Connor gazed down at the city streets from the rooftop of an apartment building. It was daytime in the middle of rush hour on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon. A number of Taxi's marked a path of yellow in a sea of automobiles. Shoppers crowded the sidewalks of shopping districts, many trying to hail cabs while others went from one store to the next, their arms loaded with plastic bags. There was a car wreck five blocks away. He could hear the sirens of police cars and ambulances as they hopelessly tried to get around the traffic and to the site of the accident.

From Connor's height, the City of Angels appeared to be a normal city with citizens going about their daily routines. Connor knew better. He wasn't looking for them, but he knew that the minute he tried to focus his senses, he'd spot the countless numbers of demons, vampires, and ordinary thugs lurking around the city, unseen by its general populace, waiting for sunset. He didn’t want to know where they were. He didn't want to do any rescuing. Not until after sundown. No, leave the common criminals to the police. Connor would hunt the demons after dark, but before sunset, when his vampire father couldn't touch him, Connor just wanted to be a normal guy, or as normal as the son of two vampires could get.

"Amazin', isn't it?"

Connor started and whirled to the right, fighter's instincts he'd needed to survive all his life slipping into place. So much for a peaceful day. He stared at the man perched against the side of the roof only two feet away from him. He had black hair and wore a brown leather jacket over a button-down blue shirt and gray slacks. His accent was one Connor had never heard before.

Connor hadn't even heard the man approach, which irked him. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Name's Doyle," the strange man said. "Yer Steven, right? Or is it Connor nowadays?"

"How do you know who I am?" Connor ran down a list of his father's associates who knew about him; perhaps Angel or his employees had mentioned someone resembling Doyle. He drew a blank.

"I'm an old friend of Cordy's," Doyle replied absently. Not once did he even glance at Connor, but he stared down at the metropolis below. "Los Angeles, the City of Angels," he murmured, although to Connor's ears it was anything but. "Now that's irony if I ever heard it. It's more like 'City of Angel', wouldn't you say? Of course, you being all angry against that father of yours, plus the little fact that he's really a vampire - nothing angelic about him - then it might as well be called 'City of No Angels'."

Finally, he turned his head, and his eyes met Connors. Connor felt a chill travel down his spine; Doyle's irises were a greenish-gray, transparent color. Connor narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the man's face; suddenly, he found that he could see right through Doyle. He blinked and Doyle seemed to solidify again.

"What are you?" he demanded.

"Well, that's a good question if I ever heard one," Doyle commented. His hands seemed to slide into his pants pockets by habit. "Back when I was alive, I was half demon and half human. Now, though, I'm dead, so I guess I'm a ghost now. Whether I'm a human ghost or a demon ghost, though - that's a little more complicated."

to be continued