DISCLAIMER: Look on the first two pages, Jesus.

"Courtney! Get in the car?" Angel tried, holding both hands on the stearing wheal, in a "two-o'clock and ten-o'clock" style of holding. He looked around, slightly self-concious of the people he could see in the partly rolled down window, which was all covered in black spray paint, other than few spots for looking on the free way, or road, to drive on. His black trench coat reflected the head of the light, which made it slightly unnerving to the two hundred year old Irish vampire. Wearing a black silk shirt, with ebony buttons, and ebony jeans, with a belt in braded with an 'angel' on the buckle. To which; was possibly the only other color other than black included in today's, and every days, wardrobe To most people, though not as bad as Spike, he would be considered a tad Goth. Though, he had streaks of dark blonde in his chestnut spiked hair. It should count for something?

He thought it should.

(Angel is my grandfather...I think? I'm quite not sure on the family lineage, well, what the vampirism part of my heritage is aligned with. 'The Order of Aurelius' or what not? Anyway, Angel is a vampire. With a soul. He broods from end-to-end. And then he fights evil, and then he broods from end-to-end. Then he goes to bed. Then, wakes up! And a cycle of doing what's right and brooding starts up like a never-ending ride of 'Small World' at Disney World. Or land. Forgot which one that was on...)

His dark eyebrows furrowed irritably at the thirteen year old girl that stood only about four feet away from his car. Her hair was down, and curled at the ends for body. She wore a blue jean jacket, jean capries, and a pink halter top under the blue jean jacket. Along with a pair of white sneakers. The 'flip-flops' she so desires to wear everywhere wasn't allowed in her JR. High School. To Angel, it was tacky.

Sometimes, he wonders, if Connor liked girls in flip-flops? With his new life, oddly enough Courtney was the closest thing to Connor. And Connor was her best friend, a big brother if you will. Now, she forgot him. They all did. But, he never did. He couldn't.

He saw his face. Face as a baby, face as a teenager, and what it would look like when he's a full grown adult? Grandfather? Or what it looked like in his later and early childhood? And how his first week of JR. High would be like? Now, he's reliving his grandchild's experience.

"Courtney!" He growls lowly, meeting her icy glare, and a hang on her hip, with his pleading chocolate brown eyes. "Get.In.The.Car." He says, punctuating each word with maximum effort to be strict, but God knows the only person who could discipline Courtney was Darla. No, he won't go down memory lane. Not again.

"No! I'm not getting in that bloody awful car!" The teenager screeches. "It smells, Angel. It smells like dead things!" She stomps her sneaker against the paved concrete in emphasis, groaning. Her mixed of American and English accent rang through out the air in a strained whispering voice, as if she didn't want anyone else to hear.

"Courtney, you wouldn't want me to get out of this car!" Angel warns her, his temper raising by the moment. She was truly her fathers daughter.

"No!"

"Courtney – "

"NO!"

(He treats me like I'm still the nine year old he saved that one, underline one please, one time! A vampire chased me, and as Angelus, he saved my life. Then, he walked me home giving me a lecture. It's odd, Angelus never really hurt me. He just gave a lot of speeches on dead things, though more lucid than mum ever was. He probably wanted to hurt me, many times, yet he did not. And, Angel is equally as protective. It's so...stupid! I'm thirteen now, I'm pratically a grown-up adult! I'm mature as one!)

"COURTNEY!" His voice booms, unintentionally. "Get in this car or so help me God –" He didn't finish, and in his own astonishment, Courtney was in the passenger seat. Buckling her mohagany seat belt against her torso. After closing the door. With a cheerful, menacing smile, she raises her shoulders peppy like.

"I'm here!"

Wolfram & Hart wasn't as crowded as it was in the mourning, most employee's were on some break, or off duty, or just not around, or even dealing with clients in their own office. Fred walked down the the wooden steps, quite modern really, than usual steps, she thinks, her black heels clicking against the wood. She held a clip board against her chest, her chestnut waves were tied in a pony tail, her black rimmed glasses hanged off her nose as she hung her head down, contemplating on exactly why she was here? For this evil law firm, and all. Wasn't these the bad guys? And are they doing any good here?

She really did not know. But, she hide her concerns well. Possibly better than most of the original 'gang' from Angel Investigations. She was the sweetheart, she had to keep her chin up.

And damnit, it was hard keeping her damn chin up all the time!

