“Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and does the impossible”
—Anonymous

Prologue – May 21st, 2003

The young woman looked around her, feeling strange in the new scene. She missed being a god. She missed being something other than mortal. It was all so strange to her. This was all so strange to her. Los Angeles. The City of Angels.

She pulled the backpack around to her front and looked inside it. The five boxes were bound tight by leather and twine, the book secured by a leather clasp, ageless and priceless reminders of what she was here to do. They brought the comfort of knowing she wasn’t completely alone. She would be taken care of if anything got out of control. And things would get out of control. That much her intuition told her.

She shifted her weight as she started walking. Her feet were tired. Forgetting what the real world was really like, she’d already run low on cash; food had been a luxury for the last few days and she could feel a numbing sensation in her stomach. She walked along from the bus stop and passed a small quick-mart. She looked in, seeing rows of food in colorful containers and bags. Her mouth became wet with hunger and her stomach yelled at her all the more. She reached into her jeans pocket and brought out the small wad of bills. Seeing the price tags from the street, she knew she didn’t have enough. She had a square bit of plastic with her fake name and a row of numbers on it. Although she’d seen such an item as a child, she hadn’t the slightest idea of what it was for or how to use it.

Continuing on, she ignored the rumble in her stomach. She chided herself for walking past a bar that had some sort of food cooking inside of it. The door open, the aromas wafted out to meet her starving nose. She walked quicker, keeping one hand on the strap of her backpack. She thought of where she could be. Of where she could be sleeping. Some arrangements hadn’t been solidified in time. Her penthouse wasn’t ready for her. It might not be for some time. So, she had nowhere to go. With her paper assets low, she would more or less be forced to remain on the street for the night. She saw an alley and a loading dock. It boasted a cardboard lean-to that she could use. Walking closer, her nose picked up another scent. It made her grateful she hadn’t eaten anything at all.

She turned to walk away and bumped into a Bringer. The pale skin and scarred-over eyes startled her. She backed away. Another was behind her. One last Bringer came from the shadows to her left. They surrounded her. They wielded daggers with curved blades and bejeweled pommels. Their black robes blended in with the inky darkness surrounding her.

Chapter 1

He’d lost her. In his heart he’d always known something like this would happen. But he just didn’t think it would happen like this. He’d known she’d eventually find another man but—he had been assured—it would actually be another man.

But Spike?

It made it sting all the more; of all the men on the earth, she had to choose him. She had to fall in with him. Okay—she didn’t say she loved him but, then again, she didn’t need to say it. It was kinda obvious. She cared about him enough to push him away.

Angel looked at the Jack Daniels sitting in front of him and tossed it back quickly—the burn assuring him it wasn’t all just a nightmare. He looked up at the clock over the barkeep’s head and paid his tab. It was time to get back to reality.

He stood drearily and walked to the door, down the steps, and onto the sidewalk, with his hands in his pockets and not paying attention to those he passed—until he heard the distinct sound of landing punches.

He stopped, looked down the alley he was near, and saw the commotion that had caught his ear. He ran down the alley hoping to find something to take his attention off the matter playing on his mind. As he neared the fight, however, he paused. She was fighting Bringers. He remembered Bringers. He knew they were minions of the First. Buffy had won that battle. The Hellmouth had been closed. But the First obviously wasn’t gone. It had just pulled back to regroup.

And the current regroup was attacking a redheaded, pale girl.

He could barely see her face when he rushed in to help. She ignored him and focused on the Bringers. With near inhuman speed and agility, the woman threw back two of her three attackers. They landed hard on the pavement and one of them grabbed her fallen bag. As she went to tackle that one, another came up behind her and stabbed her. She yelped. Angel threw a backhand swipe to the one that attacked her. They both fell. He threw himself at the one with her bag and grabbed it. The three Bringers took off, unwilling to face two opponents.

He turned to see the young woman laying half in and half out of shadow. He could see blood on her hand and her well formed bottom half. He could see the outline of her face. But with his well-adapted eyes, he could make out the features on her face. She looked German in build. She was lithe and muscular. With a body that could fit either a pro-athlete or a supermodel, she lay there, holding onto her bloody side.

