Once she asked him to stop to look at some flowering cacti in the desert. Before he could warn her, she had touched one and hurt her finger on the spines. He gently drew each spine out with tweezers as she winced but refused to weep with the pain."I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be. It was beautiful."

When Lindsey had found Darla in the motel room, he knew he couldn't take her back to Wolfram & Hart. After all, they had brought her back. They had caused the pain she had been feeling all these long months. And he would not ever subject her to Holland ever again. He couldn't believe that he had once thought of Holland as a surrogate father, successful when his own father had been a weakling and a drunk. Then Holland had used him and betrayed him, playing him like a fine Stradivarius. How could he not have known that he was being manipulated? Now he had more blood on his hands, the blood of a young actor whose name he hadn't even known. No, he would not go back to Wolfram & Hart ever.

Lindsey had brought Darla to his condo and laid her on his bed to sleep while he set his escape plan in action. Of course he had had one almost since the first day he had learned what Wolfram & Hart really was and whom they represented. With his computer and his cell phone, he transferred funds into secret accounts he had set up. He ordered a car, charged it to one of his new accounts under his new name, and took Darla over in a taxi to pick it up, along with an attaché case of cash and a suitcase with a few items of clothing. He left his condo keys and Mercedes keys behind. Also, regretfully, he left his guitar. After all, he'd never be able to play it again!

One stop they made was the Grand Canyon. They stood at the rim together, watching the play of sunlight on the rocky cavern, until she had to go to the car to sit. Darla was spellbound."I hadn't realized how much I missed the daylight." She kissed his cheek."Thank you."

He took her to the best restaurants he could find along the way, tempting her with the finest dishes they had to offer. Even as her appetite declined, he refused to give up. He soon learned what she liked best: salty foods, reminiscent of the days when blood was her only nourishment. She couldn't understand his fondness for sweets, and chocolate did nothing for her."I don't understand why you like that," she'd say as she wrinkled up her beautiful nose. Barbecue also turned her off unless it was made with the vinegary sauces of the Carolinas."Sweet meat? You have to be kidding!"

He drove her through Oklahoma to show her where he grew up."You lived here, Lindsey? No wonder you became so hungry for money and power. I understand you better now."

They made it as far as St. Louis, where he took her to the top of the Gateway Arch to look out over the Mississippi River."I rode down the Mississippi on a river boat, back in the days of Mark Twain, but I couldn't have imagined this." She was leaning very heavily on him, and her breathing was shallow. He knew that the time had come to take her to her final destination.

The hospice was beautiful. He had found it on the internet and had chosen it for the beautiful gardens that surrounded it. Her bed was next to a window where she could look out on the lovely flowers. He bought her soft silky nightgowns and Egyptian cotton sheets, a lacy comforter and matching curtains. Then he filled the room with flowers and music. Puccini comforted her, especially La Boheme. But her favorite was Nessen Dorma from Turandot. Lindsey could understand that; the music soared in almost unbearable beauty. He sat by her beside, never leaving her except to fulfill his own physical needs. He spoon-fed her the little bit of soup that she would eat and gave her water in a glass with a straw or ice chips in a spoon. As she grew feverish, he would gently pat her face with a damp cloth. And he fought the battle with the tears that were always waiting to be released; for her sake, he won.

"It's just a matter of a day or so now," the doctor told him. He knew it was time to make the call he had been dreading.

"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless." Fortunately it was the answering machine. He left a message for Angel with the address and the phone number where they were. And one more word:"Hurry!"

Angel must have taken a red-eye or asked the favor of a private flight from David Nabbitt because he was there within half a day. As he walked into the room, he saw Darla, paler than she had ever been as a vampire, her chest barely moving as she struggled to breathe. And Lindsey! He couldn't believe that the dapper young lawyer had turned into the scarecrow that held her hand. He, too, was pale with dark circles under his eyes. Lindsey had passed beyond skinny to scrawny. And his hair hung down almost to his shoulders, as he hadn't taken time to have it cut since he left with Darla. He held Darla's right hand in his left.

When Lindsey saw Angel, he rose."I'll leave you alone now."

But Darla tugged with the little strength that she had on his hand."No, stay. Please."

Angel sat on her other side, holding her other hand. She turned to him."Forgive me. I'm so sorry. I stole your life and I tried to steal your soul. Forgive me."

"Darla, I forgave you a long time ago." He stood and, brushing back her hair, kissed her forehead gently.

She turned to Lindsey."I never gave you anything. I wouldn't let you make love to me, and yet here you are. I don't deserve you."

"I love you, Darla. I know you don't love me. . ."

"I do, Lindsey. I do. And I'm so sorry. You have so much love to give. Please find someone who will love you and give you children. Give all the love you have inside of you to people who deserve it."

Lindsey fought to smile while Darla was still alive. He and Angel sat, holding her hands, until she slipped away. Lindsey stood, closed her eyes, kissed her forehead gently, and then began to sob. Angel came around the foot of the bed and held him, letting him cry until there were no more tears, just deep gulping breaths.

Lindsey had spent every cent he had on the trip and on Darla's hospice care, but he maxed out his credit card for a marble angel to watch over her grave. There were two words carved there: DARLA and below it BELOVED.

Angel stayed with him through the burial. Then he asked,"What now, Lindsey?"

"Maybe I'll go back to Wolfram & Hart and let them kill me. That's what I ought to do. I just don't care any more."

Angel seized him by the shoulders."No. I won't let you give up. You have a lot to contribute. Come back to L.A. with me and work with us. You'll earn your redemption and do some good. And maybe you can get back at Wolfram & Hart for what they did to you and to Darla. Think about it. I'll fly back tonight. There will be room in the plane for you and a place to stay at the Hyperion. I should have done this before, after we rescued the children. Now I'm asking you to help us. Be at the airport at 7:30. Gate 17." Angel turned and left.

Epilogue

At 7:30 a forlorn looking figure with a duffel bag was waiting at the gate where David Nabbit's jet was preparing to take Angel back to Los Angeles. Angel escorted him aboard.

"I'm not quite sure why I'm doing this."

"She would have wanted you to. She did love you at the end."

"I can't believe you want me to come, either."

"You complete our group. Wes had found a prophecy which seemed to apply to us. It said that we would be seven, and you are the seventh. There would be the Knight, the Prophetess, the Scholar, the Warrior, the Alchemist, the Huntress, and the Counselor."

"I guess you're the Knight, Wes is the Scholar, Cordelia is the Prophetess. Is that guy Gunn the Warrior? The one who caused the diversion at Wolfram & Hart while we broke into the files?" Angel nodded."So who are the other two?"

"Fred, a girl who had been trapped in Pylea, the dimension Lorne comes from, is the Alchemist. She's a brilliant physicist. And somehow she reminds me of you just a little. She's from Texas."

"I guess that makes me The Counselor, which is a title lawyers often use. So who is the Huntress?"

"You know her. Kate Lockley. She's off the police force, working with us and living at the Hyperion now."

"Great. She hates me."

"I think when she gets to know you that she'll come to appreciate you. Give it a little time." Yes, she would, Angel knew. On his trip to the hospice he had fallen asleep and had a dream. In the dream he had seen Lindsey kneeling at the altar next to a blonde. When they had turned, the blonde wasn't Darla; it was Kate."Yes, I think you two will become good friends. Trust me." Then he closed his eyes and let memories of Darla fill his thoughts. Goodbye, Darla. Rest in peace.