A/N1: OK, this here chapter is shorter than the previous one, but I think it works best as a stand-alone. No John here, but you get some nice Angela/Dameon interaction. Tell me what you think. Remember to R&R, critique encouraged! Reviews encourage me to update, and maybe if I get a bunch early on, I update faster! ;-) Plus, they help me see where I'm doing well and where I should improve to make this better for you guys, so… review! :P

A/N2: Yeah, so I was going to update this on Monday but since was DOWN... -.-" So yeah, here you guys go... Enjoy!

Dameon: Hey, you make me out to be some sort of perv!
Me and Angela: You are some sort of perv!
Dameon: Well in that case…
Me: O.O
Dameon: (Begins to approach)
Me: Meep!
Angela: (Begins to draw her gun)
John: (Steps in front of Dameon) Don't even think about it, asshole.
Dameon: (Takes out playing cards) But I just wanted to play Go Fish! T-T

:Special Thanks to Daydreamer731 for betaing:

Dark and Dangerous

Angela drove her black SUV up in front of her apartment building, but as was usual this late at night, all the spaces were taken. Sighing, she continued to drive until she was further down the street, and there, she found a spot. After pulling off a difficult parallel-park—something she hated to do but was more than used to—she got out of her car, grabbing her purse from the passenger's side seat. Walking around the SUV to the sidewalk, she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings but concentrating on putting her keys in her purse. However, this only took her a few seconds, and by the time she reached the curb, she was closing her pocketbook back up. Taking the black elastic out of her hair, Angela glanced up in time to see a figure up ahead.

But she could not make out who or what this figure was.

It seemed the only two streetlights in the area that were broken were the ones directly in front of her building, and there the figure stood, obscured in shadow.

Her hand paused in midair, and she narrowed her eyes. Gradually spreading her fingers to get the elastic around her wrist, she slowed in her step.

She made sure not to reach for her gun.

Nonetheless, she did slide her hand across the area of her holster as she slung the purse over her shoulder. She was comforted by the firearm's presence.

Although she was on high alert, she made certain to give off a calm appearance, but she did not fluff out her hair, as she usually would have done. It would get in her way if she did that. Putting it up again after just having taken it down would seem suspicious, too.

Instead, she merely continued to walk down the faded gray sidewalk at a renewed fast pace, past cars of all shapes and sizes on one side of her and tall, city apartment buildings on the other. The figure didn't move, and gradually, he came more and more into focus. Angela could now make out the dark shoulder-length hair and somewhat lanky build, and every ounce of instinct she had was telling her—no, screaming at her like a banshee on steroids—that this was Dameon.

Yet just as she started to get close, he melted away, or in other words, turned sideways and walked into the alleyway between her building and the one beside it.

"Stop right there!" she called after a moment's hesitation, shifting instantly from a speedy walk to an all-out run. "Police!" She bolted down the street, vehicles and walls flying by as her legs pumped away. Loose strands of hair flew in her face, obscuring her vision over and over again, and her shoes pounded against the pavement as she got closer and closer to the alleyway. Upon rounding the corner she could see the figure—Dameon, it had to be—walking towards the very end of the alley, towards the chain link fence at its end. There, he stopped.

Perfect. He was trapped.

"Who are you?" she called, just in case it wasn't him. Just for formalities, really. "Why are you hanging around here?"

They were both in complete darkness, but had they both been mortal, she would have had the upper hand, assuming he was unarmed. It wasn't exactly easy to miss with a gun in a target area this small—especially not when you were an excellent shot with psychic aid—but she wasn't about to go trigger-happy. Not without provocation.

Besides, what if this really wasn't him?

Unlikely, and she was almost 99.9 percent certain that it was…

But there was always the 0.1 percent chance that she was wrong.

And besides that, even if it were Dameon, what good would a gun do? She'd seen the effect bullets had on the undead: none. Maybe if she started having her ammo blessed and dipped in holy water?

Sure, that'd happen.

