I fell into an exhausted sleep close to dawn on Wednesday morning and woke
   up around 9AM. My sleep was marginal but at least Angelus did not throw any
   awful nightmares at me. The demon woke up feeling mellow and big-fat-cat
   lethargic.

   As for me... Well, I have felt better. Still exhausted, I dragged myself
   from bed to the shower. I dressed in something black and something black.
   Oh, and black socks and shoes!

   Note to self: go shopping.

   I practically crawled out of the elevator and skulked toward the coffee
   pot. Without looking up, Cordy greeted, "Morning Ang--" She stopped
   herself. "Wow, you have your depressed and depressing creature of the night
   impression down so good that I forgot," she commented.

   I thought abut growling at her but restrained myself. I poured myself a
   cup of coffee and went over to stand near her desk. "Find anything?" I
   asked. I set down my mug down on her desk.

   "Bad news," Cordelia said, handing me the folded front page of the LA
   Times. "There's been another murder. Nas T. Boi, a Korean immigrant, age
   38. Not too much is known about the victim." Cordelia spoke while I
   skimmed the article.

   A sense of foreboding descended upon me when I saw that the murder had
   taken place within a few blocks of where I had been the night before. Damn!
   Talk about rotten luck!

   My fists clenched as I tossed down the paper. I grabbed a pen and
   scribbled the address of the hotel where the third murder had occurred. I
   doubted that anything would come of it but it was worth checking out. Come
   to think of it, I should probably return to the two previous crime scenes
   and talk to the managers myself.

   "What about the demon database?" I asked Cordy, feeling frustrated and
   helpless.

   Cordy shrugged. "Only hundreds and hundreds of different demons, any one
   of which might be into disemboweling their S&M partners." She indicated a
   stack of printouts.

   "Separate the demons that pass for human," I suggested. "If the killer is
   being solicited for sex or approaching the victims then it's probably
   human-looking, maybe even attractive."

   Cordy nodded. "That's a good idea," she said, double clicking on the icon
   to open 'Demons, Demons, Demons'. "What about you? Find anything last
   night?"

   I scowled. "I checked out both crime scenes. I didn't find anything. I
   scouted the area too." I was not about to tell her about my spanking
   session. "It would help if I knew what I was looking for," I said, grinding
   my teeth in frustration.

   Cordy glanced at me with sympathy. "Hey," she said, standing. "Take it
   easy. You're taking this 'being Angel' thing way too seriously." She put a
   hand on my arm.

   I jerked it away. "What else am I supposed to do?" I whined petulantly.
   Inexplicably, my eyes filled with involuntary tears. "People are dying and
   you're setting me up for scorn and ridicule by suggesting that I become 'the
   spankee'! In front of Wesley no less!"

   Her eyes widened. "OH, Willow, I'm sorry! I didn't know that I hurt your
   feelings! I was only giving Wesley a hard time. I'm really sorry. I was
   only kidding around, I won't do it again."

   I froze. What did she mean that she was only giving Wesley a hard time?!
   She was kidding?! Oh, Goddess! If she were saying what I thought she was
   saying...

   "Don't worry about Wesley," Cordelia continued to reassure me. "A) He
   knows that you would never actually solicit a prostitute. B) If anyone can
   provide tons of material for scorn and ridicule, it's Wesley Wyndam
   -Price..."

   She kept going but I was not listening. A very Willow-like sense of
   outrage and anger seized me. It had nothing to do with Angelus in origin.
   MY GODDESS! What a bitch! I wanted to kill her!

   A second later Angelus joined the chorus and a murderous impulse nearly
   seized control of me. My sanity and self-control kicked in at the last
   second and I bolted for the Vamp Cave.

   I hid downstairs the rest of the day, despite the confused pleading of
   Cordy and Wesley. They both tired and failed to coax me out. I was too
   terrified to leave. Until the over-whelming desire to strangle Cordy until
   her eyeballs popped subsided, no one was safe.

   Including me.

   #

   The day dragged like a tired yawn. Angelus was surprisingly docile. He
   subjected me to a minor nightmare when I tried to nap and taunted me while I
   was awake but that was about it. It was nothing more than I could handle.

   Of course, I knew that he was only biding his time, waiting until I was
   vulnerable to make another grab for control. Still, I enjoyed the respite
   while it lasted and tried not to think too hard about the future.

   Cordy had made me feel like an imbecile. Of course she had been kidding
   about going out and getting my butt beat to catch the killer. DUH. If I
   were anymore naïve and unwitting, you could have pinned a note to my chest:
   "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."

   I decided right then and there that NO ONE, and I mean NO ONE, would ever
   hear of this. I would not tell a single soul what had transpired the night
   before in a sleazy Los Angeles sex shop. Not even Angel. It was a secret I
   would take with me to the grave.

