I started writing this back in 1999, before "Angel" had started, and before I had a clue how the series was going to work, or what characters were going to be involved.

Disclaimer: As usual, the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily.

Hope you enjoy (and I'll post more chapters soon)!

CHAPTER ONE

Los Angeles.

City of Angels.

Maybe it had been once. Now, it was like any other city: over-populated, dirty, and wrapped in the smog that enveloped it like a cloud. On the streets at night, enough evil was mixed in with the good that it would be easy to mistake it for a mystical convergence of dark energy. Strange, then, that the one she sought had moved away from such a place to come here.

She moved stealthily through the dark alleys, following the sound of voices, until she came to an opening. Keeping herself in the shadows, she watched, knowing she had found him. Smiling slightly at the irony, she reflected it was stranger still he bore the name of the city he had moved to: Angel.

# # #

Angel had the uncanny feeling he was being watched. Unused to being the prey - weren't vampires supposed to be hunters? - it made him uneasy and on edge.

He finished talking to the wino - amazing the information their drunken ramblings gave out - and sent him on his way, watching bemused, at the wobbly path the man walked without seeming to realise it.

His face darkened. He had been like that once: a drunken lout. Well, he had got his comeuppance in a way he'd never imagined. It was only through a curse that he still retained his soul. But it would never truly be his. It could be taken from him in a second if he achieved true happiness... like that night...

Angel swallowed, and pushed away the memory. He had let her go and that was the end of it. They could never have a normal life together; he knew it beyond a doubt. But that didn't make the pain go away and it didn't stop his love for her. No, he would never stop loving her.

How long ago had he left Sunnydale? 2, 3 years? She had been 18 then. Now, he didn't even known if she was still alive...

Roughly, he pushed his thoughts aside. It was dangerous to think of her. And he had other things to do.

As he started to move out of the alley, he felt it again. Eyes watching him. He stopped, and slowly turned around, scanning the area around him, trying to peer into the shadows.

"Who's there?" he called into the seemingly empty alley.

No one responded, but the sensation of being watched remained. Angel felt anger begin to rise. If someone wanted to talk to him, why did they always have to play games? Darla had done much the same thing, and she had lost the game. Whistler had too, but he still lived. The fate of the Watcher was as yet uncertain.

"It'll be dangerous for you unless you show yourself," he threatened, his voice soft, but with strength beneath it.

He waited, wondering what would happen. For a moment, nothing did. Then, he heard footsteps approaching from an alley adjoining the one he was in.

"Ah," said a voice that sounded oh-so familiar, "but it might be dangerous for me TO show myself - did you ever think of that?" There was a mock sigh. "But since you insist."

A figure stepped out of the shadows, blonde hair swept up into a ponytail with a few strands loose here and there.

Looking at the petite woman before him, Angel couldn't speak, couldn't even move.

But she could.

She walked towards him, stopping an arm's length away. The teasing smile she'd been wearing faded away to leave just a small smile, but one with sadness behind it.

"Hello, Angel," she said. "Remember me?"