From in front of the 12-foot high chain link fence, the figure turned towards her, but said nothing. Angela could still make out nothing but his build and hair, that inklike, somewhat wavy, shoulder-length hair. The clothing he wore, just a pair of pants and a shirt, blended in with the blackness of the night.

She could barely make him out, but luckily her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, albeit slowly. They were taking their own, sweet, tortoise-like time.

She couldn't walk quickly, couldn't move hastily towards her target. She needed to buy time for her pupils to dilate, for her gray eyes to actually work in this lighting, or absence thereof. She needed to be able to see.

Angela stepped forward, placing her hand on her gun.

"I'm not going to ask you again. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

This time, the figure did answer, and from his voice, any and all doubt was eliminated; this was Dameon.

"Am I doing something wrong, detective?" the taunting voice of the half-breed asked. "I was just taking a walk; I didn't know that was against the law."

Angela paused, trying to plan her next move. "What are you doing here, Dameon?" she asked again, completely avoiding his question with one of her own. It was a tactic that oftentimes worked.

"Taking a walk. Didn't I just say that?"

"In the alley?"

Angela could just make out his shoulders shrugging, and only now did she start to see that reddish glow. That reddish glow of HHHell, shining right out of his eyes.

"I like alleys. They have a certain allure to them. But again, I didn't know that was a crime? Am I in trouble for my love of dark, private, dangerous places? Hey, wasn't that girl found in an alley?" Neither the threat nor the taunt was lost on Angela.

Dameon stepped forward, and she almost found herself taking an equally large step back.

Angela tightened her grip on her gun. "Who killed her, Dameon?" she demanded, very quietly.

The half-breed took another step forward, and the detective could have sworn she saw the crimson glow brightening, like embers flickering into a full-blown bonfire. Had she been able to fully see him, the demonic grin on his lips would have been unmistakable. "How would I know?"

"You influenced him."

"How do you know it's a 'he'?"

"How would you know if it wasn't?"

He chuckled, and this was not a comforting, warm laughter, but instead cruel and sadistic. It sent shivers of aversion, disgust, and fear down Angela's spine, pinpricking through her whole body. "Why, naturally, I don't."

"Stop the games, Dameon," she said coldly.

"You know what, fine. I think I will."

Dameon shot forward toward her like a viper striking a poor, defenseless little mouse. Angela was quick to react and drew her gun, pointing it at him and turning the safety off in an instant. He wasn't at all fazed, and Angela fired. Although the bullet entered him, it had no effect. A second shot followed, with the same result, and then Dameon had her against the cold, rough wall.

Someone had to have heard. Someone had to have heard. They had to have.

But if they had, they would not be making an appearance. Angela was on her own.

"That kinda hurt," he breathed into her hair, panting like a pervert watching kiddie porn, his cheek grazing hers. He felt slimy, almost scaly with a hint of prune, and he stunk of rotten eggs. His arms were off to either side of her, trapping her, and since his body was pressed up against hers, ducking under them was made close to impossible.

"I can make it hurt worse," she replied, jerking her head to the side and pushing him away with one hand. With the other, she jammed the head of the gun barrel against his chest.

"Careful," he whispered, pressing forward once more. "You might make me mad." Had his lower body been any more up against her, Angela was fairly certain she would not have liked what she felt.

"That would be such a tragedy," she countered.

Angela knew the danger of the position she was in; she recognized it for what it was. But to show weakness now would be the worst thing she could possibly do.

Damn it, why had she taken the amulet off? Why? Just because John had told her to wear it just for the night didn't mean she couldn't have kept it on afterwards.

Dameon sneered and licked the side of her face—was it just her imagination, or was his tongue forked beneath the mortal façade?—closing his eyes and taking in the scent of her, especially of her hair. It was one of the most repulsive things Angela had ever felt, as if she were nothing but a rump of meat being sampled for the butcher's block. She flinched away, tightened her grip on the useless firearm and moved it downwards, pointing it at that special spot between any man's legs.

