The first time ever I saw his face was in a courtroom. I was dressed in my new black pantsuit, my badge pinned to my lapel, ready to testify, when he came in. I had never seen such a handsome man in my life: dark, wavy hair; a body to die for (granted, a little short, but I was never one for really tall guys); and ocean-blue eyes you wanted to drown in. At first I thought that he was the new ADA I had heard about, Justin Whittaker, but then I looked at his clothes. The suit must have cost over a thousand dollars, and his tie was easily over two hundred. I've never seen a shirt as blindingly white as his, and his French cuffs sported gold & sapphire cuff links. Wolfram & Hart was defending the scum I'd come to testify against, a serial killer who had sacrificed his victims to some strange demon or other. And this man had to be working for them. Damn it!

He walked over to me and extended his hand, perfectly manicured, of course. "Detective Lockley? I'm Lindsey McDonald."

I looked down at his hand. "For the defense, I assume?"

He withdrew his hand. "Everyone is entitled to the best possible defense, Detective. And Wolfram and Hart is it in this case."

"Five dead teenagers. Of course he's entitled." I looked into his smiling face and saw James Spader. Not that he looked like James Spader, of course, but he had that look that Spader wore in his movies like Pretty in Pink, Wolf, Baby Boom. He was the Yuppie from Hell, probably having gone through life on Daddy's money and never having to think for himself. What a shame to waste a face like that on scum like him.

He must have been new at the firm because he was sitting second seat to Lilah Morgan. Lilah was all I wanted to be and all I never wanted to be at the same time. She was so beautifully polished, so self-assured. She carried herself like a model and spoke with the modulated voice of an actress. I was totally in awe of her, but I pitied her too. She had no soul. Too bad Pretty Boy was doomed to lose his if he hadn't already done so.

Lilah cross-examined me. She made me blush, stammer, forget everything I knew. I was 25 years old, a policewoman for four years, and a detective for two, and you would have thought I was a raw police cadet. My suit, for which I had paid more than I should have at Nordstrom's, felt like rags on me, and my hair, neatly curled with my curling iron, went limp under her gaze. The woman was totally vicious. Pretty Boy Lindsey didn't look at me for a minute while I was on the stand; he kept his eyes down on his notes. Needless to say, they won their case. Thank God Dad hadn't been in the courtroom to watch me make a total fool of myself. I couldn't go back to work; I headed for home.

That evening a small bouquet of yellow roses was delivered to my apartment. No name, just two words on the card: "I'm sorry." Could it have been? No, probably some guy from the department. I've dated a couple, but nothing was there. No chemistry. I put the roses in water and promptly stopped wondering whom they were from. I just accepted them. But when I went to bed that night I saw blue eyes and soft full lips in my dreams. And what those soft full lips and the pink tongue that darted out from between them could do! And those soft, talented manicured hands! I hadn't had a dream like that for years. It was so vivid that I turned on the light to make sure I was alone. Damn it, I was. But I had to change my undies. For some reason they were quite damp.

I didn't see him again for a year or so. My cases were more prosaic. Then one night I was on decoy duty. I sat in a bar, perched on a stool, trying to look lonely yet attractive in my nice blue dress. Nice? It had better have been. Again, I busted my budget on it. Strappy sandals hurt my feet, but they were in style. I drew my hair back behind my ears and put in my pearl earrings that had been a graduation gift from my father. And I sat on that damned stool not drawing a bit of attention. Then a drunk who had been making the rounds perched next to me. He wasn't the killer I was looking for; he couldn't have stood up much longer, and his breath made me long for garlic and onions! Suddenly an arm reached out and grabbed him by the collar. "Let the lady alone, you bum." He shoved the guy down on the floor. "Sorry he was bothering you, miss." Those blue eyes were smiling into mine, and, raising his eyebrows at me, he silently mouthed the word "Decoy?" I think he would have sat down except that a woman in a red dress that appeared to have been painted on suddenly came up beside him and gently tugged on his arm. One more smile, another raise of those eyebrows, and he was gone into the crowd. Did he look back? I thought maybe he did, but I guess it was wishful thinking.

