Silent Reverie

by cloudofcalm

 

Special

Deftly, Angel caught the stake as it span through the air, and backhanded the vampire racing towards him, catching the fanged one off kilter, and neatly stabbing the sharp point through its undead heart. Brushing away the last little flecks of vampire dust, he turned, to see Cordelia straighten, flanked by Wesley, and Connor.

"Nice catch," Cordelia commented, brushing away the ash, and trying not to grimace at the thought of inhaling some dead guy who had no consideration for the invention of the deodorant. If they had to dust, why couldn't there just be a nice, small pop, and a clean little urn appear, instead of them exploding, and trying to suffocate their defeater in a weird turn of revenge? Plus, vamp dust and rain? Uber bad combo. It was hell on her clothes.

"Thanks," Angel replied, with a small smile. Connor turned away, and Wesley coughed. Cordelia shot them a mock-annoyed look.

"There was nothing to comment on!' she responded. Angel shot her a wry grin.

"They're winding you up."

"Who? Us?" Connor asked innocently, with a smirk of his own. Wesley tucked a stake back inside his jacket pocket, and gestured towards the exit.

"Much as I enjoy spending my time in California skulking in dark alley ways, I seem to have an inherited talent from the Watcher line for getting knocked unconscious when caught off guard. I like to limit the amount of time I spend seeking medical attention, seeing as in America, one has to pay for it," he said, his clipped British tone adding to his sarcasm. "And, employees sometimes try to smother one," he added, in an undertone.

"He does have a point, Angel," Cordelia mused, laying a hand on his arm. He broke the glare at Wesley.

"We're heading back in, anyway."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the door swung open in the lobby, Lorne looked up from his perusal of the latest issue of a show biz magazine, noting how the lilac sequins did, in actual fact, compliment the orange suit he'd had sitting in the closet for a rainy day. He sipped his sea breeze, holding it up to the light, in his left hand.

"Fruitful patrol?" he queried, flicking a page over, with his free right hand.

"Oh yeah," Cordy responded. "The vamps were out in full. Does something do it, like tides, or whatever, Angel? 'Cause the number of our dusty little friends out to play was high," Cordelia mused, hanging a crossbow up in the weapons cupboard. Angel gave a small shrug.

"Just someone making trouble. The usual." Connor dropped onto the couch in the centre of the Hyperion's lobby.

"Does it ever stop?" he muttered. Since the death of the man he'd believed to be his father, he had tried to curb his own instincts towards his parents' kind, but there were times when typical teen depression combined with the ranks of the undead, to pull him into a mood darker than a wet day in Wales. Normally, this was cured with a phone call to Sunnydale, and his girlfriend-possibly, Dawn Summers.

Now, Cordelia glanced over with a practised eye.

"You know they're not going to stop coming, Connor. But we help," she reminded. The seventeen year old folded his arms, still scowling, but his crabby mood seemed to lessen.

Fred stepped out of the inner sanctum of the office, clutching a hot pink post-it note. Angel mentally told himself to burn them. Some things just didn't go with the 50's, maroon and black P.I image he cultivated, and bright pink, sticky pieces of paper were among them.

"We got a case," she told them, frowning slightly, as she reread the details. "It's Mrs Johansson. Those Qweller demons are back again." Wesley and Angel exchanged a look, and picked up axes. As they moved toward the door, Cordelia held up a hand.

"Wait! Vision-y thing," she stated, her eyes going the colour of milk, as she levitated a few feet from the floor. Patiently, the two waited for her. Her face crumpled.

"It's a little girl. Alleyway, one we've seen before. Take the left on Ocean-view, and drop down, past the jewellers. She's there. She's about to get." she grimaced, obviously viewing it. "Eaten."

"Demon?" Wesley fired quickly. She shook her head.

"Nope. Regular vampire. But they're obviously hungry." As she dropped gently to the ground, she shook her head, clearing it of the after effects of the vision.

"What are you going to do?" Connor spoke up. Angel considered.

"Gunn, you, and Connor, and Fred, take the Johansson case. Cordelia, and Wes, you're with me. Lorne-"

The blue suited demon raised his glass again.

"Stay behind and circle the wagons? Sure thing, sugar pie."

Angel swung the axe upward gently, resting the handle on his shoulder.

"Ready?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tired and cold, she slid down the side of the wall, splaying her legs out in front of her. A trickle of water from the drainpipe above her was dropping down the collar of her tee-shirt, but frankly, like the movie her aunt loved watching on TV, with the people in black and white, she didn't give a damn. She was already wet, as several hours walk in pouring rain will do, and blissfully, once she stopped walking, her legs stopped shaking like they were made from jello or something, and she could sit down.

She let her sneakers rest on the pavement, and stared at them. Red with white laces. Same as the ones she'd worn when Mommy had taken her there. They'd kept on replacing them. The picture of Tinker-bell on her tee shirt was faded, like that blouse of Aunt Es that got put in the wash too many times. She poked Tinker-bell. Her own skin showed through the white, it was an old tee shirt. She couldn't remember going to Disneyworld.

The edge of a fire escape caught her shoulder blade, ripping the cotton of her tee-shirt, and scraping her back. She reached round to feel it, but it was on the difficult part of her shoulder blade, and she gave up, curling up in a ball. Wisps of fair-ish hair escaping from the two plaits either side of her head tickled her nose, as fitfully, she fell into dreamless sleep.

Her shoulders were being shaken, gently at first, and then harder. A snatch of memory brought back a face, her Mommy's face, telling her to wake up.

"Kid? Hey, kid. Wake up!" Roughly, she was brought out of her daze and blinked at the face of a stranger. A woman, long blonde hair, and a thick leather jacket dotted with silver studs, was gripping her shoulders.

"It's alive!" she called over one shoulder, toward her companion. Scared now, the girl tried to push the woman away, but she smiled nastily, and jerked her upward to her face, changing, with elongated teeth, and her forehead thickening.

Terrified, she screamed, struggling, and kicking. "Somebody, help me! Please, anybody!"

This amused the woman, and she laughed, taunting in a rasping voice, "You're just a little street kid, a runaway. Who's going to save you?"

A man's hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her, as the girl dropped with a squeak, crashed into the fire escape once more, and lay still.

"Me," Angel answered, his voice level.

It took only a few moments to dispatch the biker vampire, and her sidekick. Fledglings, both of them, not more than two months old. Hardly the accomplished fighters he'd been expecting.

He whirled around, seeing Cordy crouching over a small body. Wesley hunkered down beside her, putting a hand out. Thin, and white, with dark circles around her closed eyes, the child had light hair. She was clad in a pair of grubby jeans, and a strangely pathetic 'Disneyworld' tee shirt, her arms flung out as if she'd attempted to break her fall. But that was not what made him lick his lips uneasily. A gash across her forehead was bleeding, bright, crimson blood, blending, and diluting by the rain still streaking down.

"She needs a doctor," Wesley said shortly, examining it. Cordelia nodded.

"Why her, though? She's only little, but she's the one in my vision. Why would the PTB send me the picture of a little girl getting fed on? How is that a priority?" she questioned, tucking a piece of damp hair behind the girl's earlobe.

"Maybe the potential she holds is greater than her outward appearance, she's special," Wesley replied quietly. Cordelia turned to Angel, her large hazel eyes lit with confusion, and pain.

"Angel? What do we do?" Cursing his demon's reaction to the blood, Angel fought for coherent speech.

"Take her to the hospital. If she has family, a runaway, they'll know what to do."

"She doesn't look like it," Cordelia said softly, glancing at the girl again. "Who would let someone that young on the streets, at night, alone?" No one answered her question.

Instead, Wesley pulled her gently into his arms, and straightened, carrying the child toward the car.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Jess?" The redhead turned, and looked startled.

"Gabby?"

"What happens...when we get there?" A blonde fringe hung in the younger girl's green eyes, but she had them fixed on Jess.

"I don't know, Gabs. I mean, we didn't exactly get told, did we?" Jess tried to smile, but worry appeared in her own blue eyes. The older girl, woman, rather, Starr, dozing in a corner of the carriage lifted her head, the book on her lap lying open.

"It will be okay," she told them. She rested a hand on top of Gabby's fidgeting fingers, and guiltily, the younger blonde looked up at her.

"Gabby, I promise you, we'll be okay. Remember, we were sent, we didn't ask to come. If there's a problem, I have enough money to get us back," she carried on, mind racing to check if it was true. Comforted, Gabby sat back, twirling a strand of soft hair absently, as she stared out of the window.

"See? Starr's here, anyway," Jess reminded, growing impatient, with a toss of auburn curls. She glanced at the older girl, who was sitting back, and saw Starr bite her lip. Maybe Starr wasn't so confident.

The sound of pencils scratching on paper became audible, due to the silence, and a genuine smile flickered across Starr's face, as she watched Faye busily sketching.

"Faye? What would you do if the world ran out of paper?" she asked, teasingly. Brown eyes met her own steady grey gaze fleetingly, and Faye flicked one of her thick brown braids across her shoulder, and hitched her glasses up her nose with a finger.

"Die," she answered, with a brief, darting grin, before returning to the page. Jess stretched, bored.

"That's stupid, anyway. When's that ever going to help-?" she demanded, her foot catching the bag under the table, as Starr dived towards it, but it was too late.

The innocent looking khaki rucksack spilled its cargo, several stakes skittered across the floor, and the lethal point of a crossbow peered out.

Quickly, Starr scrambled to pick them up, cursing the interested looks of people peering over at them. As she straightened, fastening the bag tightly, three different stares met her own eyes. Faye, her cheeks still tinged with pink looked worried, Gabby was scared, and Jess, though looking perturbed, was still belligerent.

"It's okay Gabby. No one saw," she reassured. Gabby and Faye dropped their eyes, knowing what was coming next.

"Jessamy Kendall!" Starr hissed furiously. Jess met her eyes, but flushed, which only increased her stubbornness.

"Well it is! I didn't mean to tip over the bag. They always said it was stupid, and Faye knows it!" she announced, high and clear, glaring at the brunette, whose cheeks flooded with colour a second time.

"And they were wrong," Starr cut in, her grey eyes hard. "They died, remember? We survived, and Faye can draw all she wants to. We're not like little robots," she said angrily, and then looked at Jess again. The girl looked confused. Sighing, Starr explained.

"Jess, they didn't want Faye to draw because they didn't want her concentration diverted. But it isn't right. She's only 12, and maybe one day, she *won't* be the one. She'll be an ordinary girl, and they'll have destroyed that. She'll have nothing left. What are you going to do when you're too old?" the anger had faded now, and a hint of something deeper was in Starr's tone. Jess stared at her, steadfast.

"But you're too old. You stayed," she protested. Starr ran her fingers through her short black hair, frustrated.

"I was different. I didn't want what happened to me, to us, to happen to you. I stayed to protect you." She sighed again. "It doesn't matter, okay? Be more careful another time, and let Faye draw if she wants to." They settled back, silent once again, but tenser, as the train rattled on.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dr Whitson scanned the clipboard put into his hands by Marybeth, who had been flustered. He looked up, glancing at the couple. A woman, with short dark hair, and big hazel eyes, dressed impeccably, and tall dark and handsome, with his face stony. If he had a dime for every good looking guy who had gay fantasies..He cut that train of thought short. He had a perfectly good boyfriend.

