was Wesley
   Wyndam-Price reporting for work promptly at 8AM, every single day of the
   week?!

   Reality check, but Wesley is not exactly Angel's *employee* or anything.
   As far as I can tell, he is not employed at all. And yet, the unemployed
   Watcher sure does seem to spend a lot of time hanging out at the offices of
   Angel Investigations.

   I showed him the vial containing the demon's bodily excretion and he
   promptly volunteered to help me run an analysis of the substance and trace
   its origins.

   "Thanks," I said. "I'm gettin' bleary eyed from staring into this
   microscope. So far, all I've managed to determine is that it's a
   hydro-carbon compound containing high quantities of graphite." I rubbed my
   tired eyes and pushed away from the instrument.

   Wesley bent over the microscope to take a look. "Graphite, you say? Like
   pencil lead?" He frowned, thinking hard. "That's rather unusual."

   "Good ol' number two," I quipped with a small smile, which was not
   returned. It is odd but I suppose that Wesley feels more comfortable
   hanging out with a vampire detective and an impoverished former high school
   beauty queen than he does anywhere else. It made a sad statement about the
   poor man's life.

   Having watched Giles deal with unemployment for the last year has convinced
   me that idle Watchers are about as sorry as three legged dogs. I decided
   right then and there to do something to help him. "Wesley, do you mind if I
   ask you for a favor?" I inquired carefully.

   "Mmm?" He walked over the shelf and took down a book. From across the
   room, my sensitive vampire hearing picked up a stomach rumble. Based on my
   observations over the last week, Wesley was either perpetually hungry or he
   never ate. Or both.

   "Well, being Angel is pretty tough. And not that Cordelia hasn't been a
   big help." More like a hindrance. "But I was kind of wondering if you'd
   like to come to work for Angel Investigations..."

   Wesley looked up; I had his undivided attention. Hope was transparent on
   his face. He wanted the job. It was something he was doing for free
   already and it was what he had been trained for, investigating and dealing
   with the supernatural.

   "Please don't say no too quickly," I pleaded. "Because I'm really out of
   my depth here and I could sure use the help. No one has been collecting a
   salary as detective assistant since Angel's friend, Doyle, died so there's
   room on the payroll."

   I made that last up but I had to let Wesley keep his male pride intact and
   the only way to do that was by making him believe that he was doing *me* the
   favor. Honestly, I had no idea if Angel could afford another employee but I
   was determined to make it possible.

   Wesley raised a hand. "No more, please. Thank you, I would be honored to
   work for you." His smile was genuine, sweet, and ever so brief before he
   returned to his book.

   "Great!" I exclaimed. Mission accomplished! Add one employee to the
   payroll, and remove one unemployed Watcher from the "ever so pathetic" list!

   Staring at his book, Wesley's expression suddenly changed. "Ah-ha!" he
   exclaimed, leaning closer to a page. I jumped to my feet.

   "Ah-ha?"

   "The Sa Tyre Demon. It's of Korean origin and all members of the species
   are female. They reproduce by consuming the sexual organs of human
   males..."

   "Eww," I interjected. Wesley reprimanded me with a stern stare so I shut
   up.

   He continued as if I had not spoke. "...their feeding frenzy culminates in
   the live birthing of multiple young once they have consumed enough
   adrenaline and testosterone. The species has a particular taste for
   endorphins..."

   "Which accounts for the S&M," I surmised.

   "I suspect so," he agreed. Wesley held up the book so that I could see a
   sketch of a female demon, which possessed huge boobs and exaggerated sexual
   organs. It looked like a teenage boy's crude doodle.

   "Looks human enough," I said.

   Wes nodded. "Yes, they pass for human until they morph into their true
   demonic form." He turned the page and I blanched. The "vamped out" Sa Tyre
   Demon possessed wicked looking claws and long tentacle-like protrusions
   coming off the top of her head.

   "Medusa," I muttered.

   "Quite," Wesley agreed.

   "So, how do I find her?" I asked.

   "Sa Tyre demons must consume twice their body weight in graphite every
   day," Wesley supplied, reaching for the phone book. "Coincidently enough,
   there happens to be a No. 2 pencil warehouse located in the Korean district,
   not too far from where all four of the murders have occurred!"

   "Great!" I was already standing so I tried to look prepared. "Let's go!"

   "Not so fast!" Wesley muttered.

   "No?"

   "No," he said flatly. "Sa Tyre demons can only be killed by decapitation.
   Other forms of attack will injure but not destroy them."

   "Great," I muttered sarcastically. "Just great. I'll be lucky to hurt it,
   let alone chop off its head."

   "You needn't worry," Wesley assured me, opening a filing cabinet drawer.

   "What, are you going to file for me?" The question popped out of my mouth.
   Boy, am I getting to be Sarcasm-Girl. Blame Angelus...

   Wesley gave me a look that indicated he refused to demean himself by
   answering that. Instead, he yanked out a hand-axe, along with a whole bunch
   of tangled weapons of various types.

   "Fortunately, I am trained in all manner of hand-to-hand weapons," Wesley
   informed me with overblown self-importance. "I am also highly skilled in
   the martial arts."

   I blinked. Since when?

   "You have nothing to fear. I will decapitate the demon in due haste and we
   may return in time for brunch and to have Cordelia complete the paperwork
   which will place me on the payroll." Wesley dropped a mace on his foot
   while he was untangling the axe.

   "Ow, ouch, ouch..." he chanted, hopping on one foot and holding the other.

   I moaned, more scared than ever before. We were doomed. We were going to
   die. Oh Goddess, please, please, please... I need your help. Where, oh
   where, is a Slayer when you need one?

   Before we left I hastily scribbled a note to Cordelia, informing her of our
   destination in case we never came back. I wanted her to know where to send
   the urn.

   next