Angel smiled as he accepted a styrofoam cup from the young woman behind the counter and sniffed happily at the scent of roasted Columbian coffee inside.

"Hey, big guy!" The red head that rushed from the door and jumped on Angel caused him to dangerously slosh his coffee, but he maanged to hang onto it and turned to smile at the new arrival.

"Hey... Willow." Angel forced an awkward smile and waved them towards a table.

"Oh, yeah. Seats." Willow turned and flashed an awkward nervous smile. "Seats are good."

ANGEL: I sighed into the phone with evident relief - even if I don't breath, sometimes I catch myself acting as if I do - when the injured girl stirred. "She's -- alive," I murmured into the emergency operator's ear as she began dispatching an ambulance to the scene. "Her heart beat is steady, but ... weak. I -- we have her hooked to an IV and a bag of type o blood plasma found at the scene. She...she has multiple bite wounds. Maybe animal attack." The emergency operator didn't seem inclined to ask for any further details, and I didn't feel the need to answer them. It was Chicago -- how infrequent could an attack like this be? I clipped the phone closed and handed it over to the young woman beside me and sat back on my heels, watching the injured victim. "Ambulance is on its way," I told the concious woman, "Should be here soon. Thank you for what you did."

SAMANTHA: I run my hand through my hair, sitting back and watching the girl struggle for breath again. It's wierd to watch, and I find myself a little transfixed for a moment. He thanks me and I shrug a little, looking at him. "I was right here anyway...lucky for you, what with the-" I cough. "-bird flu and all."

ANGEL: "Ahhh, yeah," I managed awkwardly, glancing away. My eye catches sight of the injured girl's wrist, and I frown, taking hold of the girl's pale, almost white fingers and rotating the arm. A crude, still-red brand is scorched into the girl's flesh, a design I've never seen before. I sat back for a moment, thinking, and then got to my feet. "Uhm," I said to the dark haired girl next to me, "I ... forgot," I said, gesturing back at the collapsing rail-station, "to... umm... food. Cause, I need... I'll be right back." I turned and dashed back into the dark structure.

SAMANTHA: She gets up and looks at him like he's completely lost his mind. "You can't go in there, the wole building is coming down!" Of course he doesn't listen, and she rolls her eyes, looking at the two girls and then going to the door of the building, deliberating. "Oh holy shit..." She runs in, looking around.

ANGEL: Angel ducked his head through the doorway and flinched as a peice of heavy concrete came down right in front of him, followed by a sheet of thick white dust that would have choked a human. The floor was shaking, but there was still a way through the rubble, and Angel took it, weaving through cracked support beams and bits of falling ceiling to reach the wall where the injured girl had been shackled. A small coat of dust was on the wall, but he brushed it free and frowned. On the wall there was another symbol - identical to the one on the girl's wrist, but larger, hidden under the dust and by her back when she hung here. "This was ritual," he whispered aloud to no one in particular. "Damnit. I hate it when they do rituals."

SAMANTHA: Samantha sets her hands on her hips, dodging a falling chunk of cement. "What are you doing?? Do you want to get squished?" She sees the flashing lights outside and looks at the roof that's crumbling above them and making all kinds of noise.

ANGEL: Angel whirled at the sound of the girl's voice. "Hey!" He shouted, dashing back across the building, wrapping his arms around the girl and trying to shove her outside with him. "It's not safe in here! Move!"

SAMANTHA: He grabs her and she stiffens, grabbing his shoulder. "Jesus, that was my point!"

ANGEL: "Aahh," He winces at her touch, and a trickle of blood ozes down her fingers from where she grabbed him. "That... " He pulled her hand off of his shoulder and pushed it down to her side, rolling his shoulder one and taking a deep breath. "Leave that ... shoulder... alone." He frowned at her, watching the flashing lights of the ambulances coming closer and closer, and moved down the steps to be near the two rescued women. "You're stronger than you look," he said, bending down to check the unconcious woman's vitals again. "Let me guess. Slayer."

SAMANTHA: She turns her hand over and looks at the blood on her palm. "well don't grab me...." She straightens her shirt a little and looks a little nervous, ready to run off.
"Yeah, what're you, like a good samaritan vampire?"

ANGEL: He turned his head and stared up at her with a tired expression, shaking his head a little, and pointed at the building. "...do you remember where I saved two people from a nest of vampires?" He sighed bent down, picking up the unconcious woman in his arms as the ambulance got closer.

SAMANTHA: "ONE person, actually." Okay it was splitting hairs, but she was a bit irritated by his tone.

