Disclaimer: The characters or themes mentioned from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this project.

Thanks: To Kathryn and 2zen2 for their amazing ninja-editing skills.

Prologue

America

January 1, 1900

"Are you in bed, sweetheart?" a woman's voice sounded through the door. "Yes, Mama!" her daughter shouted as she scampered away from her bedroom window and dove underneath the coverlet. Mama opened the door and poked her head in doubtfully. "You'll be getting up in the morning with the rest of us," Mama reminded her. "I know, Mama," the girl replied, "I'm already asleep." Mama smiled softly to herself and retired to her own bed.

As soon as the girl heard Mama's bedroom door close, she scrambled out of bed. After slipping into shoes and wrapping an overcoat around her nightgown, she returned to the window she unlatched when Mama interrupted and continued with her escape. As soon as the frame swung open, the girl lifted one leg, then the other, over the sill and let her feet connect with a jutting branch from the ancient oak tree that grew next to the side of her house.

The tree was so familiar to her she could pick her way down to the ground within the span of a minute. Tonight the girl felt she made her way down the tree with unusual ease. The moon must be especially bright tonight, she decided. The darkness didn't seem quite so oppressive.

Now her mission was to find the hairpin she wore that night to the New Year's Eve party. Mama had given it to her as an early birthday present so she could wear it to the party, and now she'd gone and lost it. Mama would never give her pretty things again if she knew her daughter had lost the hairpin!

Luckily she knew roughly where the bauble had fallen out. Halfway back from the party, trailing slowly behind their mother, she and her younger sister had started giving each other little pinches on the arm. Predictably, one pinched too hard and the other retaliated. Their little teasing pinches turned into more violent smacks and pokes.

Mama turned around after her little sister had given her a particularly hard whack to the back of her head. The girl might be the older of the two, but by some twist of fate she wasn't much taller, putting her head within whacking distance of the younger girl's hand. Mama called impatiently for them to hurry up and stop dawdling, which sent the two girls sprinting in a race to see who could get home first. The older sister won, of course.

She spotted the lost hairpin near where her sister had knocked it loose. She grinned triumphantly and swooped to pick it up. The grin and feeling of relief vanished as soon as the girl stood up. She suddenly felt uneasy. Why had she thought wandering around town, alone no less, at two o'clock in the morning, an hour when men made bold by too much liquor left the last of the parties and made their way home, was such a good idea?

"Bit late to be out, girl." Startled, she gasped and spun around. The man in front of her didn't look drunk at all, but he had the same smile and the same feral glint to his eyes that every mother warned her daughters about.

"I was just heading home," she replied, hardly succeeding in keeping a tremor out of her voice.

"Not anymore." The man grinned and then did something with his face that she had never seen before. The bone beneath his skin seemed to change as his brow shifted downward and the bridge of his nose widened. The overall effect created the illusion of a much wider space between the man's eyes, an animalistic trademark.

As the man reached for the girl, she felt something rising inside her along with the terror. Her entire body felt like it was going to catch fire, and she fleetingly wondered if she would do just that if she didn't somehow move. She also had the strangest feeling of déjà vu. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, but the situation seemed so familiar.

Without thinking, she put her hands up and shoved at the man right before his hands made contact with her neck. Both were surprised when the man was forcefully propelled back and landed on the ground five feet away. He wasn't nearly as fazed by it as she was, though, because in an instant he was up again and backhanded her across the face. She cried out and cupped her cheek

The mantra playing in her head like a scratched record was I can't die like this, I can't die like this. She squeezed her eyes shut…

…and felt a gust of wind run across her face and through her hair. Eyes open wide now, she saw her attacker wrestling on the ground with a larger man. They were both snarling like rabid dogs, but the girl was too shocked to even think of escaping. The larger man that had intervened was a more efficient brawler; within thirty seconds of tackling the girl's attacker he had gotten a fistful of hair and bashed the other man's head into the ground until he stopped moving.

He stood up and turned towards her and the girl got her first good look at him. He was by all means handsome, with dark brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. Broad shoulders framed a strong build that would have made him appear stocky except for his height. He stood at least two and a half heads taller than her. He appeared handsome, indeed, but even more so he appeared dangerous. She could only pray that his intentions for rescuing her were good.

