A/N: Sorry, I didn't include an author's note in the first chapter since I'm new to this fanfiction thing! I've been wondering for awhile if I could ever write one, then I remembered this story which I had written 2 years ago and had kept stuffed in my desk! I hope you like this story and PLEASE PLEASE review as this is my first fanfic! Thanks! This chapter meets up with the Angel gang for the first time, as I hope it would all really happen in the series after it met it's untimely end!

Disclosure: I do not own Buffy, Angel, or any of the characters, because if I did, Riley would never have been on the show except when he's married and Spike makes fun of him. Nor will I ever be as talented as Joss Whedon.

Angel awoke instantly as lightening flashed across his face. It had been raining hard off and on for the past two weeks ever since…Ever since they had battled all the evil they'd released from WolfRam and Hart into the streets of Los Angeles. He had a feeling the rain was somehow connected to that awful night and all that had occurred, but it was unimportant. It would die down soon enough, like so many other things…

It had been a miracle that he, or anyone for that matter, had survived. Even for a 250-odd year old vampire, fighting dragons and thousands of years of ancient evils is not easy work. His body was still sore.

The next flash of lightening illuminated the person lying next to him. As he looked over at his girlfriend, he thought how, though he could never love anyone as much as he had loved Buffy or still loved Cordie, he really cared for Nina. And being blonde and petite, she was very pretty, except for those three nights a month she became slightly hairy and began howling at the moon. It's not like he didn't have his own quirks, thought the vampire to himself.

Unable to sleep, he quietly got out of bed, gently placing a kiss on Nina's forehead. She stirred slightly, but he made sure not to wake her as he enjoyed the look of peaceful slumber on her delicate face. They could all use a little peace about now.

As he walked down to the staircase leading to the lobby, he thought of how odd it was to be back in the hotel once again. Without Cordelia. Without Fred. Without Wesley. Three soldiers fallen. Three of his friends gone. And with Angel, friends weren't exactly easy to come by.

Angel paused slightly when he reached the bottom of the stairs, as he noticed the glow from the TV filling the lobby.

"So Spike," said Angel, "You couldn't sleep either?".

"Huh?…Wait! What?" Spike jumped up from his now obvious slumber on the couch. "Eh, yeah, that's right, couldn't sleep," said Spike attempting to defend himself as he noticed Angel standing in the light near the mini fridge behind the front desk.

"Uh-huh," said Angel nonchalantly, not quite feeling up to the Brit vampire's antics, as he grabbed a cup of pig's blood from the fridge.

Spike had in fact died as Buffy had believed over the past year, helping save the world with the help of an amulet that clearly redefined "killer fashion". And it was the same amulet that had brought Spike back, unbeknownst to Buffy. Since then he had been helping Angel fight the forces of darkness and what not, surprising considering the constant rivalry between the two, years ago as evil vampire friends (and more often, enemies) and now as the only two vampires with souls. The only two vampires who had loved Buffy. Hence, their relationship wasn't always the smoothest.

"What's keeping' you up?" said Spike in his clear British accent.

"The storm. If it has something to do with the evil we released from WolfRam and Hart, you'd think it would have stopped by now," said Angel, before taking a sip of blood.

"You two can't sleep either?" said Charles Gunn, as he rolled into the room from a side hallway on his wheelchair from around the corner. They all had thought that Gunn had certainly met his end that night, just as Wesley had, receiving a brutal stab through his abdomen. It had been a miracle that he had made it through. He wouldn't even need the wheelchair for much longer."

"'Fraid not, mate," said Spike.

"I guess we're all still a little spooked from that night," said Angel, still sounding slightly defeated.

"But it ain't like we all haven't faced apocalypses before. But that night…" Gunn couldn't seem to bring himself to continue.

The three men, well the man and the two vampires, all silently agreed.

There was another great flash of lightening, disclosing a fourth figure in the room. "Why are you not all asleep?" asked the aloof Illyeria, her head cocked to one side.

"Do you have to sneak up like that?" asked Angel angrily.

They were silent once again. In that flash, for just a moment, Illyeria had looked like, like, the person that had once inhabited that body. Fred. Winifred Berkel. Their sweet, lovable, smart, and a tad crazy Fred, overtaken by the ancient blue demon god Illyeris who, stripped of powers, helped fight evil. It was all very confusing.

"Well I guess it's official. Nearly everyone's up. May as well make it a party," said Spike, reaching for his unfinished glass o vodka beside him on the coffee table, downing it in an instant.

Quickly after that statement, another burst of lightening illuminated a man in the doorway. Or what appeared to be a man. Though dressed in khaki trousers, a gaudy shirt appropriate for a sleazy Hollywood director, a tan trench coat, and a black fedora, his skin was green, eyes and lips clearly vivid red.

"Lorne?"

A/N: Please review! I'd love to hear feedback on what to improve, what you hate, and if you like it! The button's right over there! You know you want to!