PART ONE
Gritting his teeth, Angel slammed the stake into one vampire's chest while kicking another one aside.
Masked temporarily by the dusty explosion, he spun and ducked, narrowly missing the attack of a third, previously unseen vampire. Although fatigue gnawed at his muscles and a sharp steady pain shot up from the deep gash in his arm, he managed to fend off the two remaining attackers with a few expert kicks and punches. Unfortunately, judging from the distant growls his sensitive hearing had picked up, he was fairly certain that reinforcements were on their way.
And who said L.A. was boring? A vicious blow to the head sent him flying before he could come up with a coherent response. Groaning, Angel mananged to roll over just in time to avoid the sharp piece of wood that embedded itself in the soft earth right where his heart would have been. And the fun just keeps on coming.
Dragging himself to his feet, he managed to turn around just in time to see five other dark figures rushing his way. Three months of patrolling and I get nothing. Why the warm reception now? Snarling, he pulled himself up and braced for impact as two of the figures launched themselves at him. Knocked backwards into a tree, Angel managed to squeeze past one of his opponents, only to be caught in a headlock by the other. Wincing at the gash in his upper lip, he spit out the sweet coppery fluid that gushed into his mouth, threatening to choke him in his prone position.
"Well well well, if it isn't my dearly departed sire Angel? Come to spread the love in the City of Angels? How bloody quaint."
Angel's dark brown eyes narrowed dangerously at the ground, "Spike…" he growled softly.
Clucking disapprovingly, the other man continued, "Now, here I am, miles away from Sunnyhell like I promised that blonde whore of a slayer, plotting world domination from the comfort and quiet of Los Angeles and who do I bump into yet AGAIN?"
His mind racing for a way out, Angel ignored the peroxide vampire's musings.
"My absolute favorite wanker in the world, that's who." Walking past his captive, Spike reached down to yank a handful of dark hair upwards, "What's the matter? She dump you? I tell you, Angel, women are so fickle.I wouldn't worry though, mate. I hear she was a bitch of a lay."
Subtley testing the strength of the vampire holding him, Angel had to swallow down his frustration against the iron grip.
"I'll have you know that your disasterous relationship with her nearly cost me my Dru." Sharply pulling Angel's head further, his voice became darker, "I don't take kindly to that."
As he gritted his teeth to block out the pain, Angel could do little more than raise an eyebrow.
Yawning, as if bored from the lack of reaction he was getting, Spike released his hair, "Anyway, no time for chitchat, mate. As much as I do enjoy this utter lack of conversation, it seems whenever we engage in witty banter, you manage to get away. No, I'm sick of this game and I'm even more sick of you. Besides, I owe that slayer big time." Shrugging, he spun around, his black duster floating through the air, and threw the command casually over his shoulder, "Stake him, Gabriel."
NO! As he struggled with the vampire holding him, Angel quickly realized that he would still be a fraction of a second too late to save himself, but even in these last split seconds of cognizant life, his body kicked into full-fledged survival mode.
Launching his shoulder into the vampire's solar plexus, he had just managed to loosen his captor's hold when he heard the tell-tale woosh of a stake rapidly descending just over his head. Pausing to squeeze his eyes shut, Angel tried to think of a prayer to say before dying just in case there was, by any possible miracle, a chance to save himself from eternal damnation. Perhaps he could think of one that would barter his sentence down to just a few centuries of burning in hell instead…
At the last possible second, as the hairs on his neck rose with anticipation of the impending blow, the stake from above changed direction and clattered harmlessly to the side, bouncing a few feet away into the grass. Pushing back a wave of shock in order to mull it over at a more convenient time, Angel took this opportunity to complete his escape. Before he could even turn around, though, several clouds of dust erupted around him as the vampires who had attacked started to disappear in record time. It wasn't until he'd gotten a chance to retrieve the fallen stake and pinpoint the source of the chaos swirling around him that he was able to totally rule out divine intervention.
He watched in awe as a figure clad in black bounded through the space around him, leaving destruction in her wake. At least he * thought * it was a girl. With her slighter figure and long, graceful limbs, he doubted his savior was male. In fact, if it wasn't for the smaller build, Angel would have sworn that this girl was Buffy in disguise, judging strictly from her speed and accuracy.
