Disclaimer: I don't own Angel or any of its characters!! I do, however, own Wesley... the teddy bear. Hehe. Yes, I am a sad person. Please review :-(

Authors note: This was totally a random thought I had that just wouldn't leave me alone and kept nagging at me in the middle of the night until I finally got up, turned on my computer, and started typing it up. Ah, well. Hopefully you can't tell that I was sleep-deprived. It makes enough sense to me anyway...

Summary: They thought they were dead. But now that the war against the world's controlling evils is over, and the Powers that Be are choosing their new champions for the new war, the rules about champions have changed.

Prologue

The dragon made a soft, sighing, gurgling sound as Angel delivered the final, killing blow to its chest. Its enormous wings fell to the concrete, and the literal fire in its eyes changed into harmless smoke, drifting up and disappearing into the sky over the war zone.

And that was the end of the war.

Slowly, the numbness he felt during the battle started to wear off, and he began to hear every agonizing sound around him. He could hear the last breaths of those barely clinging to life, the murmur of healing and protection spells, the squeaking noise that came from cleaning your sword on your own clothes-

"Angel!'

He was only half-turned when Buffy wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his chest desperately. He could intantly sense her sadness, her anger, her weariness, and empty desire for revenge. The feelings were radiating off her body along with the strong, captivating smell of blood. He hugged her back, and waited for her to regain her equanimity.

"Giles. Giles is dead," she said, answering the question she knew he was about to ask.

Angel didn't know what to say. He looked around, seeking an answer in the rubble and confusion around them. The healers and witches that Buffy had brought with her were dashing around trying to help an endless amount of people – mostly the new slayers and newly graduated watchers. Illyria was helping Gunn out from under a large demon he'd been pinned under. Angel assumed that he had been healed already.

One young watcher was off in a corner being sick. Angel watched as he retched and retched. A young woman went over and started to rub his back slowly, gently helping him straighten back up. The young woman whispered something to the young watcher, held out her hand, kissed his cheek, and started to lead him back to where the others had congregated.

"What'cha looking at?" Buffy followed his eyes to the couple, and then glanced back at him questioningly.

"Huh? Nothing. They just reminded me of... some people."

"Who?"

Angel thought of Wes and Fred. Then Cordy and Doyle. And Lorne. And Connor.

"I've lost half my team, Buffy," he said, knowing that he hadn't answered her question.

Then a sharp pain slashed through his head suddenly, ending his trail of thought. But unlike last time, the vision wasn't pictures and sound. It was knowledge, an idea.

For a prophecy.

The basement of the building had been empty until just a few weeks ago. Now, boxes filled with clothes, pillows, and blankets lined the walls. In one corner, a pile of donated furniture that had been put in there only that afternoon sat next to a dozen foldable cots.

Suddenly, the ceiling opened up, not to reveal the floor above, but the huge blue sky.

Six people – three men and three women – fell out and landed on the hard floor, naked and shivering.

One of the men looked up to where they had come from one last time, only to see the sky close.

TBC... and I promise that the chapters will get longer...