That night I met Angel. I thought he was the killer I was looking for, and he thought I was some poor soul he needed to save. Surprise for both of us! He was handsome, tall, beautifully built in his leather pants, and just the thing for a maiden in distress. Well, not really a maiden, but certainly not one of these Hollywood girls who climb the ladder of success horizontally, like the one Lindsey went off with.

For a while Angel usurped Lindsey's place in my dreams. Then, one night, I discovered who, or rather what, he was. So much for my hero. Forget it, Kate. Buy yourself a nice cat for company for the long years ahead. Nobody wants you.

Dad died; I thought for a long time that Angel had done it. The department gave him a hero's funeral, just as they would have for any retired cop. There was a beautiful spray with yellow roses. No name, but a card, which said, "I'm very sorry for your father's death. I know what it is to lose a parent."

Lindsey dropped in at the station house one night to tell me where I could find Faith, the renegade vampire slayer who had wreaked havoc throughout Los Angeles in just a few short days. He smiled at me, lowered his head shyly. I was rude. He said we had something in common. "Our bodies are 80% water." "Be that as it may, Detective." I could feel myself melting even though I didn't want to. "There are beings. . ." Yes, there are. They call them Incubi. They come to women in their dreams and steal their hearts and souls. Are you an incubus, Lindsey? He left me with another raise of his eyebrows and it was all I could do to keep from throwing myself at him. What was wrong with me? What was the power he had over me? That night I didn't sleep a wink but got up covered with sweat.

I saw his face a little while later in the newspaper. He had been promoted to Junior Partner at Wolfram & Hart. And so young. I wondered what he had done to achieve the position. The dream I had recently had of Lindsey walking away from the firm fell to the ground and shattered against the harsh reality. He had what he wanted, I guess. Shaking my head sadly, I left for work.

I saw him again sooner than I would have thought. I had unfortunately broken a suspect's arm. Well, maybe unfortunately for him but not for the girl he was trying to rape. To make a long story. . .less long, I had taken him to the hospital to get his arm set. And suddenly Lindsey was there, as I had never seen him before. Somehow he had managed to remove his tie and use it as a tourniquet around an arm that ended about a foot shorter than it should have and practically gushed blood. He was in tremendous pain, that much was obvious. And misery and anger fought for control of his eyes. In his left hand he carried his severed right hand as he staggered in. "Lindsey! What happened!" I caught him before he fell.

He whispered one word, "Angel," before he lost consciousness. The nurse at the desk rushed over, followed by some emergency room doctors. I wanted to follow him in, but then my partner Jim Rourke came out with the slimeball we had arrested, all bandaged up with his arm in a sling.

"Let's go, Lockley. We need to get this guy over to the jail." So I took the perp's other arm and helped Rourke load him into the squad car. I wanted to go back and donate blood for Lindsey, but I was on duty.

When I got off the next morning, I went by the hospital, but he was gone, whisked away by the wonderful people at Wolfram & Hart. As the "investigating officer," I questioned some of the staff. No, his hand had not been reattached. I couldn't understand why. It's being done fairly often nowadays. There had to be an ulterior motive, one I couldn't fathom. Was it worth it, Lindsey? You gave up your hand for a "mess of pottage," as my old Catechism teacher would have said. Lindsey invaded my dreams again, but this time it wasn't the sexy Lindsey of before. It was a poor, pathetic Lindsey, who wouldn't touch me or even let me see his arm. When I woke up, only my eyes were wet. They couldn't seem to stop running. An allergy, I guess.

I caught a glimpse of Lindsey one day as I drove past Wolfram & Hart. He had let his hair grow too long, and his wrist held a fleur de lys bracelet instead of his Rolex. An ugly prosthesis hung from the end of his arm. Oh, Lindsey, Lindsey! Why did you have to go to Wolfram & Hart?