Covered in black cloth from head to toe, he couldn't really tell who she was either way. Nothing stuck out, not even to his well trained eyes. Every strand of hair had been tucked away under the full-length outfit. Even her eyes were covered by a thin black veil.
Her startled yelp of pain jolted him out of his revelry and he ran towards her just as Spike tore the stake out of her hand, his arm wrapped tightly around her neck.
"Alright, princess, and who the hell do you think you are?" Reaching forward, he grasped for her headgear but her body suddenly glowed a bright white. Almost immediately, it was his turn to howl in agony. Quickly, Spike whipped his arm off of her neck and backed away in anger, "You want to see magic, you bloody wench? I've got some of the blackest magic you'll ever see." His eyes glowed a bright yellow.
"You want a fight? Fight me." Angel's voice rumbled from behind.
Spinning, Spike found himself directly between Angel and this newcomer, alone, and distinctly outnumbered. His companions could be accounted for by numbering the piles of dust around him. Slowly, the yellow light in his eyes faded to be replaced by an arrogant smirk. "Watch your back, luv," he spat softly. And with that, he retreated into the night.
"Are you alrig-," Angel started only to find himself staring at the rapidly retreating back of the girl who had saved him, "No! Wait!" he called, running after her.
Chasing her for a few blocks, after running between alleys and long, winding streets, he finally managed to catch up with her only to find himself in front of his own apartment.
"Wh-who are you?" he managed to stammer after a few moments of awed silence.
"It's almost dawn. Get inside. Don't patrol alone anymore. Not safe." Came the hissed response.
Although he could swear that there was something vaguely familiar about her-perhaps it was her scent-she was gone before he could even respond. Erupting into a fiery mass of sparkles, she vanished into thin air.
Staring into the darkness for a few moments he slowly shook his head. Nope, not boring. Not boring at all.
**
Two hours later, Willow Rosenberg awoke from a trance-like state with a start. She found herself sitting in front of her mirror in her bedroom, dressed in her pale lavender nightgown.
Facing her tired reflection, she gingerly ran her fingers through her hair to sooth the messy red strands that stuck out angrily from all sides. Flinching slightly, she looked down at her palm, only to find it torn and blistered.
Trembling, Willow turned slowly and glanced at her alarm clock, trying to hold back her gasp of horror as she gazed at the red numbers proclaiming the time.
One week.
Seven nights.
Each night, she had woken up to find herself in the exact same position at the exact same time.
Each night, she had been plagued by only the vaguest memories of where she'd been or what she'd done.
Each night, she'd prayed that the few scraps of memories she retained were really just dreams.
Her eyes filled with tears as she rose quietly so as not to disturb her parents. Clutching her injured hand, she slowly made her way into the bathroom.
She bit back the painful sobs that rose in the back of her throat as her salty tears splashed down upon the raw blistered skin of her palm.
She now had proof.
This was no dream.
**
Outside, a lone man stood inconspicuously across the street, staring up at a teenage girl's window.
Lighting another cigar, he calmly dragged on it while tugging the worn fedora on his head further down over his eyes.
He waited until her light went out and the sun had risen fully into the sky before he walked away, whistling softly into the retreating darkness.
PART TWO
Squinting at the brightness of the computer screen in the pitch black of her room, Willow leaned forward to adjust the contrast. Still somewhat daunted by the events of the past week, she'd spent most of the afternoon and all of the evening checking up on local newspapers for unexplained crimes or disappearances. So far, she'd checked both Sunnydale as well as the surrounding towns lying within a 50 mile radius and had come up with nothing beyond the occasional vampire attack disguised as gang violence. Stretching, she rubbed her neck tiredly and fingered the gold cross she'd taken to wearing these past few days At least I know I'm not one of them… It was raining outside. Sheets of cold hard pellets battered against the pavement and lawns outside making Willow all the happier that she'd chosen to stay in tonight. Feeling a bit awkward, she'd declined Buffy's offer to 'go Bronzing' in order to catch up on some long overdue 'work'. After enduring a few playful jibes from Xander over her studiousness on a Friday night, she'd quietly excused herself from the library and beat a hasty retreat home.
