I reached for you. I always do, after those half-dreams, even though I know you're not there, even though I know that sinking feeling will hit, that emptiness. Somehow, just reaching for you is a comforting little ritual, even when it stings. Then I wonder where you are, how you are, what you're doing...

I heard the phone ring downstairs and I knew something was up. I pulled on clothes, and moments later John knocked on my bedroom door.

"The States, Uncle,"

It was Whistler. He said two words.

"It's missing,"

"WHAT?"

"Damn," I heard Doyle's voice in the background. It was a conference call.

"Whistler," I said, "Why are you there?" He could appear anywhere he wanted to. He could have come here and then appeared in LA, with a thought.

"Things are getting out of balance here, pal. She's needed,"

"No,"

"Angel, there's no other way," that was Doyle. I wasn't having any of it.

"There is, and you'll do it. I don't care what you have to do. Put everyone on this. Do not involve Buffy. This isn't her fight,"

"It's gonna be, sooner or later," said Whistler.

"Then later. Drop everything else,"

"We're already on it," said Doyle, "But this cadre is coming up fast. I don't know how long we can-"

"All right," I said, "I'm going to give you a number. It's a friend of hers. Fill him in. Send two patrols out tonight to get complete reports. No hunting, just intelligence. I want to know everything,"

"You know, " said Whistler, "She's gonna come looking for you. Two months is a long silence, even for you guys,"

He was right.

"Get the Record back," I said, "Whistler, help him find it,"

"Angel, listen, I don't-"

"You're worried about balance?" I said, "Then help us. Just find it. We'll steal it back," I swallowed, hard. "I want to know the second she sets foot in LA. I want her covered,"

"Anything I can do?" John asked after I'd hung up. He knew I'd say no.

"Not about this. I'm going out. Keep an eye sharp. I have a feeling Midir is going to send out some minions tonight. But I shouldn't be long,"

"Take Mark,"

"No,"

"What if things go as they did last time?" he demanded, "What if you need backup?"

"I'm not fighting tonight,"

"You're not looking to. What if they're looking for you?"

"They will be. I want them to,"

"Why the Hell won't you admit that you can't do everything alone? Is it some kind of idiocy that sets in after a century? Or have you always been full of yourself?"

I thought about it.

"Probably both," I said.

We were temporarily at a draw. I looked at this elderly man who glared at me with my mother's eyes and and I felt badly, but it couldn't be helped.

"It will be enough for you to stay safe tonight," I said, "Be careful,"

I packed the broad sword and my crossbow in a duffel bag, slung it over my shoulder, and left. I needed some time to think, I needed to walk. I also wanted to check Galway city, the alleys and pubs, for minions. I found myself on Salt Hill promenade, smelling the sea and listening to various conversations as locals and tourists went quickly by, braving the cold between pubs. I thought about you on the other side of that gigantic, thrashing force and remembered the Pacific. It has a different smell, just as I've heard that it's a different color. I tried to remember colors, the gray-green of the sea here, and the deep, aching blue of the sky when the rain clears as it occasionally does in Ireland; all I could remember were colors you've worn, soft white and pink, blue, and the occasional black lace, and how they made your eyes look. I kept wandering and found myself heading back toward home. I went past the estate and into the hills just behind it, taking deep strides, and I wondered what I could be heading for. It was as if something were pulling me.

The hills here are rocky and sparse. I stopped on the edge of a rare patch of trees and stood very still, puzzled at myself. The leaves moved in the wind, hissing softly. I was worried; I thought about you in LA. I didn't want you to be ambushed, but if you knew about the Monahgans you'd charge in alone, and I needed to have Doyle and everyone else handle as much of it as possible first. I had a feeling that there would be a small revenge squad waiting outside the estate for me, I needed to head back.

I heard the call of what sounded like an owl. There aren't many owls here. It couldn't have been that. I looked up. The sky was cloudy, no moon or stars. I heard the eerie call again. It was beginning to sound more like a voice than a bird call. A large shadow tilted wings and sliced through the air, passing close enough to brush my cheek with a feather, even when I ducked.

I thought it was an owl after all, or a raven...but something seemed wrong with it...it was leaping along the ground with a feline grace; then it fluttered up into a tree and stared down at me. The hair on the back of my neck bristled. My fangs started to come up. It leaped off the branch and landed in front of me.

