Sunnydale....

The dream came in flashes of images. Nothing solid, but a sense of dread
descended over her body with each passing vision.

The first images were of an apple orchard and of two small children playing
beneath the branches. The second set was of the same apple orchard and the
same children, now teenagers, sitting beneath those branches. From then the
images got violent and bloody. The male child went off to war and fought
many battles, leaving the visions of him bloodstained. The female child
began her training in the open pavilions within the orchard. She grew
powerful and respected, but also the tiniest bit feared.

The final image was the one that shook her the most. The two childhood
friends faced each other again under the branches of the now bare orchard.
Words were exchanged, but she could her nothing. As her heart began to speed
up and her heartbeat clatter in her veins, the male raised his sword and
brought it down across his friends chest. All the magic in her body was not
able to stop the blow, and she fell to the ground, blood staining the
branches.

Willow shot up in bed, gasping for what little breath she could take in.
Deep within her mind she knew, she had been that woman, the one who had died
at her friend's hand. But the identity of the male scared her even more.

"Angel," she breathed.

Los Angeles....

Doyle doubled over as pain laced through his body, starting at his temple
with the signal that one of his visions was beginning, but instead of
remaining in his head as before, the pain slowly trailed throughout his
form. Flashes began racing through his mind. Apples....a sword....a feeling
of betrayal....a redheaded girl with love and trust shining in her eyes....a
glint of steel....then the flash of bright red as blood seeped into the
ground. Finally, a name was whispered through his mind as the pain subsided.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool linoleum of the
office floor. He felt comforting hands rubbing his back as Angel held forth
a cup of whiskey.

Doyle grabbed the liquor and downed it in one gulp. He leaned back on his
heels, enjoying the warmth as the alcohol flowed through his body. He
glanced up meeting Angel's worried eyes.

"Willow," Doyle stated, repeating the name that had been whispered in his
vision. The half-demon's eyes narrowed as he saw worry and pain flash in his
bosses eyes. This new case, Doyle suddenly realized, had just become
personal.

*****