Disclaimers: I don't own them. You did know that, right? Oh, and I borrowed the concept of the ghostroads from The Gatekeeper Trilogy of Buffy books by Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder.but then I sort of adapted them to fit my story. The tarot images and definitions are from the "Ancestral Path Tarot" by Julie Cuccia-Watts, with text by Tracey Hoover. All are used without permission. I think I own everything else, but I could be wrong.
Spoilers: IWRY is the only episode directly mentioned. Aside from that, general season 4/season 1 - before Willow and Tara were together, and before Riley ever heard about Angel.
Content: *Major* character death, angst, and B/A fluff. NutMeg called it "sad fluff." Isn't that an odd combination?
Distribution: Just ask. I won't say no.
Notes: Another dream inspired fic. Feel free to run and hide now. Special thanks to NutMeg for beta reading this for me! You really helped my confidence with this story.
A note on the format of this story: Since this is a rather long fic, or will be eventually, and the parts are very short, it is divided into sections. Think like a novel that is divided into books and then into chapters. So, "The Wheel" is one story. Don't let the "book" titles confuse you.

*******

*******

She was used to fighting.

Everyday was a battle; a battle for the future, a battle for the light, a battle for the world.  A battle for life.

This battle for her life?  That was something new.

The ambulance was crowded, especially around the two injured.  The girl in particular – her stretcher was surrounded by paramedics struggling to keep her alive.  They had never seen anyone so badly injured yet still living.  Not only that, but she was aware, looking at them with pain and panic in her gaze.  Her blond hair was matted with blood, her shirt hung in tatters and she had deep gashes all over her body.  That didn’t even begin to describe her internal injuries.

The second occupant of the ambulance was a young blond man, only a couple of years older than her.  He had a nasty gash on his forehead among other injuries but refused to let the paramedics treat him until they helped the girl.  He clung to the girl’s hand – one of the few uninjured parts of her – in desperation.

“Don’t you dare die on me Buffy,” he said.  “You just hold on.  You just hold on.”

The injured girl swallowed and tried to speak.  She locked eyes with the boy next to her.  She’d never been so afraid.

“Don’t try and talk,” the boy whispered, and the girl nodded very slightly.  Her condition would allow no more.

The ambulance pulled up in front of Sunnydale Hospital.  The injured pair had to be separated then; not an easy task.  The girl was rushed into the emergency room, the boy steered away to be treated for his lesser wounds.

Two more young folk came running in behind them.  A nurse stopped them from going right in.  “How is she?” the boy demanded.

“Are either of you family?” the nurse asked.  At the teens’ blank faces she said, “Her family should be here.”

“I’ll call her mother,” the boy said quickly and rushed for the phone.

The girl was not so easily turned away.  “Please,” she begged, “I’m her best friend.”

“Then you can help,” the nurse replied.  “We need to know anything you can tell us about her medical condition and what happened.”

The red head’s gaze was locked past the nurse where doctors tried to save her friend.  “She was saving me.  I was captured…by this gang, and she saved me.  I’m the reason she’s here,” she began, not even seeming to hear her own words.  “She’s…really strong and heals real fast….  She’s not allergic to anything.  She’s been in the hospital twice before, once with the flu and once with a…neck wound.”

She might have said more, but her friend cried out and the doctors seemed to be moving quicker than before.  Something was clearly wrong.  The red head rushed past the nurse to her injured friend’s side.  Or tried to; another doctor stopped her as she drew close.

“Willow!” the injured girl cried, reaching out blindly as best she could.  Her eyes were glazed with pain.  “Tell him!” she yelled, her voice hoarse.  “Tell him I never forgot.  Tell him…”

“I will,” the red head said, though she did not understand.  “I will.”  And the nurses herded her back outside to wait.

That was the last time she ever spoke to Buffy Summers, Slayer.

******

"And then Clint says, ‘I thought gifts were only for the anniversary dates.’  I mean, hello?” Cordelia was saying.  “I can’t have him take me for granted.  Of course, then I had a vision, and that just called off the date for good.”

“You know, we are hunting demons, Cordelia,” Wesley whispered.

“So?” Cordelia replied in her normal tone of voice.

“Don’t you think you might be scarring them off with this chatter?”

“Oh, please,” Cordelia replied, rolling her eyes.