ANGEL: "Oh, because you were being such a great help to them, standing on the street corner and waiting for the vampires to come outside and play." The ambulance schreeched to a halt, and almost instantly two EMTs jumped out of the back, pulling out a stretcher and waving Angel over. The vampire carried the injured girl to the stretcher and laid her down, carefully, handing the IV bag and cord to one of the techs. Then he waved at the uninjured girl sitting on the ground behind him and said "She was in there too, I don't think she's hurt but..." he let the EMTs see for themselves. The girl was clearly broken, terrified and sobbing. If she had family, or any place to go, at that moment, she didn't seem to care. The EMTs glanced at her and nodded at Angel. "We'll take it from here. Thank you." They handed him his trenchcoat and pushed the stretcher into the ambulance. Angel stepped back,
ANGEL: sparing the Slayer a look as he shrugged into his coat and watched the EMTs collect the terrified, yet uninjured victim and trundle her into the ambulence as well. The doors were shut, the ambulence pulled away, and the lights and sirens died off into the distance. Angel glanced at the Slayer again and sighed. "...look, thank you. For what you did. She would have died, if you hadn't been here."

SAMANTHA: The second the ambulence pulls up she ducks into the darkness, watching as everyone goes about their business, staying out of the way and out of sight. When the ambulence finally pulls away she steps out of the alleyway and leans on the wall a little. "hope she's happier for it, I hate to rescue unhappy people." His face doesn't even twitch and she lifts her eyebrows. "joke."

ANGEL: He deadpans: "Funny." Then turns and begins to walk back up the stairs into the trashed rail station.

SAMANTHA: She rolls her eyes and pokes her head into the building, curiosity about him overwhelming her need to run off. "um, BYE!"

ANGEL: "You know, being a Slayer and everything," Angel turned around inside the building, bending down to retrieve his sword and thrusting it towards the markings on the wall, "You might try to make yourself useful. Have you ever seen that before?"

SAMANTHA: "You might try using the word please when making a suggestion. You get more flies with honey and all that." She steps inside and gives the symbol a look over.

ANGEL: "I've never seen this symbol before," Angel was saying, snatching a peice of paper off of the ground and fishing around inside the room for a pencil. He came up with one, buried under some trash, and scribbled the symbol on the wall down on it. "But this isn't the first ritual symbol I've seen in a vampire lair since I came to Chicago. There were two others, both on the south side, both like this one, each u--" he stopped, and blinked, glancing at the girl for real for the first time. "...flies and honey?"

SamanthaMulder13: She looks over the symbol for quite a while. "Looks sortof familiar, but I have no idea where I've seen it." She walks in a little circle near the symbol when he intterrupts her thoughts. "....more flies with honey than vinegar."

OctoberRomantic: He thought about that for a moment. "...who wanted flies?" He shook his head and stepped forward, offering her the scribbled-on peice of paper. "Here, take it. Maybe your Watcher can look it up."

SamanthaMulder13: She sighs and shakes her head. "Nevermind." She looks at the piece of paper in his hand and pauses before looking up at him. "Don't waste your time, I don't have one."

OctoberRomantic: He glanced down at the peice of paper in his hand and frowned. "You... what? What happenned to your Watcher?"

SamanthaMulder13: "He was fired."

OctoberRomantic: He stared at her for a minute, then half chuckled, half snorted. "I'm... guessing you did the firing."

SamanthaMulder13: She nods, folding her arms over her chest and smirking. "He was incompetant."

OctoberRomantic: He actually sympathized on that point. He half snorted, half laughed this time. "Well, in my experience, most of them are." The smile died, and he took in the nature of her clothing, her general appearance. "Friends, family?"

SamanthaMulder13: She smirks and drops her arms. "Just me right now, after the watcher, and since the last boyfriend and all."

OctoberRomantic: He sized her up. She was an attractive, very attractive girl, and from the look of her hair, she had at one point put a lot of effort into making herself look nice. But now... well, the words was grunge. And grunge, with no Watcher, no family, no friends, meant no money, and probably, nothing nice by way of places to stay. "...where are you living?" He asked her, softly, his frustration with her suddenly abandoned.

SamanthaMulder13: Samantha watched him look her over and narrowed her eyes slightly, cocking her head. Her mind ran along and connected the dots. "I've got a place, not all that far from here."

OctoberRomantic: He raised his hands slowly, trying to put up arms - no pun intended - and breach the wall between them. "Would... that ...place look ... about the same as this did before the walls came down?"

SamanthaMulder13: She raises an eyebrow and pauses, not sure how exactly she wants to paint her situation. "No, my place has curtains."

OctoberRomantic: He looked down, grimacing slightly. "...Why don't you come back to my place, then, for ... a little while," He said, softly. "I have books. Not ... as many as a Watcher I know would have had, but... maybe we can find out what these symbols mean, and ... who is putting them here, and why. Also, it'll give you a chance to ... clean up." He looked up at her, feeling awkard and uncomfortable. He didn't usually open up to people - or invite them into his home. But she was a Slayer. Maybe she could help. "Maybe we can help each other," he said out loud, echoing his own thoughts. "My name is Angel."

SAMANTHA: She watches him out of one eye while he speaks, looking for any pretense or second meaning in his words. Something about the way he spoke was absolutely earnest, which made her immedeatley assume he was of the worst kind. No one was honestly earnest in Samantha's opinion. But her price had gone down a little since poverty hit her. "you have a tub at your place?"