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him. He saw her eyes go wide. They darted from his face to her bag.

He took a step towards her. She stood fitfully and backed into the shadow of the alley. He paused, holding out his hands in a gesture of innocence, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He could hear her panicked heartbeat. He could smell her blood as more of it seeped from her wound. It was weak, the scent. If it weren’t for the breeze, he might not have smelled it at all. He took another step closer.

She backed away again.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Just a scrape. I’ll just take my bag and go.”

“Come with me. I’ll get that taken care of.”

“My bag.”

“We should get you patched up,” he walked closer.

She ran. Startled at her speed, he hesitated. Then he followed. She ran up a fire escape ladder and to the next platform, taking it to the roof. He followed, unwilling to scale the wall or jump. If she was already so afraid, his demonic acrobatics would only give her more cause to run.

“Hey! I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He saw her stumble when she hit the last rung before she pulled herself onto the roof. He continued after her, knowing she was more injured than she’d let on. The wound was still open. Some of her blood dripped near him. The rungs on the ladder had her bloody handprints on them. Drips of it collected on the grate at his feet.

He pulled himself onto the roof.

She was nowhere to be seen.

He ran to the other end of the building and looked down. There was a twenty-foot gap between this building and the next. And the drop was over forty feet. Even he would’ve hesitated to jump the gap. And in her condition, she wouldn’t have made it. But there was no body down below. And her trail of blood ended midway across the roof.

He looked down at the bag in his hand. He pulled on the drawstring. Inside were a book and five small jewelry boxes. No wallet, no money, nothing.

He sighed.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce stepped on a wadded up ball of paper. He looked down at his feet and saw the crumpled sheet was flattened under the pressure. Leaning over, he picked it up. Coming up, his eyes saw another one. A small cluster of them was centered around the reception counter. In the middle was Angel. Wesley opened the wad of paper to see a striking face. Her eyes were thin and almond shaped but her face was decidedly not oriental. Her cheekbones were high but not severe. Her nose was proportionate and had a little ski-jump at the end but it wasn’t upturned. She appeared to be no more than twenty-five.

“Do I have to get out the tranquilizer gun?” he asked, walking in and laying his pack on the counter.

Angel sighed, “This isn’t an obsession.”

“Really?”

“She was attacked last night.”

“Vampires?”

“Bringers.”

“Bringers? Harbingers of the First?”

“One and the same. She was stabbed. When I tried to help her, she ran off. She left this behind.”

He placed his hand on a small drawstring backpack. It looked old and mottled. The design was one Wesley didn’t recognize. It had a logo on it with a company name.

“I’ve never heard of this company.”

“I looked it up. It doesn’t exist. Look inside.”

Wesley opened up the bag to see a leather-bound book and five small boxes tied up with twine. He took them out and opened them. Each box had a little cut-stone animal. Not bigger than a silver dollar. They were each a different stone. And the book was blank. It was old; page bugs lay dead and pressed near the spine. The only thing he could see were the pictures. Daguerreotypes, for the most part. Some were woodblock prints. A few were sketches. He put it aside. Angel was still sketching her. He paused and ran his hand through his short hair. Wesley gave another glance at the small mound of papers.

“Why such concern?”

“If she was attacked by Bringers, it means she’s a threat to the First.”

“Someone we want to keep safe.”

“Someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

“You couldn’t trail her blood?”

“I tried. I chased her to a rooftop and when I got up there, she was gone. Her trail ended in the middle of the roof. Whatever she has for blood, it isn’t normal. I couldn’t track it. Couldn’t smell it.”

“Disturbing. In more ways than one. So? What do we do?”

“I want you to call hospitals. She has dark red hair. More mahogany than pure red. It looked wavy…about down to her shoulders. Her eyes were hazel. If she’s checked into a hospital nearby, someone’s bound to take notice of her.”

“Where was she stabbed?”

