Three years ago…

Kate Beckett had always been drawn to this particular cemetery – at least, over the past decade-plus. At first, her reason for the constant visits was strictly personal; to this point, the detective could walk the path from her squad car to the headstone in question with her eyes closed. Her mother's name carved into the stone was forever etched in her mind.

But over the past two months, since finally discovering what she truly was, Kate's visits to the graveyard were more numerous – at least twice a week – and they were no longer just personal visits.

She still stood vigil over Johanna Beckett's grave, but she did so now with one eye on the rest of the property. Fresh graves were of particular interest to Kate, and on occasion, she managed to intercept a vampire before they could rise, staking them while they were still trying to pull themselves out of the ground.

No such luck tonight. As best as Kate could tell, there were no fresh graves.

So in front of her mother's final resting place, the detective stood, her arms curled against her chest to fend off the nighttime chill. Kate's breath was visible inches from her face, her hazel eyes dark with sadness. No matter how many times she came to this grave, no matter how much time passed since that fateful January night, the pain never lessened.

She felt the weight of her badge on her hip, moments like this making Kate wonder if she was really cut out to be a cop. Sure, she had one of New York City's highest closure rates, and she was the quickest woman ever to make detective, but the reason Kate became a cop – her sole purpose for giving up her dream of serving on the Supreme Court – eluded her.

Twelve years, and she still didn't know who killed her mother. The file – which she had read so many times that she sometimes recited its contents in her sleep – attributed Johanna's death to random gang violence. But that didn't sit well with Kate, no matter what the long-retired John Raglan or anyone else told her.

Near as Kate could tell, her enhanced Slayer abilities didn't make her a better investigator. Just a monster killer.

Her eyes drifted to the right.

"Sneaking up on a cop's a bad idea," she uttered with a straight face, though the tiniest hint of a smile finally crept onto Kate's face. "Can't imagine sneaking up on a Slayer's much better."

Angel emerged from the shadows a grove of trees had afforded him, a sheepish look on his pale face as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black overcoat. His steps were slow, methodical, almost as if he were careful not to disturb the ground as he walked. She saw his dark eyes from under his pronounced brow, the sadness and determination in them.

"Sorry," Angel shrugged as he stood at Kate's side.

"Were you following me?"

"You could say that," Angel said as he cast a sideways glance at Kate. She wasn't looking at him, keeping her gaze straight ahead. "Wanted to check up on you, see how you're coping."

"Coping," Kate repeated, as if she were chewing over the word in her head.

"Yeah, with the Slayer thing."

Kate shrugged. "Not so bad, really. It's actually sorta therapeutic."

Angel frowned. "What—"

"I have a hard job, Angel," Kate interrupted, though her eyes never wavered. "Lotta long hours, stress. In a way, hunting down vampires, killing them…it's a release of sorts."

It wasn't quite the same as having a stiff drink at the end of the day – something she tried not to let herself do all that often, given what happened to her father after Johanna's death – and it definitely wasn't as comforting as coming home to someone else. But for right now, for where Kate Beckett was in her life…being a Slayer, kicking ass was comfort food.

With a nod, Angel fixed his gaze straight ahead…which was when he saw it. What Kate had been staring at since catching him hiding behind the trees. If Angel's heart still beat, he figured it would've skipped one. He cast another sideways glance, tearing his eyes away from the headstone with the name Beckett etched into it.

"Kate…"

"My mother," Kate nodded toward the tombstone. "We were supposed to go to dinner together – my mom, my dad, and I – and she was gonna meet us at the restaurant, but she never showed. Two hours later, we went home, and there was a detective waiting for us. Detective Raglan."

Kate took a deep breath to steady herself. Angel could hear the crack forming in her voice.

"They found her body," Kate continued. "She'd been stabbed."

Angel shook his head. "A robbery?"

Kate shook her head. "She still had her money and purse and jewelry. And it wasn't a sexual assault, either. They attributed it to 'gang violence'." Kate shook her head with a scoff, and Angel could see the tears building in her eyes. "They couldn't think outside the box…so they just tried to package it up nicely. The killer was never caught."

Angel turned his gaze back to the tombstone. "That why you wear the watch?"

Kate lifted her left arm, showing the large black watch on her wrist. "My dad took her death hard. He's sober now." A tiny, sad smile crept onto her face. "Five years. So…this is for the life that I saved. And this…" Kate reached under her shirt to pull a silver chain with a ring on the end of it. "…is for the life that I lost."

Staring at the grave marker again, Angel finally felt like he understood Kate a little bit better. She'd been a mystery to him since the night she showed up in his office, bloodied and wanting answers. How she had fallen through the cracks was beyond Angel, and not even Rupert Giles was sure how she hadn't been on the Council's radar.

If Potentials were spotted in their preteen and teenage years, then the Council should've known about Kate Beckett even back when Buffy Summers was the only Slayer in the world. But there was nothing then, and certainly nothing now that the Council was getting back on its feet and dealing with a world teeming with superpowered demon fighters.

"Vincit omnia veritas," Angel read.

"Truth conquers all," Kate translated. "It was her favorite saying."

Well, wasn't that a tiny dose of irony; Angel couldn't help but smirk at that, turning until he was facing Kate. Seeing the look in her eyes, the way she closed off into herself over the turmoil that clearly still ate at her – Angel suspected that her mother's unsolved case had a lot to do with why Kate had a badge – Angel felt the urge to reach out and comfort her.