"You would be Jane's parents?" he queried, raising an eyebrow. The woman looked confused. Maybe she was just a friend.?

"Jane?" she repeated. He nodded.

"Yes. On her necklace. Jane Ashborough, 5/7/95. I assumed it was her name, and birth date?" his voice had a questioning tone. Hurriedly, the woman nodded, chocolate brown hair falling over her face.

"Uh, yeah. Jane. 8 years old." She looked up at big, brooding and gorgeous, who gave the slightest nod. Reassured, he went on.

"The cut on Jane's forehead, it's not serious. Head wounds normally bled a great deal, but it didn't require stitches," he continued comfortingly. "She should be fine. We're keeping her in overnight, observation, for a concussion, as she got knocked unconscious, but it's just procedure. I'm sure she'd welcome her parents," he gave them a warm smile.

Cordy looked at Angel again, uncertain. Obviously, the doctor thought they were the little girl's, Jane's, she mentally corrected herself, parents. What were they going to do?

"Thanks," Angel replied. "We'll see her." A smiling blonde woman entered, wearing a bright pink outfit, consisting of a baggy top, and trousers.

"Hi, I'm Marybeth. I'm the nurse on Jefferson ward, where Jane is?" she led them to a brightly painted ward, covered in pictures of dancing animals, and balloons, and then into a quieter, bland room, just off it.

"We put Jane in here, hoping that she'll be able to sleep better. She'll have a headache from that bump on the noggin she got," the nurse explained in a whisper, as they sat down next to the bed. "And that necklace, it really needs seeing to. It's really dangerous for a kid to go around with something that can't be taken off. I'd have the clasp seen to, if I were you." She left, pulling the door to.

Angel and Cordelia exchanged a look.

"I have no idea," she answered. "They said they got her name from her necklace. It's probably still on her."

They bent over the sleeping child. Her hair had been combed out, and lay across her shoulders. Her face had been washed, and she was dressed in a blue hospital issue nightgown. The rising and falling of the white blanket indicated her steady breathing. Gently, Cordy probed in the blankets, exposing the neck. A silver chain hung around it, and holding her breath, Cordelia picked up the small pendant on it.

Pendant, more like dog tags, really. Almost army issue in their austerity, with the name, 'Jane Ashborough' engraved on one side, and '5/7/95' on the other, and underneath that, '2/6/00'. She threaded the chain through her fingers, looking for an available clasp, but there was none. The ends had been welded together, creating a smooth continuation.

Hissing out the breath, she sat back.

"It's like they said," she whispered. "Jane Ashborough. 5th of August, 1995, she's 8 years old. God, who would put that on a kid?"

"It's like we thought. She's different."

The child stirred, tossing the bedclothes. She opened brown eyes, and took in the two people standing at her side.

"Who are you?" she asked. Angel backed off, while Cordy stepped forwards.

"Honey, we found you, in the alley. You remember what happened?" she asked, her tone light. Jane rubbed her eyes.

"The woman, she grabbed me. She wanted to kill me." Cordelia met Angel's eyes.

"Yeah, sweetie. She did. But Angel saved you. We brought you here because you knocked your head. We had to check that you were okay." Cordelia smiled. "Why were you there, Jane?"

Startled at the sound of her name, the girl raised her head.

"How do you know me?" she demanded, her voice rising, sounding panicked.

"Your necklace. Your name, Jane Ashborough? It's on your necklace." Her head dropped back onto the pillow, relaxing slightly.

"Oh. Yeah, that's my name. Jane."

"How old are you, Jane?" Angel questioned, moving forward. She raised her head again.

"I'm 8, I think," she answered. Her voice was quiet, as quiet as Fred's.

"Why were you in the alley, Jane?" Cordelia repeated, reaching out and tucking a tendril of fair hair behind Jane's ear.

"I was walking," the little girl replied. She shifted, clearly uncomfortable.

"Where are your parents, Jane?" Cordy added. Jane met her eyes, steadily.

"My parents are dead. No one's left," she stated, her voice quavering only slightly.

Cordelia swept her into a hug, holding her tight. The soft gold glow began to start, enveloping her, and Jane, but Jane didn't look scared. Curling like an animal towards kindness, she relaxed in the Seer's arms, and the peaceful feeling left her drowsy. Eventually, she fell asleep, as the light faded.

"Angel, what are we going to do? If she hasn't any parents." Cordelia met his eyes.

"We'll take her back to the hotel. It doesn't seem likely that two vampires trying to feed from her is the only reason the Powers would send you a vision. She must still need protecting. And the authorities would only put her into care. She doesn't appear to have family," he answered finally.

"The necklace- it just seems weird that some kid would have that. It looks like what soldiers get in the army, you know, they send them home in a little velvet box when they get killed, or whatever." Angel raised an eyebrow.

"We'll take her back with us."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Wesley was pacing in the hallway, his hands shoved in his pockets. He glimpsed the two figures, and moved quickly towards them.

"Angel. What's happening?" he asked. Cordelia glanced at the vampire, clearly expecting him to respond. After a minute, Angel replied,

"We think she's not out of danger yet. A vision isn't normally this easy," he paused, then continued. "Her name is Jane Ashborough. 8 years old. She's an orphan, as far as she tells us. We're bringing her back." A querying look rose on the Englishman's face, but he stayed silent.

"Wesley, go back to the hotel. Get Fred. Get her on a net search, on Jane Ashborough, 1995. Any info on 2000 in connection with her name. Also, have her make up a spare room," Angel instructed. "Cordy and I will stay here. I think we're going to have to fill out a few forms, but I'm going to try to find Doctor Gregerson, the guy we've operated with in the past." He strode off down the brightly lit corridor.

"I'll see you in an hour's time," Wesley said, with a grim smile, as he moved off in the opposite direction.

"Peachy. Guess I find out when they'll release her," Cordelia muttered to herself, walking toward the reception.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Connor swished the sword, blocking and parrying, slicing in elegant cuts, spinning, and twirling in the intricate routine. Gunn brought down a wooden quarterstaff, blocking the next move.

"Hey there, Jackie Chan," he grinned.

"Gunn. You startled me," Connor commented, hanging the sword in it's place, on the wall.

"Yeah? Angel and Cordy will be back soon. They managed to get the doc to give the little girl an early release." Gunn led the way up the stairs.

"How old is she?" Connor asked, stepping into the brighter kitchen.

"Eight years old. Man, that's screwed up. Vampires eating little kids, it's sick," Gunn grimaced.

Fred strolled towards them, her eyes scanning the pages of a huge book.

"It states here, in the 'aspects of the defixio' that the form of a virgin is often palatable to demonic entities, requiring sacrificial duties, or a host for various possessions.' She screwed her nose. "There're illustrations."

"You think this little girl's in trouble 'cuz some big bad wants to feed her to something?" Gunn broke down. Fred nodded. "Oh. Then we've already done that."

"We have?" Connor asked.

"Yeah. Well, I didn't. Wes did. And he has a really nice work ethic when dealing with potential virgin sacrifices, " Gunn grinned. Connor gave an answering smirk.

"Charles?" the black man turned to look at his girlfriend, who had a questioning look in her brown eyes.

"Sorry, Fred," he replied reluctantly.

Connor grinned again, and then dropped onto the couch in the lobby, awaiting Cordy, and Angel.

The door opened, and Angel stepped through. A small girl was standing at Cordelia's side, blinking at the light. She was wearing what appeared to be brand new clothes, a pale blue sweater, with a daisy knitted on the front, a pair of jeans, and sneakers. Her hair, in between blonde, and brown, was tied back.

"Angel, Lorne," Cordelia muttered. Angel glanced at the little girl, who had been silent since she'd woken up.

"Gunn? Can you check Lorne is comfortable?" he called. Gunn caught on, and turned towards the kitchen.

"Everyone, this is Jane," Cordy said brightly, her hand on Jane's shoulder. The girl remained expressionless.

"Hi Jane. I'm Fred," piped up a brown haired, thin woman, who was smiling warmly at her. Jane shrank back, and bumped into the woman who had brought her, Cordelia.

"Jane, this is Wesley. He was there at the hospital," Cordelia told her. A dark haired man, lifted a hand.

"That's Connor," Cordelia pointed, at a man who looked younger than the others. He merely looked back at her, directly.

"And this is Gunn," she finished, as the black man re-entered.

She crouched, till she was level with Jane's own eyes.

"Look, sweetie, we're going to look after you for a bit, if that's okay with you," she said softly, holding Jane's hands. Jane peered back at the group of people in the room. They seemed normal. No monsters, or witches, or anything that she remembered. Normal people.

"It's okay," she replied, her voice no louder than a whisper.

"Great. Now, we have a room for you upstairs, and we have a pair of pyjamas, from the store, remember?" the lady said again. Jane nodded.

"Okay. Well, it's late, and I'm sure you're still sleepy, so let's get you into bed," she said, standing back up again, and taking Jane's hand in her own.

They watched Cordy lead Jane upstairs, without a word.

"What'd you think she's thinking?" Connor asked, no one in particular.

"I don't know. I just know, she hasn't said a word since we picked her up," Angel answered, walking out of the kitchen. "Fred, you checked her out?" The brunette nodded.

"Yeah. It was correct. Jane Ashborough. Born 5/7/95, in California. No information as far as where. Medical records, in New York, show her having shots when she was two, there, and then in Chicago, she had chicken pox, when she was four. No more records, until tonight. No school records, at all. I cross checked. Her parents, Moira Ashborough, and father unknown. Moira Ashborough, died 15/3/96. Guardianship passed to Moira's sister, Esther Ashborough. She died five months ago. No record of Jane. Like I said, it's as if all records of her have been wiped," Fred explained, frowning.

Cordelia walked down the stairs, her hand gliding along the banister.

"Jane's asleep. God, this is so weird. I don't think it's right, you know, that we have her?" she said, wondering.

"There's no record of her being anyone else's," Angel told her. Cordelia looked toward Fred, who blinked.

"Yeah. Her guardian died five months ago, and the last real record of her is when she was 2. "

"So we're the only ones, who could.." Cordelia tailed off. "We've got to keep a hold on her. Make sure she's safe from this big Bad."

Red

"She's 8," Wesley frowned. "Shouldn't she be in school, or whatnot?" Cordelia looked at Angel, a new concern etched on her face.

"Oh God, yes. She should be. There's so much little girls need. I mean, she'll need clothes, and school, and stuff, loads of stuff." She put a hand to her forehead, sighing. "Sometime, I wish the PTB were a lot less cryptic."

"You and me both, Cor," Lorne stepped out of the kitchen, scanning it for evidence of the child. "I take it I'm now an unwanted houseguest?" Cordelia turned.