The man approached her slowly, holding his hands out in a gesture of supplication. He stopped right in front of her and held her gaze as he reached into an inner pocked of his calf-length grey coat. The girl expected him to pull out something threatening, like a gun or a knife. Instead, he pulled out an expertly carved length of wood. It was a twelve-inch long cylinder that tapered off at the end to form a sharp point. She supposed it could be used to hurt her, but it was so unexpected that she forgot all about being afraid as she stared at the man in confusion.

"What," she began, but just as she started to speak, the girl saw the man she had presumed to be dead clamor to his feet. She took a step backwards in preparation to turn and run, but the man in front of her pressed the wood into her hand and then moved behind her. The girl looked from the object in her hands to the crude looking man running towards her and vaguely realized that she should do something with it.

Before she could decide what, the charging man was upon her. The terror right before her certain death ripped through her again, but once again the dark man intervened. She felt one hand rest on her shoulder and the other wrap around her own gripping the wood. In a sudden jerk he brought their hands holding the wood up and outwards, so that the charging attacker impaled himself on the pointed end.

The girl watched the wood sink in to his chest and felt the shock of resistance run up her arm. She was all at once relieved to have defended herself and horrified that she had hurt the man. Then he crumbled into ash and sprinkled over the ground.

She turned to the man that had saved her, confused and no longer caring who he was. "My name's Angel," he told her, but she wasn't really listening to him.

"What's this?" she asked, gesturing towards the carved wood in her hand, but meaning much more than that. Angel smiled slightly.

"This is the dawn of a new era."

Chapter 1

Sunnydale, 1999

Staff Sergeant Hayes was not a man known for his sensitivity, especially towards rookies. Everyone who worked at the compound was a rookie for their first few years, regardless of their previous military experience. They saw things that would have boys in the Army quaking in their boots. Staff Hayes was a Vietnam veteran himself, but very few people had been at the compound long enough to remember his rookie days. He'd been involved with the project almost since it started, nearly two decades ago.

To say that in the years since Hayes had signed up with The Initiative, he'd only gone from a squad agent to a noncommissioned officer, would be a disregardful presumption. Hayes had repeatedly been recommended for commission, but he always staunchly insisted that he remain in his position as Staff Sergeant. He knew he'd only ever be satisfied in a noncom position, working directly with his squad and pushing his men to their limits, and then some. It was a well known fact in the compound that Staff Hayes' men made the most proficient field agents.

All this contributed to the god-like invulnerability his men, and superiors, saw in him.

That was why, when Agent Riley Finn saw Staff Hayes discreetly dab at the corners of his eyes in the middle of a debriefing, he knew something life-changing was about to happen.

Riley slipped out of the debriefing room as soon as his presence was no longer needed, and fell into step with Graham as a group of soldiers passed by and made their way down to the locker rooms. "Have you seen Hayes?" he asked his friend.

"No," Graham replied monotonously, and then looked at him with more interest.

"Why, you lookin' for him?"

"No," Riley replied, debating how much he could tell his friend with out disrespecting Hayes.

"He just seemed distracted, that's all."

"As long as the Staff isn't paying attention to me, I'm happy."

Riley and Graham reached their lockers, located directly opposite each other in one of the many rows of tall, gray standard metal doors. As each man reached his locker, they began the routine process of stripping off their military gear.

"Who's distracted?" Forrest asked from behind his own locker, next to Riley.

"Hayes," he replied as he unclipped his thermal scanner from his utility belt. As a rule of thumb, the most expensive equipment was put up first.

Forrest was in Staff Sergeant Hayes' squad. He had more contact with Hayes than both Riley and Graham combined. "He's being transferred," Forrest supplied nonchalantly. "Apparently the Special Ops mission down in South America hasn't been going smoothly. They need somebody good to lead a damage control team down there."

"And Hayes has to go?" Riley made it a question.

"Yeah, if he'd accepted a promotion…" Forrest hesitated, "the Staff Sergeant would have gone anyway. He knows where he's needed."