On an impulse I looked into his background. To my shock, he wasn't the yuppie I thought he was. Hastings Law, yes, but before that UCLA on a full baseball scholarship. Before that Holy Cross High School in a godforsaken place called Riverbend, Oklahoma, again on full scholarship. It was all there waiting to be found, if you knew where to look. And I am a good detective, I'll say that for myself. Two siblings dead of flu along with his mother when he was 10. Two more siblings taken away by the child welfare people. When he was 8, he had been arrested for stealing food from a supermarket. The police report described him as being dirty, barefoot, emaciated, a street urchin. The market dropped the charges. A number of drunk & disorderly charges for his father. No wonder he had gone for the money; I couldn't blame him. One interesting note: he had been born in Texas but his parents had moved the family to Oklahoma when their house was foreclosed on; he must have been about 7 at the time. A song came into my head. The Yellow Rose of Texas. Could it be? No, the yellow roses had to have been a coincidence, weren't they?

My problems were beginning to start in earnest about that time. Angel had bitten me. Yes, he had done it to save me from evil vampires, but still. . .I wondered what effect this would have on me. I hadn't died, so of course I wouldn't become a vampire. Was there a mystical bond between us now? No. I knew he liked blondes, but they were slim, small ones, Darla and Buffy. And I didn't want to be bonded to him either. How was I to know that perhaps that would save my life one day?

Not too long after that Lindsey's and my paths crossed again. Angel had broken into Wolfram & Hart, setting off alarms. Lindsey was with the security guards who escorted him down, and it was Lindsey who pushed his head down to put him in the squad car, giving me a little eyebrow raise of surprise. Then I made the biggest mistake of my life; I let Angel go, thinking that he could stop Darla and Drusilla.

Very late that night, as I was about to go home, an APB came over my radio. A young patrolman had discovered the front door of a mansion standing wide open. Inside the door lay a dead woman. As he called it in, he followed a trail of blood and found a massacre. The house belonged to Holland Manners, president of Special Projects at Wolfram & Hart. And Lindsey's boss. I turned on my siren and headed over there as fast as my car could take me, driving like Dirty Harry Callaghan.

As I feared, Lindsey was lying in the middle of the floor, bodies all around him. Those beautiful eyes were closed forever. I fought to keep myself from weeping in front of the other cops. Suddenly his eyes opened. He was alive! I thought my heart would burst out of my chest, it beat so fast and hard. I started to hyperventilate. He moved someone else's arm off his forehead and began to sit up. Thank you, God. Paramedics helped him up and laid him on a couch. I'm not sure whether or not he saw me, but I tried to look busy. As I looked at the door to the wine cellar where the victims had been found, I saw that it had been broken from the inside! The remains of a bolt were attached to the outside. Someone had locked the killer or killers in with the victims. The killers had fed off their victims and then broken out. It had to be Darla and Drusilla, and only Angel would have locked them in. Why? Why had I let him go?

A murmur came from Lindsey. "She spared me." She? Not crazy Drusilla, surely. He must have meant Darla. I remember Darla when she was posing as the bereaved widow DeEtta Kramer. Dainty, blonde, and beautiful, but human then. So beautiful. No wonder Lindsey was attracted to her. As I was about to leave, the paramedics found another victim who was still alive: Lilah Morgan! At least Lindsey seemed to be annoyed about that! One thing we had in common, I guess.

Things went from bad to worse for me. And briefly for Lindsey, as the "Celebrity Robbery" for the benefit of Anne Steele's shelter for teenage runaways went awry, leaving Lindsey and Lilah Morgan hung out to dry. I wasn't an investigating officer on that, but I had heard about the trick that Angel had pulled to embarrass them. I guess somehow he had managed to get the money, but I'm not sure why he bothered with his little video trick. Just nastiness, I guess. I believe he did see that the money got to the shelter, as it seemed to be thriving when I went by. And Lindsey seemed to land on his feet.