Angel smiled slightly, listening to all of this from a couple of steps ahead of them.  They were following the very vision that had interrupted Cordelia’s date, and she wasn’t about to let him forget it.  He was sympathetic, but he would have been more so if the vision had been clearer.

“You sure you don’t remember anymore?” Angel asked again.  They’d been walking down this street for a half an hour based on the street sign she’d seen.  “Some…clue?”

“You’re one to talk,” Cordelia replied testily.  “Mr. Cryptic.”

“You’d think that the Powers That Be would be clearer in their messages, wouldn’t you?” Wesley said after a moment.

“You would,” Angel agreed.

“At least we know it has to be in the city, right?”

Angel was going to agree when he remembered another vision – one of Doyle’s visions.  It was the one time that a vision had led him out of L.A.  He had gone to Sunnydale…to Buffy.  He tried not to think about her, to think about those few days, but he couldn’t help it.  His mind and heart automatically went to her.  They always would.

A scream tore from his throat suddenly, but Angel did not hear it.  Nor did he hear Cordelia cry out as he collapsed right in front of her.  He only felt the pain – all consuming – and an anguish he could not explain.

The Slayer was dead, and the darkness consumed them both.

*******

********

Cordelia wouldn’t admit it, but she was terrified.  When Angel had cried out….  She’d never heard anything like it.  It was pain, it was fear, it was despair…it was all of these and more.  And it had been sudden – he’d just screamed and dropped with no apparent cause.

Forty-five minutes later she and Wesley had just managed to get their employer – their friend – back to the apartment.  Cordelia cursed that they had decided to walk to where whatever evil they had to fight was waiting…which never bothered to show.  They’d had to walk back as well, dragging Angel unconscious between them.  Her feet ached, her shoulders ached, and she was so tired she could sleep for a week.

No, scratch that; she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all until they found out what was wrong with Angel.

She and Wesley struggled to get him into his bed.  He was, she reflected with bitter humor, a dead weight.  Once she’d done that she walked out of the bedroom, wearily taking a seat at the kitchen table.  She hung her head in her hands.

Wesley came out and joined her several minutes later.  “I can’t find anything…physically wrong with him,” he said.  “There’s no sign of injury or poison…no illness would effect him…” his voice trailed off.

“Then what happened to him, Wesley?” Cordelia demanded.  “People…vampires...don’t just scream like that without reason.”

“I don’t know,” Wesley said, sounding as tired as Cordelia felt.  He sat up straighter after a moment and spoke in a tone meant to reassure her.  “I will begin researching immediately,” he said.

Cordelia nodded.  “One of us should stay with him tonight,” she said softly.

“You go home and rest,” Wesley insisted.  “I need Angel’s books if I’m going to research this properly anyway.”

Cordelia stood, her legs aching in protest.  She said nothing, but let her eyes reveal her gratitude.  She crossed the room, taking one last look into the bedroom before she left.  Angel lay on his side, curled up under the covers so that only his face was showing.  His brow was creased in…pain?  She sighed wearily.  She cared for him more than she would ever admit.  He was like family.  He certainly did more for her than her family ever had.

Now it was time for her to return the favor, and she hadn’t the slightest idea of where to begin.

******

Angel was lost.  An empty gray was all around him.  There was nothing – no ground, no up, no down, no left, no right…yet somehow Angel knew he was falling.  Lost.  The gray darkened in response to his despair.

Then sensation; a hand grasping at his.  Small and strong, warm and familiar, it was a piece of reality in the midst of the unreal.  Everything snapped into place at that touch; the ground materialized beneath his feet, location defined itself, and the gray lightened.  It was no more real than before though, like an amorphous mist that could give rise to anything at ant moment.  It was disorienting.  Angel swayed on his feet.

A second hand on his arm steadied him, and Angel could have wept at the familiar touch.  “Oh, Angel,” she whispered, her beautiful voice a mix of concern, love, and sadness, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Wherever you are, I’ll be,” Angel whispered back.  He did not look at her, afraid of what he might see.

“Don’t say that,” she said strongly, her voice harsh.  “It’s not true.”

Angel turned at her hurt tone and finally looked at Buffy.  She was vibrant and beautiful, almost more so than he remembered.  There was a light in her eyes he could put no name to.  She seemed to brighten the darkness around them.  It made the pain on her face all the more horrible.  Angel took her hands in his and looked into her strange eyes.  “It is true.  It always has been.  In my heart, I’m always with you.”

