Things Change

Prologue

The sinuous flames seared his unconscious mind, burning away the moorings that held the serpent fish in the depths away from access to his thoughts.   A shimmering dance of pixie fire licked across his internal landscape.  Its siren call heralding the darkness that will be left in its wake.  He could feel the fish moving free, stronger as the flame fed it with promises of destruction to be wrought and freedom to be had.  He could feel the insane light of its eyes burning away the me, the I.  It was closer now.  He could feel its fetid breath.  Its jaws opened to engulf him.

Something strong grabbed his head.  The abruptness of it left him gasping.  A living scent filled his senses.  He was pulled from the snapping jaws.  The invisible force surrounded him with healing warmth.  His face stung as if from a blow.  A steel force pressed his head forward.

She was there then.  Her golden glory made his soul rejoice.  Her strength pulled his lips to meet her tender flesh.  No.  Get away.  It'll kill you. You can't ask me to do that!  Please ... no.  Angel whimpered.  The serpent shot from the depths and hot blood flowed over his tongue.  Burned away his veins.  He screamed. 
 
 
 

The faerie flames danced again but their beckoning pull had lessened.  Angel struggled flailing against the undertow, away from the demon thing below.  Its monstrous whispers weaving in amongst his own.  Playing and searching for the trigger that would allow it control.

Then it was gone.  His head was again seized by that steel vice.  Hauling him to the surface.  His heart pounded.  No, not his heart.  It was a roar in his ears.  His senses giddy with the scent.  When he opened his mouth to exclaim Angelus surged up and hot sweet fluid slid down his throat.  It refreshed him.  Healed him.  He saw it glow in his veins: a red trace-work that caged him with the demon fish. 

Through that pulsing web he saw her sun-drenched image, her hand outstretched, calling him to life.  To fight.  To belong to the world.

"Buffy."  Angel tried to reach for the golden image idealized in memory but his arms couldn't move.   He gasped as her loving image faded into the agony of reality.

He thought he opened his eyes.  Only inky backless existed, no sound, no smell. Yes, there is a smell.  He moved his unresponsive body.  The sound of rustling chains echoing through a hard walled chamber followed him as he once again retreated into despair.
 
 
 

The click of a doorlock cracked through him like rifle fire.  Lightning pain jerked his muscles.   He did not lift his head or open his eyes, as that scent approached him.  The soft snick of padded soles following in its wake.

Shock went through him again as her voice rang out like church bells, crisp and clear, in the prevalent silence.  "So Angel, you've come back to us.  Drink up now.  You need it."  He lifted his head.  His eyes made out a silhouetted form of a tall woman.  The pale light from the hall cast a dim red halo about her wild hair. 

He breathed in her familiar scent as she drew close.  She placed a strong guiding hand on his head, pulling his mouth to her fragrant skin.  He sniffed and smelled the sun there.  Her wavy auburn hair tickled his face.  A hot hand on his bare shoulder.  His skin sung under the contact.

"None of that."  She chided, feeling his cool mock breath.  "Drink now; there's not much time."  She pressed him firmer.  His inner demon surged up and complied.  Once again the sweet elixir of life passed into him.  Binding him closer to reality.  He wanted to hold that warmth to him and drink deeply, surrounded by it.  He groaned as it pulled away, receding, leaving him to his oblivion.
 
 
 

When he broke through to wake again, the nothingness of his surroundings did not imply consciousness.  He had only the pain of his body and a sense of gravity to judge by.  He slowly tightened and released the major muscles of his body, moving the sluggish demon blood through his veins.  The torture of it became a mantra. 

Once he had worked feeling into his limbs he could get a sense of his cruciform position against the wall.  Chains held him hand and foot.  He pulled on them.  They were well placed.  He tugged and pulled and yanked his bonds until exhaustion finally claimed him.
 
 
 

He was awake when she came again.  Her scent making his mouth water and his body tingle.  She entered quickly removing something from her neck.  Without a word she pulled him to her, sighing when his teeth bit in and sighing when she pulled away. 

"They are coming.  Keep your head down and put on your true face.  Don't respond in any way and this will go better."  She lifted his face, her soft warm breath on his ear.  "Follow my scent."