But I hit bottom thanks to the zombie cops. I had thought it was another Wolfram and Hart plot, but I was wrong. They had been created to keep order in one of the worst precincts, but somehow they couldn't tell the difference between street kids and real criminals. My worst nightmare was that my father was one of them. Thank God he wasn't, and, thanks to Angel, they were defeated. But I was well on the way downhill. The other cops stopped calling me Mulder and began calling me crazy. I had a hearing and had to choose between psychiatric help and resignation. I knew I wasn't crazy. Suddenly I wasn't a cop either.

All those years down the drain. All my dreams down the drain. Wait! They weren't my dreams. They were Dad's dreams for the son he never had, the son I had to try to be.

My dreams didn't matter. He didn't care that I wanted to wear pretty dresses, to take ballet lessons. Angel, Lindsey, none of them cared about me. Lindsey loved that vampire Darla, in spite of what she did to him in Holland Manners' winecellar. There was one recourse: liquor and pills. Why not? What did I have left? I took out the newspaper with Lindsey's picture; I had saved it. Raising my glass in salute, I toasted him. "See you in Hell, Lindsey. You sold your soul to Wolfram & Hart. I'm giving mine away. The unforgiveable sin."

But I found myself calling Angel for help. Why? I don't know. All I know is he didn't come. Would I see Lindsey in Hell? Probably. The worst torture would be seeing him suffer and not being able to be with him. Goodbye.

How did I get into the shower? Angel? He came? I didn't invite him in. Maybe it was because he had taken some of my blood when he was after the Shroud of Rahmon. But I know now that I want to live, to find my own way in life. My way, not my Dad's way. I guess I'll have to leave L.A. for a while. Too many memories. Too many unfulfilled dreams.

Maybe I need a little bit of insight. I had heard about Caritas and about Lorne, who could read your aura, your thoughts, your future, if you'd sing for him. Well, why not? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I needed some direction.

"Detective Lockley? I wondered if you'd ever come by."

"Not Detective any more. Just Kate."

Lorne was not what I expected, but I felt comfortable with him. Fortunately the place wasn't busy. I had a song in mind, so I went up on stage and took the microphone. The song was from one of my favorite movies, Carousel. Yes, I know Billy Bigelow sings it, but why can't I?

If I loved you,

Time and again I would try to say All I want you to know.

If I loved you,

Words wouldn't come in an easy way. Round in circles I'd go.

Longing to tell you, but afraid and shy,

I'd let my golden chances pass me by.

Soon you'd leave me.

Off you would go in the midst of day

Never, never to know

How I loved you,

If I loved you.

Evidently I can sing. I never knew. I wasn't allowed to try out for the chorus in school; I was in the karate club. But I got a burst of applause. I bowed just a little and left the stage. "Wow, Kate. That was amazing. Go for it, girl. I think the two of you may have something."

"No, I can't. I'm like Viola in Twelfth Night. Remember, she never told her love."

"Sweetie, don't you know he's noticed you from the beginning?"

"One word: Darla."

"She's gone. Out of the picture completely."

I shook my head. I had to leave town. Just one thing to do first. I ordered one yellow rose from the florist, to be delivered to Lindsey's apartment. No name, just "Goodbye."

As I was packing to leave, with no idea where I was going, there was a knock on my door. Angel? No, Lindsey McDonald, but a Lindsey as I had never seen him before. He had always looked young, but he looked younger. He looked happy and free; he no longer looked like a yuppie, wearing jeans, a flannel shirt, a leather jacket, and cowboy boots. And he was holding the rose. In his right hand!!! "May I come in?"

"Only if you're human."

"I wanted to thank you for the rose. I'm leaving Los Angeles. Lorne told me you might be, too, and that you might want company."

I nodded. Then, without realizing it, I found myself crying. Lindsey stepped close, took me in his arms, and just barely touched my lips with his. His cheeks were wet, too.

