Beginning Note From Raith: Picks up immediately after Season 3 Episode 22 of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, better known as the graduation episode. More info at the end of the chapter.

Part I: The Introduction

Chapter I: Hit The Brakes

Perspective: Grace

Despite the seriousness of her current mission, Grace couldn't help the way she kept dozing. She was tucked in tight against the side of a ditch, with her head peeking up just enough to see down the dark road, but waiting was boring. It wasn't like she was looking forward to her new mission, she'd been dreading it for months and maybe even her entire life if she really stopped to think about it, but she didn't want to fall asleep and miss the entire thing. How embarrassing would that be? All of her ancestors would laugh at her, if she managed to sleep through her great destiny. (Was this her great destiny? Sweet Gods, she hoped this wasn't the greatest part of her destiny because that would just be the worst.) Still, if she took a nap in this ditch and missed her moment, her ancestors would switch between howling laughter and enraged curses. The witch side and the demon side. Wait, could her ancestors actually curse her from the other side? She was fairly sure they were all in Hell dimensions. Could curses slip through dimensions?

–have to leave–

The whisper of thoughts caught her attention, finally pulled her out of her own circling thoughts, and she pressed her elbows into the dry grass as she lifted her head. Headlights swept into her line of sight, the only source of light in the dark night, and she sighed as she slowly pushed herself up to her feet. Her hands braced against the ground as she got her feet under her, set into a perfect crouch, and she slowed her breathing as she waited. This wasn't going to kill her, she'd say to hell with destiny if this was going to kill her, but that didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt. As she watched the lights get closer, she gripped her ankles and rocked her weight forward. Almost there. Almost. Gods, how slow was he driving? It was an empty highway, and he was basically indestructible. So why was he driving below the speed limit? Unless he was driving at a perfectly reasonable speed and she was just on edge, because of the whole destiny thing. She could still walk away. Roll away, back into the ditch and out of sight. It'd be easy. Tuck herself in tight and just fall.

–grotesque curiosity and the sky is falling is ripping open is taking life and it's all being torn apart and can't you feel it can't you feel it taking all of the air how can we breathe can't breathe–

Once the lights were close enough, Grace sprung to her feet and stumbled forward into the road. Her feet were pointed towards the other side of the road as she twisted at the hips, and the headlights of the car blinded her. She could already smell burning rubber as the tires skidded across asphalt, but the car wasn't going to stop on time. She bent at the knees as the front of the car crashed into her, and she jumped up just enough to let her body roll across the hood of the car. Better than being dragged under the tires. The hood was hot as she rolled across it, hot metal against the exposed skin of her arms, and her temple knocked against the windshield before she was suddenly thrown back the way she came. Off the end of the hood until her body crashed to the road, and she could hear herself groaning as the rough road scraped off the skin of her cheek. Her body was already starting to throb, but she was alive. Alive and aware, of someone getting out of the car and already talking while approaching.

"—sorry, didn't see you, are you okay?" The voice sounded different outside of her head, low enough to vibrate in the air, and she felt a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Pretty sure it's just bruises, except for my face. Am I bleeding from anywhere else?" she managed to ask. She used the pressure of the hand on her shoulder to push herself over onto her back, and she could clearly see the features of the face staring down at her in confusion. That was fair. He wasn't prepared for this, for her. "You're a vampire, so you can smell blood. Am I bleeding from anywhere else?"

"How did you?" He stopped himself there, and she realized that his eyes were far too expressive for someone that housed pure evil.

"We can get into that later. I don't think anything is broken, but I don't want to bleed too much around you. Souled or not," she told him. She had seen those expressive eyes in the days before he got his soul. The things that he had done…no kind of being should have that kind of light in their eyes while doing that kind of evil.

"No, no, you're not bleeding anywhere else. Here, I have, this," he said and passed over a handkerchief. She gratefully took it with one shaking hand and pressed it against the left side of her face, which stung and burned at the slight pressure, and she carefully stretched her body out. Bumps and bruises. She'd be fine in a day or two. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You can stop being so trustful of strangers. What if I wanted to hurt you? Kill you? You just gonna offer me a hanky and then let me get to it?" The longer that she talked, the darker his eyes became. No light. Fascinating. (Terrifying. The light only shows when he's breaking someone apart. Who only shows light while drowning others in darkness? Gods, take me from here before the light returns.)

