If Lorne had time he would be temped to spit on the corpse in front of him.

This particular breed of demon is one of the more ungracious ones that decides that it is better to not dissolve and save it's killers the task of disposing of it's body. Lorne is beyond caring however. Wolfram and Hart wouldn't have had the chance to freeze all his assets and Vegas has always had a piece of his heart (literally of course. Sacrifices must be made and it was the best way to get a start-up on Caritas. When you've got no social security number, green skin and horns it's harder to get a liquor licence). New starts and new beginnings beckon. Lorne takes one final look at Lindsey and still cannot understand why he gave up the chance to escape Wolfram and Hart.

Lindsey gives it a good half-hour until he wakes up. The half-hour is spent in reflection. Dreams do that.

Obey the speed laws. Be a courteous driver. Don't give the cops an excuse to pull you over.

The "Cops Suck" sign on the back didn't really help.

"Yeah, that was my bad." Angel lurches on the passenger seat. He starts rooting through the glove compartment and pulls out a small bag. "Cola cube?"

Lindsey shakes his head. "Suit yourself." He knows that Angel hasn't put on his safety belt and is oh-so tempted to hit the brakes at 60. "So what are you. My conscience? Little Jimmy Cricket? Cause, you know, that little killing spree you did for what, 150 years as 'Scourge of Europe' doesn't really look good on your CV."

"I'm just here to make sure you're doing the right thing."

"For myself or you?"

"Um, both. That'll do."

"That the PTB talking or you?"

"Hey, this is your dream. You work it out."

"That it was your fault that the cops pulled me over, noticed that a detective wanted to talk to me and said detective worked for my former employers?"

"Yeah." Angel looks sheepish. Maybe this dream isn't so bad after all.

"And it's your fault I got forced into that little ultermatum of work for us again or we'll kill you, your entire family and a good 10-square miles of land as well?"

"Protecting the Earth? How noble of you to spare desert and sacrifice people to demons."

"I watched Captain Planet."

"Excuses excuses." Stuff it. See if souls give vampires protection against concrete at 80mph.

"And there was the little thing about the contract. That one that extends beyond death."

"So you want pity? Poo-poo, I sold my soul for money and power, poo-poo!"

100mpg. The truck can make that.

"And you compromised yourself, working for the people you've been fighting against for the past few years. I made my mistakes and tried to fix them. You've made your own, did terrible things;" Angel tries to interrupt but he's on a roll, "with a soul I might add."

"Such as?"

"Lock vampires in with Manners and 50 other people for them to feed on. They killed his wife you know. Great woman. Helped out at care-homes."

"Manners had to die. I'd hoped Darla would have killed you too. Letting his wife die was probably a mercy. Any more?"

"Torture a man in his 80's so that he would remember how to unlock a door to save a child."

"That was different."

"And why was that different? I know he needed to be prompted, the only way he could remember how to do it was to ritualistically break his arm, but you still did it. And did you feel regret?"

"It was the only way..."

"No it wasn't! Save the child, be the hero! Damn the consequences! Did you apologise? Did you pay his medical bills?" Angel hangs his head. "Did you even visit? No you didn't! Vampire with a soul. Oh so special. Will regain mortality when he makes up for all the suffering he's caused! Well go back in time and kill Darla before she turns you! Have the decency to die in a ditch choking on your own vomit! Without this whole self-righteousness thing you've got going you're nothing! You can't make up for what you've done! Everyone you hurt is either dead or mad."

"Drusilla."

"Not helped her have you? Or put her out of everyone's misery. Did you know that she ate half an orphanage last week? No, you didn't read that memo did you?"

"What!" That pulled him out of brood-mode.

"The firm kept tabs on her for years. How do you think I found her for Darla? You could have killed her ever since you joined up. But you never used it for what it was. A resource to be used. She's one of the regulars in the circulars. Manners hoped she'd turn up for a company picnic one day. We pick and choose our own battles, but never, ever, call up on us for fulfilling our promises. We all do the best we can Angel. Every single one of us. Sometimes it means not doing something else just as important, if not more. Sometimes it just means picking the lesser of two evils."