"Kate. Come with me. Forever. I wish I would have done something sooner. We've wasted so much of our lives. If I'd thought that you could learn to care for me, I would have left Wolfram and Hart a year ago when I had the chance."

All I could do was continue to nod. I couldn't speak. My dreams had all come true.

"Where will we go, Lindsey? Not that I care, as long as we're together."

"Would you mind if we went to Oklahoma to see if any of my family is left? Then the world is ours."

We set out in his beat-up pickup truck, first removing the COPS SUCK sign from the back. Lindsey shook his head when he saw that. "Angel! What a joker!"

That next night, in a motel in Arizona, I saw the face of my dreams above me, as Lindsey slowly and gently kissed and caressed me, bringing me to heights of passion I had never known possible. I had had a couple of lovers before, but nothing like this. We moved in perfect harmony even though it was our first time together. And his eyes, his beautiful eyes, looked deep into mine as he said, "I love you, Kate. Please love me."

"Oh, I do. I do." We both knew then that we were soul mates.

On our way to Oklahoma, we stopped at the Grand Canyon and stood in awe together. He had never been there before; nor had I. The majesty of it all made us gasp. We stayed there for hours.

In Oklahoma we found his father, who was a mail sorter for the Postal Service and a recovering alcoholic. "I've been in AA for five years and haven't had a drink for almost three, Lindsey. I wish I had done this sooner. I wish I'd never started. You kids didn't deserve the life I gave you."

I looked at Michael McDonald and I saw Lindsey's face. Rather, I saw Lindsey's face as it would have been someday when guilt and sorrow and liquor would have ravaged it. He had been a handsome man once. But at least he now looked as if he had made some kind of fragile peace with himself.

Lindsey hugged his father. "We've all made mistakes. I'll tell you some of mine one day. We have important things to do first. We need to find Joey and Winnie."

Lindsey's father reached out his hand to me, but I took him in my arms. He seemed so thin, so frail. "Lindsey, take care of this girl. Don't let what I did to your mother happen to her. She's special."

We moved into a furnished apartment that we could rent on a monthly basis while Lindsey and I began the hunt for Joey and Winnie. The adoption people were as helpful as they could be. They were willing to contact both of them to see if they wanted to meet their brother. As it turned out, they did. Joey, or Joseph Randall Whitman, as his adoptive parents had named him, was a senior at Oklahoma State, a football player and an Air Force ROTC cadet. We met him on the campus in a coffee shop along with a sweet girl named Ruth, who was his fiancee. Joey was happy to know his brother, whom he vaguely remembered, having been very young when he was taken away. The news of their sister Elaine's death along with her husband and newborn daughter devastated him. "She was our Kanga, Linds, and I was her Roo. She was my second mom." He invited us to his graduation, where we met his proud, loving parents, and to his commissioning ceremony, where Ruth pinned on his second lieutenant's bars. He wasn't quite ready to meet his father yet, which I could understand. Too many bad memories. But we took pictures to give to Michael. Joey promised to stay in contact with us.

In order to meet Winnie Burkle, or Fred, as she know called herself, we had to go back to L.A. She was a graduate student, working part time at a library to help pay her expenses. When Lindsey looked at this beautiful young woman with her long, dark hair, glasses, and reed-thin body, he gasped. "Winnie! Pooh Bear! You look so much like Mom. It's like seeing her again."

Fred was shy and sweet, and I loved her from the first. We stayed several days, learning of her narrow escape from what she called a space-time anomaly and what Lindsey called a portal to another dimension. She had been reading a book and, without realizing it, had begun to speak the words aloud. But before she was sucked in, she stopped, dropped the book, and ran. Evidently it closed with no real harm done except to make her realize that one does not read words in a mystical language without knowing what could happen.

On the way back to Oklahoma, by the Grand Canyon, Lindsey suddenly got a strange look on his face. Dropping to one knee, he took my hand. "Now you've met my family, Kate. Would you please become a part of my family and make us your family?"