But that would've been a bad idea. On so many levels.

"There's, uh," he cleared his throat, "there's another reason I came out here tonight."

Kate finally tore her eyes from the tombstone, looking up at Angel with a look that was part confusion, part dread, and part fascination.

"There's something I need to tell you, Kate, but I need you to promise not to hit me first."

Kate rolled her eyes with a scoff – one that was suspiciously close to a smile. Which, considering they were standing in front of her mother's grave, Angel would take. Kate Beckett fascinated him, and if Angel was being honest with himself, he didn't know how to handle that.

"Angel, unless you're about to tell me you killed my mom, I think you'll be okay."

With a sigh, trying to rid himself of the last of his reluctance, Angel stood in front of Kate, positioning himself between the detective and the grave in order to get her full attention. Once she looked right up into his dark eyes, Angel curled his hands into fists – which was the point his face transformed.

Eyes turned yellow, bloodshot. His eyebrows gave way to harsh, defined ridges – pale lumps of flesh that smelled faintly of death. With Angel's mouth open, his fangs were noticeable, especially under the light of the full moon.

Kate took a step back with a gasp, her right hand instinctively reached for the stake hidden in her jacket. Angel placed his hands in front of himself in half-defense, half-surrender, but instead of grabbing for her stake, Kate lunged forward, tackling Angel as they both toppled over the headstone that bore her mother's name.

Before Angel could yell in protest, Kate's fist collided with his nose, breaking it. Another punch, then another…before Kate finally reached into her coat and pulled out her stake, her teeth gritted together and her breath ragged.

"You're one of them?!" she snarled.

"No!" Angel protested, though the demonic visage on his face said otherwise. "Okay, I am, but I can expl—"

With a grunt, Kate jammed the stake into Angel's left shoulder, lifting from her crouch and drawing her gun. As Angel sputtered and grunted in pain, reaching for the chunk of wood piercing through his skin, he felt the barrel of the gun against his adam's apple.

"I know you won't die if I pull the trigger," she said. "But it'll hurt." Kate cocked the weapon. "So…tell me the truth, Angel. Why are you tailing me?"

"I told you," Angel countered, releasing his grip on the stake and putting his hands up in surrender again as his face returned its human form. "Yes, I'm a vampire, but…" He sighed. There was really no way to say this without sounding incredibly hokey.

"I have a soul."

Kate arched a disbelieving brow. "Meaning?"

"Your typical vampire is a soulless monster setting up shop in a dead body," Angel explained, gritting as his shoulder throbbed in pain. "I used to be the same way. But I ate the wrong people once and they cursed me with a soul."

"So you're a good vampire now." Kate shook her head.

"More or less," Angel grit his teeth. "You're not the first Slayer I've worked with. And besides…" The vampire grunted and struggled against the weapon still buried in his shoulder. "Have you ever heard of an evil vampire who runs a PI firm?"

Grabbing the stake, Kate pulled it out of Angel, ignoring his pained grunt once the wound was exacerbated. She stood and pocketed the weapon before grabbing Angel's good hand to lift him back to his feet.

"Til a few months ago, I'd never heard of vampires period."

"Touche'."

Angel staggered alongside Kate as she left the cemetery, pausing long enough to place a loving hand atop Johanna Beckett's grave. He could feel the wound healing as they walked, and in all of his years, Angel would never get used to the physical sensation of a wound patching itself up.

"I'm sorry," he broke the silence. "About your mother."

"Don't be." Kate shrugged, opening the door to her squad car. "You're a PI, right? Help me."

Realization washed over Angel's pale features. "Kate…"

"You have resources I don't," Kate pleaded. "Maybe you can use your…I don't know, status to get to places and talk to people I can't. Please…" The detective crossed over to where Angel stood, grabbing the lapels of his coat. "I have exhausted every official avenue I have, and I keep coming up empty."

Gently removing Kate's hands from his coat, Angel gave her a look that was equal parts apologetic and sympathetic. "Kate, I…I can't. I can't help you like that."

"What, you don't think I can afford you?" Kate shook her head.

"No." Angel glanced over his shoulder at the rows of tombstones. "Kate, the only way I would take this case was if I could deliver the murderer for you. I can't promise that. I'm not about to tell you I can do something I'm not sure I can do."

Anger flared in Kate's eyes. "Angel…"

"You have a badge because of her, right?" When Kate nodded, Angel took another step toward her. "You gave up whatever dream you had to get justice for your mother, and twelve years later…nothing. That's a pain I can't imagine, Kate, and I don't want to add to it.

"Look…" he added with a sigh. "I'll help you with the Slayer stuff. Monster research, weapons training, occult training, I'm your guy. But I can't help you with this."

Before Kate had a chance to react, Angel turned and walked off into the cold night air, his coat billowing behind him as his hands once again found station in the pockets. He ignored the roar of the engine and the squealing of tires as Kate drove off, undoubtedly furious at him – and to a degree, Angel was mad at himself.

But he couldn't bring himself to take on that case, because if he failed – if he hit all the same dead ends that she did – he wouldn't know how to handle it. Saving people was a lot easier when it was strangers. Helping the helpless was a noble mission when the helpless were people he'd never see again.

But Kate Beckett? The last thing Angel wanted to do was fail her.