"Fred!!" A high pitched, slightly brittish, voice squealed ten feet away from the steps. Courtney grinned widely and waved to her hero, as she dropped her tan back-pack at her feet, almost landing on Angel's boots, and ran up the first half of the flight of stairs.

( Fred, is another story! She's so cool, and smart, and she gets why I like school, and why I like reading, more than anyone else. Did I mention she is so cool?)

Fred chuckled surprisingly, tucking her clip board in her right under arm, and with her free arm, pulled her little science pal into a hug. "How's my favorite Biology lab partner doing?" She asks, her Texan accent unhidden, only for the fact that Courtney always loved her accent. And Texas, for that matter. It was nice to have someone to listen to the Dixie Chicks and watch a good old Rangers game with her.

Despite that her parents were the big evil of L.A. now, she thought it best to give Courtney a lee-way. As in, not assuming that she is evil. How could a science freak, as well a artsy-freak, like her little buddy be evil?

Courtney was always...just, Courtney.

Courtney shrugs innocently, her face in a full grin. Ignoring Angel's groan as he picks up her back pack, this was heavy with new sets of books for the year, and stomps off into his office.

"Maybe!" She says, in a sing-song-voice. "They offer advanced chemistry, but I would love to take a physics course..." she replies, drifting offward as Fred and her walk up the stairs, leaving Angel to be her personal luggage-boy, or sorts.

Fred grins, raising her shoulders higher in a perky jesture of excitement. "Isn't physics fun? "She asks, as the finally made it to the second floor, and made their way, walking as though they were sisters or friends discussing girlie things. Which, for them, is Sir Isaac Newton and how Molaire single-handedly changed theatre, sure. William Shakespeare was a big 'honcho' in his time, but Molaire was just as good as Shakespeare.

(Fred gets me. She really does. At school, I'm kinda populare, you could say. I have to dress, and speak a different way. God knows I cannot let my accent go on full force. And just pretend that I have my Pre-AP classes. In reality; I love them! Eighth grade is just hard. No one will ever get how hard it is to be a thirteen-year-old girl. But, Fred has been there. She's only twenty-three or something? She remembers.)

Pushing open the doors to the 'Grand Science Lab' as they joked, Courtney jumped up to a sitting positions to one of the clear tables. Her legs dangling, barely even touching the floor.

"You're in eighth grade now!" Fred says, putting on her white lab coat and glasses/ She was near-sighted, just like Courtney was. Though, Courtney wore contacts. Glasses were so out at school.

"I remember..." the Taco Bell craving Texan started, "You bein' this shy little girl, how you used too read all the time, goodness! You had to be about eleven when I first met ya!" Fred says, taken back by this revelation. "Goodness gracious! Now you're becomin' a woman.." She says, walking over to Courtney, playfully, and weakly, nudging her in the arm, causing the younger girl to giggle. "And soon you're gonna date, and drive, and before we all know it you're gonna get your diploma!" Fred says, grinning to show her white teeth.

"If I marry Hayden Christensen, "Courtney begines, giggling. "I think I'll die happy!"

(...He is cute! I saw Star Wars Episode Two, despite me being a in-the-closet-starwars-fan, how I do sympathize with Leia! But, secreatly, there is another man that I wish to marry...someday...)

"I do hope Mr.Christensen knows that a former Rogue Watcher would beed him to a bloody pulp for laying a finger on you?" Wesley Wyndam-Price says, playfully as he enteres the laboratory, grinning from ear to ear. Gray sweater, glasses, jeans. And he was the most beautiful thing Courtney has ever whitnessed.

Rolling her eyes, acting cool around the man she idol-whorshiped since the day he came to be Buffy's replacement watcher for Giles.

"Hi Wes." She says, giggling at his humor, and as he pulls her into a half hug.

(Wesley. True, he see's me as a kid sister now, someone to protect and play-around-with, but, I won't be a little girl forever. Maybe we can have a Honeymoon in Tibet?)

"And how are you, Ms. Courtney?" He says, letting go of the hug he had the younger girl in, playfully ruffling her hair. "Keeping out of trouble, I bet?" He says, winking at her, then walks over to Fred. Grinning softly to her, and her him.

(Only one probleme to this theory; ...)

"Hi Wes!" Fred greets.

"H...Hello, Fred.." He stammers awkwardly.

( ...he likes my best friend. )

Unknown to the two adults, the teenager sighs, softly, semi- melodramaticly.

(My life is way too tragic, Hamlet was lucky. At least he got the person he liked.)