Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns everything worth owning. I have nothing, or very little anyway.

The rough bed sheets felt like sand against his legs and he couldn't help but wince throughout his entire phone conversation with Geoffrey. "It's better this way, I think."

"Better!" Geoffrey screamed through the receiver, "how could this possibly be better?!"

"Well he can take her in without dealing with all the red tape I'd have to. And of course he already lives here which makes that easier on the girl."

"You nincompoop! He doesn't even exist!"

"Well, that's just silly, just because you haven't met the man..."

"He's not a man!"

"He has a body, he has a soul, and he has a name of sorts."

"But no social security number, no birth certificate, no real identity. They'll never even be able to find him let alone allow him to take her in."

"I gave them Rupert's number, he should know how to contact him. And in the mean time I thought you could phone that fellow Whistler who seemed to know so much about Angel. Being a demon and all whose wandered the earth for many centuries and never even had a job, I imagine he might know someone who can make up some false documents for the man...vampire."

"This is utter madness."

"She needs to stay where we can watch her, no? Well, they won't let me or anyone else take her out of the country, even if I were a blood relative, too much red tape. Technically she isn't supposed to leave the state, but we don't know anyone in New York who can help us and they said that a blood relative can claim her from any state."

"You just don't want to move to New York."

"I will not deny that, but even so...she doesn't know me. Him, she probably remembers, at least somewhat. And he already knows the truth and can be trusted with it."

"You are talking about someone who just recently returned from what seemed to be an eternity in Hell after losing his soul and going on a murdering rampage that culminated in his trying to end the world!"

"Yes, but he never divulged her secret."

Only breathing could be heard on Gilbert's end as Geoffrey thought, presumably, about either killing Gilbert and making it look like an accident or whether or not this ludicrous idea could actually work. "What if they insist on doing a blood test to determine parentage?"

"They won't. Too expensive."

"What if Angel refuses?"

"Someone, I suppose, will have to talk him into it."

Los Angeles, California – 1 week later

An old store front made into a small office complete with a dark, though not entirely dank, basement for keeping out of the sun, not exactly the best environment for a 12-year-old girl to live in, but not the worst either. She was at least somewhat used to different ways of living though. Growing up with a vampire slayer as a mother, and a watcher as a sort of surrogate father with do that. The people in her life kept strange hours, read strange books, went strange places, and fought strange looking things with strange sorts of weapons. She was taught at an early age how to defend herself, in little ways like never inviting strangers in no matter what, and bigger ways like decapitating creatures with her mother's ax. Growing up with Gibb also meant that she was more than well informed about all things spiritual, magical, mystical, and demonic. Few girls her age could identify a Grusselor Demon simply by smell, they have a very distinct odor, which may be why she had so few friends. As Gibb, the classic recluse, said, when you live among superheroes, the everyday becomes rather unapproachable. But this place still needed some work.

Geoffrey hadn't seen Tessa since she was a baby, and only got reports on her maybe once or twice a year from Gibb. Angel he had only met once and that too was many years ago, so he felt less than qualified to be doing this, but waiting in the dark office of Angel Investigations he realized it was too late for second thoughts now.

"I'm sure he won't be much longer." An attractive brunette smiled at him from behind the desk, a look of quiet desperation on her face. Clearly they weren't getting many clients these days. He wondered how disappointed she'd be when she found out he wasn't one either. "Oh, here he is now," she said as the door opened and a sleepy Angel popped his head out. "Angel," she continued while dragging him by the arm out of the little office he had been in, "this is Mr. Cruppler. He'd like to speak with you about...I don't know, something. Mr. Cruppler, are you sure I can't get you any coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"Okay then, I'll just leave you two alone to talk business." As she turned to leave Geoffrey could have sworn he heard her whisper something to Angel similar to Nice suit, nice shoes, don't scare away the money.

"Mr. Cruppler, Geoffrey, right?"

"And here I thought you wouldn't remember."

"I never forget a pretentious Englishman with a mission. At least not one who works for the Watchers Council."

"I don't actually work for the –"

"Right, right, you are the council. Whatever. Please, sit."

LA was unusually warm for this time of year, hot actually, and the cheap naugahide of the chair felt sticky even through his nice suit. "I'll be blunt, Anthony is dead."

"That's too bad. Who's Anthony?"

"Anthony Gibb."

"What happened?" he asked calmly, though his mind was racing, reliving his times with Gibb, some of the only times he felt moderately content prior to Buffy. Gibb and Nat both made him feel welcome, much more than that, they made him feel almost human.

"Shot in a robbery. Terrible tragedy."

"So it wasn't...nothing to do with...you know..."

"Vampires? Demons? The otherwise occult? No, no, nothing like that."

"Oh. Then why are you here?"

"We need you to take the girl."

"The girl?"

"The child."

"The child?"

"For pity's sake man! The daughter of you-know-who?"

Recognition flashed over his face. Of course, how could he have forgotten about her, blocked her out entirely? "Tessa."

"Yes, yes, Tessa. After Natalia's death custody was given to Gibb. Now with him gone...well someone needs to take her in. Someone who knows. Someone who can protect her."

"Someone like a council member."

"They won't let her leave the country, the state even, with someone who is not a blood relative. You do remember whose name is on her birth certificate do you not?"

Liam Angel. Not exactly a legal name, or a real one for that matter, but it's what they came up with in a hurry. "He doesn't even exist. It's just a name."

"Now it's a name complete with a social security number, birth certificate, and drivers license. Now all we need is your new address. Please God, tell me it's not here."

"Listen, I'm sure this all seems like a good idea, but I'm telling you, it's not. I can't have a kid here."

"You do live here? Oh God! Well, it's no matter. She lived with Gibb for many years and his flat I imagine was far worse than this."

"You're not hearing me."

"Angel, you have no choice."

"I have no choice?!"

"No. She needs you. And we need her. You know how important it is that she be kept safe, secret."

"No."

"For just a bit then, until we can work out some sort of other arangements. Assert your parental rights, gain custody, and then you can send her to school abroad so we can take over her care."

"So I just have to go to court or something?"

"She may have to stay with you for a very short period of time, so that they can see you are fit to be a father."

"Father."

"Well, I should be off, plane to catch and all. I'll have an attorney take of all the paper work. Naturally there will be a visit of some sort to make sure this place is habitable, so do something to make it so please. My guess, she should be here within a week. Lovely seeing you again." And with that the Englishman rose and left.

Angel, on the other hand, remained firmly planted to his seat, still in a state of shock. He hadn't really forgotten about the little girl whose father he claimed to be, he just put her out of his mind. And don't think that was an easy task. He spent years trying to forget the joy in her big blue eyes when he bought her that Cookie Monster doll. He did all he could to block out the sound of her little voice, her baby giggles, the feel of her strawberry locks between his fingers, the look she gave him when he told her he was leaving. For the first six years of her life he had been the closest thing to a father she had. But that was then.