Buffy placed a hand on his chest in a gesture that was achingly familiar.  “Your soul is with me?” she asked softly, seeming almost childlike.

“Yes,” Angel whispered back.

Buffy smiled sadly yet with understanding.  “Not anymore, Angel.  You can’t stay here.  You have to go back.”

“Here?”

“Between places,” Buffy explained.  “I’m sorry.  You can’t follow me here.”

“I don’t know how to go back,” Angel said with certainty.

“You have to.”

“Do you want me to go?” Angel asked softly.

“I…you have to.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I never wanted you to leave,” Buffy whispered.  It was barely audible.

“Then I’ll stay.”

Buffy smiled, but it was still tinged with sadness.  “You can’t stay forever.”

“Then as long as I can.”

She took his hand again and squeezed it slightly.  “Walk with me?”

*****

Cordelia was right.  Though exhausted, she’d barely slept the last three nights.  The mystery of Angel’s condition consumed her thoughts every waking moment.  She was spending more time in the office than she had in the last month.  At least, so it seemed.  When it wasn’t her turn to keep an eye on Angel for any change she was doing her best to help on the research end of things.  It was enough to make her wish that she’d been more studious back in high school.

When she arrived at the apartment that morning Wesley was sitting in a chair he’d dragged into Angel’s bedroom.  A book was open in his lap but his eyes were closed and he was snoring softly.  Not that it mattered.  He’d slept even less than she had, and Angel wasn’t going anywhere.

The vampire in question was lying on his bed, of course.  He laid on his back now, his eyes open and staring at the ceiling.  The first time he had laid such Cordelia had thought he was actually coming out of whatever this was.  Then she had seen that vacant look in his eyes.  He was awake, but he saw nothing.  For a man who’d been dead for over 200 years, he had never seemed so much like a corpse.  Cordelia liked it much better when his eyes were closed.

She entered the room quietly and laid a gentle hand on Wesley’s shoulder.  He jumped as he was startled awake.  Seeing who was there he calmed and smiled guiltily.  “I’m sorry,” he began to stammer.

Cordelia shrugged, too tired to do anything else.  “No change?” she asked.

“No change,” Wesley agreed.  He glanced over at the bed and sighed.  “If this is anything like a human coma,” he began to explain softly, “I fear that the longer he’s like this the less likely he is to wake up.”

“In other words, you have no clue,” Cordelia clarified.

Wesley hesitated, then nodded slightly.  “No clue,” he agreed.

Cordelia spun on her heel suddenly and began looking through Angel’s shelves.  She discarded the books and weapons and searched with almost an angry energy.  Wesley followed her in confusion.

“What are you doing?” Wesley asked after a moment.

Cordelia’s voice was harsh when she spoke.  “I’m sick of this,” she said, continuing to throw things around.  “I’m sick of having no clue, of staring at Angel….” Her voice trailed off and she continued in a calmer tone.  “I’m sick of feeling helpless.”  She reached onto a shelf then, and smiled slightly.  She held up a bag of powder or something from the pile of ritual supplies with triumph shining in her eyes.

“I’m going to get answers.”

****

The gray felt familiar now, like an old enemy.  It stretched in endless monotony, broken only by the path beneath Angel’s feet.  At times it seemed like cement, others cobblestone, but it was always the same gray as the mists around it.  Angel had the strangest fear that it was leeching color from him as well and he would soon be as gray as everything else.

Buffy though…she was the only spot of color in this world.  She was vibrant and shining, too brilliant to be dimmed by even the darkest night.  She was the Slayer – even the darkness she fought failed to dim her brilliance.  Not even death….

Angel’s unbeating heart clenched in sudden despair, and he closed his eyes as he fought against it.  For a moment he had forgotten; forgotten the pain that would always plague him, forgotten the loneliness, forgotten that the one who walked beside him here was little more than a ghost.  He felt himself slipping away and didn’t care.

“Angel!” Buffy’s hands were harsh on his shoulders and he gasped as his eyes snapped open.  He shook his head furiously.  She was dead. She was dead….

The gray seemed to now be oppressive and dark.  “Don’t!” she snapped at him.  “Don’t become lost on my account.  The world needs you.  I need you.  I need to know you’re okay.”