"Oh, sorry, Lorne. It's just almost getting eaten by the things that go bump in the night is enough for the time being. She doesn't even know us, and we've taken her home. I don't want to kick you out, but-"

"Darlin' I get it. If you guys hadn't trashed my hotspot, I'd still be there, trading melodies, and recipes for drinks," he smiled at the memory. "Still, I understand the little honey-pie needs introducing to the demon world about as drastically as she needs a couple of holes in her itty bitty neck, so I'm on out."

"Cordelia, I'm returning home, as well. It is past three," Wesley said quietly. She nodded distractedly.

"Sure, Wes. Connor, you oughta be upstairs as well,' she instructed.

"See you in the morning then," the teen replied, leaping up the stairs easily.

"Charles, I'm going to keep researching. It's as if something's blocking me from getting the full download," Fred looked back at the imac.

"You sure?" he questioned then shrugged. "Okay. See ya upstairs." Fred seated herself back at the computer, sipping a cup of coffee, absently, which was in front of the monitor. Moments later, she made a noise, and cupped her hand over her mouth.

"Ew," she said in disgust, then, to no one, "Cold."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Jane?"

The little girl looked up, big brown eyes fixed on Cordelia's own.

"It's time." Kissing Angel lightly on the cheek, Cordy smoothly elevated her shoulder bag, and slipped his credit card inside it, securely. She looked back down at the girl, who pushed the bowl of cereal away. The eight year old had been in the hotel for nearly two days, and her presence was hardly registering. Twice, she'd had to catch herself before she mentioned the 'D' word in front of Jane, who was so quiet, and never seemed to be there. Finally, the case with the Johanssons sorted out, she had time to do what she did best, blitz on clothing.

She held out a hand, and Jane slid off the chair, and came forward to take it. Cordy flashed a smile back at Angel as they departed, and he smiled, seeing her check her walk to match that of the younger female. Two bunches of pale hair hung down Jane's neck, evidence of Cordy, and she seemed to grow in confidence as she paced at Cordelia's side.

He sighed, turning back to a case file. They had learnt nothing more from Jane, just that she was incredibly quiet, and from her behaviour, had experienced something she was not ready to talk about.

He picked up the wad of post-it notelets, Cordelia's distinctive handwriting on each one, making notes on the little girl, likes, Cheerios, cookies, spaghetti, ice cream, (the result of trying to persuade her to talk, last night) dislikes, oatmeal, eggs, (he'd been hurt at that) full fat milk, and orange juice. He looked down in dismay. Several of the sticky pink slips had attached themselves to his fingers. He tried to pull them off, but this only transferred them from one side, and set of fingers, to the other. Detached regard failed him, and panic ensued. Staring at him hands, he began to wonder wildly if he'd ever get the things off.

"Fred-!" he called.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So, what's your favourite colour, kiddo?" Cordy asked, conversationally. She glanced over at Jane. The girl was staring at the toes of her sneakers, and playing with the chain around her neck.

"Hey! Jane!" she called. Jane's head snapped up. Cordelia carried on flicking through the racks of kids clothing. 25 dollars for a shirt? It wasn't even a good shirt..Meh. Angel's money.

"Red," she heard, in a whisper. She turned, still holding one of the offending shirts.

"Jane?" The child met her eyes.

"Red," she stated clearly. Cordelia looked back over the clothes. Pastels, mainly.

"We're not gonna find anything here, sweetie. Let's go spend Angel's money somewhere nice and expensive," she grinned at the girl. Jane gave an answering shy smile, and placed her small hand in Cordy's, without prompting. Squeezing it, Cordy strolled towards the red section of the new store.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Hamburgers," Cordelia sang out. Angel looked puzzled, as he stepped out of the office, to see Jane helping Cordy carry large numbers of bags inside.

"What?"

"Hamburgers. Add it to the likes list," the ex-cheerleader explained, as if it was perfectly clear what she had meant.

He scowled.

"The likes list is dead. And buried," he added, for dramatic effect. She put her hands on her hips.

"I left the likes list for a couple of hours! What did you do to it?"

"He burnt it," Connor supplied cheerfully, walking out of the kitchen. "Got it stuck to his hands, so he burnt it." She frowned.

"Angel, did I or did I not tell you that post -its are reasonable things, and useful? You do NOT burn my likes list!"

"They are not," he argued back defensively, ignoring the pointlessness, and utter ridiculousness of the situation. "They're evil."

Cordelia raised an eyebrow.

"Uh huh."

"They are!" he repeated, plaintively. Cordelia merely walked away, picking up a pair of bags, and ascending the stairs.

"Post-it's are evil!" he cried. Gunn patted him on the shoulder.

"You lost, big guy." Angel looked at Jane, who was giggling.

"Hey! Don't you get in on the act too!" he told her, which increased the volume of her laughter. He smiled.

"What did you and Cordy buy?" he queried. She took on a solemn look.

"I'm s'posed to tell you that at least five outfits are absolutely neca..ness.necessary for a girl's so..so-shull standing," she finished triumphantly.

Angel rolled his eyes, but kept his smile.

"Oh they are, are they?"

"Yes," Jane nodded decisively.

"What are you two grinning at?" Cordy asked, mock sighing. Angel pointed at Jane, and she, catching on, pointed at him.

"He did it," she announced, with a smile. Cordelia raised another brow.

"So. Burning innocent post-its, and making people grin. Angelus is making a return," she said, and then gave a wicked grin. "The leather pants unfortunately haven't made a come back."

"No. They decided since the post-its arrival, they were out evil-ed, and sacrificed themselves," Angel answered. Gunn and Connor looked at Jane.

"C'mon, kid. You want to get out if here before it gets mushy," Angel heard Gunn tell Jane, as the two males bore her away, and Cordy descended with a smile.


School

"So, school, huh?"

Jane nodded mutely, her hands clasped in her lap, head bowed over them, long fair hair forming curtains either side. Gunn looked her over again, thoughtfully.

"You know, I had a sister once," he told her. She looked up, her big brown eyes meeting his.

"Really? Where is she?"

"She went to Heaven," he replied, a lump in his throat at the thought of Alanna. She nodded, going back to staring at her fingers again.

"Like my family," she said softly.

"Yeah. Alanna was a few years younger than me, I always kept an eye out for her, y'know? I remember the day she started school, when our parents were still around. She was so scared I hought her eyes were gonna pop out of her head," he chuckled. The attention of the eight year old was aroused, and she lifted her head to tell him matter-of-factly,

"Eyes don't pop out of heads, Gunn."

"I'm serious! I swear it, first ever eyes-popping-out-incident in the entire world," he replied, with a straight face. She looked curious.

"Really?"

"Really," he answered. "But the point is, she came back from school that afternoon, with a grin all over her face, because school ain't a bad thing, you know. It's fun, she'd had other kids to play with, and cool teachers, and school is a good place to be. You need to learn lots before you can be a grown-up, and school is where you learn it."

"Connor doesn't have to go to school," she reasoned. Gunn grinned.

"That's cuz Connor gets up way too late to go to school. Angel would have to use garlic or somethin' to get him out of bed. And Connor's as moody as any other teenager when you wake him up. Believe me, every day? Not a good thing to do. Safer to keep him out of school."

"But what about the learning?" Jane persisted, looking right into his eyes, trapping him in his little speech. "Connor can't learn how to be a grown- up."

"Well," Gunn considered it, "Connor's special. He's not a normal little boy ,he's a big, different boy, and he's been away a lot, so he doesn't have to go to school. Plus, he's already learnt how to be a grown-up. "

"Okay," she sighed, as if a world of prejudice had just lain itself on her shoulders, and he laughed.

"C'mon munchkin, let's find Cordy."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"She's been with us two weeks," Angel argued. "Why should we send her to school so soon?"

"She's eight years old! She needs to be in school, that's what eight year olds do!" Cordelia protested, then halted, as Gunn walked in, holding Jane's hand.

"Heya sweetie. Ready to go to Saint Catherine's?"

Silently, Jane gave the tiniest of nods. Deflated, Cordelia sighed.

"Guess you're not talking today," she muttered. Some days, Jane was as normal a kid as the next, the others, she barely spoke, or was even silent. "There's a uniform upstairs. Mother Francesca asked me to get it for you before today, so you're ready to go. Go get dressed, and I'll put out some breakfast."

Jane scampered away, as Cordelia raked her hands through her hair.

"It needs to happen," she informed Angel. "She's not Connor. She needs to go to school."

Angel growled something, but strode away, giving up the argument.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The nun looked up, and smiled at the sweet sight. A small girl, about four foot high, was walking towards the school hand in hand with a tall, beautiful dark haired woman. The little one's blue and green kilt hung neatly to the tops of her long white socks, and the navy blue cardigan was fitted nicely over her white shirt. Her long fair hair was neatly braided into two, hanging either side of the small, expressive, pointed little face, where two brown eyes gazed out, as she got closer to the door.

"Good morning," the nun greeted cheerfully. "My name is Sister Margaret. May I take your name?"

"Hi, I'm Ms Chase, and this is Jane Ashborough, here to join grade four? I spoke to Mother Francesca on the phone," the woman explained.

"Right this way, Ms Chase. We'll take Jane right off to her class, and show her around. If you wait here, Mother Francesca will be right with you," she directed, taking the little girl's hand. Strange, it was, that the little girl's name was different to that of her parent, or guardian. Possibly an aunt, Margaret mused, as she led Jane up the stairs to grade four.

"Good morning, class," Sister Margaret said solemnly. Fifteen pairs of eyes looked towards her.

"Good morning, Sister Margaret," they sing-songed back.

"This is Jane, who's new to our school. I want a volunteer to be nice to her, show her around today, please," the nun asked. The Sister taking the class smiled.

"Emily is a good student, and a nice, friendly little girl. Jane, if you go and sit beside Emily," she said gently. The brunette little girl, Emily, indicated the spare seat.

"Right. Back to fractions. Who can tell me what 1/2 of twelve is?"
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Please, please, we have to be there soon," Jess groaned, sinking down in the booth of the small café.

"I told you Jess, we'll get there soon. The hotel is in L.A. We're almost there. But you said you were hungry, remember? So I stopped, to use what little money we have, on feeding your stomach," Starr snapped.

"Jess didn't mean it," Gabby said quietly. Starr sighed.

"Guys, I'm just as tired, and worried, and hungry as you. I just.I need to think, okay?"

"Okay," Faye echoed, softly. Starr smiled at her.

"How you holding up, sweetie?" Jess and Gabby exchanged looks.

"I'm okay," Faye replied.

"Good. Right. Let's order!" Starr said, a cheerful note back in her voice.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"So, as it comes at you, block the main attack, but don't be too confident. Whatever's coming, he's not going to stop at the first attack. Be prepared," Angel instructed, swooping the sword in an arc towards her. Gleaming metal met metal, and a clang rang out as the two weapons clashed.

"Good! Now, curve downwards, and-" he continued, and as he stepped back to counter the lunge, met her eyes, and gave an answering smile to the grin on her face.

"Very good," he repeated, softly, putting down the sword. Cordelia hung her own on the rack, and untied her hair, with a sigh of release. She shook out her shoulders loosely.

"I knew those things were heavy, but why'd we have to move so slow?" she complained. She gave a smirk. "I could kick your butt if I could move fast." He smiled.