“Right side of her waist.”

“Good morning,” Fred walked in, a smile on her face.

It started to disappear when she saw the crumpled balls of paper. Gunn walked in after her and paused as well. Wesley shrugged, “No. All’s clear.”

Angel rolled his eyes.

“Angel…what are you doing?” Fred looked at the multiple portraits.

“A girl was attacked last night.”

Gunn picked up the latest sketch, “This girl?”

“Yeah. She didn’t get away clean. We need to find her before they do.”

“They?”

“Bringers. They work for the First,” Wesley filled in, “Since the First is immaterial, it has harbingers to do It’s bidding. They carry curved daggers with gold hilts and jewels in the pommel. Their eyes are scarred closed with runes.”

“Nasty.”

“That’s why we have to find her first. Wesley’s going to call hospitals. I want you two out on the streets. That is what she looks like. Mahogany hair and hazel eyes,” he pointed to the picture Gunn had in his hand.

“Got it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Hit the hot spots. See if anyone knows anything about what the First is trying to do. Maybe I’ll find out why It wants to kill this girl.”

Angel grabbed his leather coat and walked to the basement. The others watched him go. Fred and Gunn looked at the paper and Fred sighed.

“We’re looking for one woman among what? Millions?”

“If the First wants this girl dead, we need to keep her alive. Alive and safe,” Wesley sat where Angel had been, picking up the phone.

“I’ve got my cell. Call me if you get anything.”

Wesley nodded, watching the two of them walk out. He picked up the phone book and flipped to the tab that read hospitals. After doing this routine so many times, Gunn had made a bookmark for the section. He kept his finger on the first number while dialing. The receptionist picked up. Wesley inhaled.

“Yes, I’m looking for my sister…she was injured last night and I’ve been trying to locate her…no, she’s a runaway…she has red hair and hazel eyes…only twenty five…her real name is Sarah…she might go by a different one…has anyone—”

A blade pressed against his neck. He cut himself off. He couldn’t see who was behind him.

“Put the phone down.”

As the receptionist said an inquisitive hello, he put the phone back on the receiver. Although the blade was pressed against his neck, it wasn’t pressed hard. And the voice was feminine, seductive, thick.

“So, what’s your real name?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I just came to get my things.”

“We weren’t trying to steal from you.”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem, should there?”

He started to turn to face her, “You don’t have—”

The blade pressed harder against his neck, “Don’t turn around. Just pack up my stuff and I’ll be on my way.”

“How did you find us?”

“Your friend with the spiky hair is easy on the eyes; he wasn’t too hard to follow. Now, my things.”

He started to reach over and she jerked the blade, “Ah-ah. Left hand.”

He used his left hand to put the lids back on the boxes. One by one, he placed them in the bag gently. He closed the book and slid it into the bag as well. He gave a deliberate tug on the drawstring and it closed.

“Hold it behind you.”

He held it out behind him by the opening. When she reached for it, he could feel the slippery skin on his. It was wet and warm.

“You’re still bleeding.”

She took the bag spasmodically.

“If you’re injured, you should see a doctor.”

“The only life that’s your concern is your own.”

“You’re in danger.”

“Who isn’t?”

“Those men that attacked you last night will come after you again and if you’re injured, you’ll be easy prey. At least let me patch you up.”

There was a pause, “Where’s your first aid kit?”

“In the office on my right.”

She put a bloody hand on his shoulder and kept him that far away from herself. The blade was still depressed against his neck, “Lead me to it.”

“It’s in the filing cabinet.”

She let go of his shoulder, keeping the blade under his jawbone, and he kneeled to open the wooden cabinet that held stakes and first aid materials. He saw her boots. They were black leather with chunky, stacked heels. Her right one was covered in blood that had seeped down her leg. Her jeans were shades darker on the outside from the trail. He stood slowly. He felt the blade pull away. He turned slowly with the gauze and tape and peroxide in his hands. She’d let the sword drop to her side.