It was nearly midnight and a familiar unsettled feeling invaded the pit of her stomach as she glanced at her clock. She had begun to truly dread going to sleep. It's the weekend…maybe I can just stay up all night… Sighing, she buried her head in her hands Yeah. Maybe I can stay up all night for tonight. But I'll have to sleep at some point. Although she'd been reluctant to do it for fear of finding out that whatever was happening to her was evil or irreversible, Willow knew she had no choice.
Tomorrow, I go see Giles.
**
"Time check." Xander yelled over the blare of the music as he sat down at the tiny corner table.
"12:15" his blonde companion reaffirmed after a glance at the delicate silver watch around her wrist.
"Hah. And the night is still young!" He pounded on the table jubilantly, "45 minutes til' curfew. Wanna dance?"
"Can't. I patrol in 15 minutes. I want to make an appearance nice and fresh. The vampires, they like." She smiled at him brightly. "I'd invite you to come with me but a. You might get hurt and b. I'm out until 4 which is way past your bedtime, Xander."
"Well, if Willow had come along, I could have used her as a sleepover alibi and none of us would even HAVE stupid curfews." He responded in irritation.
"Xander, with or without Willow, if your parents had the slightest clue of what went on around here, you'd be home-schooled."
"That's besides the point."
"Come on, SkyHawk, I'll walk you home."
"Could you PLEASE not call me that?"
Snorting, she shook her head, "Geez Xander, a litt- Oh crap." Her eyes widened at the sight of the short man standing near the back entrance of the club.
"What?" Xander followed her gaze, "You know him?"
"Yes." She responded sourly, "Wait here. I'll be right back."
As she rapidly made her way towards him, they made eye contact. He sent her a lazy smile and she had to resist the urge to slap him silly. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"
"Nice to see you too, blondie."
"Is it Angel? What's going on?"
"Nope. Not Angel. And you don't need to worry, I was just leaving." Turning away from her, he pushed the door open.
"Whistler, where is he?" she said, just loud enough for him to hear.
Shaking his head, the demon turned back and shrugged, "Safe. For once, he's safe. I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you. I really do gotta go."
Nodding slowly, she blinked back the tears in her eyes as she watched him leave, the rusty metal door creaking shut behind him.
**
"I will stay up, I will stay up, I will stay up." Willow whispered the mantra softly to herself as she hopped up and down to invigorate her exhausted limbs.
Walking back and forth tiredly, she turned her sore, bloodshot eyes distastefully to her computer before moaning in defeat. "I've gotta get out of here. I can't look at my monitor anymore."
Quietly making her way downstairs, she opened up her refrigerator and stared blankly at the contents.
Shutting it, she made her way into her living room and flopped down on the couch. Turning on the television was absolutely out of the question. Her parents would wake up in a matter of seconds. She had tried it once when she was younger with the volume on mute and had been caught within half an hour.
Music? She'd lent her discman to Xander.
Rolling her eyes, she pulled herself back up and walked over to the window. It had stopped raining a while back and the street outside glistened in silent brilliance. Wish I could go for a walk. She stared forlornly out into the night. Too bad I can't cause I'd…well…die.
Just as she was turning away to go upstairs, a man suddenly popped up on the other side of the glass, tapping on it to get her attention. Jumping back, Willow clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle her horrified scream.
'Sorry.' He mouthed from the other side, 'Willow. Open the door.'
Staring numbly at him, she shook her head. A coward, yes. A moron, no.
Sighing, he withdrew a cross from his pocket and held it in his hand up to the window. Then, switching the cross to the other hand, he held up his unscathed palm. 'Open the door. We need to talk.'
Unimpressed, she shook her head again He may not be a vampire but who the heck knows what he might be? A-a warlock or a demon or a-a bug man or something….
Giving her an exasperated look, he searched in his jacket pocket for one last thing. His trump card. Smiling to himself, he pulled out a black hood with a thin black veil over the eye holes and plastered it up to the window.
Within seconds, he heard the click of a door being unlocked. **
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Willow Rosenberg was pretty sure she was going to throw up.
