Word Count: 538
Setting/Authors Notes: BTVS/NCIS: LA.
Disclaimer: Buffy to Joss, I guess. NCIS:LA belongs to Belisarius.
Summary: Sometimes you run into old friends in the strangest of places.
“Mr. Callen, I did not expect you back so soon. Is there a problem with the interrogation?” Henrietta Lange, the tiny terror and head of the special operations division of the LA Branch of NCIS, asked her lead agent.
“You could say that. He’s asking for you.”
“Operational Security, Mr. Callen. Just because he’s asking to see the head of this branch does not mean we’ll let him.”
“No, you personally Hetty.”
Hetty stared at her agent for a moment, “By name?”
Callen nodded, “And description. He definitely knows you.”
“How curious. Well then, I shall have to come and see what’s going on, shant I?”
Hetty stared into the interrogation room in the boathouse at their suspect, a man in a leather jacket with brown hair slathered with too much gel. She’d stopped when she saw him, for a moment at least, before going up to the window. It was, Callen realized, the first time he’d ever actually seen her surprised.
“I never thought I’d see him again,” She said quietly after a moment.
“So, who is he?” Callen asked, “old boyfriend?”
“Hardly, Mr. Callen. He’s simply someone I met a life time ago.”
“You make it sound like you thought he died.”
“I did. Now, if you will… excuse us?”
“Fine, fine. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Indeed I don’t. I doubt however, that he is involved with the murder. At least, that he is guilty of it. I will handle this, take Sam and follow up other leads.”
“Oh come on, he’s our best bet. We’ve got witnesses that place him there.”
“No matter, Mr. Callen, I will deal with this.”
“Alright, Hetty. But I hope you know hat you’re doing.”
“As do I, Mr. Callen, as do I.”
“Well well, Mister Angel. You do still go by that, don’t you? Not ‘Angelus’?”
“Hetty! Thank god. You’ve got to tell—“
“We thought you’d died,” she cut him off, “when you vanished in 86 in Prague. We never heard from you.”
“Of course, imagine my surprise when I hear rumors of someone matching your just a few hours away in Sunnydale. Before it collapsed, of course.”
“Look, Hetty I—“
“Don’t worry, Mr. Angel. I understand. You were simply too busy to let us know.”
“It wasn’t like that!” he protested feebly.
“We looked for you, you know. Couldn’t find any trace of what happened to you.”
“I’m sorry, alright? You know what I was like back then.”
“Yes, though I’ll admit, I half expected you to have walked into the sunlight.”
“You know about—that?”
“Of course I do. After all, even if I wasn’t aware of your… nature before, you look exactly as you did 24 years ago. I’d be hard pressed to find another answer.”
“Look. We should talk. I owe you an explanation.”
“You damn well do, Mister Angel.”
“And I promise you’ll get one. I’m not the same person I was back then. But I really need to get out of here.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Jamerson, the dead marine. He is—was—a client.”
“A client? Just what are you up to these days?”
“You haven’t heard?” Angel favored Hetty with a wry grin, “I’m running Wolfram and Hart.”