"But the challenge is in the control."

She raised an eyebrow.

"As far as I'm concerned, control sucks."

"All done with the slow motion fighting?" Gunn asked, as they made their way up from the basement.

"Yep. Angel is determined to hook me on that Tai chi stuff," Cordy replied, with a grimace. "Me, I'm sticking with Tai tea." She slid a look at the vampire currently buttoning up his black shirt.

>Mind you, it does have a few..fringe benefits. Like how he fights with his shirt off..<

Gunn smiled. "You and me both. Me, I like some action. We've been down a lot since the last vision."

"If you're asking for another one, please don't," the ex-cheerleader said, with a cocked eyebrow. "Believe me, life going slow is far better than the soap opera life has been like for the past year. And not in a good, me- starring-opposite-Matt-le-Blanc-way, either."

The 'phone ringing made the three jump.

"You were saying?" Angel asked, with a small smile.

Fred came out of the office, rolled her eyes, and picked up the phone.

"Angel investigations." She listened a moment, then obviously repeated something, so they could understand the conversation.

"Kellagh demons? In the basement? How do you know they're Kellagh?" A moment passed, then faintly, with a sickened expression, "Ew. No, I understand, Mrs Daniels. Okay. We'll get rid of them. I'll get hold of some of our team, and send 'em right over. Goodbye!"

She turned to the crew.

"Mrs Daniels, remember, the tiny scratching sound we said was mice? Turns out they're Kellagh demons. Don't ask. They're definitely Kellagh," Fred mumbled, as she walked away, still looking pale.

Cordelia looked at Angel, who shrugged.

"Guess we have a case," he stated.

"Vision free and all," Cordelia added.

"So, who gets to kill stuff?" Gunn asked brightly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"You have the object?" she demanded. He handed it over. She smirked.

"Good. Nice to know there are still some honest people in the world," she said, with heavy irony.

"Nice to do business with you," he answered, bowing slightly, before disappearing. Quickly, she ripped off the paper, to reveal a large, cloudy globe. She turned, holding it tightly, and strode off quickly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

'Connor,

We've gone off to sort out a problem with a client. Don't know when we're back. If you can please pick Jane up from school, then hang around back at the hotel, we'll be home as soon as possible, but supposedly, these demon-y things are big bads in the fighting department. Would have woken you.but you were out. See you later,

Cordy'

The teenager pulled the note off the fridge, and studied it a second, before crumpling it, and tossing it into the trash.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Jane sat on the corner of the steps, hugging her knees, her chin resting on top of her folded arms as she waited patiently. Cordy had promised she'd come and pick her up at exactly four. It was now, according to the big clock on the front of the school, half past four, and she was getting bored.

"Hey," a voice muttered. She looked up.

"Connor?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

He looked around, the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to prickle. Small senses sparking that something was following them.

"Jane?" he looked down. Trustingly, the child met his eyes.

"Connor?"

He glanced back a moment. They were about fifteen minutes from the hotel, and five from Caritas, two when running. Something non-vampiric was definitely behind them, and Cordelia would *kill* him if anything happened to Jane.

Without another thought, he hustled the small girl towards the demon bar, hoping to God it was shut until the evening, and he could get hold of Lorne.

* ~ * ~ * ~

"What in the name of Shelly Basset..?" Lorne demanded, as Connor tugged the little girl down the steps into the club.

"Demon. Following us. The hotel is too far away," Connor explained. He cast a quick look around. A few demons were scattered around the room, playing cards, smoking, and flipping through the music cds, in preparation for that evening. He shrugged.

"I've got to go, Lorne. Keep an eye on her."

"But." Lorne tried, as Connor sped up the stairs, and out. He glanced at the girl fearfully. She squirmed.

"Excuse me, but do you have a bathroom?"

'Of course," he replied, dazedly, as he led her towards the little Supremes room. A little less on the 'girls' room. Some of his customers were definitely not 'girls', in any sense.

"Can you pass me the green crayon?" Lorne handed it over, sipping his drink.

"What're you drawing, munchkin?" he asked. She lifted it up, showing a nice big picture of a house, and a little girl outside with two stick figure people either side.

"That's me, and that's the hotel, and that's Angel, and that's Cordy," she pointed. He looked, amused.

"Where's me?" he asked, swirling the drink in his left hand.

"That's why I needed the green crayon," she explained. He looked at her, bemused. It was very strange. No consternation at all at the demonic side of him, the very obvious demon side of him.

"Aww, shit! That's cheating!" a Chriago demon in the corner complained loudly. Lorne was as surprised as any of the others when Jane stood up, and turned around to order imperiously that he not cuss. As she sat down with a bump, he caught sight of Cordelia and Angel, in the doorway.

"Ah. Cavalry has arrived," he said, crossing to them.

Developments

The lights in the hotel were dark, and as the door swung open, Connor was careful not to let it bang behind him. He moved towards the stairs-

"Connor, come back down now." Angel's low voice carried a threat to it.

At his father's words, the boy backed back into the room. The lights snapped on. Angel's eyes fixed on his son's blue orbs.

"What have you done to yourself?" Cordy gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. The bruises forming across Connor's face, and the blood there made her feel nauseous. Angel normally did the whole, vamp-super-healing thing before he got this gross.

"A few demons didn't like me killing their friend," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "I got hit."

"And if you'd been in the hotel, with Jane as asked, you wouldn't be out, getting hit," Angel stated, his jaw stony.

Connor folded his arms.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," he spat defensively.

"No. I agree. You're an adult, right Connor?" the agreeable tone of Angel's voice was off with his movements. He stood, body and shoulders set, and his own arms folded. "An adult. Old enough to know what he's doing, what he can accomplish, whether or not he's getting himself killed, or just going into a risky situation, right, Connor?" Connor shifted on the spot uneasily. Angel moved forward.

"An adult is supposed to be responsible. So how come Jane was with Lorne? She's a little kid, her parents are dead, and as far as we knew, she was completely normal. So how come you left her in a demon bar, with only Lorne as protection?" he growled.

"And a hey from the green demon!" Lorne protested, from the couch. Angel glanced at him, and then back to Connor.

"My parents are dead. *I* can take care of myself," Connor muttered.

A muscle jumped in Angel's jaw. He unfolded, and refolded his arms.

"Yes. And you are seventeen years old. There's a difference."

"Technically he's only two years old," Fred added, then covered her mouth with her hand. "Sorry."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Jane shivered, and covered her ears with her hands. Why was Connor all growly to Angel? It made her stomach hurt. It was all her fault. Aunt Es had always said that she made things bad.

>Maybe if I go away again, then they'll be better. But then *they* would find me.<

She hugged herself tightly, curling tighter into a ball on the step, and one hand crept up to clutch the tag on the chain, zipping it back and forth, restlessly. Zip. Zip. Zip.

Roughly, Connor shoved past her, running up the stairs. She pulled her knees up higher, and bent her head over them, resting her chin.

"Hey sweet cheeks," Lorne said, slipping an arm around the girl's shoulders. She looked up at him miserably, her pale hair falling either side of her tear stained little face.

"Everyone's pretty mad, huh?"

"Yeah, they are. You see, most people don't know about people like me.Jane, do you know what I am?" he looked at her curiously.

She dropped her eyes back to her knees, and moved the tag back and forth once again.

"Jane?" he probed gently.

"You're a demon," she answered finally, her voice muffled by her hands. "Like Uncle Rory, and Aunt Patricia. Daddy said that I wasn't s'posed to stay in the room with them, though, 'cause he said their 'tentions might slip. Would your 'tentions slip, Lorne?" she asked.

He chuckled. "No sweetness. They wouldn't. How'd your Daddy know they were demons?"

"'Cause he was one," Jane answered. "A nice one. Mommy always said he was the best demon in the whole wide world, and the best Daddy too."

" How's about we get you ready for bed, Jane?" he offered, holding out a green hand.

"Okay," she replied, taking it, and picking herself up. "But I get a story."

"Once upon a time, there was a wonderful demon named Lauren of the Deathwok clan.."

She wrinkled her nose.

"Is that you, Lorne?" she asked. He shrugged.

"It might be. Now this demon had impeccable taste in style, music, and cheekbones like marble.."

~*~

"Honey?" Cordelia swung open the door. Jane looked up, from a big book propped up on the quilt. A soft blue lamp was sitting beside her, and her uniform was folded over the back of a chair.

"What's that?" she asked, curious. Jane lifted it up.

"Fred gave it to me. It's about a princess, in a big tower, who everyone loved, but they can't remember her, 'cause she's been away so long. And a Prince called Florizel is gonna go save her," Jane answered eagerly. "It's a good book."

Cordelia smiled, and sat down on the end of the bed.

"That was a book she used to read when she came back from Pylea, where Lorne used to live."

"Nuh uh," Jane shook her head firmly. "Lauren of the Deathwok clan lived in Pylea. He was a wonderful magic demon, who could sing, and make people feel better. He helped Fred get away from the evil people, all on his own!"

"Hmm," Cordelia muttered. "Not the way *I* heard it. " Jane looked at her questioningly.

"But that's okay. Fred was really, really shy when she came back, and she used to read the book over and over imagining Ang..Lauren was her Prince Florizel, because he saved her," she told Jane.

Jane gave a small smile.

"'Night 'night. "

"G'night," Jane yawned sleepily, as Cordy switched out the light.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"We're nearly there," Starr informed them, shifting the backpack uncomfortably from one shoulder to the other with a sigh. "Another coupla miles, and we'll be there. We'd best crash for the night."

Jess tugged on Gabby's arm, the smaller blonde meekly following, tired.

"C'mon, we can go to sleep soon," she encouraged, her blue eyes still bright. Gabby yawned, setting Faye off. The younger girl yawned so hugely that the sketchpad tucked under one arm crumpled slightly.

"Sleep is good," she mumbled. Starr grinned slightly, swiping at an unruly lock of black hair.

"Yeah. It is. But where we're headed, there's a hotel."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Cordy sat up in bed, fighting for breath. Blurred images of a person, their face cloaked, laughter, smoke, a smell.incense, a feeling of tightness, a stabbing pain in her throat- her hands grabbed at her neck, fumbling for an invisible attacker, trying to loosen the grip of the vision. But there was no attacker, no place, no actual visual of a person they could save, then, as someone turned, blackness.

"Cordy? Cordy!" Angel was shaking her shoulders, his face grim. She blinked, and sighed, dropping back onto the pillows.

"Vision. Strong one."

He stroked her face tenderly. The visions had lightened since Cordy's half demon side had been put in place, but this one was as strong as the visions she had gone through on her birthday.

"Can we help? Where is it?" She shook her head mutely.

"No. No place, no person. Just a vision. And pain." She held him tightly, taking comfort in his presence. He enclosed her, wrapping the quilt around her more warmly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Jane lay back in the bed, shivering slightly. The stabbing pain in her head, and her neck had gone, but the remembrance of it made her ache. She turned over, huddling under the quilt, snuffled a couple of times, and dropped back into dreamless sleep.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"So, we're deciding what exactly? That since Jane didn't go, ooh creepy demon, when she saw Lorne, we're going to allow her to see us kill things? And allow her out to kill things *with* us?" Cordelia demanded. Angel winced.