She stepped back, exiting the room.  A murmur of voices approached, resolving into distinctness.  "... then you best check for yourselves.  I think he's ready.  There has been no sign of rational thought in days.   But I'm just a contractor and can't accept that sort of responsibility to give the go ahead for release."  Her voice said.

"Don't worry, we will."  Came the soft reply.  The southern flow of that voice was etched in his memory.  Lindsey.  His handsome face framed by unruly hair was in Angel's minds eye.  He breathed in his spicy scent and found it tinged with fear.

"When he responds at all, it's in inarticulate growls.  He has snapped at me but that was a few days ago."  He heard the rustle of paper.  "He is truly impressive.  The average vampire would have been permanently in his demon form giving only base animalistic responses by the end of a week of starvation.  It took him two weeks of complete deprivation!  I wish there was time to carry out further research."

"Unfortunately, that is not part of the mandate of this project.  We are looking forward to examining your findings in greater detail.  They will add greatly to our understanding of vampires."  The business-like voice hit him with her scent.  Liliah.  Her beautiful cool suited image, replaced Lindsey's in Angel's mind.  Of course, Wolfram and Hart would behind this. 

"What do you think?"  Lindsey, close.  A smooth artificial hand raised his head.  A light shone into his rolled back eye.  His head dropped loosely when the force that held it let go.

"The project is already over budget.  This is holding up so many things.  But this is him.  I almost think we should make him wait another few days just to make sure.  The board of directors will have us serving out our contracts at head office if we fail another project.  I have some worst-case scenarios and contingency plans for them.  We should discuss them."  Liliah must have remained by the door, but her fear still reached his nose.  "Dr. Gordon is the hired expert, so we should base our decisions on her reports.  We hired her for her experience in these matters . . . let's discuss this upstairs.  Seeing him like that unnerves me."

"Really.  I rather like the view.  I'd love to just brick up the door, permanently."

"Lindsey.  Don't even think of going Poe on us.  Just keep your mind on your half of the project.  And maybe we will survive this."

They retreated down the hall.  Angel opened his eyes to see the light fade with the closing of the door.
 
 
   

The cacophony of the city was new in dreams that had been silent for so long.  Smells too, became prevalent.  Garbage and the ubiquitous sewer, rain and car exhaust, all filtered through his shattered senses.  Angel realized gravity was also different; it pressed on different parts of him.  He felt the wetness of spitting rain as he broke through the surface into consciousness.  He was wet.  The misty haze around him had made his pants cling.  One side of him was soaked from the alley pavement.  He struggled to sit up.  Making his unused muscles obey, he got a look around him. 

Angel willed himself to his feet and sniffed the air.  The intermingling of scents was at first confusing.  He unwound their strands as he made for the street ahead.  He walked slowly using the building as support.  His fingers trailed over the rough brick, after such extreme sensory deprivation he relished the tactile stimulation. 

By the time he made the street, his nose had distinguished more than one familiar scent.  At the end of the alley they were both stronger.  To the right was the definite smell of vampires.  He was in no shape to stumble onto them.  He noted his thin bare chest and loose pants.

He looked at the street signs.  He had no idea where he was.  The left was the only choice and from it came the other familiar scent.  He would have to walk until he found a landmark. 

That scent needled him as he moved along the street at an uneven pace.  Human.  It made his mouth water in an unnerving way.  The consuming need for blood surged through his depleted body.  Through sheer will, he kept his human mask and the rational elements of his brain in the fore.  He still couldn't stop his body from breathing in the scent.   There was a hint of licorice to it. 

He could taste it.  It flowed over his awareness igniting his veins with its familiarity.  What once he fought now he followed, picking up his pace he lurched unsteadily, ever closer.  No face came with that essence, just taste and warmth.  And a voice.  "Follow my scent," she had said.  He did. 

She was there.  She had to be.  The street was residential.  Human smell was all around.  But his nose drew him to the large car parked under a broken streetlight.  As Angel approached he identified it as a 1961 Jaguar Saloon car.  The glossy paint shimmered the colour of clotted blood. God, I'm hungry.

The passenger door opened and he tumbled in.

"Nice car."  He said as a warm bag of blood reading, 'Eternia: Alternative lifestyle Solutions O+ , Guaranteed Fresh and Human', was pressed into his hands.