“But you’re dead,” Angel whispered.  He felt his cheeks grow damp.  A soul’s tears….

“Angel,” Buffy whispered sadly.  She touched the tears resting on his cheeks.  “Don’t cry for me,” she begged.

“I always will,” he replied.  “You were supposed to have a normal life.  A long life.”  He’d given up everything for that.

“Without you?” Buffy asked softly.

Angel nodded.

“But I never wanted that.  I’d rather have a year of happiness with you than a lifetime of loneliness without you.”  As Angel began to sink further into despair, thinking of what they could have had, Buffy gently held his face in her hands.  “I don’t say this to make you regret what you did.  It’s just that…don’t you think we’re rewarded in the end?”

“Not me,” Angel replied in a barely audible whisper.

“Especially you,” Buffy said.  “No one should have to live with the pain you have.  You didn’t have to fight – you had more of a choice than I did.  But you fought.  If anyone deserves some beauty and happiness in the end, it’s you.”

“You are that beauty and happiness,” Angel replied.

Buffy smiled sadly.  “Maybe,” she whispered.  Still holding his head, she leaned forward and caught his lips with her own.  It overwhelmed him in an entirely new way.  Souls touching, he could feel the love that they shared, the love that she held for him.  He returned it – he always had – but now he could express it in a new way.  I love you went unspoken, but was heard nonetheless.

They broke away and Angel saw that love reflected in Buffy’s eyes.  She was smiling.  “You still…?” Angel asked in surprise.

“Always,” Buffy replied.

Angel blinked as if in a daze.  They gray was changed, glowing as if lit by sunlight.  The scent of flowers and growth hung in the air, welcoming and warm.  It was no longer the absence of color, but the potential for all color.  There was an air of contentment all around them.  A moment ago this place had perfectly reflected the anguish he’d held in his heart.  Now it shown with the love and joy that had replaced that sadness.  Angel looked at Buffy in surprise and wonder.

She smiled.  “Love transforms,” was all she said.

*****

“You should not be here,” scolded the male oracle.

“Yeah, well, the guy who’s allowed to talk to you is comatose, so you’ll just have to talk to me,” Cordelia snapped back, hands on her hips.

The Oracles looked at each other for a moment, their heads tilted in silent communication.  After a moment the woman looked back at Cordelia.  “We will hear you out, mortal,” she said.  “What have you brought us?”

Cordelia fished in her pocket for a moment before withdrawing a small statue.  “It’s old,” she said with a shrug.  “He won’t miss it.”  Especially not at the moment, she reflected.

The statue flew out of her hand, and where it went after the Oracle got it she did not see.

“What do you ask of us?” the man asked after a moment.

“What’s wrong with Angel?” Cordelia demanded.

“He sleeps and does not wake.”

“He wakes but does not see.”

Cordelia made a sound of annoyance.  “I could have told you that much,” she muttered.  Seeing the female Oracle gazing at her oddly, Cordelia amended her statement.  “I mean, how can we…snap him out of this?”

“You can not,” the woman replied.

“What?!”

“Only he can choose to return to you,” the man explained.  “Only he can walk the necessary paths.”

Cordelia was confused.  She knew they would be cryptic, but….  “Return from where?”

“He walks with she whose blood he shares.”

Okay, that was helpful, Cordelia thought sarcastically.  She didn’t think they’d appreciate a response of ‘huh?’ though, so she floundered for another question.  “Will he…return?”

“He must return,” the man said, “or all may be lost.”

Cordelia felt herself pale.  That didn’t sound good.  “Can….  Is there anything I can do to help him?  Or you can do to help him?”

The woman shook her head.  “Only one can help him now,” she said, “and she may not wish to.”

******

They lay together as if joined in a lovers’ embrace, content to simply be together as they rested from their walking.  There was no fatigue in this place, but they had decided without speaking to rest in the shelter of the love they had created.  After all, there was no time here.  It did not matter if they stopped along the way.  The same final destination would still await them.

Angel did not bother to think about those final destinations.  It lurked in the back of his mind that he and Buffy would not end in the same place.  He was not dead, per say; he could wander the ghost roads forever, a lost soul.  That knowledge and the despair over Buffy’s death constantly lurked like a dark shadow, but as long as they rested here that end need not arrive.

