With a deafening cry, he lunged at the serpent-demon. Its yellow slits for eyes sharpened for a half a second and then closed forever, a final squeal erupting from its throat as it lay dying in a pool of blood and guts.

All in a day's work, thought Conner, a smirk forming on his lips.

His dad was not in the celebratory mood, it seemed, as Conner faced him to share in congratulations. Instead, Angel was looking a little worse for wear; his clothes were shredded with a few oozing cuts here and there, and sweat layered over his forehead, where his eyebrows were sunken down. He looked like he'd been through hell—well, he had been a while back, but that was not this fight.

"You okay old man? Looks like you need to sit down."

Angel glared at his son, who was grinning cheekily. "I'm fine. You may want to help Wes, though." He nodded over to where Wesley was laying unconscious against the wall, a bloody sword loosely held in one hand and his spectacles skewed atop his nose.

Shaking his head, Conner went to help their friend, half dragging him to the nearest chair. "So this is what happens when you leave home for a few months... Remind me not to come back next time."

"Conner, can you stop commenting and being a smart-ass and go find Fred and Gunn? They're probably stuck downstairs killing the nest remains."

In his head, Conner thought, they're probably doing more than that, and decided to give them their privacy by looking around the rest of the third floor before heading downstairs.

Because so much had happened—hell demons, apocalypses, and the like—it was still a shock to be back. He'd spent almost a whole year away in Europe, hunting a demon with extremely fast running speed and a very nasty attitude towards Conner. After his triumphant capture of the demon, he turned it over to a sanctum of seers in North Russia, and returned home on account of his dad giving the distress signal. Apparently snake demons were nesting in the firm's basement, and Angel had his hands full enough already.

With Angel constantly being Mr. C.E.O., Spike off doing hero missions, and Fred returning after Illyria transported to a different dimension, the only friend Conner had lately was Gunn. Unfortunately, Gunn and Fred were hitting it off again and going on endless dates, leaving Conner to train or sulk on his own. Lorne came around sometimes, but he was either distant and melancholy, or pissed off for no reason, which wasn't like him at all. To top everything off, Wesley and Cordelia had both come back from the dead due to a mistaken revival spell, making their already complicated lives triple in drama. He knew it was a matter of time before he started brooding, like his dad did more often these days.

Conner supposed the bright side to all of this was his birthday present; Angel had gotten him a leased area in the city to start his own business of crime fighting. At Conner's request, he wanted to save people without being involved in Wolfram & Hart affairs, and so, Angel had found a small little office that had enough room for Conner to live and work in.

That didn't mean he had privacy from his make-shift family. If it wasn't Angel checking up on Conner, it was Fred borrowing books or files, or Wesley trying to 'help' by putting his nose where it didn't belong. Only when Gunn or Lorne showed did peace ever reign.

The door to his office slammed lightly behind him, and he fell into a heap on his little coach, staring out of the nearest window with distant eyes. He wouldn't mind going out for the day, basking in the sunlight and being a bit more social than he normally liked, because, hey, you only turned twenty once, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He just wanted to get back to solving crimes already, make a day of evil hunting and do-good-ing.

"Conner, we're heading out. Wes's got a possible concussion so we're going to take him to the hospital." Fred popped up at the door, her braid loose and her eyes shiny. Gunn didn't waste time.

Conner shrugged lazily and made his way to his desk, rifling through paperwork as if he was busy. "Sure. Be safe."

With an eye roll, Fred started to walk away, but turned at the last second and pointed at Conner, determination in her shiny eyes. "And don't you forget tonight! 7 p.m. sharp, mister! Cordelia and I planned this for months!" He returned her eye roll, and waved her off. Girls.

He had been planning to go, grab a bite, maybe a drink, and then just head back to his place. He didn't mention that he wasn't looking forward to seeing Cordy being fawned over by her boy-toy, the newly returned Groosalug, aka Groo. It was hard convincing himself that he wasn't even a little jealous, but he almost managed it.

Getting back to work, Conner sorted through his completed cases and filed them away for Wes to review later, as it was a task he loved to do lately, just in case Conner forgot something and he could point it out, thoroughly annoying him until he was red in the face and had broken at least a dozen pencils. He shook his head as he read some of the smaller cases that he could finish in no time, like a missing goldfish or Mrs. Beadleton down the road's poltergeist action. Nothing he couldn't handle on his own. The demon raids downtown might be a problem, but he'd see if Gunn was up for that one...