ANGEL: He smiled at that, finally, a real smile. "And running water, too. And shampoo and soap and bubb---umm... mousse, and... oh, and ...no food. But, I can remedy that. I live right below a pizza parlor. I'll just eat the delivery driver." He walked past her for a moment, then turned and winked at her. "Joke. Are you coming?"

ANGEL: He smiles and at his words she quickly returns it, her face lighting up at the prospect of a bath and a square meal. She turns to follow him and stops for a moment till he clears up that he's joking. She smirks and catches up with him, walking along by his side. She'd worry about what exactly he wanted from her later on. "Then I think we can, I'm Samantha."

ANGEL: "Welcome to Chicago, Samantha," Angel said, leading her out of the subway station. "Welcome to Windy City."

SKIPPING AHEAD

ANGEL: Angel walked through the hallway of his underground tenement and knocked on the closed bathroom door, balancing a box of pizza in his right hand. "Samantha? I...I brought some food. Come on out ...um, whenever you're hungry." He set the pizza on the dining room table, and then looked at the table for a minute, confused. It seemed to be missing something. It wasn't that he ever sat there to eat, so... oh! Chairs! He went into the study and retrieved an 18th century wooden chair and lifted it, gently moving to set it down on the floor next to the table. Then he went back into the office, retrieved three books from his couch - two opened, one not, and three sheets of scritched and scribbled on paper and went back into the dining room, where he set the books on the table and began to thumb through them.

SAMANTHA: Samantha hadn't been so very content in a long time, since she'd drawn that very thin line in the sand of her life bettween carefree teenager and responsible adult. She had the unfortunate experience of remebering a time when things in her life could be done for entirely selfish reasons, and laying in the tub giving herself a good scrub down gave her a moment of that time back.
SAMANTHA: She emergd from the bathroom almost transformed. All the makeup was gone and half wet hair hung around her shoulders. She'd shed a few layers because it was plenty warm in the apartment and now she just wore a snug pair of jeans and a worn tanktop, the phony jewelry removed from her nose.

ANGEL: Angel looked up as she entered, a pleasant smile on his face. "Oh, hey. I think, maybe... I" he glanced down at the book, paused for a moment, blinked, and glanced back up at her, and this time his smile was a hint warmer. "You look very nice. Refreshed?"

SAMANTHA: She grins and plops down in the chair set out. "Very. Who'd have thought there was a perfectly normal looking girl under all that, huh?" She picks up a slice of pizza. "Well- maybe not normal."

ANGEL: Angel smiled and leaned against the kitchen countertop, setting a book down in front of her. "There. The symbol from the rail station." He leaned over her, laying the scribbled peice of paper down on the pages, comparing the book's version of the six-pointed tentactle against the one Angel had copied down. "It's a triggering spell for a summoning ritual. Requires a mass feeding."

SAMANTHA: She leans toward the book, very relieved she doesn't have to do any searching in books or figuring out, she seems to have completely missed that part. No need to embarass herself too deeply on that front just now. "what were they summoning? Something bigger and scarier?" Wasn't that always the case?

ANGEL: "Ahh... apparently, some of the Vampires in the city thought that it would be a good idea to resurrect the Master, bring forth his spirit out of the blood of the dying and," he read further into the book, 'craft him in the flesh of the sheep, a god among men.' They plan to give him his body back again." Angel leaned over Samantha and retrieved a second book, flipping the pages over to reach a bookmark in the center. "This ritual is ... also for the Master, but it's a different variety. Apparently the vampires are quibbling over whether to bring him back as a vampire or a demon or a human." As Angel pulled the book closer to them, he caught the scent of of the Slayer's skin, the heat of her body, and he coughed, straightening and stepping back a pace. "...sorry. The ... concept of personal space escapes me sometimes."

SAMANTHA: She tilts her head up toward him so she can keep one eye on him as he spoke, not liking the sound of of vampires trying to resurrect the master of anything. "I'm putting a vote in for human, I mean yeah it's sort of lazy, but I'm guessing nobody wants to meet this guy with super strength." He gets closer, presumably to read what's on the pages of the book, and she briefly wonders if he wears cologne or actually just smells that good. If he's planning on taking advantage of the situation, she's finding herself minding less and less. "I don't mind."

ANGEL: Angel glanced up, looking at the back of her head, and blinked. "Umm.. well, the Master. ... Have you, do you know about the Master? He was... a few years before you became a slayer."

SAMANTHA: She gives a wince that last about half a second and leans on her hand. "Gotta be honest, I've never been a dedicated student. I don't really organize this stuff, or read the history, or wonder why vampires are writing crazy symbols on walls..."

