They’d stopped at a small 24-hour service station near the Mexican border; dawn was still an hour away. As he glanced over the story, Alex was relieved by its lack of details – not to mention the photo of Willow with her long blonde hair spilling past her shoulders, reassuring him again just how different she looked now. The picture of Raziel was an old one, he noticed. He felt a grim satisfaction, knowing the angel was probably still incapacitated from the bullet that had nicked his halo. Alex would have far preferred to have killed Raziel, but knocking him out for as long as possible would do for second best.

“Pump three,” he told the guy behind the counter. He put down two styrofoam cups of coffee, too.

Willow was waiting beside the motorcycle as he went back outside, her short red-gold hair spiking in the breeze. She had on faded second-hand jeans that she’d bought the day before, and a tight, pale blue shirt with long sleeves that looked great on her. Behind her, the night sky was starting to lighten, the stars fading to the east. Alex smiled, his blood warming as he remembered the silky feel of her in his arms the night before. It had taken a serious effort to get going that morning; all he’d wanted to do was stay in the tent with Willow for a while – like, the rest of his life.

She stood looking off into the distance as he walked up, frowning as if she were thinking about something. She seemed to shake it away when she saw him. “Thanks,” she said, taking one of the coffees. “And here, you take this. I hate even holding it.” With a quick glance at the empty service-station forecourt, she covertly handed him the pistol.

Alex never felt good about giving Willow the gun. Handing a loaded weapon to someone who’d never shot one before, and was nervous of them anyway, wasn’t really the best plan in the world. But it was a million times better than her not having a weapon if any trouble happened. He tucked the gun away in his holster, keeping his back to the camera that he knew would be perched on the roof of the service station.

“I need to teach you how to use this,” he said, thinking aloud.

He saw her start to protest. Then she looked away and took a sip of coffee, her green eyes troubled. “Yeah, okay,” she said finally.

Alex’s eyebrows flew up. “Really? I thought you’d hate the idea.”

“I do,” said Willow. “But I can’t not do something just because I don’t like it. I don’t have that – luxury, any more.” She shrugged. “I mean, all I have to do is look in the mirror to see how much things have changed. And I can’t depend on you to protect me all the time.”