He got his first look at her. Angel’s sketches were close. She was paler then he expected. The blood loss had taken a toll. Her mahogany hair was matted and her hazel eyes were alertly calm. They pierced his soul, made him question his ability to tend to her wound. His eyes ventured down to the cherry blotch in her shirt. She’d torn most of the fabric away to reveal a wide gash in her side. It wasn’t deep, but long and oddly shaped; the shape kept it from clotting. And with the humidity and heat outside, it wouldn’t dry any time soon.

“Take a seat,” he gestured to the guest chair. She didn’t sit, just leaned on the back of it. She kept the sword across her lap with her hand firmly on the hilt. He placed the peroxide to the side, wiping away some of the blood with the gauze. She winced.

“Sorry.”

She didn’t say anything. He dabbed more gauze into the peroxide before wiping the area clean. It bubbled. The blade had nearly taken a chunk of skin away from her torso. But the top and bottom of the wound was still attached to the rest of her. He pressed the wound together and put gauze over the top, taping it down.

He stood slowly and looked her in the eye, “You’ll need stitches for it to heal completely.”

“Thanks.”

He noticed her; she wasn’t twenty-five. She looked more like twenty. Closer to it, anyhow. He backed away. She stood with the sword still in hand.

“They’ll keep hunting you.”

“Don’t get involved,” she backed away from him towards the reception area and the basement door. Wes took a few steps closer, not wanting to let her out of his sight. Before she was out of reach of the counter, she laid the sword down. The bloody grip left drips on the marble, “Don’t look for me.”

“We don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

She turned and knocked into Angel. He held his hands up. She rebounded and grabbed the sword. Keeping her hand outstretched, she let the tip of the sword touch his Adam’s apple.

Wesley took a step closer, unwilling to let her hurt Angel. Although, by the moment, she looked weaker. She looked less like a threat and more like a scared girl. Angel let his hands down, unflustered by the blade at his neck.

“Just let me go. I didn’t ask for your help.”

“They could’ve killed you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“A bit cocky, don’t you think?”

“Assured. I’m assured.”

“We’re trying to protect you.”

She scoffed, “Do you even know from what?”

“Do you?” Wesley asked.

She kept her eyes on Angel, “I know what I have to.”

“You’re predictable. That’ll get you killed.”

“You knew I was here?”

“I knew you wouldn’t try anything with everyone here.”

“I just want to walk away.”

Angel walked closer, the blade tip pressing into his neck, “You still can. Just rest. Get better. Let us figure out what’s hunting you and why they want you dead. Please.”

She tightened her grip on the sword and kept her pressure on his neck firm, “I appreciate you bailing me out last night, but you don’t need to get involved.”

“I am involved. And not just by you.”

“Then you’ve already got enough on your plate without me.”

She backed away from the two of them, the sword still out. She kept her grip tight on the drawstring bag. Angel didn’t let the distance between them get too great. He followed after her. At the base of the front door stairs, she was in full sunlight. He couldn’t follow past the second step. She paused and looked to Wesley.

“Thanks for the patch job.”

“You need someone to stitch that wound up,” Angel said.

Her face softened, “It won’t be you.”

She kept her eyes on them while hunching over to lay the sword down.

“Take it. It’ll keep you safe.”

In mid crouch, she hesitated. Switching her grip, she yanked it up and under, pressing the blade flush against her arm on the inside. She walked out. Angel wanted to go after her. He didn’t want her to be out there alone, even in the day. But following her wouldn’t make things better.

Wesley sighed, “Should I go after her?”

“No. Tonight. We’ll look for her tonight.”

“She could be dead by then.”

“She’s kept herself alive this long. Another twelve hours won’t matter.”

“How’d you know she was here?”

“I didn’t.”

Wesley eyed him.

Angel walked away to his office, “Call Fred and Gunn. They may be able to track her.”

“That wound won’t heal on its own.”

“Us keeping her here wouldn’t make it heal any faster.”

He walked back out from the office with his forgotten cell phone in hand and started towards the basement door.

“Where are you going?”