ANGEL: He smiled at her, not that she could see him, and moved around the room to stand in front of her. "The Master is... uh... was, a very old vampire. Not as old as some of the vampires I've known but... he had a - ahh -- a certain power over them. He could order them to do his bidding, and he was ... immensely powerful. Not ... not physically, really, but in other ways. He almost killed the Slayer."

SAMANTHA: She nods a little. "So he's like a vampire celebrity who's going to inspire his hundreds of little groupies to bgger and better evil when and if he comes back?" By Angel's tone Samantha knew she should be impressed by this guy nearly killing off a slayer, but the way she figured, that wasn't a hard thing to do, all depending on the slayer, of course.

ANGEL: "We-- well, yeah," Angel grinned slightly and shrugged his shoulders. "Buffy didn't think he was all that much either. I don't know why, maybe it's the Vampire in me, but I've always been afraid of him. Well, except for when I was.. umm..." he opened the pizza box, took out a slice, and stuck it in his mouth.

SAMANTHA: Now Buffy she'd heard of. History didn't interest Samantha, but gossip did, and though slayers weren't exactly talked about on the street, it was hard to ignore news about other slayers. She personally found it irritating that she wasn't all so unique as she'd thought. She wondered if him saying, "The Vampire in me" meant there were non-vampire parts of him. It wasn't as if he could be partly dead or something. She smirks a little, knowing that a subject he's wanting to avoid has to be interesting. "except for when you were what, dating his sister?"

ANGEL: Angel smiled and pointedly ignored that particular topic. He checked the clock and saw that the sun was going to be up soon. "Well, at any rate, they wont be resurrecting the Master tonight. They'll have to wait until tomorrow." He stood up and walked around behind Samantha, turning on the light for the living room. "I have a couch in here, I'll make up the bed for you..." He glanced back, over his shoulder. "... I mean, you're welcome to, ah... stay. The place you're living doesn't... sound very... nice."

SAMANTHA: She'd been thinking about what to do since she'd seen how comfortable he was living. The little crappy apartment she lived in was crappy, but it meant independence. Then again, she figured, the front door wasn't locked as far as she knew and if she really wanted to desert she could always do so during daylight. She'd come around to a "wait and see" type plan. "Really? That's it?"

ANGEL: "Well," Angel shrugged his shoulders, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I thought that, we ... I could call the ... Giles, and Buffy, and see about having a Watcher sent here for you, and maybe a... umm... a fund, or a line so you could get a nice place of your own."

SAMANTHA: And as if he'd been walking a thin line on which her pride was precariously balanced, Angel stepped right in it, and her hand went to her bag. "Oh I'm really not interested in trying the whole watcher deal again, and I'm doing alright on my own, thanks."

ANGEL: "Is that why you enjoyed your bath so much?" Angel just let the question lie there, but there it was, once out in the open, it was like a dead weight. "Come on, Samantha, why don't tell me what happenned with your Watcher. With your family. Why are you out here... all alone?"

SAMANTHA: Her arms crossed over her chest again. She barely even knew this guy and he was asking the most personal questions she could think of. It made her angry. Why did everyone presume to get so involved and take control of her life? Couldn't she screw it up just fine on her own? "Jesus, I just thought you were going to make a pass, I wasn't in the market for a psychiatrist."

ANGEL: "Hey..." Angel held up his hands to deflect the defensive. "I'm not... I'm not trying to head shrink you. I'm... really not." He sighed. "I am, well.. trying to help you. That's what we do... help people. I'm not going to take advantage of you, I'm not going to tell you what to do with your life. But I am trying to help you have more hot baths. ... is that a bad thing?"

SAMANTHA: He wasn't responding to her best attempt to start a fight, so she forced a hand through her hair, which was revealing a soft wave as it dried. "I don't want them involved, I don't want anything to do with them."

ANGEL: Angel thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded, acquiesced. "Alright. I wont call them. But you have to let me ... try to help you. For one thing... you smell so much better now." He went for a charming smile, trying to catch her eye.

SAMANTHA: Her grip on her bag releases and she chuckles a bit in spite of herself, because it was probably true. "I do love to practice good hygiene."

ANGEL: "And we can help each other," Angel added, his face more serious now. "Without a Watcher... there's so much about your gifts that you don't know yet. And... I can't be in every place at once. Especially during the day time. If ... we're going to be effective here, each of us on our own, fighting evil, we're going to need help. And... we're not likely to find better help within the limits of the city."

You know, my life is just... never simple. Never.

Two nights ago, while I was out patrolling, I came across one of the more horrific things I've witnessed in this city. There were no demons, this time, there were no... uh, vampires, or... monsters.

Well... there were monsters, I suppose. Just... the human variety.

There were seven of them, in a tight little circle in an alley off of 12th street. Laundry lines stretched between the high-rise apartment slums above them, and cats howled at each other out in the distance. Cars were going by at infrequent intervals on the street, and loud music was playing from one of the nearby tenements, but over all the buzz of the... of the din, there was the unmistakable sounds of fists hitting flesh, and the muffled, sobbing cries of two young women.