They lay in tender silence for a long time before Angel spoke of something that had been on his mind, since…  “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he whispered.

Buffy looked at his with odd seriousness.  “Who’s to say how it should be?” she said.

Angel shook his head, floundering for words.  “No…the…choice I made…you were supposed to live.”

Buffy smiled sadly.  “I’m the Slayer, Angel.  This is my fate,” she explained.  “Nothing…not where you were, not what you were…made any difference in the end.”

Gazing at the sympathy in Buffy’s gaze, Angel came to a realization.  “You remember.”

“Yes,” Buffy said clearly.  “I remember…that day.  The day you were human.”

“But…”

Buffy interrupted him.  “Maybe I blocked it out.  Maybe it was buried in my subconscious.  But do you really think the soul could forget something like that?”

Angel shook his head, once again hovering at the edge of despair.  “No,” he whispered brokenly.  “I could never forget.”

“And neither could I,” Buffy replied.  She held him close, comforting him and lending him strength.  “Treasure that day, Angel,” she said.  “It was a beautiful thing.  Don’t weep over the days we didn’t have.  Love the one we did.”

Angel kissed her lightly, warmed by her words.  “I always will.”

*******

“I’m going to kill him!” Cordelia yelled as she stormed back into the office.

Wesley looked at her in confusion.  “Who?  Not Angel, surely….”

“Not him,” Cordelia replied testily, rummaging through her desk.  “Giles!”

Now Wesley was really confused.  “Um, Giles?  I don’t understand.  Did you see the Oracles?  What did they tell you?”

Cordelia rolled her eyes.  “Yes, I saw them,” she said, dialing the phone as she spoke.  “As for what they said….”  She paused and waited for the phone to connect.  Wesley jumped when she spoke again.  “Don’t you people know how to use a phone?!” she yelled at whoever answered.

Wesley was so glad this anger wasn’t directed at him.

Cordelia looked beyond annoyed.  “I’m putting you on the speaker phone so I can yell at you properly,” she said, then viciously pressed the button on the phone.

“-delia,” came Giles’ weary voice.  “What is this all about?  This is really…”

“Not a good time?” Cordelia demanded.  “You too busy with the funeral you didn’t bother to tell us about?”

Wesley paled.  “Funeral?” he gasped.  “Who…?”

“Hmm?” Cordelia said.  “Are you going to tell him?”  No answer, or at least not a coherent one.  “Fine, I’ll do it.  It’s Buffy.  She is dead, right Giles?”

A long moment of silence.  “Yes.  How…?”

“When?” asked Wesley.

“No, don’t answer that.”  Cordelia was glaring at the telephone.  “Let’s say…last Friday night?  About 9:15 pm?”  When Giles didn’t respond, she continued angrily.  “Why didn’t you tell us, huh?  Didn’t think we’d care?  Or are we a disgrace to have around?  Not appropriate to have a vampire at the Slayer’s funeral no matter what the circumstances are, is that it?”

Giles sounded decidedly flustered.  “I…I’m sorry.”

“Do you hear that?” Cordelia asked Wesley sarcastically.  “He’s sorry.  Sorry for what, Giles?”

“Cordelia, please!” Giles interrupted wearily.  “I am sorry.  Sorry…that I did not think to inform you of what had happened.  I should have.  The truth is…since Buffy died…it’s been hard.  We’ve been too busy….”

“With what?!” Cordelia yelled, obviously not caring.  “Vampires, demons, the end of the world?  What else is new?!”

“Well, yes,” Giles agreed.  There was another long silence.  “The end of the world,” he said in a whisper.  Then, stronger but hesitant, “I hate to ask you this, but, with Buffy…gone, we need your help.”

“Don’t you mean Angel’s help?” Cordelia said softly, only her eyes showing her anger now.

“Well, yes.”

“Sorry, but he’s unable to come to the phone right now,” Cordelia said, her voice eerily calm.

“Cordelia!” Giles replied in stern annoyance.

“No!” Cordelia yelled back.  “You listen here, Giles!  Friday night…about 9:15 pm…we were out demon hunting when Angel collapsed.  Actually, to be more correct, he screamed and then he collapsed – and I can go a long time without hearing a scream like that again.  But the point is this – Angel hasn’t spoken a word since then.  He lies in bed, not seeing anything, not hearing anything….  So, no Giles, we won’t help you.  We can’t even help him.  God help us all if the world comes to an end because of this.”