It stood, growing in size and ruffling wings which dissolved and became arms. I recognized her from my youth as a human. The old wise woman. I shook my head, blinking. It couldn't be her; she had been the same age when I was seventeen. When I opened my eyes she was suddenly young, then her features dissolved and became those of a cat. Her image was one of wavering layers, like moonlight through leaves. A deep snicker became a growl, not sinister, but terrifying all the same. She blinked yellow eyes and made a ragged purring sound that became my name.

"Aingeal," she rumbled, "Welcome home,"

I was speechless.

"You don't remember me?"

I had known her as the wisest woman in Galway, with a fine reputation. My mother had cautioned me to show her the utmost respect. She had presided over Beltane, near my birthday, the old ritual. I remembered the fire, the heady taste of the ale, that damp, dizzy spring night. She had marked me with the family symbol using ink made from birch ashes. I remembered the stories my mother had told me. In the old days, every warrior family had a druid, or druidess. They were shapeshifters, guardians, powerful and moody beings. It all made sense to me suddenly. The griffin was her.

She took one step foreward and with a swift movement lifted me by the throat. I struggled at first, but she hissed a warning. Her paws, then hands, gripped the flesh of my body as though she were searching for something, kneading me like dough. It felt as though she were probing my internal organs, even rearranging them. There wasn't pain, only alarm. She released me and I fell, hard. She purred again.

I felt my throat; around it was a rope of very heavy, twisted metal.

"A torc," I said, wonderingly. An ancient battle accessory, worn by the old warriors like Cuchulainn. It gave protection.

"Your head will stay on," she said, "You will not lose it in war. In love, that is another matter," I opened my mouth to remark but she held up an ancient hand that became young, and then dissolved and reformed as a paw, "Your heart may still be pierced. I cannot shield your heart, and neither can you. It is your most precious weapon. A sword within a sheath is useless. Keep your heart open and ready, be stealthy with it, listen closely to it, heed it. You do this well now. You must do it even better. But your neck is protected," a young girl's smile twisted into a grandmother's sly grin, "You are a traveler like no other, Son of Fionn. I have been waiting for you,"

"How did you know-"

"The darkness could not hold you," her eyes glinted on me affectionately, "I saw your change. The light found you long after, but there was room in your heart to keep it. You carry light into darkness, it is a sacred purpose," she brushed a wing over my chest, "This-Egyptian geis angers me," she hissed, "It does not honor your manhood. I will remove it,"

"This-what?"

"But not yet. I want the cauldron kept by Midir. Do you know it?"

"I-I don't-"

"You will bring it to me. After you have defeated the Mayv. But first, Midir. You will train with me tonight,"

"Train?"

"Show me the sword you won,"

I pulled it out of my duffel bag.

"Good. You make your ancestors proud, winning the Monaghan blade. Slice me in half,"

I hesitated.

She laughed, "You can not harm me, Son of Fionn. Swing quickly,"

I pivoted, drawing the blade through her. It was like slicing a cloud.

"Good, now face away from me," I turned and stepped in a half-circle, throwing the blade form my hip, but she was gone. I anticipated and thrust upward, turning. She laughed melodiously from above, with a young girl's voice. I had guessed correctly.

She lunged at me with a great paw. I ducked, fainted to the left, and then spun, pulling the blade through her neck, which showed a brief seam and then became whole again. Suddenly she was gone; I slipped to the ground, rolling back, and swept the blade to my right, piercing her misty form. She laughed again.

"You are a son of the great warriors. I am satisfied,"

"I don't know what to call you," I said, as I got to my feet.

"Birog," she said, "I have been with your family from the beginning. You ancestors are singing. You cannot hear them,"

"No,"

"But," she smiled a kindly ancient smile, "There is something you would have of me,"

"Protection, for my family,"

"It is already done. They will come to no harm. I have seen to that for centuries,"

I considered this. "And when-I was changed-you did then, too?"

"Yes. But there is another in your thoughts now,"

"I am worried about her,"

She laughed gently, a deep, rough growl.

"She is protected by a greater one than I,"

I blinked.

"For now, I am satisfied that you may win. Find the dolmen of Dubh Na`n. There is a passage under it. There you may enter the catacombs. Follow it for ten miles, until you come to the fork. Go right, and his lair is not far," she pushed me to my knees and put her palms on my shoulders, "The wind follow you, the earth receive you, the darkness keep you in safe embrace," she said, and then she released me and spread her great wings, rising into the tree above and settling on a branch. The moon rolled briefly from behind the clouds and I saw her in sharp detail; she was smaller now, she resembled a crow, with the head and claws of a fine cat. "Victory, son of Fionn, bring victory to me and to your family," and then she rose into the night, and was gone.