Titia slept well for the first time in over a week.  The intensity and worry that had shaded her nights had lessened, as Dreams new and old, combined and coalesced imbuing her unconscious with a truer understanding.  This deep inner knowledge comforted her conscious mind, but did not inform.  It put a smile on her face as she woke, stretched and reached for the phone to order a bigger than normal breakfast containing all the badness that Kat wouldn't feed her.

She was showered and dressed by the time the tray arrived at her door, bringing with it the smell of bacon and coffee.  By the time she sat down to eat with the local news section of the morning paper, it was ten thirty.

The tales of murder and mayhem of the Sunnydale nights were not engrossing enough to keep her mind from rehashing her first two days in this sleepy little town.  She got up and went to the bedside table to collected her leather bound journal, then went to a chair by the window.  She ran her fingers across the smooth worn richly tanned cover before leafing through it and stopping at a picture of Angel asleep on her couch.  He had been so insistent that he was okay that first night, that he had joined her in the study.  Within a half hour he had been a sleep looking so much like his namesake that she had to pick up her pen.

She flipped past the pictures she had drawn that first day of the patrons of the Espresso Pump and the little row of shops that held the Magic Box.  There was a little drawing of a wrought iron archway and gate saying Sunnydale Rest that leads into Spike's cemetery.  Turning to a new page she took up her pen and sketched the view of the park from where she sat in the north-facing window of the Weatherly Park Hotel.   Her sketch included the edge of the patio four stories below.  The drawing gave her body something to do as her mind poured over the events and decisions she had made.  The ones that lead tonight's proposed rendezvous.

When she called Angel that first afternoon it had been hard to believe that it had been only eight hours before that she had left him at her condo in LA.  She had called him a couple of times since to check on him and get more information.  He had  talked to the Watcher, Mr. Rupert Giles, to procure her a professional introduction.  It had given her a business excuse to be in contact with the Slayer's people.

It was on those professional terms that she entered the Magic Box late in the afternoon of her first day in town.  He had items he needed disposed of a few contaminated crystals and a Blade of the Forsaken, and she needed to get a feel for how the Slayer could be involved with Spike's emotional state.  She found that Mr. Giles had a very personal anger toward the vampire, but no real fear.  The situation perplexed her.  She sensed many levels of emotion and experience existed between the vampire and the Watcher.  She had worried that she wouldn't unravel it in time to save the Powers fanged VIP.  Yet, when she woke this morning that sense of anxiousness had greatly lessened. But why?

She wasn't even sure why she felt compelled to offer Spike the job.  Something about him, whether it had been the opinions of Angel's and Mr. Giles' or just watching him in the Bronze that night, had made her propose that he join her professionally.  It had been inspiration, at least, so she had thought.  No part of the Dream, as far as she could figure, had suggested it.  He could be the one we have been looking for.  A vampire powerful and trustworthy enough to take the helm.  One who could be dedicated to the cause.  Someone with enough experience to use her minions properly. Could it explain the last part of the Dream?  The last sequences felt like they had been taken from her own memory, the charge of the adrenalin, the smell of human attackers around them, Spike's face dripping with gore.   But they hadn't.  The dream had to be in the future.  It must be prophetic.  I've missed something important.

She turned a few pages back in her journal and looked at the drawings of the blond vampire playing eight ball alone and remembered his precise powerful movements.  He had been marvelous to watch as he stalked into the club with easy familiarity.  The shock of white blond hair and the dark eyes had matched what the Dream had engraved in her memory.  Even amongst the fashionable leather clad crowd he had stood out, his presence sharper and more defined to her than the background human noise.  She looked at the dark drawing on the page before her.  She had tried to capture the effect of light on his pale skin and dark coat.  She couldn't help but feel that other people should have seen his difference, too.  If not for his power, at least because of the natural uneasiness a large predator should bring to its prey.  She shouldn't be surprised, she supposed, after all this is Sunnydale. 

She studied the picture of him standing in the shadows watching the Slayer at her table.  She had not been able to describe the emotion on his face, in either words or drawn line.  The supernaturalness of the Slayer and this vampire had prickled on her awareness.  They had felt her too.  Spike unseeing, had glanced had glanced directly at her many times.  The Slayer had caught her eyes, acknowledging her presence, with dark confused eyes.  She turned the page ahead and studied the sketch of the young blonde woman and her friends.  She had not been surprised to have been met with recognition that next morning at the Magic Box.

Titia had made her interest in meeting the Slayer who had befriended a vampire, to the Watcher.  He had suggested that she come in the morning when the Slayer would come to make her report.  Titia had known it would be an interesting meeting from the outset.  To have captured a two hundred and forty-some year old vampire so completely, she must have something beyond a pouty beauty and super-strength.  She hadn't expected deep seated distrust and apparent anger.  Titia had, after finding it's cause, alleviated some of the anger if not the distrust.

