: I did not create and do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or CSI.
Sara was meditating when he walked in. She gave no outward sign that she was aware of his presence, but Angel knew perfectly well she was beyond the stage where any vamp, himself included, could sneak up on her. He waited patiently until she was ready to acknowledge him before speaking.
“You’ve come a long way in a short time.”
Sara smiled. “I’ve had good teachers,” she said.
It was true. Angel, Wes, and the rest of their crowd were excellent teachers. And not all of what they were teaching her was about how to be a Slayer. Some of it was just how to function in such an imperfect world. Working through personal issues had been as much a part of what they’d taught her as demonology, martial arts, and weapons.
Angel looked serious.
“We’ve done our best. And we’ve got a lot of collective experience to draw on.”
Sara wondered where he was going with this. Something serious was on his mind.
“You’re going to have to walk a much tougher line than most Slayers,” Angel said. “You’re not only a Slayer, but an officer of the law. You have to deal with both the supernatural and the human.”
“And I have to keep in mind that I can’t go vigilante in either role,” Sara agreed. Granted, a Slayer had a lot of leeway in what demons she targeted, and most vamps were a no-brainer, but Buffy Summers’ example had shown that a Slayer who didn’t target all demons indiscriminately was far more effective than the Council programmed drones of the past had been. But Slayers were categorically prohibited from Slaying humans. The human world had laws to deal with criminals. She knew that better than most.
Angel nodded. “It’s tough to accept that you can’t save everyone.”
It was then that Sara started to worry.
“Angel, you’re stalling. What’s going on? Why are you reminding me of this now?”
If he still needed to breathe, Angel would have taken a deep breath. As it was, there was simply a long moment of silence.
“You’ve had your phone switched off all night. A friend of yours from Vegas called looking for you. It’s not good news.”
Sara’s face, not overly tan at the best of times, lost all color.
“Oh, god, did something happen to Gil-“
“No, not Gil Grissom,” Angel interrupted quickly. “He was the one calling. One of your co-workers. Warrick Brown was shot early this morning.”
The look on Angel’s face told her the rest.
“I need to go back.”