I reached the rooftop of Thirty-three-hundred twelth avenue by running and jumping. I didn't stop when I reached the rooftop, either. I planted my hands on the balcony's edge and vaulted over the side into the streets below, landing on the back of one of the ... one of the ... I can't think of a word that isn't ... venomous.

I think I may have broken his back. I really hope I did...

I rolled off of his back and dashed to my feet, glaring at the rest of the street gang. "Holy shit, man!" one of the toughs yelled, startled. Another one of the ...bastards stumbled up, off of his knees and pulled his pants up, buckling them desperately. The tallest and meanest looking thug in the group seemed to recognize me. He hefted a large wooden board with chains wrapped around the end. "It's that Angel creep! Mess him up!"

I smiled, a dark, feral smile. I rarely enjoyed hurting humans as much as I was going to now. Please, I thought to myself, to the toughs. Make my day.

They charged. I ducked under the leader's makeshift mace and thundered a punch to his stomach, knocking him across the alley. He landed heavily. Another pair of thugs rushed me and I spun into a high kick that knocked them both aside. The remaining three toughs pulled up fast and started backing away, but I wasn't going tpo let these bastards get away. I leapt forward, tackling one of them to the ground and kicking out with my left foot, snapping the sixth's head around. He crashed into a dumpster with a heavy thud and I think he may have cracked his jaw. Pity. I smashed the face of the one I was on into the ground until he passed out, and then glanced up just in time to see the last tough cock a gun at me and fire.

The bullets knocked me back, and each felt like a hot poker to the chest, going in, but of course, they didn't - couldn't - kill me. I crouched on the ground, growling with the sharp pain, and glanced up at the thug in full vamp face, teeth and everything, snarling.

He didn't get a chance to run. I slammed him up against the wall, holding him by the collar and the waist. "I hate when people shoot me," I growled, shifting back to human face. "So you like to beat up a couple of girls. They're weaker than you." I slammed him into the wall again. "They can't fight seven of you." I slammed him into the wall again. "They don't clubs and guns." Again. "But you know what they do have?" I whirled him around, and he gasped up at me, shaking and terrified, his face filled with blood. "Wh...wh..what?" he asked me, nearly begging.

"They have me." I slammed my head into his face and he crumpled to the ground with a satisfying slump. The rest of the gang was groaning or unconcious. None of them were moving. I turned to the two young women in the center of the alley, and I nearly ... well, vampires can't throw up, but... I gagged.

I've seen worse things in my very long life. I've... been the cause of most of them, actually, but there is something about a senseless hate crime that just... guts you, inside. This was one of those times. A pair of young women lay in the center of the alley,in a pool of their own blood. They might have been attractive, once, but now they were just... broken dolls. Clothing torn and shreaded, bruises - black, blue, and sickly yellow - covering every exposed peice of flesh - and there was a lot of exposed fresh.

Both of the bodies were covered in marking - black permanent marker, covering the face, the arms, the legs, the thighs, the stomach... - words like 'dyke' and 'bitch' and 'lesbo slut' and even more colorful phrases covered them from head to toe. They'd both been raped. One pair of jeans lay shreaded around the knees, and another skirt was pushed way beyond the hips. I threw my coat over their bodies.

As I checked their wounds and looked for signs of life, one of the girls stirred, sobbing and crawling towards the other. I was... transfixed. The other girl was unmoving, her arms and legs twisted at awkward angles, and she was going blue in the face. She'd been dead for sometime. The second girl, the one who was moving, was relatively ... well, she'd only been raped. Only. Bruises covered her body, but she was alive. That meant... that meant that they'd ... they'd raped and killed the first girl - her lover, and made her watch.

Rage flooded me, and I dug my nails into the pavement to keep from snapping the necks of the monsters closest to me. I failed. I was ... too late. Again.

The second girl crawled to the first, unmoving girl and cradled her in her arms, sobbing heavily and kissing her head, over and over again, and rocking her back and forth.

I sank to my knees beside the live girl and blinked back tears, touching her softly on the shoulder. She jerked away, snapping her head around towards me. Her face was slick with blood, and ran with tears. "It's okay, it's okay," I said, holding my hands up and leaning away. "My name is Angel. I'm here to help you."

"Th--they ...killed her..." Her voice was thick with tears and cracked with emotion. I closed my eyes and nodded.

"I know. I'm sorry... I was too late."

"Sarah... god, Sarah..." She went back to kissing the dead girl's forehead, over and over, sobbing inconsolably. I stared at the two of them, helplessly, and my eyes ran with tears.

I'm sorry. God...I'm so sorry.


=========================

I carried them both to the hospital. In my arms. Rosa, as the second girl turned out to be named, would not leave Sarah behind, and I wasn't about to try and make her, so I hoisted them both up in my arms and carried them through the streets to a bus, which I convinced to take us to the hospital.