"Cor, your voice has risen by about two octaves in pitch."

"Well, I'm so sorry, Mister let's expose eight year olds to huge, deathly danger!" she snapped.

"Cordelia! Calm down! We're not advocating Jane being exposed to stuff that would scare her, just that, we no longer have to watch whatever we say, Lorne can be around without worry, that kind of thing," he replied. She moved to the sink, clattering the frying pan there.

"Is it too much to ask that she possibly have a normal life for a tiny bit?" she pleaded. He frowned.

"Cordelia, this girl appeared in a vision. The last vision you had since then you didn't get anything from. Then, she walks into a demon bar, and tells a 200-pound chirago demon to stop cussing. I fail to see how normal her life can be!"

"Fine. But if she gets hurt, you're going down to the E.R," she warned. She looked over to where the little girl was eating cereal happily at the table. Connor had seated himself nearby, and was forking up eggs, and fried bacon. She turned back to the dishes, but sudden laughter made her turn.

"Connor!" she rebuked the teenager, who was helpless with laughter, as he urged on Jane's blowing bubbles in the milk, so much so that it overflowed onto the table. Jane looked up at her, doe eyed.

"Cordy? Can I go play with Fred now?" she requested politely, a little milk moustache gracing her upper lip. Cordelia fought the urge to grin.

"Little horror! Fine, you can go, just put your bowl in the sink please, and-" she took a napkin, and wiped off the aftermath of the milk. "Now you can go, munchkin."

Jane skipped away, and Connor went back to eating in silence. Cordelia looked at Angel.

"I'm serious. You're the one in the E.R."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Gunn looked up from polishing the axe, to meet two big brown eyes.

"What's up, Pippi?" he asked, rubbing it. She frowned, creasing her forehead.

"I'm Jane," she stated, folding her arms. A small grin appeared on Gunn's face.

"Yeah, I know. I was talking about the hairstyle." He picked up one of the braids.

"It's a braid, not a pippi, Gunn," she sighed, sounding ten years older. He laughed then.

"Guess it's not," he agreed. Silence fell again, as he rubbed the axe again, concentrating on shining the blade.

"What're you doing?" He looked up again.

"Bad, naughty things," he replied awkwardly to her, in an attempt to get her to go away. He didn't know what to do with kids. He'd never been around many of them, and Alanna had been fourteen when they were completely alone. Her eyes lit up.

"Can I play?"

He groaned inwardly.

"No. It's a grown-ups' game."

She stuck out her bottom lip.

"Please?"

"You know I'll have to cut that off," he told her. When could a guy get time alone with his axe? He needed the time, and the axe definitely needed polishing. It wasn't as shiny any more. Didn't give him that little tingle when he picked it up.

"O-kay," she sighed, walking away.

* ~ * ~ * `

"Right. We are *not* going to scare the nice people. We're going to go in, find who we're looking for, and do what they say. Understand?" Starr demanded, hefting the backpack over her shoulders. Gabby and Faye nodded silently. Jess met her eyes, and folded her arms.

"No," she pronounced. Starr bit back a sharp reply.

"What's wrong now?" she asked, tiredly.

"I don't see why we have to be pulled out of our homes, just 'cause our Watchers got blown up in England, and haul ass across the country, so we can go see the Watcher who has control of the Slayer. It's completely pointless. He's not the only Watcher alive," Jess argued. She glared at Starr. "Just 'cause your dumb brother thinks this guy is God's gift to slaying. What does Sullivan know about it? He's not even a girl!"

Starr's lips twitched at that, but she drew in a deep breath. Jessamy had been pushing the limits every day.

"Jessamy, we are here because both Sullivan, and our Watchers thought he was the best person to come to. We were under the Council's training, so we obey what is left of the Council, without getting into serious stuff. Sully *is* a Council operative, but only a minor one, so he couldn't have taken control. You know what Travers was like. I wanted to stop that happening. The only person who has ever had a Slayer with something close to a normal life is this one. A Slayer, Jess. You're a Potential, so the claims on you should be even less. This is the one perfect person to come to, and we're going to stay, and talk to him, find out what we should do, if we should go home."

"We were home," Jess replied defensively.

"No, Jess. We were in England. We're American. All four of us. Five, including Sully. We lived in England for the past four years. I've been there a longer time, but America is home, and I still have a family, somewhere. As soon as I can, I'm ditching the Slayer wannabe gig, and catching the first ride going home. This is the best possible person to say we can," Starr pleaded, her eyes big with hope. "I don't want to die, neither should you. That's why we've crossed the ocean, to get here, and to him. Because this is the only place we can find freedom."

After this impassioned diatribe, Jess opened her mouth to speak, but fell silent, still frowning mutinously, but quietly. Starr glanced around with relief.

"Right. Has anyone else got any problems?" She strode through the front entrance, letting the glass door swing open behind her, admitting the three girls.

A black guy was polishing a large weapon, a thin brunette was drifting into the room, clutching a thick tome, muttering under her breath, a bright green skinned demon, with small red horns, and a loud orange suit was reading a story book with a little girl curled up beside him on a couch, a tall broody-looking man was propped up against a wall, sipping a glass of something dark red, listening to the brunette, and an unshaven man, dressed in a leather jacket was talking quickly to another brunette in distinctly British tones.

"Wrong person," Starr announced hopelessly, turning, and walking straight out, attracting the attention of everyone in the room.

"Hey! Come back!" Angel called. He moved quickly to the doorway. "Who are you?"

The tall woman turned. She was younger than Cordelia, or Fred, in her late teens. Short black locks curled around her neck, and she had large grey eyes, with a look of irritation, and great tiredness. She shifted the bag on her back.

"I'm in the wrong place," she informed him. "I'm looking for Wesley Wyndham Pryce. And this place." she looked around, and lifted an eyebrow. "Well, considering there's a demon over there, I doubt a Watcher of the Council would be here. "

"Actually," Wesley stepped forward. "I am Mr Wyndham Pryce. What is your connection with the Council?"

"Wesley?" Starr's brow furrowed. "Wesley? That you?"

"I don't believe we've been acquainted," Wesley replied, with a frown.

"No," Starr agreed. "You know my brother, Sullivan. Sullivan Reynolds. And I'm Starr." She ushered the three girls back into the room. "And these are Potentials. Meet Jessamy Kendall, Gabriella Hart, and Faye Robins. We've been headed here from a long way away. Sully told me that you were the Watcher of the Slayer, the true Slayer. He said you were collecting Potentials. I thought, you were the only one whose Slayer has survived past her 20th birthday, it would be the perfect place for Gabby, Jess and Faye." She gave him a pleading look. The black man coughed.

"Yeah, it would," he smiled, walking forward. The smile disappeared. "Unfortunately, you *have* got the wrong place. See, the *real* Slayer, the one that's not doing time cuz she killed someone, is over in Sunnydale. With a guy named Giles. Wes here is just the screw up. Fired. And last I heard, he was a rogue demon hunter, in badly fittin' leather pants." He gave the other man a sizing up look. "Who tries to mack on other guy's girls."

"Charles!" the brunette with the book snapped. Starr held up a hand.

"Whoa. Dizzy. Hold up. What do you mean, wrong person?"

Wesley glared at Gunn, but turned, and shrugged.

"I'm afraid, that in part, he is correct. I am a Watcher of the Slayer, but Faith is at present doing penance at the state prison. Mr Rupert Giles, of Sunnydale, is Watcher to Buffy Summers, the elder Slayer I believe you're referring to. I had heard of the Council's ending, and I can put through a call to Giles to get you there, with the other Potentials. Meanwhile, this is a hotel, and Angel, who owns it would possibly let you stay here."

The brunette stood beside the dark-clad man poked him sharply in the ribs.

The vampire stepped forward. "If you want to stay, there are plenty of rooms."

"Thanks," Starr replied gratefully. "It's only eight thirty, but we've been moving since ten this morning. No breaks. Where can I get the girls settled?"

The more rounded brunette stepped forward now, the vampire still rubbing where she had poked him before.

"Hi, I'm Cordelia," she smiled warmly. "You obviously know Wes, tall dark and broody is Angel, Gunn's the one with the axe, and that's Fred. Lorne is over there, with Jane. I'll show you where you guys can crash."

"Starr? I don't think I can remember that many names," Faye whispered. Cordelia smile broadened.

"It's okay. The important name is Cordelia," she informed the girl. "Right, upstairs."

As she led the four along a corridor, she pointed to various doors.

"Angel and I, Jane, Fred, Gunn, and then, up there," she pointed up a darker staircase, that was fairly narrow, 'Is Connor. Angel's son. He's out at the moment, patrolling. So, if we put...what's your name sweetie?" she pointed to Gabby.

"Gabby," the small blonde mumbled, in a tiny voice. Her moss green eyes were looking at the floor, and her wispy bangs fell across her face. Cordelia opened the door. Two twin beds, with a wardrobe, dresser, and mirror.

"If you go in here, with-"

"Jess," Jessamy cut in, throwing her bag onto the bed. She turned to face Cordelia, her thick red hair flying around her shoulders. She lifted her chin, her blue eyes meeting Cordelia's defiantly. "Gabby and I stay together."

"Okay," Cordy nodded. "Suits me. Now, you are?"

"Faye," Starr supplied. Faye clung to Starr's side. Her braid of light brown hair was mussed, and she was blinking rapidly behind her glasses in an attempt to stay awake, but she gripped tightly onto Starr's hand.

"If you go in here, Starr can go next door. See. There's a connecting door," Cordelia pointed out. "Bathrooms join onto every room, so you can all shower, or whatever. Angel will probably sort out dinner. See us downstairs in ten," she instructed, and walked off.

"See? Everything's fine," Starr reassured Faye. "They'll just call Mr Giles, and we'll catch the next bus to Sunnydale. No problem."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Hello? Giles?

Yes, I do realise it's been a while. And yes, that you're very busy.

Ohhh, end of the world? No, I hadn't noticed, everything is *perfectly* normal in L.A. No demons, no vampires, everyone skipping about eating fruit cake. Of *course* it's an end of the world. There's one every year! Last year, it was Willow!

Yes, I do know I'm being sarcastic.

No, there was a reason for calling. I have four Potentials here. They assumed I was you.

What? Houseful? But surely four of them..

Yes, I know Angel lives in a hotel. But he is a vampire. They are Slayers.

Spike is still around? For God's sake, Rupert! Why haven't you staked that useless vampire yet?

He won't like it, Giles.

Fine. They can stay. But as soon as you have room for them.."

The receiver dropped into its cradle with a loud click. Angel handed him a glass.

"Thank you," he said, absently, sipping it. "There's a problem. It appears we have gained four Potential slayers."


Visions

Connor stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, yawning. He stopped.

A redheaded girl was fighting with a teenager about his own age for possession of the last of the Captain Crunch. A dark haired girl was avidly sketching the conflict. Another girl, a blonde, was spooning up cereal, and Jane was watching them all, giggling.