"I don't know what's going on," he finally admitted. Well, that made two of them. At this point, she was pretty much just winging it.

"My name is Grace. I'm going to help you make that soul situation permanent. How's that sound, Angel?" she asked and then grinned through the pain. She'd need to learn to do that, if she ever wanted to smile again.

"Sounds impossible," he said after a moment. They must have made quite the sight. She was still lying sprawled out in the center of the road, flat on her back with a handkerchief against her face that was slowly turning from white to red, with his large form blocking her from the glare of the headlights. Like some guardian angel come to take her away. (Demons don't get afterlives. If they do, it tastes of ash. Even the halfbreeds will burn.)

"A human mating with an Asphyx demon is supposed to be impossible, but I'm the living proof that it's not as impossible as the scholars believe. So what makes you think that a little soul binding is impossible?" She wanted a hot bath, to soothe her aches and pains. She could already imagine the blooming bruises on her hips and back. The darkening and swelling of her face.

"You talk a lot," Angel sighed. He was avoiding the question, and she could recognize the look in his dark eyes. It was the look he had before killing someone, now that he had a soul. Killing was a burden, but it was a burden that he would accept. Would he kill her just so he could continue to atone in agony?

"Get used to it, because you'll be hearing it for a while." His eyes were still so dark. Maybe even darker than her own, which were nearly a shade of black, as he stared down at her. He was debating, whether or not to kill her. "You can kill me right now. From what I've seen, dying now will save me a lot of pain."

"What you've seen?" She raised a brow and didn't answer, and she watched lines appear in his forehead as his brows furrowed. Not the face of his demon. Just thinking. Going over the little details that she had rambled out. "Asphyx demon. Precognition?"

"Rarely reliable and subject to change, but it got me here," she said and made sure not to look away from his eyes. Because she wasn't talking about her current placement on the stretch of road leading out of Sunnydale. The point was that she was here, with the first and only vampire to ever regain his soul.

"Why?" He didn't look like he was about to kill her anymore, so she was counting that as progress. Now it was time to see if she could push her luck.

"That's a conversation I'd prefer to have in a more comfortable location. There's this little motel about five miles up the road. That okay with you?" She watched his face as he thought it over, until he finally came to a decision. Her head fell back as he stood to his full height, it was especially impressive with her laying out on the ground, and then there was a hand in front of her face. How chivalrous of the dual vampire. She slid her palm against his and spoke as he pulled her up, "Thanks for the help."

"Least I can do after running you over." He kept his hand locked around hers, his hand completely engulfed hers so that she felt like little more than a child, and his eyes quickly scanned over her to make sure that she was steady. Her knees didn't buckle. No bones suddenly collapsed under her weight. She was rock solid.

"Well, it was the only way I could get you to stop," she said and then grinned up at him. Gods, seeing images of him hadn't prepared her for what it'd be like to stand in front of him. The vampire towered over her, even as he ducked his shoulders down in an attempt to appear smaller. As if he could ever appear harmless to someone who had seen the truth of him?

"You let me run over you?" He sounded confused, which was a fair thing to feel. Most people didn't run out in front of cars, did they?

"All of the other scenarios had you blowing right past me. If I wanted you to stop, I had to make you stop. Looks like it worked," she shrugged. The movement let her know that she definitely had some bruises all over her body, and she hadn't been this bruised up since the summer she was fifteen and told her demon father that she was totally prepared for a no-holds barred fight. (She'd gotten her ass kicked and hadn't been able to move for three days, but that kind of pain had been a great motivator.) Now, she let her body slowly settle and tilted her head until she could meet Angel's eyes again.

"Five miles?" Angel asked her. He was looking over the top of her head now, which was just a little rude, and she thought about twisting to follow his sight but then decided against it. Not worth the pain. She already knew what the road looked like.

"Five miles. I promise not to kill you during the ride," she quipped. His eyes snapped back to hers, and she watched his lips flatten into a thin line. Debating again, and it didn't take him long to come to a decision.

