A bolero drifted thought the open window and spread, like a disease through the city's smoky air. Beneath the passionate and soaring strings was a stutter of drum and bass beats, and beneath that the irregular clatter of keys. Cassidy, concentrated on the glow of the monitor - at the task at hand - and let the music flow through her.
She look again at the book, open beside her on the desk, at the horns, and scales, and teeth and shuddered as her mind started to drift. But the blink of a new message shock her out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath, tucked her hair behind her ears and returned her attention to the screen.
"It is big isn't it, dad?" she typed, silently, "I do have information, but not much..." she translated the text as best as she could and waited for a response. When none immediately came she got up and poured herself another coffee from the pot in the corner. She paced about for a while, her eyes darting back to the monitor every few seconds, growing ever impatient for a reply...
She had been in London three months and was still adjusting to being so far away from everyone. After witnessing so much she was finding it hard to trust a city she didn't truly know. She missed her family to the point where it hurt and was become increasingly distant from them... each time she heard their voices she wondered if it would be for the last time. She smiled. Funny how when she was in the thick of it with them, that thought rarely crossed her mind.
She shook herself. She had an important job to do, she realised that, but it was so hard, only being able to research and wait to hear the outcome... who fought, who won... who died.
Clutching the mug in her hand, she crossed to the window. The sky above her was pink with reflected light and below, she could hear distant music and laughter from the clubs and pubs. She felt a million miles from them. She patted the pocket of her pants and brought out a tattered card. She held the card in her hands and stared at the faded numbers, at the shape that filled it. Replacing the card in her pocket she picked up the phone and dialled the number from memory.
It rang twice and then clicked. "Hello?" said the person at the other end, quietly.
Cassidy breathed out slowly, and tried to speak.
"First-Born?" questioned the phone.
She tried to stifle a sob, and then a silence hung over the line. "The pain will lessen." the phone said. "I know you feel helpless but your time in London is crucial. It hurts, but you do more good for them by being there, in the long run, than you may ever know. What you can accomplish there is huge- never forget that."
Tears rang down her cheeks and she nodded, silently.
The phone was quiet for a moment. "They have been doing this a very long time..."
Cassidy smiled weakly, and whispered. "I know."
"You are never alone." the phone replied.
She rubbed her eyes and ran her fingers through her dark mop of hair. "Thanks, Angel" she said, and replaced the receiver. Cassidy closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind. Later, she thought, as she drifted off, she would mail her dad and tell him how much she loved him.
In a dark room in LA a receiver was replaced in it's cradle. Angel stared into the gloom and thought about those he promised to always protect, and those he promised never to forget.