“Original plan. I’ll hit the hot spots. See if we can’t figure out what the First is up to. Call the hospitals. Tell them to keep an eye out should she check in. If she does, tell them to call us.”

“On it.”

Angel walked out of view. Wesley picked up the phone again and dialed the number he’d dialed before. Waiting for the ring of the service desk, he switched stories in his head.

Angel strolled through the sewers. A shaft of light here and there was all he had to dodge. Since Caritas had blown up, there were only a few demon bars that would let him in. Most wanted nothing to do with him for the exact reason he was out. The only ones he knew of that would be open before dark were several miles south of the Hyperion. But they had sewer access and wouldn’t bar him.

The young woman obviously had some idea who she was dealing with. He wondered if she knew the whole picture. Did she know how important she was if the First was after her? Or was she just evading a menace that she didn’t know all that much about? Her clothes weren’t much more than strips and shreds. She was paler than she’d been the night before. The blood loss had taken a toll. But it hadn’t stopped her yet. That borderlined on admirable and supernatural.

He came to the ladder for the first bar. Climbing it, he knocked on the hatch. It opened and he saw the bouncer rolls his eyes when he got a glimpse of Angel’s face.

“What do you want?”

Angel climbed the rest of the stairs and stood face to face with the brusque demon. With burnt-orange skin and horns lining the jaw, he made an impressive bouncer. Angel looked up at him.

“The usual.”

“Not much of a crowd yet.”

“I’ve got all day.”

“What do you want to know? I can save you the time.”

“The First. I want to know what It’s doing.”

The demon chuckled, “Planning on making Los Angeles a sinkhole, too? I heard about what your ex did. Pissed off a lot of locals.”

“What can I say? She’s a pistol.”

He chuckled again and looked around at the few patrons in the main bar, “You wanna know about the First, huh?”

“I’ll be out of your way.”

“The new word on the street is that the First got a little hankering for revenge after what that Slayer did. Wants to wipe out as many pests like you as It can.”

“Good to know. Have you heard anything about a girl?”

“What kind of girl?”

“Redhead. Just under six foot. Pale, too.”

“A mosquito like you?”

“Human.”

“Haven’t heard a thing.”

“And the Bringers; what are they up to?”

“They’ve been around. Staying mostly in the sewers. Don’t know where.”

“Thanks. Great help.”

“Just keeping the best interests of the patrons in mind.”

“Of course you are.”

“Now, get lost.”

“I’ll be back,” Angel swung his leg onto the sewer ladder and slid down, the hatch closed over his head.

He walked off, knowing of maybe one or two other bars that would have some more information than this. If there wasn’t a word about the girl, it meant the bouncer either wanted her dead or didn’t know about her. Neither option was helpful. The next bar was only a few more miles. It was more of a morning place for the vampires. Those that didn’t sleep the day away would head to someplace safe for it.

He let his face change over. Bones crunched and morphed and the familiar feel of fangs against his tongue told him he had the proper attire. He climbed the ladder for this bar and opened the hatch himself. Letting it down behind him, he surveyed the packed booths, tables and barstools. He didn’t see any familiar faces. Moving through the like-faced crowd of vampires, he sat at the bar. The barkeep was a punk vampire with a leather corset and pink streaks in her hair. She walked over to him with a smile and placed a napkin down for a coaster.

“What can I get you?”

“O positive.”

She winked and walked away to get his drink. But he didn’t really care about the drink. He just wanted an excuse to stay longer and eavesdrop. She put his drink in front of him and he paid her. Sitting there, he listened and scanned the drunken conversations. Most were about kills they’d made the night before. The group of vampires in the corner was talking about a girl, but she wasn’t fitting the description he wanted.

The hatch opened again and a new vampire came up. This one was a burly biker. He walked over to the group in the corner. He handed out a picture. Angel couldn’t see what was in it. Taking a sip of his drink, he heard the newly-arrived vampire say “she’d” changed.

“This what she looks like?”

“New and improved. I liked the blonde hair better, but red fits her.”

“It’ll look better when we crack her skull. Where’s she at?”