His hand was gentle as it cupped her elbow, leading and supporting, but she hadn't prepared herself for the coolness of his skin. The first contact made her jump, she was wearing a sleeveless shirt and could feel his cool rough palm against her bare skin, and she saw his expression tighten at the unconscious movement. She wanted to assure him that the reaction had nothing to do with him. She wasn't afraid of him, except for how she was absolutely terrified of him. The temperature had been a shock, that was all. No point in explaining that now. The vampire was so steeped in his misery that he probably wouldn't believe her anyway, and they had more important things to worry about. Mainly? Getting off the road and somewhere secure. So she let him lead her to the passenger side of the car, even leaned against the solid side of him as he opened the door for her, and she gripped his forearm as she lowered herself down onto the seat. She groaned as her body relaxed against the seat, leather that stuck to her skin, and her head tipped back to look up at the stars. A vampire with a convertible. A poetic tragedy. Gods, that just summed him completely up.

Her hands were still tangled in her hair as Angel slid behind the wheel, but he was kind enough to wait until she had balled her hair up on top of her head before driving off. He kept the speed moderate, so her hair didn't fall down and completely blind her. The radio was off and neither of them seemed to be willing to speak, not yet at least, so they drove in silence. Complete and absolute silence. The only thing to break up the monotony was the not-at-all sneaky glances they kept trading; Grace would look over to see Angel lazily directing the wheel with his eyes forward and jaw tightly clenched, and Angel got a chance to see fresh blood decorating her cheek as she twisted the bloodied handkerchief in her hands. It was the longest five miles and seven minutes of her life, or possibly the shortest. Time was such a strange thing. Time itself was steady. Perception of time? All over the place. Slow, fast. An eternity in a moment. Hours into seconds. Enough to drive anyone mad. Angel would know all about that. Well, his other half would. How did Angelus perceive time? Locked inside of Angel like he was?

The motel sign was flickering but still easily visible, and she didn't even have to raise a hand to indicate that it was time to turn. Angel turned on his blinker, like the perfect masquerade of a law-abiding human, and the car bumped along the ground as they pulled into the parking lot. There were only two vehicles. A small car in front of the office, and an older truck parked in front of the room the farthest away from the office. Angel looked over as she pulled a key from her pocket, and she knew his eyesight was clear enough to tell that it was a motel key. He parked his motorized death wish in the spot next to her truck and cut the engine, and she opened the passenger door before he could say anything. She heard a suppressed sigh as she slid out of his car and then started towards her motel room, and she knew he was following her. He was curious, and that would be enough to get him into the motel room.

Grace slipped into the room, and her eyes quickly skipped over the small space. Before she left, she'd made sure that all of her clothes were stuffed into her single duffel bag. Nothing embarrassing was hanging out. Her main worry was if someone had snuck in while she was gone, but nothing looked disturbed. Bed was still perfectly made. Bathroom door was firmly shut. There was a small table wedged between the small bed and window, and there was only one thing on the table. A small ceramic bowl with crushed herbs inside, also untouched. No one had been inside the room. She walked over to the table and then looked over her shoulder, and she raised a brow as she looked at Angel just standing outside of the doorway. This was a motel room, not an actual residence, so he didn't need to be invited in. After a quick stare down, Angel stepped inside and closed the door behind him by leaning back against it. His arms crossed over his chest as he waited, she assumed for her to start explaining herself, but she turned her back to him instead.

"Why—"

"Not yet," she quickly interrupted.

Angel kept quiet, thankfully, as she let her hands hover over the ceramic bowl. She had several lighters for various bits of spellwork and for when things just needed to be set on fire, but there were certain spells where the fire had to be conjured. Her control over magic wasn't always the best, especially elemental magic, but she'd always had a natural affinity for fire. Concentration wasn't needed to conjure a flame, but she did want a moment before starting the conversation that Angel wanted. She didn't want to think about the vampire standing behind her exposed back, just like she didn't want to think about the blood she could feel dripping off the edge of her jaw. Her focus was on her hands, on the air around her, on the heat that she could pull in and push out. Her lips moved soundlessly as she conjured a spark, until the herbs started to smolder. A few careful motions of her hands and a few more voiceless words caused the smoke to permeate the room, and her shoulders dropped in resignation. The spell was complete, and it was time to get her destiny started. She slowly shuffled around until she was facing towards Angel, but he was looking around the room now. Still, he must have felt her eyes on him because he turned to look at her.