"Huh?" he mumbled, staring. The redhead turned, and flipped her hair behind her shoulders.

"Aww, not yet awake? Sorry to tell ya, we're not a bad dream. We're here to stay, apparently," she directed a glare at the black haired teen, and yanked on the box.

"You're Connor, right?" the older girl questioned, straightening up. Unlike the others, still in varying pyjamas, she was dressed, in jeans and a tee shirt, and her short curly hair was brushed neatly. "Hi. I'm Starr Reynolds."

"Jane, why are there so many girls here?" he whispered to the little girl. She looked at him complacently.

"Silly. There aren't *many*. That's Starr, and that's Gabby, and that's Faye, and that one is Jess," she pointed.

"Huh," he nodded, still bewildered. He turned, and walked back out the door. Starr watched him go, and raised an eyebrow.

"Well. *That* was rude."

"What do you expect?" Jess said, through a mouthful of the stolen cereal. "Looking like that, d'you expect him to know much about girls?"

"Jess!" Starr exclaimed. Jess shrugged.

"S'true, isn't it?"

"Good morning, my little smorgasbord of goodies!" the bright green-skinned demon sang out cheerfully, as he moved quickly toward the coffee pot. "I hear you're staying at Casa Angel for a few."

Starr gave Jess a warning glance then turned to answer him.

"Yeah, we are," she replied, a little uneasily. He might be a 'friend' according to Wesley, but she wasn't so sure what she'd been taught to kill was a friend of hers.

"Sweetie, I'm not a fightin' big on child eating demon," he told her patiently. "You couldn't get a demon more likely to sing Ella than fight. Really. Get knocked out, all the time. "

"Ella?" Gabby queried. He beamed.

"Queen of the genre, honeypie. Ella Fitzgerald."

"Riiight," Jess said sceptically, with a raised eyebrow and exchanging a look with Gabby.

"So, as far as I hear it, you're all doing some kind of training with Connor and Angel today," Lorne went on.

"What? That skinny little-"Jess muttered, cut off by Jane's excited,

"What? Me too, Lorne?" The demon smiled at her.

"Sorry darlin'. You're school-bound." The grin faded, and Jane hopped off the chair, and plodded away, disappearing from the kitchen.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She cinched the belt tighter around her waist, hooking it onto the rope, quickly and efficiently checking the clasp. Divesting herself of additional material, she shook out her shoulders, and released the catch.

She dropped like a stone towards the polished, hard, black marble floor, and caught. Hanging a bare two feet above the floor, she undid the harness, and dropped onto her feet in the centre of the empty hall. Looking around, she flipped her long braid behind her shoulders, and strode towards the door.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"So, what do we do? I think I speak for all of us, when I say, huh?" Jess said confidently, glancing at the basement, and folding her arms.

The large, stuffed doll looked sadly back at her. Someone, with the best of intentions, obviously, had drawn on a smiley, lopsided face. Someone *else* had added a pair of plastic fangs, and red 'blood'. The overall effect was..well. Pathetic.

"It's a vampire," Angel stated, folding his own arms. "You practise killing it."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "And this is supposed to be training, how? I gave up playing with dolls a long time ago."

"That's the point," Starr muttered. Angel met Jess's eyes.

"You will practise fighting it. Or," he shrugged. "You could practise fighting Gunn. But the dummy is less likely to fight back."

"I pick the black guy," she answered, with a disbelieving tone in her voice. "Angel, maybe you don't get this scenario. We're Potential Slayers," she spelled out slowly. "Big on the demon fighting." She drew herself up, and put her hands on her hips. "The council already intro'd us on the beginnings. There's no way that is gonna do anything but kill time. Slowly, and painfully. So please, skip the baby talk."

Angel exchanged a glance with Starr who shrugged.

"Told you," she mumbled.

"Fine. Gunn?" he called. The man's head appeared around the door.

"You rang, Lurch?" he said, flashing a grin at the bemused vampire.

"Lurch was the Addams' family's butler," Gabby informed him, giggling. Angel scowled.

"Right. Come down, and let these girls attack you."

"How is that a good thing?" Gunn demanded. "If these are mini-Faiths...I don't wanna be here."

"Because the girls need a few things demonstrated," Angel replied. Gunn shrugged.

"Hey if they get hurt."

Three small bodies launched themselves at the black man, Jess with a loud war cry, Gabby echoing it. Easily, and quickly, Gunn shook them off, picking Jess up by the collar of her shirt, which made the girl furious.

"Put me DOWN!" she yelled. Gunn smirked.

"I doubt a vampire would listen to a 12 year old," he told her.

"I'm THIRTEEN!"

"Angel, am I done here now?" Gunn asked the vampire. He swung the girl dangling from his fist a little. "I mean, it's hardly a threat anymore."

"I don't know," Angel answered, refolding his arms. He looked directly into Jess's angry eyes. "Has she learnt the lesson?"

"Put. Me. Down," she ground out.

"I asked a question," he growled.

"Fine," she snapped back. "Learnt and all." To get revenge, and to make it *hurt*, she added, silently. Maybe dousing his sheets in holy water.?

"Put her down," Angel shrugged. Jess dropped painfully onto her side, and winced, biting her lip. She managed to stand up though, and glare at the black man.

"For someone a lot bigger than me, you seem to get your rocks off by hurting me," she accused. He grinned.

"Hey! You wanted to fight me, I just won," he lifted his shoulders. He rolled his eyes toward Angel, clearly bored. "So can I get back to real work?"

"Sure," Angel answered easily. "Just, one question? Who put the fangs and blood on the dummy?"

Gunn turn to see it, and smiled. "Fred," he answered, by way of an explanation. Angel's lips twitched into a small smile.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

She pressed one hand to the panel, and watched in satisfaction as it slid upwards smoothly, notching into place, revealing the inner wall.

"Rich people and metal security systems," she muttered, slipping one hand through into the vault, and extracting the prize. A yowling alarm blared, and she ran full pelt for the harness hanging still in mid air, as security guards raced around the corner.

"Going up," she whispered, as she glided upwards, even taking time to smile sweetly at the guards, and wave mockingly, the goal clutched in one gloved hand.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Um, Cordelia? Do you mind if I leave the girls here for the afternoon?" Starr requested, fiddling with the collar of her shirt, uneasily. "I want to get a couple of things, and, well, see L.A."

The brunette smiled at her. "Sure, it's okay, Starr. I'm sure the girls need stuff, so I'll take them mall-wise this afternoon. Guys, you happy with that?" she turned to the group of hot, sweaty girls clustered in the foyer. Gabby nodded. Jess held up a hand.

"I could use a new sketchpad," Faye spoke up, shyly. Cordelia looked at the girl, a soft look in her brown eyes.

"You like drawing?" she asked. Faye nodded.

"Mr Travers used to let the Watchers teach me. I used to illustrate some of the books," she mumbled. Cordelia's smile became rather fixed. What the skanky, nasty fat little man had told these children to do, she would really rather was not mentioned.

"Well I'm sure we can find you some better subject matter," she laughed. Faye held out the sketchpad tucked under her arm.

"I drew this," she answered. The page was turned towards Cordelia, and she looked down at it.

It was a sketch of Lorne, sat next to Jane. The little girl was in her pyjamas, her feet curled under her, and her hair in a wispy braid, soft tendrils of hair falling across her face, as she looked up at the demon. Lorne was leant against the chair's back, an arm around Jane's shoulders, and his mouth open in a song. His eyes were warm, and soft as he looked at the child, and the sketch was well drawn, in such a way as to appear life like.

"This is.,...beautiful, Faye," Cordelia said softly, gazing at the sketch again.

"You can keep it," the girl mumbled, and stepped back. Starr smiled at her. Jess curled a lip in a look of disgust.

"Stupid fat little baby," she muttered under her breath to Gabby. Meekly, the younger girl nodded.

"Sucking up to Cordelia. No doubt she prefers hanging around with demons to going to the home of the *real* Slayer," Jess continued, a sneering toe in her voice.

"But there is a Slayer here," Gabby said, confused, meeting Jess's eyes. Jess scowled.

"Oh yeah. Real Slayer. Locked behind bars, 'cuz she kills people," she scoffed. Gabby bowed her head.

"Guys? You want to go get ready?" Cordelia asked. Jess cast a last glare at Faye, and marched away, followed by Gabby.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna head on ou-" Starr stopped, in horror, as Cordelia crumpled to the floor, her head clutched in her hands.

"Cordelia! Cordelia! Are you okay?" she asked wildly. Sparking pain behind her eyes made her sink onto the ground beside her, on her knees, holding her forehead.

Images flashed past. Blood, so much blood. Hands coated in it, bathed in it, scattering drops of the crimson liquid in the air. A symbol, carved into wood, burning. And then, a voice, high, and piercing, distorted. "Three, THREE!" it screamed, and then a face, but masked in darkness. Starr's head slipped down onto the floor, as she and Cordelia lay side by side, sprawled in unconsciousness.

Alone, the little girl leant her head against the side of the stalls, as she shivered with the pain. At the sights flashing across her eyes, she vomited, crying bitterly, as she dropped into darkness.

In a tall office block, the dark haired young man went unnoticed, as he put a hand to his temple, as he fell forwards, almost in slow motion, in the small waiting room.


Trip To The Mall

"Cordelia!" Angel's voice was hoarse as he shook his lover's shoulders. She was sprawled across the lobby floor, Starr beside her, passed out in the same position.

He gripped her hand tightly. Cordelia's eyelids flickered.

"Angel? Still sleepy, go fetch coffeeee..?" she mumbled. He smiled with relief, and helped her to sit up.

"What happened to you?" he asked quietly, as she put her hand to her temples, hissing in a breath.

"I don't.remember," she replied, her brows furrowing, as she tried to recall what had happened. Her eyes widened as she caught the end of the vision, and she swallowed visibly.

"I do." Starr pushed back her black curls with her hands, a grim look on her face. "I just don't know why."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Mr Holden? Mr Holden?" Dimly, he recalled the name he was using in the building was Holden, and pulled himself up on the corner of the table. He raised a hand over the side of the cubicle.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he muttered. He sucked in a breath as he felt a sore spot on his head, where he'd hit it on the side of the desk. The slim woman, clad in a brown suit, appeared around the side of the three walled space.

"Mr Holden, Mr Jacobs will see you now."

*Mr Holden* followed her, obediently, the residue of the vision still pounding in his brain. He had to get to Starr.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Okay, what in Britney Spears' comeback tour is going on?" the green skinned demon demanded. "For some reason, I'm blocked from ya, doll. And a word to the wise, sugar lump? Your voice suits the stellar style of Eva Cassidy, Joni Mitchell, anythin' but Gloria Gaynor." Starr nodded dumbly.

"Britney Spears' comeback tour?" Jess repeated, her arms folded, with a questioning look. He gave a quick, wicked grin.

" It would be hell," he supplied. Faye gave a tiny snort of laughter, which she quickly repressed when Jess glared at her.

