The Universe's Mixer

So this was what it felt like to be one of Buffy's friends? Angel hadn't really gotten it until now but he (almost) had a new appreciation for Xander. Without the powers or the magical support, Angel felt like just another white hat trying not to get himself killed. The former vampire with a soul never posed as bait before. At least not like this. Anita, champion of another world, was somewhere just out of Angel's sight. Just as well. It allowed Angel to mope a bit, something he hadn't had time for while LA had been submersed in a Hell dimension.

"Here zombie, zombie, zombie..." The eye brows of Angel's brooding forehead went up as he scoped out the streets in the direction that the zombie with powers was last seen. Sam's brother had gotten in the way last time and Angel wondered what sort of person the zombie was when he wasn't craving flesh. At least now Angel could punch the jerk in the face that had cracked a few of his ribs. Not that Sam could help it anymore than Angel could have as Angelus, but at least now he didn't have a random redneck threatening him with a shot gun for trying to do his job.

Said redneck did have a very nice car. As evil as Wolfram & Hart had been, Angel missed the cars. A lot. Of course now that he could actually enjoy having the top down in the middle of the day, it figured Angel no longer owned a 1967 Plymouth GTX convertible. Or a dragon. Dragons made even better rides. How many people could say their ride breathed fire?

"Zombie? Oh Mr. Zombie...? Come out, come out wherever you are...?"