“Just got into town last night. Bringers got to her. She’s ripe.”

So they were talking about the girl he was looking for. And she’d obviously changed her looks from one point in time to here.

“Abandoned building near Pan Pacific. She’s holed up there with a nice souvenir from those freaks. Should be easy prey.”

“Take her out and the summer won’t be half bad after all.”

“Forget the summer. Eternity.”

“When?”

“Tonight. If the Bringers don’t get to her first.”

Angel drank the last of his blood and left the bar, walking towards the hatch in the back. A hand grabbed his elbow and he stopped.

“You think we’re gonna let you get in the way?”

He turned to see the burly biker. The vampires were behind him, smiling at the odds. Angel sized them all up.

“I think you’ll leave her alone. She’s in my town. My protection.”

“Take a look around, soul boy. You’re in no position to protect anyone.”

Angel threw the first blow. The biker stumbled back and into some buddies. They righted him and he charged. Angel ducked and he flew over top of him. Hitting a storage rack in the back room, he crumpled to the floor. Angel flicked his wrist and a spring-loaded stake popped out. He sank it into the biker’s chest. He evaporated into dust. The others paused.

Not for long. Angel threw another punch at an oncoming vampire, landing it in the eye socket. He felt the bone crush under his knuckles. He grabbed onto a seat and threw it forward, ramming two vampires back. Taking the chair away and swinging with it, he let the backrest nail a vampire in the jaw.

Angel backed himself into a corner near the hatch, seeing more vampires willing to get into the mix. He held the stake in one hand and the chair in the other. One rushed him and he jabbed the stake into that sweet spot, the cloud of dust disappearing a moment later.

He made his way towards the exit as the others finally understood who they started fighting. He put the chair down and kept the stake palmed.

“Get the word out. No one goes near her.”

They all shared glances. He backed away and lifted the hatch. Jumping down the hole, he closed it. He jammed his stake into the latch, keeping it closed.

Angel popped the hatch on his own sewer access ladder and climbed up into the basement of the Hyperion. Walking up the stairs to the lobby, he looked around to see Fred, Wesley and Gunn. They looked up at him as he walked over.

“Did you find her?” Fred asked.

“No. Found out where’s she staying.”

“Where?”

“An abandoned building by the Pan Pacific park. Should be easy to find.”

“How’d you find that out?”

“Vampires talking about hitting it tonight. They were looking for a slaughter.”

“They know who she is?” Wesley asked.

“They know. More than we do, at any rate.”

“Why were they after her?” Fred asked.

“I don’t know. They didn’t say a name. But whoever she is, they don’t want her around.”

“That’s good, right? That means she’s not on their side,” Gunn sat on the circular couch.

“Gunn, I want you and Wes to drive over there. Take a look at the buildings. If you see her, don’t bother her. Just keep an eye out. I’ll meet you there when the sun goes down. Fred, she left some blood on the counter. Can you see what’s in it?”

“Of course.”

“You mean, besides blood?”

“I can’t smell it. I want to know what it is.”

“We’ll have our cell phones should something come up,” Wesley walked towards the doors, Gunn following.

“I’ll let you know.”

The two of them walked out. Fred moved over to the stain on the counter. She looked up at him, “What are you going to do?”

He sighed, “Play the waiting game.”

She watched the sun sink behind steel and concrete towers. Her side and head were throbbing. Her stomach was growling. The wound hadn’t stopped bleeding. It was less now than before, but the gauze was damp. She wanted to pull her hair back and keep it off her shoulders and neck. It was too hot to have her hair down. But she couldn’t. She didn’t have anything to tie it up with. She eyed the sword he’d given her. It was well crafted. A prized weapon to anyone who knew anything about swords. She hobbled over to her makeshift bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling. The rafters stuck out and cobwebs made her feel like trick-or-treating. The rickety building was the best she could do for the moment.

A floorboard creaked outside her room. She silently sat up and grabbed the sword.