"Privacy spell?" he guessed.

"As long as we're in here, no one will be able to hear us. Speak freely," she told him. She walked around the bed and used her shoulder to open the bathroom door, and she left the door open as she flipped on the light and then ducked inside.

"Why did you walk?" Of all the things that he could ask, she hadn't expected that to be his first question. Grace looked at her reflection, the scrape only covered most of her left cheek, and she picked up the washcloth that she had left out on the sink before leaving.

"I needed time to think. Walking seemed like the best bet, and I didn't want another vehicle to raise your hackles," she answered. Once the washcloth was wet enough, she started washing the blood from her face. In the motel room, she could hear Angel murmuring hackles under the breath that he didn't need. "Ask me what you really want to ask me."

"Why did you seek me out?" Ah, now that was the question she had been expecting! She made another couple of swipes with the washcloth, used a dry section to pat her face, and then picked up one of the extra-large bandaids that she had laid out. She slapped it on, winced at her reflection, and walked back out into the motel room. She wasn't surprised to see Angel still leaning against the door, close to the exit, and she dropped down to sit at the foot of the bed.

"That question has so many answers, and I don't even know which one is the right one. It's just, you can't leave Sunnydale." She hated saying that, especially after seeing a play-by-play of the things that had happened in Sunnydale over the past couple of years, but it had to be said.

"I can't go back there. It's not safe for—" Buffy. He couldn't say it and she had enough tact not to, but they were both thinking it.

"I'm not saying you have to march back into town right this second, but you're going to be needed there." Precognition could be a bunch of bullshit, but she had demon precognition combined with witchy psychic abilities. Nothing was ever certain, but she had a pretty good idea about things. Angel would be needed in Sunnydale, and he wasn't the only one. She'd work her way up to that revelation though. He was listening to her for now, but all of that would change if she started laying out everything she had caught glimpses of.

"You mentioned my soul," Angel said quietly. His voice lowered at the end, as if soul was a naughty word that couldn't be said in front of children, and she only heard him because her hearing was slightly enhanced and they were in a small enclosed space. She understood the reason behind the question though, considering what she had said to get his attention.

"Okay, well, I might have stretched the truth a tiny bit. I sought you out to stop you from abandoning Sunnydale. That bit about your soul? That's more of a pet project of mine," she answered truthfully. When Angel just continued to look blankly at her, she gave him her patented smile number seven. Wide, dimples showing in her puffed out cheeks, and the straight white line of her teeth. (Thank the Gods that her mother had been able to regrow her two front teeth. Her fifteenth summer really had been rough.)

"Pet project?" Angel's tone was even, no emotion whatsoever, and she felt her cheek twitch as she struggled to hold the endearing and innocent smile that usually got her out of trouble. Then, before she could say anything else, Angel turned around and reached for the dinged-up doorknob. "I've listened to you long enough."

—the darkness is suffocating as the whispers continue on and on and on, evil without end, amen—

Perspective: Angel

The door hadn't opened even a crack before the girl was clutching at the back of his sleeve; her fingers were curled in the thick fabric of his jacket, just above his right elbow, and it'd be so easy to get out of the hold. Barely any effort at all. He could simply pull away or even push her back, but he was frozen instead. She had moved without him being able to hear her, despite hearing the motel bed creak when she first sat down. The light grip was as effective as thick chains, for the moment, but he didn't release the knob. He waited to hear what she wanted to say, what other cryptic nonsense was stopping him from doing what he knew had to be the right thing, but she wasn't speaking up. She was mumbling, so low and so quiet that he doubted her lips were even moving to properly form the words. There was a slight pressure between his shoulder blades, followed by the smell of musty cotton and clotting blood. She was pressing her injured cheek against his back and whispering those words against his jacket, and he could feel the heat of her through the layers of clothes as he focused enough to hear her.

"Evil without end, amen. Evil without end, amen."

"She's taller than Buffy."

"Evil without end, amen. Evil without end, amen."

"Buffy would grab my arm, not my jacket. I'd be spun around, to continue the conversation."