"Thanks..I think. Britney aside, and whoever the hell Joni Mitchell-"

"Blasphemy!" Lorne exclaimed, flapping a hand at her. "Bite your tongue!" Starr looked up at him pleadingly.

"Okay, okay. Song people aside, am I to understand that I sang for no reason whatsoever, but to make the great thumping migraine worse?" Lorne shot her a pitying look.

"'Fraid so, sweetheart. There's a whoopdidoo of blockage on ya, and that's the kind of whammy I can't break through."

"Uh, people? I hate to break up the lovely discussion of readings, blood, and my ever-present favorite, how much gore was in my last vision, but someone has to go pick Jane up from school. And the Potentials, they need..stuff," Cordy gestured vaguely.

"Right. It's three thirty.we should go. Uh, Fred? If you go get Jane, and Gunn, you and Wes take Potentials, they were gonna go to the mall, I'm going to research this. Cordy, do you want to head upstairs?" The tired Seer nodded.

"I'm gonna go up, too," Starr put in softly. Angel whipped around.

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Good." Uneasily, he looked from female to female, then strode quickly into the office.

* ~ * ` * ~ * ~ * ~

"What do you mean, worthless? That *can't* be worthless." The slim young woman balled her hands into fists. "I went into a lot of trouble for that thing, AND I. WANT. MY. MONEY!"

"I'm deeply apologetic, Ms.. .What did you say your name was? Never-mind," he waved it aside. "As I said, we're apologetic, but the merchandise requested has not arrived in order. Therefore, no payment."

She sounded more desperate. "There has *got* to be a mistake. I put my life on the line for that thing. Do it every night. And I always deliver. Always get paid."

"Well, there's always a first time," he smiled insincerely. He pressed a button on the intercom. "Ms Westley? Ask the guards to escort Ms.the lady out."

She leaned forward.

"It's Gwen." She yanked off a glove, and touched the tip of her finger to his cheek. A live electric charge ran through him, as she coolly watched.

"Yes, there is a first time for everything," she whispered. "But it pisses me off."

She sashayed past the guards, swinging her hips as she walked, tossing her head at their dumbfounded looks, as she tugged the long, black silk glove back on. They didn't notice the opened package in her hand, as they scrambled toward the desk, and Mr Jacobs.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"So..." Wesley's face was set determinedly. "The biggest challenge we have yet to face."

"Come off it, English! They're teenage girls!" Gunn protested laughingly. Wesley turned to face him, folding his arms against his crisp red shirt front.

"Have you ever been around teenage girls on an excursion away from the Council?"

"Well, no," the black man admitted.

"Then you have no idea what you are dealing with," the Englishman stated grimly.

"Gabby! Gabby!" pounding feet sounded, racing down the stairs.

"Oh God," Wesley muttered. Three girls assembled in front of him. Gunn nudged him in the ribs.

"Look, Wes, they're only little," he whispered. A small smirk appearing on Jess's lips went unnoticed, as the ex-Watcher replied,

"At an age where they can do the most damage."

Gunn rolled his eyes at the girls, and gestured at Wesley. They giggled.

"All right. Let the terror begin," Wesley muttered miserably.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

To the casual observer, they looked like they'd been hit by a bomb. It was the only explanation for the shell shocked expression on their faces.

"It's your turn," Gunn managed to say numbly. Wesley shook his head, a glazed look in his eyes.

"No. It's not. It's another shop. And it's Gabby. You took Gabby, remember? After the ice cream shop, you said, 'I'm not taking Jess'. You took her. Now do your duty, like a true Watcher," Wesley ordered indistinctly. A small smile quirked Gunn's lips.

"Correction, English. I'm not the Watcher. You are. They're Potentials. Your job."

"Damn," the Englishman muttered, as he strode into the store.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

"I'm sorry, mister, there were three girls in here, but they've gone," the harassed clerk told him, a worried look crossing her face. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a tag on her pink uniform said, 'Hi, I'm Sandy. How can I help?'

Wesley groaned.

"Did you see where they went?" he asked politely, whipping off his glasses, and polishing them at hyperspeed.

"Oh yeah. Across the mall. Other side. See, Victoria's?" His stomach dropped, as she pointed. Oh no. This was far, far worse than anything he'd even begun to think about.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"What about this one?" Jess held up the lilac bra. Gabby considered, her head on one side.

"I think I liked the yellow," she offered. Jess rolled her eyes.

"C'mon Gabby, it's not about favourite colours," she sighed. She gave a complacent smirk to the mirror. "It's about which one looks hot."

Faye hid a yawn. "Black's the common one then."

Both of the others turned to look at her. She shrugged.

"Hey, didn't say anything. Just, black is generally considered to be the colour of sexy underwear."

Jess glanced back at the mirror, and pushed her auburn hair behind her shoulders. She flicked through the rack before them. With a naughty grin, she held up a lacy, black bra. "We have lift off."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Two men raced into the Victoria's Secret shop, scattering women.

"The important thing to do is just.not look," Wesley suggested, as they came to a screeching halt in front of a display. Gunn grinned.

"And miss the show?" he asked, impishly. Wesley glared.

"Hey, look over there, English!"

"I'm trying not to, thank you!"

Gunn rolled his eyes good naturedly.

"No. I'm talkin' about the three girls, one a redhead, who just walked into the dressing room. And damn they have a lot of underwear with them!" his eyes widened. "They're not intending to.buy it, are they?"

Wesley, with shut eyes frowned with frustration. "Council. Girls. Free. Of course they'll buy it if they can!"

Gunn raised an eyebrow. "We'd better get over there."

Wesley, his arms outstretched to feel his way there, crashed into a display labelled, 'naughty Secrets to make your partner go wild!' Gunn hooted with laughter, as the dismayed, and flustered ex-Watcher hurried to scoop up the dropped underwear, his face turning a dull, deep red.

"I think we find them, now," Wesley stated, his voice icy.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Jessamy! Gabriella! Faye! Where are you?"

"Sir, you can't go in there, sir!" the flustered attendant tried to hold the furious Watcher back, as he shoved past her, and into pastel central, the dressing rooms.

Jess peeked around the corner of the pale pink curtain, to see Wes storming up the central aisle. She smirked, a wicked look in her blue eyes.

"Pay back," she whispered. Trying her hardest to throw her voice, she called,

"Wesley? We're all done. We're in the dressing room on your left, no, up a bit, that's it. Hang on, Gabby just needs to." Gabby blushed hotly, but kept quiet.

"No waiting," the angry man ordered. He yanked back the curtain, revealing an old lady, struggling with the clasp of a bra. Both pairs of eyes widened in horror.

"You nasty, NASTY man!" the woman shrieked, flapping her hands at him, striking his front. Wesley, now white, was backing out of the room, his eyes shut. He fell hard against the facing dressing room, and pulled down the curtain on a woman in her early thirties. She screamed, and pulled the curtain around her, jabbing at the call button for the attendant with a finger.

Stifling laughter, the three girls ran out of the dressing rooms, to the counter, to pay for their items.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Wesley, his face still scarlet, stormed up to the three girls, happily swinging bags, and eating ice cream, seated in a booth with Gunn. The black man couldn't hide his mirth at the sight of the 'rogue demon hunter'.

"Jessamy Kendall. You will train with Angel this evening," he ordered stiffly. "Now get back to the car."

Still shaking his head snickering, particularly as he noticed the large bruise purpling on the side of Wesley's cheek, Gunn led the way towards Angel's car.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Hit, block, hit," he instructed. The Potential's eyes blazed with determination, and she shifted her hands wider apart on the quarterstaff. Sweeping strokes upwards, and,

"Hit, block, hit," he repeated. " No, Jess. Again." In frustration, she threw the staff down, where it clattered against the cool stone of the basement.

"I did it okay. I do not need to do these stupid little drills!" she tossed her head in defiance. "I'm a Potential. Either the slayer dies, and I become the Chosen One, or she doesn't, and I don't."

He regarded her with no expression.

"Again."

"No!" she yelled.

Angel turned towards the staircase.

"Fine," he said quietly. "Then you won't fight. No training for three days."

The redhead was left in the centre of the dark room, struggling to swallow the bitter retort on her lips.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Cordy? Are you going to be okay?" the little girl flung herself at the brunette, her thin arms encircling the woman's neck, the heart shaped face buried in her neck. Cordelia chuckled, hugging the child tightly.

"Yeah. I'm gonna be fine." She stroked the shiny hair, combed into two neat bunches, and held Jane close.

"What happened, Cordy?" Jane whispered, looking into Cordelia's hazel eyes. The woman considered a moment.

"Well, you know I have those visions?" the little girl nodded her head. "I got a bad one. And it made my head ache, so I didn't feel so good. So I had a rest, and now I'm good to go," she finished, with a tight smile.

In answer, the child burrowed back into her arms. "I don't want you to go away, like Mommy," she muttered, clinging to Cordelia.

Cordelia looked down.

"Honey, I'm not going anywhere," she told her gently. "I'm staying right here."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The lobby's glass doors swung open.

"Come in, it's fine. We're still working at eight o'clock at night," Angel called dryly. Most of AI's customers called during the standard work times. However, there were a few who saw the Hyperion as a drop in centre. He fastened the top button of his dark blue shirt.

"Good to know I haven't disturbed anyone," the woman replied, in a husky tone, a hint of a grin in her voice.

"Gwen?"

She cocked her head on one side.

"The one and only," she confirmed. Clad in black leather pants, and a tight red halter top and long black gloves, she was unmistakably the same woman.

"Ooh, have we added whores to the repertoire of misfits in this place?" a girl queried, a snide tone in her voice, as she walked out of the office, a younger blonde following her.

Gwen raised an eyebrow.

"Nice munchkin, Angel. What, the wizard of Oz had layoffs?" She glanced at Jess. "Let me guess, your blood opens the gate to a portal, or something fantastic. Don't tell me you're this annoying without a purpose."

Jess smirked sarcastically. "Nice. What breed of freak are you?"

"Repeat that." The electrically charged woman's tone was icy.

"Okay. What kind of a freak are-" Gwen pulled off a glove.

"The kind that can make you sizzle like you just touched bare wires. Get back under your rock, brat, or I'll make your curls stand on end." She smiled slowly at Angel, and shrugged loosely.

"I don't like kids."

"I get that," he answered. He glanced at Jess, whose chin was raised belligerently. "Jess. Go back in the kitchen."

She glared at the brunette, sneered, and walked back inside. Gabby raced to keep up with her.

"So. What are you here for?"

"There's a small problem. I need to get your input on it." She glanced around. "n private."

"This way," Angel indicated, as he closed the doors of the office.

She paced the floor, as he settled himself into the black leather chair.

"Something is wrong, Angel. I was sent on an op," she glanced at him impatiently. "Not a bad one. Just a regular metal security system, guards. I could do it in my sleep. "

"So why are you here?" he asked. She shook out her shoulders, swinging her arms to loosen the muscles.

"Because something happened. I was asked to find this, the tool of Persephone, heard of it?"

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desktop.

"Yeah. It's an object that-"

"Grants visions of the future in the central globe. Better than a Seer, because it's more precise," she cut in, nodding. "So you've heard of it. Good. I bought the first item with a favor. It was too heavily guarded for me to attack. "

She held out a small ball. It was a smoky, glass globe, filled with mist.