"You mean you want your father to adopt me, Lindsey?"

Shaking his head, he began to laugh. "Of course not, silly. Sleeping with your sister is frowned upon. Please marry me."

I gently drew him up. "With all my heart. I love you, Eeyore!" Fred had told me what Lindsey's nickname had been. I wasn't surprised, as I knew his childhood had been very sad, and the sad-faced donkey seemed perfect for him.

His face broke into the biggest, widest smile I had ever seen. "I guess now I'll have to be Tigger because all I want to do is bounce for joy!"

A few months later, after we had taken all of the instructions and fulfilled all the requirements necessary for a Catholic wedding, we were married in the small church in Riverbend. Dressed in a simple white dress and a short veil, carrying a small bouquet of yellow roses, I came down the aisle on Michael's arm. Fred was my maid of honor, and Joe was Lindsey's best man. There were only a few guests. Ruth was there, of course, and Molly Reilly, a lovely widow Michael was dating. Lindsey's great aunt Maeve was there; she had "the sight" and had foreseen our wedding years ago. Fred's escort was a real surprise. Her boy friend was a man she had met at the library while he was researching in books they had in their special collection, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. The look on Lindsey's face as I came to him and, having handed Fred my bouquet, placed my right hand in his, was a mixture of love, joy, and pride. He was proud to be marrying me! My cup runneth over! I looked deep into his blue eyes as we said the age-old vows. He surprised me with a quote from the book of Ruth that he had added to the ceremony without telling me. "Entreat me not to leave thee, nor to refrain from following after thee. Whither thou goes, there also will I go, and whither thou lodgest, there will I lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." I think that's when the tears came to my eyes. I, Kathleen Elizabeth Lockley, became Kathleen Elizabeth McDonald.

After the ceremony, we had a small luncheon for family. I hugged Wesley, and Lindsey shook his hand. "Congratulations. I must admit that I was surprised when Fred told me you were her brother. You two look so wonderful together."

"They look so natural together. Just like two newlyweds should be. Is there a canopy in store for me?" Fred sang softly as she took Wes' arm.

"As neither of us is Jewish, probably not," Wes smiled as he answered her. Then he turned back to Lindsey. "Do your plans include returning to Los Angeles?"

"Angel made it very clear that I was not to come back."

"He was wrong. We need you both. Please consider it. There have been prophecies that can only be interpreted that the prodigals must return. The huntress and the counselor. That has to be you two."

"We have nothing to go back to, Wes. The force won't take me back even if I wanted to do that, which I don't. And Lindsey wouldn't get terribly far with only Wolfram & Hart on his resume."

"Which is where David Nabbitt comes in. He'll make Lindsey a legal counsel for the firm and you'll be his head of security. That way you'll be available when you're needed. Please consider it."

"We will, but only after the honeymoon. Which could be a long, long time." Kate smiled at him.

"I don't think the honeymoon will ever be over," Lindsey said.

Although Ruth & Fred both tried for my bouquet, Molly Reilly caught it. Lindsey might one day soon have a stepmother!

After a drive to Seattle and down the California coast, we were back in L.A. The jobs were there with substantial salaries. We found a house and settled in. And, yes, we found ourselves helping the Angel crew, although we didn't kill demons or vampires. It was our legal and detecting skills that they needed.

And today, two years later, I saw something new on Lindsey's face. I was sweaty, bedraggled, my hair hanging limp around me, groaning and moaning, and yet he looked at me with not only love and joy but with awe and wonder as our daughter Elizabeth Mary was born. Watching Lindsey cut the cord as she lay on my stomach waving her perfect little arms and legs in the air, I thought back to that first day, the first time ever I saw his face. Who would have known? Who indeed? But life has a funny way of producing results one would never expect. Kate and Lindsey, cop and evil lawyer, were now parents. And the two happiest, most blessed people in the world.