When we reached the hospital, I took the two girls to the hospital and explained the situation to the ER Doctors on duty. They took the girls from me and wheeled them both into the ER, where they sedated Rosa and quietly slipped Sarah to the the Morgue.

After calling the police and arranging for them to arrest the street gang, (before I changed my mind and went back for more,) I called Tara at CI and told her I wouldn't be in that night, and might be late the next day. Then I sat on a chair by the bed when Rosa was rolled into her own room, and sat with my head down, waiting for her to wake up.

It was in the hospital that I found out that Wesley was here, too. Wesley was alive! The next morning, pne of the doctors who had been to see Rosa while she was still unconcious was carrying a number of folders on her clipboard, and one of them said Wyndham-Pryce, W. It caught my eye.

"Excuse me, does that say ... 'Wyndham-Price?'"

"Why yes, it does," she said, surprised at my interest. She looked down at the folder. "Wesley Wyndham-Price."

I was floored. It took me a moment to speak, and I just worked my jaws. She looked at me in curiosity. "... is he a friend of yours?"

I smiled softly, and my eyes misted over. "...in a word."

"Well, I can tell you the room number..."

"I'd be grateful."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I stayed by Rosa's side through the morning, despite my curiosity to see Wesley. I could barely contain my ...well, my shock, and ... disbelief. Wesley was alive? I couldn't believe it. Illyria had told us, she'd said... I never was able to go back and look for his body before demons rained down on Los Angeles, but then, Illyria had no reason to lie either. But if he was alive, then ... why hadn't he called me? Why hadn't he... contacted me?

To be honest, I felt ... hurt.

When Rosa woke up, we talked. It's not ... relevant, and a little private. We held hands and we talked about Sarah, and we cried together, and when she asked me to take her, I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the Morgue to see Sarah. Then we cried again, before I took her back to her room and laid her back down in the bed. I gave her my business card, and told her that I would be in a couple days later to check on her, and that she could call me whenever she wanted. She asked me, in a small voice, if I would come to Sarah's funeral, and I bent down, kissed her on the forehead, and assured her that I would be there, rain... or sun.

After Rosa fell asleep, I tucked her in and turned off the lights, slipping out the door. I called Tara again and filled her in on Rosa's condition, then slipped down the hall to the cafeteria and picked up a cup of coffee. It was fairly well into the afternoon before I arrived at Wesley's door, about 20 minutes after 5 p.m. and ... he was gone.

"Excuse me, Dr. Roche," I asked one of the doctors who was passing by. "Do you know where the man in this room went?"

"Oh, ummm, no. But, let me go check." She flashed me a big smile and went down the hall to the receptionist, and I stayed in the room. Closing my eyes, I took a deep slow scenting of the air and easily identified the old, musky sent of Wesley's cologne - he fairly reeked of old books and even older ale.

The second scent I detected came to me like a slap across the face.

Connor.

Connor was here?

My world began to spin. I sat down on the bed, slowly, and tried to take stock of what I was learning. Not only was Wesley alive, and in New Metropolis, but Connor was with him. What was going on?

"Mr. Angel?" The doctor was back, standing at the door with a smile on her face. "Your friend, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, he left here about twenty minutes ago with his Lawyer, a Mr. Riley."

I was stunned. Connor was a lawyer?

...Was it even really Connor?

I stuck my hands into the pockets of my trenchcoat and brooded for a minute, looking at the bed. The Doctor's smile faltered a little. When I glanced back at her, it returned. "Do you... do you have a security camera that watched the hallway?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I sat in the security room of the Hospital and sipped on my coffee, running a hand through my short spikey hair.

The security guard on duty, Thomas Brown, eyed me out of the corner of his eye while he fast-forwarded the video tapes. I think I unsettled him a little. I can't blame him, I was pretty intensely focused on what I was watching. Cordellia called it my 'brood mode.'

"There," I said, holding my hand up. The tape slowed, and the figure of a slender young man with foppish hair down to his ears strode down the corridor with the familiar swagger of a young man I knew very, very well.

"Stop the tape," I whispered, sitting back in my seat. I stared at the frozen image of Connor for a long minute before I whirled out of my chair and was out the door.

I heard the guard behind me calling out, "...You're welcome!"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sun was still up, which meant that I was fairly limited as to mode of transportation, but now that I had Wesley, and more importantly, Connor, in my sights I wasn't about to give up the trail.

For the first time since I'd taken it from the crazy maniac who nearly trashed a block of New Metropolis two weeks ago, I pulled out the small green pendant that hung around my neck. To be honest, I had no idea if this small item could shield me from the sun long enough for me to do what I needed to do, but I was determined to find out.

I stood in the shadows of the hospital's side awning and closed my eyes, focusing my will on the tiny green pendant on my chest. For a moment, I felt the small emerald angel pulse with power, and then power rushed into me, suffusing my being with a rush of pure, clean energy - energy that was far, far older than I was.