"Doesn't work until you connect the second part. Owned, previously," she allowed herself a small smile, "By the wonderful Fairman Merchandising. I got it from them Tuesday night." She pulled out a small metal clip, and tossed it to him. He caught it, surprised.

"Oh don't worry if you drop it," she shrugged. "The thing's worthless."

"The tool of Persephone? But, it-"

"Doesn't work," she filled in. She gave a bitter smile. "Yeah. I know how the deal is. Persephone's globe, used when given to her by her mother to see the world above. I do research the stuff I take, Angel. I had a large amount riding on this. Business has been slow recently. I needed this money. And Jacobs, the guy I was working for, refused to pay me. I got that to him in perfect condition Angel. And that guy needed it. He won't pay me, says it doesn't work. Something big screwing with something that powerful? This stinks of something you guys handle, so I came to you-"

The doors to the office slid open, as Jane stopped in the doorway. She stared at Gwen, her eyes wide in terror, and screamed.

Explanations

Faith paced the floor of the cell. She tipped back her head, and breathed in deeply. The fresh air filtering through the solid bars carried the smell of spring. Sultry, and warm, it spiralled into her, making her remember. Practising, fighting, talking. It had been winter when she'd killed the guy.

Spring when she started working for him. The Mayor.

She stretched her muscles, loosening them, in readiness for the yard time. She knew the drill. At exactly 12.02, the bell would ring. Guards unlocked the cells so they could go out into the prison yard. Small for the number of women there, sandy coloured dirt. But there were weights. Bars. Keeping her strength up. But for what? So that another crisis could come up? She was the Slayer, but was going to die behind bars. Never slay a vampire.

She smirked suddenly. She'd outlive B. Consolation prize. Knock the longest- lived crown off the prom queen's head.

"430019." She looked up. She knew her number.

"Out." The guard gestured with the baton, sliding the door back. She frowned, confused.

"What?" They always opened the door from the back. What the hell?

The blow came out of nowhere. She fell, hard.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He dialled the number, holding his breath. Jay picked up.

"Hey. Is Starr contactable?" he asked brusquely.

"You sent her, Sullivan. She's in L.A. No phone. She ditched it. Said Wyndham Pryce. Discontinued operative here. There's only been two. I suggest if you want contact, you get yourself out there.," Jay replied. Monotone. Most of the Council backups were the same.

"Right. Potentials?" Sully asked, scanning the room for sign of the other employees. He wasn't supposed to be here.

"Coming in all sides of the globe. I'd say we have twenty here. We get reports of them, then they go over to that Watcher. Rupert Giles."

Sullivan felt his throat tighten.

"No," he corrected. "Wesley Wyndham Pryce. Longest known Slayer. He's collecting them. Starr took three to him. Kendall, Hart, and Robins."

Jay hissed in a breath on the other line. "What are you talking about? Wyndham Pryce was fired. 1999. His Slayer went bad. Faith Carter. Killed a human. Council operatives sent to recover her. She broke free. Off the record, Sullivan, she's more than the Council can handle. However, she made contact with Angelus, the souled vampire, and has spent the last two years in prison. The Watcher I referred to is Rupert Giles. Watcher of the Slayer, 1997. Buffy Summers. Due to her revival, after death, she created the second Slayer line. Giles was fired following her failed Cruciatmentem. She then became rogue when Pryce was sent out to become Slayer to her and Carter. She rejoined the Council, as did Giles in 2001, and Giles has been training the Potentials since the Council ended," Jay finished. His solemn, operative tone ended. "C'mon, Sully. You know this. You, and a few others, including me, made it out of the Watcher School. Starr and some of the Potentials escaped. "

"I think I may have sent my sister into real danger," Sullivan murmured, as he hung up the phone, pale, and shaken.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Jane cast a scared look in Angel's direction, and spun, running towards the glass doors, tears streaking down her pale face.

"You promised!" she shrieked. "You promised! How could you?"

"What's wrong?' Gwen asked, bewildered, over the child's howls, as they ran after her.

"I don't *know*!" Angel growled. Cordelia appeared at the top of the stairs.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. Jane tripped on the steps to the front door, subsiding into silent sobs.

"You're just like all the others," she said, dully. She looked up at Cordy, her eyes accusing. "You promised. I hate you."

She flung herself out of the door, and ran. Cordelia cast a confused look at Angel, but chased after the girl.

"Jane! Jane, sweetie, what's wrong?" she caught the little girl by the shoulders. Jane's head tipped forward, lolling on her neck. All the fight ebbed out of her, and she stood limply against Cordelia, as the woman knelt on the cold stone path, to meet her height.

"Sweetheart, I swear to you, I didn't break my promise. What's wrong?" she held Jane's shoulders lightly.

Jane met her eyes, and Cordelia was struck by the pain, and yet, acceptance in them. She had the eyes of someone who had been through the worst life had to throw, and was on the brink of it again.

"Why would she come back if you hadn't broken your promise?' she asked simply.

"Gwen?" Cordelia asked incredulously. At the name, Jane nodded mutely, the tears beginning to course down her cheeks again.

"Honey, no one is taking you away. No one. I won't let them," Cordy told her fervently.

Gwen walked slowly towards them. In Cordelia's arms, Jane tensed, stiffening.

"I remember you now. Little kid. You're eight, right?" Jane nodded. Gwen gave a sardonic smile. "Academy through and through, huh? Don't worry, I broke free of that stuff a while back. I'm not with them."

"You're.you're not?" Jane's voice was tiny.

Gwen shook her head.

"Nope. Free agent."

Jane sank back into Cordelia's arms, laughing, and sobbing, as she flung her arms around the woman's neck. Mystified, Cordy scooped her up, holding her tight, while looking at Gwen, baffled.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Sitting down on a soft leather chair, in Angel's office, Jane so exhausted that she was asleep in her lap, she listened to Gwen explain.

"When I was a little girl, I was taken by my parents to an academy, for people like me. They could *deal* with my problem. " Gwen turned, running a hand along the sleek mahogany desk contemplatively.

"I'm twenty one, Cordelia. Been operating solo for a while now. I was 17 when Jane was brought to the Academy." Cordelia looked down at the child in her arms.

"What are you saying?" Angel asked.

"Jane was brought there, because it was thought she had some kind of ability. There's no kid at that Academy who *doesn't* have some tie to the freaky. And there are hundreds of kids there. I didn't really notice most of the kids, wouldn't have recognised her. She was four? Five? But you couldn't forget Jane." She smile was bittersweet, as she tousled the sleeping little girl's long fair hair.

"Why?" Angel asked hoarsely.

Gwen turned to face him, her hair swinging out behind her. Her lips were still quirked in a smile, but her eyes were dreamy, and looked beyond the vampire.

"No one could forget the screams," she said softly.

"What?"

The young woman gazed around the office.

"It's nice here. Guess Jane ended up in a nice place. Good for her, you know?"

"What did you mean, Gwen?" Angel repeated, folding his arms. She met his eyes.

"She didn't have talent," she answered simply. "This wasn't the kind of school where you learnt at your own pace, alright? If you didn't do what they wanted quick enough, they made you."

She looked down at the girl. Long fair eyelashes lay curled up on the pale cheeks. Dried tear stains were barely visible. Her lilac jumper had dirt stains on it, from the run into the garden, a bright bumblebee knitted into it was still grinning away, a blob of mud obscuring one of its eyes.

"It wasn't a nice place." Her voice sounded hollow now. "I don't know what she went through. No one really knows what each one goes through. I just know that at first, when they start, the kids scream. Long, and loud, terrified. Then they begin to get it. Truth is, sometimes magical ability, or telekinesis can be forced on a kid. All of them got something. Except her. She screamed, and screamed, long after everyone else had stopped. And then she went silent. It was like, they finally broke her. Only she didn't have some freak gift at the end of it." She was angry now.

She whirled around, her arms wrapped around herself. "I was there still when she left. Some woman picked her up. It was the look in her eyes that made me remember. Real hope, you know? All that they'd done to her, and she was still a little kid. Still had hope." She turned her back. "I don't like kids. Really don't. "

"The necklace," Cordelia murmured. Without facing her, Gwen answered.

"Tags. Put around her neck, so she could be identified quickly. Some of those kids.when they were finished, you didn't know how old they were. Should have her name, DOB, and the date she went into the academy."

Cordelia picked the tag up gently from where it hung around Jane's neck. The child barely stirred.

"2/6/2000," she whispered. "Right under her birth-date." She fingered it, making the silver flash in the dim light.

"How many children did you say were there, Gwen?" Angel asked, frowning, looking at Jane.

She shrugged elegantly, reaching up to comb her hair back with her fingers, arching her back. "I was more of a 'get the hell out of there' person than a 'let's stop and count'.

"So when she saw you-" Cordelia breathed, as she put the pieces together. Gwen nodded, lifting a slim shoulder.

"Must of thought I'd come to take her back. Poor little midget. That place still creeps me out."

"I'm going to put her to bed," Cordy said, lifting the little girl, and holding her tightly against herself.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Cordy?" The little voice was slurred, as Jane rubbed sleepily at her eyes with balled fists. Cordelia bent over the bed, tucking the quilt around the child tighter.

"Hey," she said, keeping her voice soft. "Night time, remember?"

"You're not gonna let them take me?" Cordelia kissed Jane's forehead, sweeping the hair off her face.

"No, sweetie." Jane sighed, and rolled over to face the wall, little sleepy sounds of contentment.

As Cordelia reached the door, she called out.

" 'Love you." Cordy stopped, and turned back to the little girl. Jane yawned, and the eyelashes fluttered closed. She smiled.

"Love you too."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She opened her eyes. The room was white. Bare, empty.

[Weird sense of déjà vu here]

She sat up, and pushed away the blankets. A tugging feeling at her skin caught her attention, and she looked down. A drip was connected to her arm. She yanked it out, hardly feeling the sting. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and padded across to the door, her bare feet cold on the icy floor.

She opened it, and peered around. A hospital, like any other. People talking, moving around, lab coats moving past, she ducked behind the door, and pressed against it.

"Extremely dangerous..blood sample..guard," she caught.

[What the hell is goin' on here?]

She scanned the room for clothes. She damn well wasn't going to make it out of here butt naked except for a papery gown, was she?

"Room 104," she heard a woman's voice, and froze, instinctively.

"Well now-" the woman sang out. She had no choice. Faith slammed the pan across the woman's temple.

Stripping the woman [there goes the déjà stuff again] she dressed quickly in the pyjama type outfit. Walking fast, letting her hair hang in front of her face, she strode past the guard, and stepped into the nurses' room. Snatching jeans and a baggy top off a peg, she changed, and made a break for the front of the hospital.

"Anderson General. Well that makes a hell of a lot of difference," she muttered. She grabbed the arm of a passer-by. "Hey, you know if this is L.A or not?"

Bewildered, the man nodded.

She took off. One place to find out anything, particularly as it seemed she was on parole, indefinitely. Angel.

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