Yawning, Conner looked out of the window again, and saw the sun going down at a fast pace. He jerked his wrist up and checked the time, panic rushing through him as he darted out of his office, turned off all the lights, locked up, and hopped onto his motorcycle. He darted past street-lights and around corners, weaving through cars as fast as he could. At a sloping hill, he stopped and pulled into his apartment garage, swinging his legs over and dashing up the stairs.

It wasn't much, as much as his salary could afford, but it was a home. Despite the tiny kitchen and even smaller bathroom, the living space was huge, enough for a bed, a couch, and a snazzy entertainment center, courtesy of his dad. Since he'd refused to let his over-the-top father spend one more dime on him after the office and the sweet TV and gaming set-up, he'd found his own place and was making his way. He would eventually pay back for the entertainment set, but the office he'd let slide since he figured Angel owed him a little.

He kept the place pretty neat, as the living room carpet was white and hell to get demon gut stains out of. The kitchen was always spotless, since he was hardly home to cook, unless it was microwaved or canned, and his bathroom...well, what could he say? He didn't have much other than towels, a toothbrush, deodorant, and a flimsy comb. Oh, and some soap, of course, but he ran out of that pretty often so he stock-piled it in the cabinets. It was barely lived-in.

Except for the bed. The bed was almost never made, even though he kept his sheets clean as a whistle, and his movies and games were strewn about on his desk next his computer. That was the area of concentrated mess, and he liked it that way. Even finding clothes was easier when they were just shoved in boxes and he could pull out a clean shirt or pants. Which he did in quick preparation for the party, since he was late and didn't have time for a shower. He might have smelled just a tad like office and demon blood. Ah, well. Cologne of the day.

Clothed in at least a somewhat nicer button-up and pressed jeans, he made his way back downstairs, throwing on his helmet and sliding on his red Harley. He checked the time and grinned. Ten minutes to spare.

Then, as he was about to rev the engine and head off, a scream pierced the air around him. Almost, almost, it became a cry of anger, but he couldn't be sure. There was multiple screams that followed, but those were definitely not human. Vampires.

Duty calls. He grumbled about lousy timing and pulled a stake from his backpack, tossing his helmet aside and jogging around the corner of his apartment building, into an alley that was darker than pitch. He could make out shapes of trash cans and junk piles, some cardboard boxes making their way into a dim lamp-light, but other than the screaming, he saw and heard nothing else. His gut told him there was trouble, though, so he stuck by it.

Something moved in the shadows, a body flinging out and hitting the wall with a thud. Conner's first instinct was to run and stake what had to be a demon, but when the body—a girl—stood and adjusted what he saw was a stake in her hand, he stood silent, watching as she stormed back into the fray of wailing, manic vampires. He heard raging yells and then sound rounds of punches echoing against the stone walls, until at last, the girl appeared again, backing out of the alley and straight into Conner.

The girl jerked when she landed against his torso, and turned around, anger building in her silvery-blue eyes. "Are you stupid? Don't just stand there, run!" She shoved Conner and started jogging, looking back only once.

He wasn't normally one to run, especially if evil demons were involved. He loathed the idea of being weak, and in this circumstance, he didn't want to back down. But, as the vampires emerged from the shadows in a hoard of smirking, filthy looking demons with contorted faces and ugly yellow eyes, he followed after the girl, not wanting to face so many single-handed. Now would be a good time to call in reinforcements...except they were all waiting for him at the party and didn't expect his call. Would they even answer? Better give it a shot, he decided, running behind the girl as she flung herself around corners. The whole time, surprisingly, the vampires tailed them, their interest keenly set on this strange girl.

He pulled out the cell phone Fred had all but forced on him, and dialed first, his dad, who went straight to voice-mail. Gunn and Fred's numbers both rang and rang, but nothing. Even Cordy was nonexistent with her phone, apparently, as he was ignored for a fourth time via voice-mail.

Grumbling bitterly, he slowed and jerked the girl to a stop too. "Wait! They're gone." He pointed to where the group of demons had been moments ago. Some must have disbanded to other alleys or fell into the shadows, making their way with their kin.

The girl snorted. "They'll be back to get another taste." As she sighed and made a move to leave, Conner grabbed her arm lightly and turned her to face him. He hissed out, "Wait—Just who the hell are you?"

Her laughter danced over his skin like moths were floating on the surface, tickling the hairs until they stood straight. He ignored the feeling and focused on her, noting how she held herself and how her eyes never stopped flashing and watching. Shorter than him by more than a foot, she made up for it with her straight back and shoulders, her confidence exuding into her serious half-smile and narrowed eyes. She flicked away a strand of her deep brown hair and jerked her chin towards Conner once. "I'm nobody. They just don't like me cause I've starved them out these last months by saving their meals."