"Evil within, inside the man. You're not a man. It's evil without end, amen," she whispered a little more clearly. He was used to people knowing too much about him. He'd made sure that people would know who he was as Angelus, and news of a souled vampire had made their rounds as well. He didn't like how much she seemed to know. He could smell the demon in her, as sure as he could feel the hellfire heating her blood, but there was something off about her.

"What do you—" He had started to turn around, to finish their talk once and for all, but that slight grip on his sleeve shifted until her small fingers could wrap around his bicep. She was using the hold and her body pressed against his back to keep him facing the door, and he tried to look over his shoulder but couldn't see her.

"Sometimes, the whispers get too loud. I get lost in the quiet, but I'm back now." She was still speaking quietly but at a more normal level, and her words made him think of Drusilla. His dark childe had often been plagued by whispers. Fingers pressed in harder against his arm, enough to ache a little, and he could tell when blood slipped from under the bandage on her face. "I am nothing like Drusilla. She was a plain human seer, driven to insanity by your other self. I am the daughter of a great Asphyx demon and a powerful Orion witch. I am in control."

"Not of me," he told her and then moved. His knees dipped down as he turned, his hand snapped out to lock his fingers around her neck, and he twisted back around as he slammed her against the door.

Angel used his grip on her throat to slide her up the door, until they were on the same eye-level with her feet hanging over empty air, and her eyes were wide as she sucked in quick breaths. Brown, possibly. Her eyes mostly looked pure black, especially as his body blocked out the weak light in the room and left most of her face in shadows. Despite the wideness of her eyes and slightly quicker breathing, she looked calm. She wasn't kicking at him to get free or even trying to push at him. One hand was locked around the wrist under her chin, while the other hung limply at her side. It was like she didn't care that she was pinned to the door. Like she didn't care that he could easily snap her neck. (Easily sink his teeth in to rip her throat out.) At the thought, her eyes narrowed and the grip on his wrist tightened for a moment. Just for a moment. Then she seemed to actually relax against the door as she watched him with her dark eyes.

"I am not in control of you. All I can do is give you a choice, once you're ready to hear the options." Her speech was a little strained, but the words were clear. Her skin was hot. Overly warm compared to a human, and he could feel her heated blood pulsing against the side of her neck.

"Options?" he prompted. She raised a brow in question, and he kept his expression carefully blank. She hadn't tried to attack him, but she did know a little too much about him and had somehow got him to agree to join her in her motel room. He wanted his answers, and he wasn't going to give her another chance to stall.

"Go to Los Angeles, solve some crimes and save a few innocents, but it won't last. You'll stay cut off from humanity, until you start to lose your own. I get why you're running, but not caring isn't the solution. Pretty damned stupid, if you ask me." A quiet growl built low in his throat but thankfully didn't slip out, but the sound didn't seem to deter her at all. "While we're on the subject of your stupid decisions, how'd you fall in love with a sixteen year old?"

"She's eighteen," he quickly defended.

"Well, yeah, now. She was sixteen when you met her, when you fell in love. Did you really think the girl was the great love of your life? Your redemption?" Her eyes were direct, never wavered from his own, and he could see sparks of glowing green in the dark depths as she spoke. Bits of her demon heritage, which mostly went unnoticed as he thought over her words. Buffy was pure and innocent, and she made him feel like a human. "There's nothing pure and innocent about any Slayer, and you are not a human. Did you forget the part where she was only sixteen? You are no longer living in the eighteenth century."

"You have no right to—"

"No, you're right, now isn't the time for this conversation. We can discuss it later, once we're a little more comfortable with one another and you don't feel the need to hold me up by my neck," she quickly interrupted. He had to force back the childish urge to snap his teeth at her. When was the last time he had an urge like that? (For a moment, he thought of Spike. Whenever he wanted to behave like some fledgling with graveyard dirt still in his hair, it was usually because of something that Spike did.) He thought about setting her down, but she wasn't struggling so he didn't see the need for rushing. He'd get his answers and then release her.

"If she isn't," he said and then stopped. The girl raised her brow but didn't push him, and he decided that he didn't need to continue that particular thought because she obviously knew what he was trying to say. "Why should I go back to Sunnydale?"

"There are more people in Sunnydale, not just her. Even if she isn't your happily ever after, you can still help her. You can still fight by her side and save people." The girl's tone was serious now, there wasn't any quick rambling or slight distractions, and her eyes were direct. Almost too direct, without those hints of demon glowing in her eyes.