Riley noticed the lack of emotion in Forrest's voice. He displayed no signs of an opinion about the fact that his squad leader was being transferred, although Riley hadn't been there when Forrest first received the news. He realized then that his friend liked the hard-ass Hayes. His lack of expression was a product of his admiration for the Staff's strict sense of duty and unrelenting standards. Forrest's fellow squad members would most likely be popping the champagne later tonight. Riley wondered if Forrest was invited.

He glanced at Graham when he spoke up and saw that the other soldier understood. "What's so bad about leaving Sunnydale? I would have thought he'd be glad to get out of this science experiment and into some real heat."

"He would," Forrest agreed, "but he's got a woman here in Sunnydale." The two other soldiers did a comical double-take, but Forrest didn't notice. "That just goes to show what guys like us can expect from getting involved with a normal girl." Forrest slammed his locker shut with the palm of his hand and stalked off towards the elevator. One of the benefits of living directly above The Initiative's entrance was you could skip the facility showers and head up to the comfort of your own bathroom.

"He didn't mean anything by that," Graham said quietly.

"Huh?" Riley intoned, not understanding.

"That girl you've been chasing, what was her name again?"

"Buffy. And I haven't been 'chasing' her," Riley said defensively.

To Riley, Graham sounded like he was speaking of the girl as a piece of meat to be slobbered over and chased by hungry dogs, hungry horny dogs. One thing Riley didn't do was objectify women.

Graham ignored his friend's indignation. "You know Forrest. He's just afraid of commitment." It was partly true. Riley had enough experience being a Psych 101 TA to identify his friend's callous behavior towards women. Forrest feared the type of intimacy that came from loving another person. That's why he bed-hopped around campus and never made the promised "call back." It's why he ruined every relationship he had with a girl who could have made him happy, and why he vehemently insisted that the only good use for a girl was as a piece of ass.

"I tried to set him up with Lisa, y'know, the cute nurse, but I don't think he even looked at her," Graham continued.

"Lisa's a lesbian."

"Really? Are you sure?" He paused and looked at Riley. "Of course you're sure."

Riley sighed, "I'll see you later upstairs. I've got to see Professor Walsh before I go."

"Right," Graham nodded and Riley left the locker room.

The science labs were on the opposite end of the complex than the locker rooms. Generally, soldiers and scientists didn't mix. Riley thought of them as different parts of a larger, more complex Initiative machine. The soldiers were the engine, the power source. They did the dangerous work that kept the Initiative running in its stock of demons, providing the fuel for the Initiative project. The scientists and lab workers were cogs in the wheel that turned the fuel into energy with their experiments and progress that drove the Initiative closer and closer to success. They had little in common, except for the desire to create a better world.

Riley had met Professor Walsh before he moved to Sunnydale. In fact, she was the reason he was there, working at the Initiative base. Maggie Walsh had been at a military training base in Iowa three and a half years ago, posing as a weapons inspector. In reality, she was sealing a business transaction with one of the lower ranking generals who had invented the wireless taser-blasters that Initiative field agents used for capture missions, but Riley hadn't known that at the time. He also hadn't known that he'd caught Professor Walsh's eye as he escorted her through a tour of the base. But apparently, he had, because two months later he was offered a full scholarship at UC Sunnydale and residence in a local fraternity.

Riley stopped at the door to the HST holding hallway and punched in the six digit code. The door unlocked with a buzz and he began briskly down the hallway. The hallway could hold 200 HSTs, each in their own five by five foot cell. Professor Walsh's office was close to the end of the hall. Being one of the few field agents to actually converse with the scientists on a regular basis, Riley knew that the further down the hall one went, the further away from the bustle of soldiers, generals, supply trucks and the like, the significance of the projects increased.

He was almost at Professor Walsh's door, when something made him halt in his tracks. He thought he had seen something, but what was it? He'd had no conscious thought when he stopped, just the impression that he'd gotten a glimpse of something important. Riley looked around confusedly, and then he saw her. Buffy.