“Good lord,” Giles said in shock.

That only made Cordelia angrier.  “Do you know how hard it is to force feed a vampire?!” she yelled.  “Not to mention disgusting.”

“I…I’m sorry,” Giles sputtered.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Cordelia said back coldly.  “Angel’s the one you should really be apologizing to, and he won’t hear a word you say.  And you know what?  Neither will I.”

It didn’t matter who hung up the phone first.  There was nothing else to be said anyway.

********

Neither night nor day ever came to the gray reality where Angel walked.  Still, it had seemed brighter since they recognized their love for each other.  How long ago was that?  Time had no meaning….  An eternity.  A moment.

They were getting to know their new reality, playing with it as a child might play with clay.  They had learned that they could transform it with their thoughts, create things out of the mists.  They produced trinkets for each other, signs of devotion, and laughed in silent pleasure at each other’s company.

They were walking again, the mind giving new forms to their paths.  Ill-defined gardens and pleasure walks…pleasant places…hinted at the corners of their vision.  It was thus that they discovered something about this place that spoke about the very nature of it.

“I want to show you something,” Buffy whispered on day…night…whatever.

“Alright,” Angel whispered back, sensing something interesting in her mood.

She leaned close and kissed him, surprising him.  After a moment he responded eagerly, closing his eyes and let the moment of togetherness and passion sweep all thoughts from his mind.  Even when the kiss ended they simply held each other for a minute, comfortable in each other’s arms.  There were few places that felt so perfect.

When Angel opened his eyes again he saw Buffy smiling up at him.  Her eyes were filled with happiness that he could not help but share.  Thus it was that he was lost in her eyes and did not at first notice the changes in everything around them.

The place where they stood was darker now, but not the oppressive dark gray of when they first arrived here.  Rather it was the darkness of a room with windows to the night outside.  The soft sound of rain echoed on the windowpanes.  Angel looked around in surprise.  He knew this place.  It was his old apartment, the one night he and Buffy had been together before everything changed.  It was different though.  It seemed to glow, filled with a tangible sense of love and joy.  Was this how it still was in Buffy’s mind?

“Treasure every moment we had,” she whispered in his ear.  “I do.”

Angel nodded.  He understood.  “Nothing lasts forever.”

*********

Cordelia was sitting pensively at Angel’s bedside.  His eyes were closed, thankfully, but that provided little relief.  She knew that there was nothing she could do, knew that he’d have to wake up in his own time, but at the same time she knew that if he didn’t wake up soon they were all doomed.

“And I’m sick of playing nursemaid!” Cordelia said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

There was no response, but she wasn’t expecting one.  Angel hadn’t moved in two days now, a fact that was beginning to worry Cordelia.  Oh, if his eyes were open then you could make him move, but he didn’t even roll over of his own free will anymore.  He was terribly pale, like a ghost.  She didn’t think it was possible for him to get paler, but he had.

“I hope you’re happy where you are,” Cordelia said to him in a harsh almost-whisper.  “Wherever it is, it must be better than here.”  Cordelia looked at the comatose vampire for a response and, getting none, kept talking.  “I spoke to Giles again today.  I think he’s feeling bad for not speaking to us before Buffy’s funeral.  So now he’s telling me everything that’s going on.  And…it’s not good, Angel.

“You know how Buffy died, I think.  A group of demons, trying to end the world.   Doesn’t that get repetitive to them?  Anyway, it was one ritual in a series of many.  Just preparation for the big shebang.  They needed to sacrifice a natural witch for one.  Buffy barely managed to rescue Willow.”

She didn’t know why she was telling him this, but she needed to.  Maybe, somehow, he’d actually hear her and realize how much he was needed.  Maybe he’d come back.  “With Buffy gone, though….  They still managed to complete their ritual.  They got a friend of Willow’s, a girl named Tara.  So, now the demons are stronger than before and one step closer to Armageddon.  The Slayerettes are a basket case.  The Initiative is being decimated by the demons and is about to run for the hills.”

She paused for dramatic effect.  “And you’re unconscious.”  She glared at the vampire even though he couldn’t see her.  “If you don’t snap out of this soon….  You can forget about ‘redemption,’ Angel, because the whole world is going to Hell.”

*******

Go to Book Two