Prolog:
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Annie watched Spike saunter down the street, a bag of ammo at his side. Three hours. He had come into her life and gone again in three hours. She'd never see him again, she told herself, at least not alive. Vicious would be the death of him. Of them all probably. Certainly of Mao. Poor Mao. Vicious couldn't even be charged with the crime. The body was missing, and only Chan and the other dead Dragons in the room were to be found, their blood spilt everywhere.
She went back into the store, slamming the door behind her. "Pain in the ass!" She said. Grabbing a bottle, she started to pour another drink, then changed her mind. She pushed the glass off the counter, sending it straight to the floor with a shatter. Instead, she drank straight from the bottle.
Pain in the ass, She thought again. Why'd he come to me? And why'd he call me that name? That person is…
Her thoughts stopped before the last word. No, not dead. That was something Spike would say. Not dead, but certainly not living anymore.
Annie narrowed her eyes and took another long drink. Dammit! When did my life go to Hell anyway?
The last one she could answer. It started fifteen years ago. Fifteen years, two months and seventeen days…