She was sitting cross-legged on the white paneled floor of a HST containment cell, resting against the back wall and looking at him with the same surprise he was feeling. He noticed she was wearing the same clothes he'd seen her in Friday night, faded blue jeans and a yellow camisole with lacy trim underneath a light blue sweater. She was in Professor Walsh's evening Psych 101 class, the same one he was a TA in. It was just last night that he ran into her after he left at the Espresso Pump, and they'd had decaf coffee together. Riley could even remember what she ordered, a decaf white chocolate latte with skim milk and no whip cream. He'd seen her just last night, human and bubbling with life. What had happened after he left her?

Riley was pulled out of his stunned state by Professor Walsh's door opening. "Agent Finn, I was starting to wonder where you were!" she exclaimed, and gestured him inside her office. His eyes flickered back to Buffy, who was watching him intently, but he followed Professor Walsh into her office without a word.

She shut the door behind them, and turned to face him with a rare smile on her face. "I need you to do me a favor, Riley. The HST database network has crashed again and I have to go get it back online so the squad instructors can put together their presentation on how to capture Polgaras. I need you to take the test tubes off the burner once they start to boil and then leave them in the rack."

Riley nodded and gave her a "yes ma'am" before she was out the door.

It didn't take long for the clear liquid inside the test tubes to bubble, less than 30 seconds, in fact, and Riley realized he didn't have any prongs. He stepped out of Professor Walsh's office and went into the supply room across the hall. He smelled smoke immediately. The hallway security camera attendant was perched on top of a crate taking a smoking break.

"Hey," Riley barked, and the guard jumped to his feet.

"Sir," he began, but Riley cut him off coolly, "Get back to your post before I report you." The guard fumbled to put out his cigarette, and raced out the door.

In any other case, Riley would have reported the guard, but in all honesty the position was hardly needed. Nothing had ever broken out of the Initiative.

He grabbed a pair of tongs off the shelf and turned around. His eyes fell on Buffy again, sitting there, looking so out of place in the blanch containment cell. She was a Hostile now, but how? Something must have happened to her last night, after he left her. A vampire got her and turned her into a thing like itself, and it was his fault because he didn't walk her home from the Espresso Pump. She said she lived off campus.

Riley felt an overriding guilt for failing her, for failing the Initiative, and the need to apologize to her became the most important thing. He glanced at the negligent security guard, who was still hurrying down the long hallway back to his post. In the back of his mind, Riley knew what he was doing was a very, very bad idea. He punched in the code to Buffy's cell door.

The Plexiglas door slid open with a quiet swoosh, and for the span of several seconds, a moment that felt like hours to Riley, Buffy just stared at him. Wide green eyes with tinges of hazel stared up at him with the most open, yet somehow unreadable expression. Then, in a flurry of movement, she was on her feet and darting past him.

"Wait!" He reached for her and caught his hand on her charm bracelet. Buffy didn't stop, and the bead clasp on her bracelet snapped. Little clay beads went flying everywhere.

"Hey!" she yelled angrily and turned back to him, giving Riley a flash of her white teeth. Her canines were elongated. Riley suddenly remembered what he had been told in the debriefing room less than an hour ago. They thought they had found a new breed of vampire. One that blended in more easily with humans. One that didn't have the telltale facial deformities. Like Buffy.

Riley watched the girl crawl around on the floor, looking for something off her bracelet. I really should be doing something, he thought. But what? She was still Buffy, the peculiar girl who had recently captured his heart. Stopping her, putting her back in that cell, just seemed wrong. So he just stood there dumbly and watched.

The security guard, however, appeared to have recovered his motivation. He was running towards them with his gun already out. Just before he reached them, Buffy apparently found whatever it was she was looking for and started in the opposite direction. She plowed right into the guard before she was even fully standing, sending him sprawling to the ground as she stumbled before breaking into an all out run.

The guard panicked and fired several blind shots down the hallway before Riley disarmed him. He looked back up just in time to see Buffy slipping into the ventilation system.

"You want to keep your job?" Riley asked the security guard as several people came running down the hallway.

"Yes, sir," the guard answered nervously.

"Good," he replied tersely. "You were changing the tapes when this happened. None of this was recorded. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."