Buffy, what a name for a slayer, seemed to be angry because she had believed that Angel's relationship to Titia was more than what it was.  'How could you know so much without being deeply trusted by Angel' was the message.  She explained that she had assisted Angel in a rather delicate mission.  When Buffy had responded with 'feelings can develop from the camaraderie of shared danger', she had drawn on all her negotiating skills assure the young woman that she was a consummate professional and very rarely allowed herself to get involved with her clientele.  Of course, that hasn't stopped me from getting way to involved with employees and wouldn't really have stopped me with Angel either.  It had been the soul thing.  He's a vampire, passion is pretty much a synonym.  While her relationship with Angel had been intimate on a certain level and she did love the big fanged teddy bear. It was not Love no matter how good he smelt. Not as good as Spike. 

Yes, Spike.  She had a feeling, he was a whole different ball of wax.  He was so familiar.  It's probably just because his scent is so similar to Angel's.  She had that meeting with him tonight about the position.  How much to tell him was the question. 

She put down her journal and brought her briefcase back to her seat.  She took out her laptop and composed a job description.  How to explain the position's goals and purpose.

She checked her watch.  Ten to one, he might be up.  She went and picked up her cell from the bedroom.  Dialing, she returned to her computer, his cell was not in service, so she dialed the Hyperion.

"Hello, Jasmine?  It's Latitia.  He hired you!  That's wonderful.  I really didn't think he would do it.  Who said vamps don't learn."

"He's very nice.  It will be a good position for me, though I don't fancy all that dusting.  I called Kat to see what she thought. I hope you didn't mind.  She had a great deal of contact with him.  He seems a bon garcon." Came the warm Franco-Canadian accent over the phone.

"He's not a boy, Jasmine."

"I know Titia, but it's hard for an old woman to look on such youthful beauty and remember otherwise."

"I know.  I just have daily reinforcement of what those features hide.  Is he up?"

"I'm not sure, let me transfer you.  If this doesn't work, call back.  He just showed me last night and you know I'm not so good with this newfangled stuff.  Salut, cherie."

After a few rings Angel's voice said, "Angel," clear and confident.

"It's me again.  You may wish that you were left to starve by the end of this lovely mission of mine."

A dry chuckle came over the phone, "I'm forever in your debt, Titia.  And I know you wouldn't call unless you needed to."

"I'm glad you believe so.  I personally feel like an idiot.  I don't feel I can rely on the Slayer's people for help with Spike.  She won't trust me and there seems to be a personal animosity toward him that I don't understand.  I sure that whatever caused it is at the heart of Spike's problem.  You said you believed him to have helped the Slayer before, it's possible there may have been a falling out.  I don't understand why he would help them.  He's a vampire." She sighed.  It didn't make any sense.

"Spike is an unusual vampire.  He did help Buffy a few years ago.  He called a truce, so that he could get Dru and himself safely out of Sunnydale.  He talked Buffy into letting them go in return for ceasing his aggression and helping her get to Angelus."

She would loved to hear the whole of the story, but she could feel it was too personal. "Why would she believe him?  He was the enemy with no reason to make a pact with his food.  It lacks the proper arrogance."

"Spike was never one to follow any rule other than his own.  Buffy said he had wanted the world the way it was and didn't want it to change.  She was never certain what made her trust him, she just knew she had to." He didn't want the world to change.  It was music to her ears.

"Thanks Angel, yet again.  How are you feeling?"

"Great."  She didn't believe this.  He wasn't able to keep the depression out of his voice.

"I'm glad you hired Jasmine.  She's used to keeping an old-fashioned household.  I think she'll suit you."

"Yes, I think she will.  We had a wonderful discussion on French vampire lore last night.  She seems to deal with the concept well."

"You will be a 'peti' choux' in no time."  She laughed at the mental image.

"Titia, how do you think Buffy's doing?  Giles said her mother was ill, but seemed to be in recovery.  No-one had called me when Joyce first took ill . . . but my being in Sunnydale would have only complicated things.   She has Riley now."  A sigh so sad it made her heart ache came over the phone.  She could only figure that Buffy had changed, she couldn't picture the hard young woman she had met instilling so much love.

"I guess she's fine.  But I haven't met the boyfriend.  It was only her and her friends at the Bronze last night.  She seemed to be fifth wheeling it."

"Ah.  Well, not that I liked him but he seemed the stable and reliable type.  It's the only reason he's alive."  The last part seemed to have come through gritted teeth.

"Had a run in, did you?  I'm looking forward to prying it out of you when I get back.  Should I give Buffy your regards?"

Another sigh came to her ears, "No, best to keep the mention of me down to a minimum.  I'm probably old history now.  Her and that boy have been together nearly a year.  Just watch her back while your there."

"Salut"

"Bye" 

The click of the phone made the room seem too quiet.  Angel, you stupid idiot, like anyone who ever met you could forget you. You're touch is indelible. Titia ran her finger along the nearly healed bite marks on her neck.  It made her skin tingle.  Buffy.  She could only be that mad if she still cared.  She must be jealous.  Stupid little fool.  She had no idea the sway she still had over him.  Maybe it would be good for both of them if they would see each other.

Titia sighed and reread the document she had created.  I should have asked someone at the office to write this up.  She ran it through the spell checker and corrected her punctuation.  Taking the small portable printer from her briefcase, she inserted a piece of blank paper with WEBSTER, HARDING, LALONDE AND GORDON: MANAGEMENT AND LEGAL CONSULTANTS business logo into the top.
 

To Chapter Three