"How are you feeling?" She handed him a snifter of Armagnac.  He looked so drawn and thin still, but his dark hair was now in the spiky style she had first seen him wear.  Latitia had misjudged his size when she ordered the clothes.  They hung loosely on him, emphasizing his thinness.  Even so, he looked right sitting in this room.   The richly coloured decor had an element of masculine simplicity.  This room was her study, library and haven here in LA. 

She settled herself into the comfort of the deep brown leather chair across the coffee table from him.  Her soft forest green sweater protected her from the coolness of its surface.  She rolled the golden fluid around in her glass.  Watching him out of the corner of her eye she decided that despite his thinness he was looking pretty good given his experiences at the hands of Wolfram and Hart. 

He looked at her over the rim of his glass, and then took a drink of the rich liquid before answering.  "Improving."  He looked around the room, seeming to enjoy its deep colours and solid furniture. "I should be.  I haven't been this pampered in a hundred years."  He felt the soft cashmere of the dark grey sweater he wore.

She smiled. "Sorry about the size.  My guess based on my informants was pre-trauma."

He nodded, his eyes capturing hers with the force of his will.

Here it comes.  He's been trying to brooch the subject for days, she thought as she resisted his pull.

"Why you?", was his simple pounce upon her will.

"Or do you mean why not Cordelia?"  She parried.

"No, I mean why you?  Who are you?"  He leaned forward, his presence was powerful.  It was meant to overwhelm her will.   It did, but not the way he would have expected.  His presence felt so nearly right.  Where he hoped to impose, he thrilled.  So nearly right.

"I supposed, because I was the only one who could help.  They are a peculiar lot.  I was needed."  She shrugged. "They sent me a Dream that took me nearly two days to figure out.  Damn cryptic bastards!  There are times when I would rather have a nice seizure inducing vision with real data, than try and muddle through with vague dreams."  Drawing her knees up, she slid her body further down into the chair.  She took a big sip of her brandy allowing it to slowly slide down her throat.

"I don't know if Cordelia would agree.  You still haven't answered my second question.  You said you work for the Powers.  How come I haven't run into you before?"  He withdrew his will.  With a perplexed look he sat back into the comfort of the couch.  Its deep chestnut brown set off his preternatural paleness.

"I've just recently set up shop here.  My little part of the crusade is hidden under a few businesses."  Getting out of her chair she went to her desk, pulled open a drawer and withdrew several business cards.  She handed them over. "Would you like another drink?"

He handed her his glass, his smile of thanks sent a little tingle down her spine. Silly schoolgirl!  She chided herself.  Your deal with vamps all day, then get all giggly on an overly Riced-up one.  She willed her hands steady as she refilled their glasses. 

He was still contemplating her cards when she placed the snifter on the mahogany coffee table before him.  Folding herself back into her chair, she studied his down-turned face.  The low tungsten light and the warm reflection of the mahogany lent his pale marble face a healthier hue.  At least for a vampire.  She had done her job.  Why did she still feel connected, almost motherly toward him?  Probably because your blood nursed him back to health over the last five days.  Were the Powers wise to bind me so tightly to him?  Will I be able to stand two more such intimate contacts with him, and not try to and push it further?  Why seven nights?  I swear the only reason they'd push me into seven days is to try me with temptation. If they had only called me earlier.

He looked up at her.  His gaze caused that embarrassing tingle again. Control old girl or he will smell you and you truly will be embarrassed.  Remember how powerful, emm powerful, stop that, he is.  He's going to be a great deal more perceptive than your little minions.  Including Dillon.  Think of him as you would Locust.  Hah, like that could ever happen. There's no blocking Angel's presence.  She shuddered at the thought that she was the only thing that had kept Wolfram and Hart from driving a vampire as strong as Angel insane from starvation and deprivation.  She could picture the carnage he could have wrecked on the innocent LA populace.

He broke her reverie, "You are rather busy for someone so young."  He gave her face a speculative glance.  Then spread out the three cards printed with the business names: GORDON AND LANDRY MOVING AND STORAGE INTERNATIONAL; ETERNIA: ALTERNATIVE LIFESTYLE SOLUTIONS; and WEBSTER, HARDING, LALONDE and GORDON: MANAGEMENT AND LEGAL CONSULTANTS.  "You can't be more than twenty-five."