"Get off me," she ordered, her voice low and threatening. "Half-breed or not, I doubt your dick would grow back."

A small ripple of fear went through Dameon. Was she right? He didn't know; he'd never been in this position before. No one had ever threatened to shoot off his private parts post-mortem.

His body was more metaphysical than anything else, true, and gunshots anywhere else didn't affect him.

But still…

What would happen if he were shot there? Why didn't he doubt that the result would be anything but good?

And on top of that, he recognized her for the powerful psychic she was. He could sense it, feel the hidden pools of untapped power and ability radiating off of her in fierce waves. Now that she was cornered, this power felt stronger, stronger than what he'd felt at the crime scene and in the club combined.

Couldn't this power somehow merge with her weapon and actually injure him?

All in all, it excited the fuck out of him, but he didn't let his passions rule his head, at least not that head. He wasn't stupid.

Dameon's caution betrayed him. It was more than possible she had something up her sleeve; she'd had the amulet before, hadn't she?

After nuzzling her cheek one last time, Dameon backed away, that sneer a seemingly permanent fixture upon his face. He had to resist a strong urge to run his hands up and down her body, for that would certainly have sent both her and her gun off.

Angela placed a second hand upon her weapon, and she straightened her arms out, taking careful aim, but the rest of her stood stock-still, her eyes moving up and boring into what could be made out of his in the blackness.

"I'll be seeing you again, Angela," he said smoothly, and it was obvious this was not an empty threat. Then, after one final glare from his demonic eyes, he turned and walked away, out of the alleyway and onto the street.

Angela stood still, breathing hard as she watched him, her arms falling downward, but she did not let go of her gun. Her eyes followed his progress out of the alleyway, and they continued to be fixed on the spot where she'd seen him last.

He was gone. For now.

Vagrant: lol Yeah, I DO watch Law and Order, so that's where I'm getting most of this from. I'm seriously going to be forced to sit down and watch several episodes in a row… (Sweatdrop)

Evelyn: WOOOT reviewing! Not so sure if during history class is good, though, although I can't say I'm complaining. ;-) Having neon orange furniture WOULD be osm. (Glomps the Lynn) Happy to see you like my cocky gal.

DayDreamer: (Shakes head) You're a snog whore… not in that way! O.o But yes… Here's the chappie you saw various snippets of. Tell me, is she still less stupid? Hehe, and Lynn's fun. Now YOU, work on YOUR snog scene! Nownownownownow! No more o' mine till I get yours:P And rambling s good. I like rambling reviews. :P

Kirie: ROFLOLLAHBHATWBICSH! I love you… (Glomp) Thank ya on the c/c. I fixed everything but the "someone" thing. I can't really change that. O.o Glad to see it's going well, tell me watcha think of the next bit, oh Great One Who I Annoy With Constantine on an Hourly Basis.

Miyo86: (Hugs back) Being funny is fun! XD As is writing. Isa ish happy that you like me funniness (hey, funniness is a word… wow O.o) and writing. But I'm afraid there's still a whiles left till the prologue… But we'll get there! And come on and join, join, join! And post! No one posts! We need posters! We don't bite! Much…

SlvrBldRain: Eh, you're allowed some non-rants, though when you think some up, feel free to put up in ze review. :P I vaguely watch American Idol. I was UBER angry about Constantine. -.-" Glad to see my case seems semi-realistic, or TV-show realistic anyway. Lol Hoping ya likethed this chap, since it didn't really have any of the actual case case. :P

fanficgeek: WOOOOT long review ! (Glomp) O.o wow, I do all of that that well? Awesome! (Dances) Characters (personality/thought/etc.-wise) are me specialty, so it's good to know I'm not losing my touch with that. Glad to see yousa liked that line, too. John's fun to write. He's so sarcastic and cynical… And WOOT, I made someone have a reaction to me writing, i.e. smile! And feel grief (though that's not as happy). I must be semi-pretty-good. :P Hoping this chap is up to thy standards as well!