I stepped out of the shadows, and lifted a hand over my eyes to shield me from the sun. Instantaneously, I felt the sun upon me, trying to get at me, trying to fulfill its curse on vampires and reduce me to ash. The pain was intense, almost enough to drive me back inside the shadows once again -- but I didn't burn. The green energy that powered me gave me ... immunity. Well, partial. The pain was intense. I was on my knees before I knew it, and somehow, I had the inate impression that the power I was relying on wouldn't hold up forever. I had to hurry.

I followed Connor's scent for several blocks, but the kid had a habit of changing directions and diffusing his scent - a trick he'd learned in Quor'toth, no doubt. I was left without a trail to follow, fairly quickly. I could track him with my other senses, but it would take longer. Instead, I decided to back track, and follow Wesley.

Wesley was much easier to follow. His scent was impressed upon my memory like an irremoval ink blot, and I tracked him through the sunny day, ignoring the blinding and nearly incapacitating pain, and followed him to the very foot of a business that I knew only too well.

Wolfram and Hart.

Why was wesley here? The questions kept mounting. The scent doubled back from the front door, though, so I followed it to a small park, and then slipped into the shadows of the trees. In the dark shadows of late-afternoon, I was nearly invisible. Benefits of wearing all black. It was a relief to get out of the blinding pain of the sun, and even though the experiment had been successful, it wasn't an experience was particular apt to repeat any time soon.

I settled down in the shadows and watched Wesley for several minutes, trying to puzzle out the information I had now. Wesley was alive. He had never called me, never spoken to me. He was spending time with Connor - with my son - and he was visiting Wolfram and Hart. What did it mean.

And then, Connor appeared. In the living flesh, walking through the day with the same confident swagger. My heart swelled.

For a moment, I considered stepping out of the shadows to greet them both, but ... something held me back. Fear of destroying my delusion, perhaps, or just plain ... fear. What was Wesley doing consorting with Wolfram and Hart?

I was pleased with myself for choosing a hiding spot that was down-wind of Connor. If he couldn't smell me, couldn't see me, he wouldn't notice me. I lowered myself down into the bushes, and watched.

Wes and Wolvy::
Hey, you two ...uh... characters, you. At some point, mayhap, we should arrange a bumping-into-each-other-ish-thing. Even if they don't hang, Wolverine and Angel could have a deliciously head-butty conversation, and Angel and Wes have history. :-)

Tara::
I'm gonna post Angel looking for you. :)

When: Three Thirty-Seven in the afternoon.
Where: Los Angeles. Specifically, the Los Angeles Branch Offices of Wolfram and Hart.
What: Zombie invasion of Los Angeles.

Just a typical day on the job. For me, anyway.

I'd gone home after having Chinese with Dawn. It had been... nice, spending time with someone who hadn't lived through the last year of Angel Investigations, but I could see my presence was confusing Dawn, if not making her down-right uncomfortable. I couldn't say I blamed her -- Dawn and I had never been 'friends' in Sunnydale, we'd barely even known each other until Buffy's Senior year of high school. So why was I showing up at her door now? To be honest, I didn't know either. I just... enjoyed seeing her again. She felt ... comfortable to be around, even when it was awkward. She'd always been comfortable to be around.

Well, anyway, I'd gone home before things got ~really~ awkward. I took the elevator to my bedroom, crawled into bed, and was out for at least six and a half hours before Wesley's phone call woke me up.

Zombies were swarming into the city from all over, crawling up through the sewers and attacking the homeless and the pedestrians in back alleyways, growing in number with no sign of abating.

I told you it was a typical day.

Wesley'd thought there was a 'friendly' necromancy cult outside of the city that could be called upon to help deal with the flood of undead washing over the city. Because it was daytime, he'd taken Lorne with him to go get them on our side. Fred was down in the lab, examining Zombie flesh for pathogens and viruses that could spread disease. Gunn was in his office, dancing between his phone and his e-mail and his fax machine to keep the city's law enforcement agencies spun like a top while we got a handle on the infestation. Spike pointed out the City of Angels was turning into the 'bleedin' party house o' the damned.' (In other words, Spike was being a nuisance.)

A typical day. Including when Wesley got captured by the Necromancers. Lorne got away and found a payphone to warn us that we needed to perform the Ritual of Skarcearos to unbind the zombie flood from its masters and send them back to their grave, but before Lorne could tell us what the ritual was, the Necromancers caught up to him and dragged him away from the phone, screeching into the connection that if Wolfram and Hart's new CEO wanted to interfere with their plans so badly, then he could face the Undead himself.

Typical.

I burst through the doors of Wesley's Research Department and looked around, holding in my hands the few pages of notes that I'd gotten from Lorne. "...Hello?"

Ding! The Elevator doors opened onto the executive lobby of Wolfram and Hart.

"I see," Wesley was saying, adjusting the shoulder strap of his leather attache` case and holding the elevator door open so that a pair of attorneys could take our place in the cab, "So Spike came to you with this plan."