"You, more than anyone, should know better than to judge by youthful appearances,"  She laughed.

"Yes, but you're mortal."

"Maybe.  When do the Powers touch and not leave a mark?"  She sipped her brandy.

"Never."  He still looked at her expectantly.  He didn't get an answer.  The phone came to her rescue.  She quickly reached for it where it sat on the desk.

"Gordon."

"Titia it's Collin.  Have you read the report from Sydney yet?  I have located the right database, but I need to know what information they were looking for more precisely.  Oh and Montreal faxed some forms that need your sig."  He managed the entire monologue in one breath.

She smiled into the phone,  "They need full names, aliases, addresses and security clearances, if possible.  I will be in early tomorrow to sign.  Put them on the desk if you get the chance.  Anything else?" 

"No, sorry to bother you so late.  Ciao." 

As she replaced the phone there was a knock on the door, "Yes, Kat?."

"Supper's ready, dear.  I've made up a good hearty tortiere.  It will put a bit more meat on those bones."  The older woman said with a disapproving look at Titia's lean form.

Titia's face reddened a bit under the motherly comments.  She turned to address Angel,  "Do you mind if I eat in here?"

He seemed surprised by this. "No, of course not."

She turned back to the older woman, "I'll take it in here then."

Kat focused on him, "Would you like another, sir?"

"Ah, yes, please," Angel said, uncomfortably.

"That's okay, dear"  She patted his shoulder after she collected his lunch mug from the table.  Then she left with a purpose pulling the door closed behind her.

Angel watched her leave looking a little unnerved.  Titia grinned at him, "She doesn't look the type to take the unusual in such stride does she?"

"No, she doesn't." 

"She has dealt with vampires before, though she's not usually so familiar.  Her and Collin, the one who just called, are two of my most valued employees.  I came upon both of them in similar ways.  Collin, my assistant-come-cracker, I was able to rescue from an operation a few years back.  He said, once he got a look at the nightlife he could never go back to believing it didn't exist."  She laughed.  "He, I believe, likes the covertness of his position.  Kat was also rescued from the crossfire.  She went through a similar revelation.

"I try not to let my human employees come too often into contact with other species.  I mean, humans are pretty much the bottom of the food chain when it comes to self-aware beings."  She wasn't usually so chatty.  It had been so nice to come home to someone who could understand her problems.  She wished she could tell him everything.  She sighed, "I was at Caritas searching help about you.  The Host said you were having a hard time of it lately.  I mean, besides getting kidnapped and starved" 

Angel nodded and drew in on himself again.  The deep sadness that had consumed him in the first few days of convalescence seemed to taint his strong features again.  She went to his side and perched on the arm of the couch.  She took his hand in hers ignoring the tingle of energy that spread through her body at the touch of his cool skin. "Our lives are not easy, as I suspect you know too well.  The Powers are cruel masters that seem to take delight in giving tasks to those who are not necessarily the most suited.  The courageous say that this is the test we must pass to make us worthy of being their servants.  Even if that's true, it still feels unjust at times.  I believe that it is part of what makes us fight and not give in."  She tried to engage his eyes but his head had dropped into his free hand.

He sighed.  "I did.  I gave up.  I slept with Darla, and damn the consequences.  I risked my soul and redemption because I couldn't take the emptiness that I had created.  Now Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn are keeping me out of their lives.  I don't know how to even begin to repair the damage I've done."  He lifted his eyes to hers the sorrow there was numbing. "How were they when you called?" 

"They were very worried and I think a bit ashamed at not trying harder to find you.  They've not had any major cases since you went missing."  She slid off the arm and lowered herself to the couch beside him.  "Are you going to be okay?"

He nodded putting on a small smile, but didn't take his hand away.

"I've got a full liquor cabinet.  As long as you stay away from the porto, you could put on a good ripper of a drunk.  Sing me an Irish aire and just let it all out.  You might feel better and I'd have a laugh."  His reply was interrupted by the arrival of Kat with their suppers on a tray.  She winked at him as his smile deepened.

Kat set the coffee table and placed their meals. "Is their anything else, dear?" She asked Titia. 

"No, thanks again.  Have a good night, Kat."  Her leave-taking was less brisk this time as she smiled them a good night.  They heard her leave the living room beyond, then the condo door opened and closed.