   Once resolved, I felt marginally better. It was getting close to sundown
   and I was antsy to get back on the street. I had a killer to catch. Given
   a bit of perspective, I had decided that there was merit to Cordy's idea
   after all.

   Not the part where I get spanked, the part where I contacted prostitutes
   and "staked out" spanking establishments and cheap hotels. Sooner or later
   the killer was bound to surface and I would be there to catch him/her/it
   when (he/she/it)...

   Good Goddess! This is driving me nuts. From here on out, I am just going
   to refer to the killer as "she". It seems likely that the murderer will be
   female, considering that all of the victims have been men. There was
   nothing in the files about the men being gay or bi-sexual, so the demon
   probably passes as a human woman in order to pick up her prey.

   Bearing that in mind, I made another supposition. Since all of the victims
   were murdered in different locations, hotels with rooms for rent by the
   hour, then I could safely assume the killer posed as a prostitute or picked
   up men in bars or clubs. That should rule out spanking establishments with
   a fixed location and I could narrow my search.

   As a plan formed in my mind, my mood took an upward swing. Yeah! I had a
   plan! Way to go, Willow! I should have been using my brain all along--it
   is my best asset--instead of relying on Angel's brawn. I may be Angel on
   the outside but I am definitely Willow on the inside!

   And Willow takes charge, starting tonight!

   And I vowed to get even with Cordy. She had gotten me good and my pride
   demanded revenge. Somehow, somewhere, when she least suspected...
   BAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

   #

   With a renewed sense of purpose, I set out for the Korean district as soon
   as the sun went down. I lurked in the shadows of an alleyway that provide a
   clear view of a busy street corner. Prostitutes always hang out on busy
   street corners in the movies. Who was I to know any better?

   Before too long, I spotted a leather-clad Asian woman who looked like an
   apt candidate for butt beating. JACKPOT! She looked to be in her late
   teens, an indeterminate sixteen to eighteen-year-old. I suspect that
   underneath all of that sleaze, she might have been pretty.

   This was where I had to swallow my pride once again. By now I had mastered
   slinking better than a whipped puppy. Something about being Angel seemed to
   inspire me. I am Soul Boy, and champion of the weak and the oppressed!

   See the big red "S" emblazoned upon my chest?

   "Soul Boy to the rescue! Dun, dun, dun!"

   I leapt out of the shadows and stuck out my chest, placing my hands on my
   hips for emphasis. Durn it but I left my cape at home! The girl turned
   when she heard me move. Unlike Angel, I am not "Stealth Guy".

   The prostitute eyed me suspiciously for a moment. I felt bad for her. She
   was only a year or two younger than me but to be forced into such a wretched
   profession. Finally, she gave me the once over and sauntered closer.

   "Hello," I boomed.

   "How can I help you, John?" she asked in broken English. I winced and Soul
   Boy's chest deflated. Language barriers could only make this worse. It
   meant more horrendously embarrassing explaining as I attempted to
   communicate what I wanted.

   I was being spanked for the greater good of humanity, I reminded myself.
   Whipped ass saves lives. Butt Boy, crusading for the weak, the oppressed,
   and the eviscerated. (Plus, I was only pretending this time! Heehee!)

   Gee, all this Soul Boy stuff reminds me of Xander...

   <<Hyper-ventilating>>

   Oh Goddess! Am I beginning to sound like Xander? I am, I know I am. I am
   turning into Xander! I am becoming cavalier about the subjugation and
   exploitation of my own body by the Powers That Be! I might as well become a
   fluffy-headed girlie magazine model, exposing my body for cash!!

   Not for cash, for lives...

   "You need help, John?" my professional lady of the velvet whip demanded
   impatiently. Oh right. I was here to solicit naughtiness from her...

   "Err, how much for...spanking...?" I asked, keeping my voice low. Once
   again, I had to remind myself that I was only pretending. I had no
   intention of going through with the spanking this time.

   Her eyebrows furloughed. "We fuck - hundred dollars. Blow Joe - fifty."
   She approached me insistently and gave Angel's body an appreciative once
   over. "For you, ninety," she said, running her hand over my chest.

   I stepped back fearfully. "No-no-no," I said, putting her off. I waved my
   hands back and forth, frantically trying to explain. "Um...spanking...beat
   butt?" I indicated my ass, blushing with all of the blood in my vampire
   body.

   "You soddin' POOF!"

   I froze and laughter rolled over me, filling the street. The prostitute's
   eyes widened. "Well color me pink an' paint me a' monkey's arse," a
   familiar voice resounded from behind me.

   I expired of embarrassment on the spot.

   Oh Goddess, please let me DIEDIEDIE...!!!

   "Spike!"

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