Angel pulled up in his car, seeing Gunn’s truck only a few spots down the road. He and Wesley climbed out of the truck and met him. Meeting at the trunk of his car, he handed out weapons and took a sword for himself.

“Anything?”

“Ain’t anybody go in and out all day. It’s all boarded up ‘cept for a few windows.”

“Vampires?”

“None. Did Fred find anything on the blood?”

“She’s still working on it. She said it looked normal.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

Angel sighed and walked across the street. The guys followed. Climbing in through a window, he kept his sword out and ready. The floors creaked and the bricks in the wall were rotten and falling out of place. Walking out of the bedroom they’d entered into, they walked into the hallway. Angel opened each door, looking to see if she was behind one of them. At the end of the hall without success, he walked up the stairs. The same hallway a floor up, he stepped over a rotted section of wood. He opened doors on his left while Gunn looked in the rooms on the right.

“There’s nobody here.”

“I don’t like this, Angel,” Wesley kept a stake in his hand.

“You think those vamps were setting you up?” Gunn asked.

Angel opened a door and saw a makeshift cot and the bag. He shook his head, “No, she’s here. We just have to find her.”

He walked into the corner room. The floorboards protested the weight of the three of them. He looked around. The cot was a few stray floorboards put together to raise the bed. There wasn’t a mattress, only a few mottled clothes and a towel. Her bag was put to the side, closed tight. Angel turned around once, knowing she was around.

“We’re not here to hurt you. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

There was no answer. He looked up at the rafters, in the darkest shadowy corners of the room, but she wasn’t there.

“This girl could be the next Houdini.”

He was kicked forward. Hitting the far wall, he felt the floor and it shift, bricks falling out of the cement. He turned on the ground to see her. She was hanging from exposed piping in the ceiling like a gymnast. She kicked both Wesley and Gunn back before landing. Using the sword he’d granted her, she held it out at them and picked up a stake he’d dropped. He stood within arm’s reach. She flipped her wrist and changed her grip on the stake. She pointed it at his heart. He froze. He could feel the wooden tip press against his skin. Wesley and Gunn got to their feet slowly. They remained away when they saw his predicament.

With the sword aimed at neck level to them and the stake at his heart, she kept her face forward without looking directly at any of them. Her face was paler now. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead. Her bloodied gauze was coming loose. The tape wouldn’t hold it between the humidity and the blood. Her lips were as white as her skin.

“We didn’t come to hurt you.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Hard to believe since you have weapons pointed at me and my friends.”

“You should’ve let me alone.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

“I’ve still got the weapons.”

“I noticed,” he winced as she emphasized her point.

“We want to help you,” Wesley spoke up.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t have to fight these guys alone.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you’re getting weaker by the minute. Vampires were planning to kill you. Bringers are still looking for you. You’re a popular girl.”

“My lucky day.”

“Just let us help.”

She straightened. He noticed her tensed hands before she swung the sword. She spun. He ducked. The sword landed in the torso of a Bringer. She gasped and held onto her side, the sword too heavy for her to wield without pain.

“A scout,” she rasped, kicking the body off the blade.

She stumbled a bit. Angel went to stable her and she pushed him back, “Get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving.”

She brought the sword to his neck, “Get away.”

“Not unless you’re coming with us.”

Gunn and Wesley spun to face the door as more Bringers trudged through the rickety hall. She kept the sword pointed at him and diverted her attention to the oncoming threat. She looked back at him.

“You have to go.”

“No.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

She kicked him again. He was forced backwards and heard glass shatter. There was no wall or floor to brace him. He felt the hard asphalt. Glass fell around him in shards. He coughed and looked back up. She’d kicked him out the damn window. It was only a twelve foot drop, but it was more than enough to hurt. He watched Wesley come to the window. Taking the rusted fire escape, he climbed out. Gunn wasn’t far behind.

It shifted. Wesley and Gunn crashed down on each other after losing their grip on the rungs. The girl was nowhere to be seen. He walked over to them.

“Where is she?”