Whistler sighed, and twirled his hat idly on his finger while waiting for her response. He'd been glad that the conditioning had worked and that the sight of the black hood had jogged her memory as to who he was, but it still didn't make the truth any easier for her to handle. Why are they so damn young these days? She's just a kid.
"When do…when do we leave?" She finally managed to gasp out.
"Tomorrow night before sunset." He responded calmly.
"I can't tell anyone, right?"
"No goodbyes." He affirmed, averting his gaze to the opposite wall so as to avoid the silent heave of her shoulders.
The room became deathly quiet as he patiently waited for her to come to terms with her position. As her new mentor, it was his responsibility to not only guide her, but also to allow her time deal with things on her own.
Gingerly, she rubbed the spot right below her left hip. It was almost as if the small circular mark that resided there was now capable of burning her fingers through the thin cotton of her nightgown. She didn't know how she'd missed it so many times before…this tiny mark that now dictated her future and her destiny. Abruptly, Willow stood up and nodded. "How much stuff can I take?" She turned to face him, resolve face firmly into place.
"Whatever you want. Whatever we can carry. They won't be able to find you where we're going." He supressed a smile at her expression Maybe they didn't make a mistake when they chose this one.
Wrapping an arm protectively around her slender waist, she dropped her gaze to the carpet again, "You know…I still have…a ton of questions…."
"They'll have to wait. It'll be dawn in a few hours, Willow. Get some rest. Enjoy today. I'll come pick you up at around 6."
So, it's just that easy for him, huh? she tried to keep the bitterness out of her thoughts but it was hard. "Yeah…" she mumbled softly even though she burned inside from unexpressed anger.
Almost as if sensing her thoughts, he placed a hand on her shoulder, "Thank you, Willow." He whispered softly, "I'll show myself out."
His appreciation startled her slightly and she turned to look at him, but he was already gone.
**
"Could there be another slayer around?" Cordelia cocked her head to one side.
"No, I don't think so," Angel responded thoughtfully, "As far as I know, Faith is still alive and so is Buffy."
"And you're sure it wasn't one of them?" she prodded him gently.
"Positive, Cordy. She was smaller and her technique wasn't quite the same. Watchers tend to train out of the same book. What I saw didn't resemble the product of Council influence."
"Weird." The brunette shrugged, "Well, at least it's a good thing that she was there. She seems to be one of the good guys."
"She is." Offered a voice from the shadows.
Angel's head shot up at the sound and turned to greet the newcomer, "Where have you been? I've been looking for you for the past two days. How do you know ab-,"
"I think congratulations are in order, Angel." Stepping forward, Whistler drew a cigar out of his pocket and passed it to the vampire.
"What are you talki-,"
"You, my friend, are not going to believe this." The smaller demon spoke through clenched teeth as he held his cigar in place while drawing out a lighter.
"Believe what?" Cordelia broke in, "Is this a good believe or a bad believe?
"Angel has a Protector," Whistler responded simply before puffing thoughtfully on the cigar and stepping towards the window.
"A-A…A what?" she demanded.
"I-I…I can't…" if possible, the vampire had gotten paler than normal, "Whistler, what do you mean?"
"Bad believe?" Cordelia guessed.
"Good believe." Whistler corrected, "Very good believe."
Shaking his head vigorously, Angel stood, "No, this isn't right. I thought that only saints and holy men had Protectors. That isn't possible."
Shrugging, Whistler continued to stare out the window, "Well, since a freak snowstorm in California on the night of your attempted suicide wasn't enough to convince you, I guess they tried to go a step further this time around. It should be obvious by now."
"Okay, the snowstorm on Christmas? You had something to do with that?" Cordelia looked at Angel, confused.
"N-no." Angel responded, his throat suddenly dry, "I-I didn't…I mean, even if it did….I mean, it was a lucky coincidence."
"Deny it all you want, kid, it doesn't change the truth."
"And that would be?" Cordelia stared at both men impatiently.
"For all your simpering and brooding about eternal damnation, Angel, someone upstairs is looking out for you. For some reason they've sent someone down here to protect your sorry ass."
Angel didn't respond, dumbfounded.
Chuckling, Whistler glanced at his protégé.
"And let me tell ya, man…she's real cute."