"Or the greater."

"I guess we can agree on that. I'm a lot of things Angel. I might be a lawyer but I'm not a hypocrite."

There's silence for a minute. Lindsey puts a tape on. The Man Comes Around blares through the speakers. Angel doesn't like Johnny Cash and his face shows it. "Not a fan?"

"He killed Personal Jesus" and Angel reaches into his coat and pulls the contract out.

"Not his best. Mine I believe?"

"Null and void. Killing the Sahrvin Clan gets you off the dental plan. Though you might need it after they get through with you."

"Which is your part of OUR deal. KiIl Wolfram and Hart."

"I might not be able to honour that part of the deal."

"You'll try though."

"I guess so. Then I'll hunt you down and kill you."

"Any reason?"

"Brining back Spike from the dead for one. You might have killed Cordellia."

"Big might."

Again there's pause. "I'll give you a head-start at least. A year or two. Do some good and I might let you live."

"Mighty big of you."

"Don't screw up this new start Lindsey. Or I will kill you."

"I know you will." Lindsey takes the contract and quickly writes on the back. Signs it with blood. Hands it back. Puts his hands back on the wheel and is glad it's just a dream. The traffic would kill him.

"I solemnly swear I will do good?"

"I'm paraphrasing Harry Potter."

"Not a good start."

"Got how many kids reading?"

"Still evil." The tape screeches a bit. Ring of Fire starts playing.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Make sure my folks are safe. Start a ranch. There's something I want to do though. Something no-one else has done yet."

"And what's that?" And at 120 mpg Lindsey hits the breaks.

Angel lives up to his namesake and flys. The window shatters and he lands a good ten metres in front. Lindsey follows through and drives over him. Just as well the suspension in the dream-truck is good. Must be from watching all those repeats of Pimp my Ride. He gets out and grabs his guitar. Angel struggles to get up. "Don't bother trying. It's my dream." To prove his point, if only to himself, Lindsey imagines. If he could look in a mirror, Angel would see he had bunny ears. "Besides, it's not as if it's going to be easy." Angel snorts and tries to push himself up.

Not so easy when you're missing a hand.

Angel struggles to reach it and it turns to ash when he finally does. Lindsey smashes the guitar over him. Every break on the wood is reflected on Angels body. Lindsey would probably say something witty if this wasn't so cathartic for him. Finally only the neck remains.

"This isn't really me you know."

"You've looked better."

"Do good, okay?"

"I'll do something."

"Better than nothing."

"See you in a year?"

"See you in a year. Now do what Johnny Cash would do."

The neck hits home and Angel disintegrates. Ash floats and rises in the night. Lindsey wakes up. Finally allows himself to flex his muscles. Reaches into his pack and replaces the shirt he wore with a clean one. Ink from squibs would never come off. Dusts of the kevlar armour. Reaches into his pack and takes out some Semtex. One final job and away. Meet someone in a year. If he survives. Stock-up on holy water just in case.

The sewers smell but are great for shelter from the sun. Somehow everyone is still alive. Illiria wants to return topside but Angel somehow persuades her otherwise. He's brooding. Let him brood. Lesser beings need to recuperate. Return from the battle in a few hours time. Maybe there will be a challenge. Let him have his victory over her. She'll kill more.

Angel pulls out a small torch and pulls out a file. Flicks past wood-cuttings and sketches, finally a computer graphic of Drusilla. Half an orphanage eaten. Half turned.

Sighs and tries to rest. Survive. Live another day. Track her down. Maybe Willow could help her. She's restored souls before. Maybe she could help Drusilla. She'd be an asset. At least give her some peace. It would be his fault if he killed her and she went to a hell for her actions that weren't her fault. There's also a man who helped him save a child. He couldn't face him; not after snapping his limb over and over, watching him beg him to stop, not looking up to let him see the doubt in his own eyes. He'd get some money at least. Some compensation at least for the constant pain. Least he could do. And again he's reminded that he's got so much to be sorry for.

"We rest an hour. Then we move on." The others agree. Recuperate. Live another day.

Angel scouts ahead. Walks past a puddle. Swears in his reflection he had bunny ears.