Considering that he could appreciate the lone hero act, Conner wasn't as unnerved about what she had been doing with the vampires. What did bother him was that this random girl knew about the supernatural world and accepted it so easily. He settled his buzzing mind full of questions by reminding himself that she'd distracted him and now he was late, and the girls would never forgive him. "A name would be nice." He glared at her. This arrogant girl at least owed him a name for the trouble.

Her eyes searched his face as she paused, wavering on whether to trust the guy or not. She'd not expected someone to get in her way tonight, since the streets were mostly deserted lately with the cold sweeping in for the holidays, although one demanding boy couldn't slow her down. But what was the harm? He was just some human who she'd never see again, and she felt bad for involving him. "Name's Keira." Another pause, where she waved and turned on her heel, heading back the way she came. "See ya."

Her plain doubt about trusting him had been something Conner was used to, but he was stunned by the fact that she'd given in so quickly and actually said her name. Keira. Not too pretty or interesting, and kind of out of place for L.A. Still. The annoying girl was on his list, and not the good one. She obviously had issues, even though he wasn't going to try and stop some rogue demon hunter in this city from trying to do good. Heck, he could be rogue if he didn't have the office.

Heaving a weight-of-the-world sigh, Conner made his way back to his bike and straddled the leather seat, tightening the helmet straps after he'd retrieved it from the sidewalk. The engine growled into being and he was flying down the streets again, guilt and panic for being late mingling with his still curious mind.

The city lights bounced around his view like blurred streaks of color, as he paid no attention to speed limits. Cops either ignored him or were too busy off chasing hooligans or breaking up potential crazy parties. He let out a smirk and leaned into his right, turning a corner without skipping a beat.

His breakneck speed came to a sudden, tugging halt as a figure stepped into the one-way street ahead of him, his face shadowed by a hoodie and his hands hanging loosely at his sides. He skidded to a stop and pulled off his helmet, squinting to see the figure better from the distance.

He didn't have to wait long. The figure moved, sauntering towards Conner like a jungle cat stalking prey. Even from the distance, his eyes glowed almost neon yellow. Another vampire? Was he one from the hoard that had chased the girl?

Conner slowly reached into his jacket pocket and was about to pull out his stake, when the closing-in vampire said clearly, "Ah ah ah." He waggled his finger to and fro, and came to a stop about three feet from where Conner was forcibly parked on his wavering motorcycle. "We wouldn't want to be rude, sonny."

Without warning, the ground started to shake beneath his feet. It rumbled as if something were banging against it—from the inside—and tearing itself apart. The earth protested and groaned, and in places the asphalt cracked into thin, jagged lines. The quaking stopped all in the same instant, and Conner stared at the vampire, confused and accusing.

"What? Oh, you think I did that?" The vampire put an innocent hand to his chest and cackled darkly. "What a suggestion. No. That was not me. But onto more important matters." With an overly cheery, menacing smile, he tilted his head and watched Conner dubiously. He clucked his tongue and narrowed his demon eyes, and asked, "Where is she?"

Conner was dumbfounded. "Where is...who?"

Another horrible cackle, and the vampire blinked furiously. "Why, our little resident trouble-maker, that's who! The very tiny, annoying rogue slayer. I'm sure you've heard of how dead she's going to be very soon here." Now only a foot away, Conner jerked out his stake as a warning and tossed it between his hands. "You two might share a coffin if you decide not to tell me where she is. The sooner you tell me, the quicker your death will be."

"And what, you think I'll go quietly? Beg for mercy? You're just one vamp, and you obviously don't know who you're messing with." A very confident grin had found its way onto Conner's face. He held the stake steady, ready for whatever would be thrown at him.

"Oh, dear boy, you have no idea who I am, do you?"

"Aw, did you lose your memory? Sorry, can't help you there."

The vampire chuckled and flashed his fangs pointedly. "This rambling is boring. Ask your father to tell you who I am—he'll know. Just mention the word, 'Valen', and that should prick some ears. Send my regards to the plucky little slayer while you're at it. Tell her she's already as good as dead." Blurriness starched his vision momentarily, and then shadow, and the weird vampire was gone.

More than a little convinced this whole night was turning out to be a vivid hallucination, he revved his bike and made his way hurriedly down the streets and to his birthday party. All the while, he couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened. But, more than the other things, the thought that stuck was, who was that girl?