At that, she landed on top of him. The sword clattered on the asphalt not far away. He helped her up. She winced and yelped as her wound opened more. He braced her and this time she didn’t have any strength to resist. She kept her bag secure against her chest. He picked up his sword and saw the Bringers in the window.

He heard a snarl to his left. The vampires he hadn’t dusted in the bar stood there with rebar and planks of wood.

“This isn’t good,” he kept the girl at his side, wrapping an arm around her to keep her on her feet.

“Plan?”

He shifted her off his arm, “Gunn.”

Gunn took her. Her eyes were welded shut against the pain. She didn’t resist. The Bringers started coming out of the window like ants from a nest. One by one, they compounded the vampires already in the alley.

Angel knew the attack was coming. They were outnumbered four to twenty. And with her being so injured, she wouldn’t be any help. The moment they got to her, it would be over.

She came up beside him. He stared at her. Gunn and Wesley stayed near.

“Make a run for the car,” he said, knowing they were in no position to fight.

They darted. He stood for a moment, hanging back to give them the time they needed. He heard the engine fire up. The vampire closest to him took a swing with the rebar. He blocked it with the sword. The vampire that’d tried to swipe at him was shot down. An arrow stuck from his chest a moment before he turned to dust. Angel looked back and ran, seeing Wesley holding the crossbow from the trunk. Gunn started to drive away as Angel jumped into the backseat. He landed next to the girl. She was sunk into the seat, her hands at her wound. He moved her hands away and pressed his against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. She stared at him through pain-glazed eyes.

“You should’ve left me.”

“No, you’re with us now.”

She clamped her teeth as he put more pressure on the wound. He looked to the front seat, “Gunn, hospital.”

She yanked away a bit, “No, no hospital.”

Wesley tore a strip of his shirt off to add onto the gauze, “You need stitches.”

“I don’t need a hospital. Just a nice shower and a needle and some thread. No hospital.”

Gunn looked over his shoulder at Angel. Angel only nodded. Wesley tried to smile, “You never told me your real name.”

Her face softened. Wesley watched her give in. She almost smiled.

“Hope. My name’s Hope,” she looked to Wes.

Angel let her walk on her own. The blood had slowed down a bit. Wesley opened the door for her. She looked around, saw Fred, and stayed there at the inside steps.

“Do you want us to show you to a room?” Angel asked.

She shook her head, “I’ll be fine.”

She walked off and up the stairs to the second floor. He heard a door close out of sight. As much as he didn’t want her to go to bed without some sort of medical attention, she had already refused once. Fred walked up to him.

“That’s her?”

“Yeah.”

“Will she be alright?”

“We need to get that bleeding under control. She won’t last much longer without stitches,” Wesley spoke up.

“Let her be for now. It’s late. We can check on her in the morning.”

“You think it’ll be safe? With all those creepy guys out to get her?”

“I’ll keep an eye on her. You guys should go home. Get some rest. I have a feeling we’ll need it.”

They nodded. Gunn and Wesley walked out. Fred picked up her glasses and followed, stopping for a moment.

“I don’t have anything on the blood yet. I can try more tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She smiled, “Night.”

Angel stood there alone in his hotel. Fred had already moved to her new apartment. As had Gunn. Wesley was still in the same place. But with the imminent move to Wolfram & Hart, Gunn and Fred no longer stayed at the Hyperion. He almost missed it. Save for the young woman upstairs, he was alone.

Hope put her knapsack down on the bed. She walked into the bathroom and turned on the water. Running her hands under it, she saw her flesh come back. When the water ran clear, she turned it off, drying her hands on the clean parts of her clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror.

“He’s not supposed to know who you are.”

She turned to face her visitor, “He won’t.”

“And how will you keep it a secret?”

“I’ll stay until he’s convinced I can take care of myself. Then he won’t know.”

“Won’t he?”

“It’ll be a few days; I’ll be healed by then.”

“He won’t let you go as easily as you think.”

“He won’t have a choice.”

A/N: Set between seasons 4 and 5, in case the date didn't give that away. Read and Review, please! More to come...there's actually a whole book, so...