"I can't go back right now. I'm not ready," he realized. He would try to repeat old patterns if he went back now, and how would he explain everything? Would he just tell Buffy that some stranger stopped him in the middle of the road, said some riddles, and he just decided to return?

"That's okay, we've got some time before Sunnydale will need some extra protectors. If you're willing, I could use some help tracking down some ingredients in some abandoned coal mines out in West Virginia," she told him. Her tone was so conversational, like this was a normal everyday chat between friends. (Chat? Maybe he had spent too much time around teenagers.)

"For your pet project?" he guessed. Her pet project that somehow involved his soul, and he needed to make it clear that no one was going to be meddling with his soul.

"I want to make it permanent, so Angelus can't take another unplanned vacation." Before he could reply to that, she twisted in his hold just enough to sink her teeth into his hand. The bite locked under his thumb, tearing into the flesh until his fingers unclenched, but she stayed pressed against the door after her feet dropped to the floor. When she tipped her head back to look at him, he could see the new colors decorating her skin. Dark rust-colored blood around the bottom of the bandage on her cheek, fresh blood from biting into him smeared across her bottom lip and down her chin, and red splotches were starting to darken across her throat. Her finger raised to poke the center of his chest, and there was a flare of luminescent green around the edges of her pupils. "Don't go to Los Angeles. In a few months, a few years, maybe in a decade, you'll lose your humanity and start to slip. Help me save you, so that we can save them."

"I don't trust you," he told her after a moment. There was no way that he could trust her. He didn't know her, still wasn't sure how he got into this situation, but he could tell that she had bitten her lip when she tore into him. The scent of her blood was mixing with his, dripping off the side of her chin.

"I don't trust you," she told him with a wide grin. He took a single step back, watched her as she watched him, and hoped that he was doing the right thing.

"Do I get to kill anything?" he sighed. He could leave at any moment. She might have been slightly stronger than a human, but she wasn't stronger than him. At any point, he could choose to walk away. To go to Los Angeles like he had planned. (His real plan had been to put some distance between himself and Sunnydale. The other side of the country seemed like a good start, if he followed Grace's plan.)

"That's practically a guarantee, don't you think?"

Would killing a half-demon burden his soul?

"Get to know me before you kill me," she said as she slipped around him. He didn't think she was telepathic, but she could clearly pick up on enough to be annoying. "I'm taking a shower. The room next door is vamp proof, key is in your pocket, and I'll see you tomorrow if you decide to stick around. Night, Angel. Tortured dreams."

He stepped outside of the motel room and closed the door soundly behind himself, and he looked to the side. The door to the room next to hers looked identical, same chipping green paint, and there was a small door hanger stamped with do not disturb. Inside his left jacket pocket, there was a key that looked like the one she had pulled out when they first reached the motel parking lot. She must have slipped it into his pocket when she was standing behind him, somehow without him noticing, and he slowly stepped over to the door and unlocked it. He looked back at his car, thought about how easily he could just drive to Los Angeles and pretend that this little detour had never happened, and then stepped inside the motel room.

Ending Note From Raith: I don't know what this is. I have other things to work on, but those things take planning and an actual thought process. I wanted to write something a little more fun, and I've been playing Buffy in the background. So, why not write a little something for one of my first ever fandoms? I'm not sure if this chapter was coherent, but it's meant to be fun. Just something to write when I get stuck on other stories. There is a plan, but it's one of those plans that you think up while you're in the shower or on the edge of sleep. Definitely not set in stone and will possibly change frequently due to my horrible memory.

This story is going to somewhat follow Season 4 through Season 7 of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, but it's going to be an AU of those seasons. Mainly because in this story, Angel the Series never happens. Also, Grace and Angel are going to be completely platonic. There will be romance in this story, but never between them. If you want to know the pairings to make sure it's something you want to read, please just ask and I'll happily tell you. For everyone else, I'll try to keep it spoiler free.

Fun random trivia for this chapter: An Asphyx demon is the kind of demon that restored Spike's soul, after he went through trials, and I thought it'd be fun to have a character who is only half of that particular kind of demon. Hijinks will ensue.