"More or less," I replied, stepping out of the Elevator into the lobby and holding my hand out to Harmony - my new secretary... I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around that one - as we walked towards the reception desk. "Once he learned Hainsley used himself as a conduit for body transfers, our trap fell in place."

"A bit reckless." Wesley chided, as Harmony handed me a dark blue folder full of paperwork, followed by a mug of warm blood, "If Spike's going to be sticking around, it'd be prudent of him to share his plans with the rest of us in the future."

I raised my eyebrows for a moment and chuckled as I looked over the paperwork, sparing Wes a brief look, "Yeah, well, sharing's not something Spike does very well."

"Preaching to the Horse's mouth," Harmony sighed, busy with more paperwork on her desk. Wes and I glanced up at her in surprise, then at each other, and Wes gave his eyebrows a significant lift.

"Well," I said, gesturing over my shoulder at my office with the blue folder in my right hand, "I should probably-"

"Yes- to work," Wesley's smile was sardonic, and it mirrored my mood exactly.

"Right. Staff meeting at eleven thirty?"

"Yes. I'll pass that on to the rest of the team." Wes slid his hands into his pocket, gave me a brief nod and turned towards his office. I watched him go, puffing out my cheeks with a sigh of resignation, and took a drink from the warm blood. Mmm... Otter. Why have I been drinking pig's blood all this time?While turning and walking towards my own office, I spared Harmony a brief glance as I passed her desk. "Harmony, bring me a copy of my schedule for the week when you're done there?" The blonde vampire pasted on a vapid grin and threw me a jaunty salute. "You got it, boss!"

I shook my head, stepped into my office, and closed the doors behind me. I spared at glance for the lavishly expensive furnishings, the picturesque view of the city beneath my feet, and shook my head again, wondering at the strange turn of events that brought me and my team to Wolfram and Hart. Moving around behind my desk, I tossed the dark folder onto the hard wood surface in front of me and leaned over the back of my luxurious - and yet, strangely uncomfortable - new desk chair and sipped more blood out of my mug, flipping the folder open and leafing through the pages inside.

"Wolfram and Hart's Employee Files: Current Employees, Alphabetized by Last Name - R through U."

Of course, Lorne was going to read all of these people individually over the next few weeks, but in the papers I had requested from Harmony were the pictures and short personal and psychological evaluations of all the employees in the Los Angeles Branch, and ... I had to do something. Less than two days ago, Wolfram and Hart was the main office of Evil Incorporated, and I wasn't going to be comfortable here until... well, who was I kidding, I was never going to be comfortable here, but I wasn't even going to be able to stop worrying about every moment Fred, Lorne, Wes, and Gunn spent out of my sight here until I had gone over the employee roster personally.

... Ramsey, Daniel... Raston, Michelle... Rat, A...

The list was exhaustive. There were thousands of employees in the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram and Hart, and going through each and every personnelle file took some time, even in such a compact form. A couple of psych profiles and personal biographies leapt out at me immediately, but most of what I read was boring, meaningless drivvel - Lawyers, Research Scientists, Security Personnelle, Accountants (actually, it seemed as though more of the Accounts leapt out at me for personal follow-up interviews than did the Lawyers, which was a hefty shock in its own right. The Lawyers were weasels, sure, but that's what Lawyers are everywhere. But some of these accountants, well... Dark Alchemy? Blood Money? Two Decades of Tax Evasion? Sheesh.)

... Samuels, Robin... Samson, Rake... Sanja Hajim...

I finished my mug of blood and set it aside, pressing an intercomm button on my desk to call Harmony - my secretary. "Harmony, I'd like a mug of regular coffee - black, no lighten--"

And that was when I froze. Harmony was still on the intercom, asking me in that annoyingly nasal voice if I was 'still there?' Well, of course I was still there, she could see me through the glass, but I was frozen, my eyes fixed on the Employee file before me, my mind at war with what my eyes were seeing, telling me that no matter what I was reading on the paper in front of me, no matter who was in that picture I was looking at, there was just no way that what I was seeing could be true.

Summers, Dawn.

The information in front of me stubbornly refused to change, no matter how many times I shook my head or blinked my eyes.

"...Harmony," I said in a throaty, hoarse voice over the intercom, cutting through her repeat attempts to get me to respond to her, "Get security down to the steno pool. Have Wesley join you. Tell Wesley that I would like to see Dawn Summers in my office. Now."

"Yes, sir, boss." Harmony almost clicked off the intercom, but then she hesitated, "Uh, Angel? Do you still want that cof--"

"Harmony, go!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going! Geez." The intercom clicked off. I stared at the personelle file in front of me for a few minutes longer, then closed the dark blue folder and pushed it aside. Pulling out my desk chair, I settled into it with a sigh and turned to stare out of the necro-tempered glass.

Dawn. Here.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and rubbed my eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted where a few moments before I had been relaxed - almost at ease.

Dawn. Here. ...Buffy'll kill her.