He kept to the shadows; if the others, the creatures of the night, saw him, they would set upon him like starving wolves. It mattered not to the demons that he was one of them.

After a fashion.

Turning onto Crawford Street, Angel scanned both sides of the wide avenue, searching not for traffic, as if there would be any out after dark anyway, but for the spies of the Master.

Or, he supposed he should say the former Master's spies. After the Slayer had defeated the ancient vampire and destroyed his plan for the domination of Sunnydale, two of his favorite minions, Xander and Willow, had went underground to regroup. Despite the fact that Angel believed they weren't anywhere near the threat the Master had been, the young vampires were ambitious and bloodthirsty.

A dangerous combination.

The mansion looming high on the bluff was dark and ominous, a vestige of a grander time in the old Southern California town. As he skirted the overgrown vegetation and slipped through the hidden entrance into the garden, Angel wondered what kind of person had lived in this stone monstrosity. Somehow, he couldn't imagine anyone human ever having called this place home.

Taking an unnecessary breath, Angel walked into the huge main room of his makeshift home. The fire in the grate had burned down to embers and a chill wind whistled through the cavernous hall. Drawing his torn short closer, wincing when the fabric brushed over the burns on his chest, Angel stepped up to the massive hearth. Soon, he had the fire blazing again and its warmth began to chase the cold away.

It would be dawn soon and the vampires would once more be confined to their lairs, to await the coming night. It was a never-ending cycle, this siege on Sunnydale. Despite the efforts of the Watcher and his small band of allies, the town would soon fall. Just like other towns all over the world.

The Forces of Darkness were legion.

And, they were winning.