"She's gone to catch Law and Order." Titia supplied.  They both consumed their meals in companionable silence.  Angel sipping his O positive, warmed just right, over an old volume of Byron's collected works.  Titia flipped through a newly arrived Sotherby's Auction list between bites of tortiere and steamed vegetables.

Angel watched Titia's too-graceful movements as she stacked her plate and teacup on the tray along with his mug and placed them on the desk.  If all his other senses hadn't claimed her human, he would have thought her one of his kind.  My kind.  Now there's a thought.  I don't have a kind anymore.  I hadn't had a kind since the gypsies blessed me with this soul.  Angel knew it as a blessing, but Angelus made obscene mutterings deep in his mind to the contrary.  The curse, for Angel, was the method of losing that hallowed part of him.  The cruelty of the clause in the spell that guarantees it's loss in a moment of pure happiness went beyond words.  The more he was forced to live amongst mortals, the more that his soul longed for a greater connection with that warmth.  He'd love to dive into the comfort that Titia wanted to give.  He could see the deep urge to comfort in her warm russet brown eyes, and smelled how she would offer it in her scent.  He wanted to be surrounded by her heat, to be tied tighter to the world he had almost forsaken.

His night with Darla had shown him that it could be possible.  His body craved it, but his heart was not easily touched at the thought of it.  It sung for only one.  Buffy.  Her golden image shone like the light of salvation in his cold heart.  Her love was the shield he had kept for so long, placing it against Angelus' insane thoughts.  She was the only one who truly held him to his cause.  She was his reason to go on.  Even if all he'd ever have was the memories, he had to believe it was worth it.  It was the way it had to be.  Together they would never be able to resist temptation.  His mind was etched with every touch they had ever shared.  His body could still react with heat at the thought of the only two deep embraces they had shared.  The first with its haunting heat and sweetness, its pleasure near drowned by the loss of his soul.  The second was wild and passionate.  His temporarily human body matching hers in warmth. 

He stirred from those warm memories in time to receive a glass of sherry.  Titia's eyes flashed with the gold of the tawny fluid and her nostrils widened with a sudden intake of breath.  Her eyes caught his and gold flashed in them again.  She withdrew quickly, retreating to her chair.  But her smell lingered near him.  He realized that her arousal had strengthened in response to his own.  She could smell him.  My mood should not have been strong enough to raise a response in a human.  This new information tugged him completely out of his reverie.  What had the Powers done to her?

She studied the tumbler of sherry in her hand and broke the silence with, "How do you like it?"

It took him a second to realize it was the untasted sherry in his hand that she was referring to.  He took a sip and was hit by the symphony of flavours.  Dried apricots and almonds were suggested in its character.  He enjoyed the lingering aftertaste for a few seconds before replying.  "It is wonderful.  I haven't had sherry in a while."

Sittin up, Titia said, "I am going to ask you a couple of personal questions.  Feel free to not answer, since it's a liberty I exercise with regularity and I fully respect everyone's right to do the same."  She engaged his eyes for the first time since retreating to her chair.  "I know you have a human soul.  The Dream the Powers sent showed me.  I could see something . . . unnatural interlaced with your being.  It had confounded me.  It was the Host who helped me understand."  Several coflicting emotions passed through her features.  "You said that you risked this human soul when you slept with this Darla.  There must be more to it's release than just sex.  The spell was placed to hurt Angelus, your demon, so sex would be too simple.  It had to be more than that, or it could have been gone by that week's end.  A soul doesn't make a good person . . . out of a human, let alone a vampire.  I mean, no one will ever say Hitler was a good man.  I doubt that even at your finest, you were responsible for so many human lives."  She paused to take a sip of her drink.  "I doubt a regular human soul could have fought against a demon such Angelus.  Much less held such an unstable package to such a selfless unnatural cause as a vampire helping humans."  She waited to see if he would respond.

Her words and understanding belied her age.  He realized that there was a great deal of wisdom and experience behind the concern in her eyes.  The Powers had changed her deeper than he had initially believed.  He remembered clearly the surge of power that stirred his veins when he had taken her blood over the last five days.  The ecstasy of its taste was not due just to experience of drawing the blood from a living neck, but because it had been her blood.  It had been like Buffy's.  Blood touched by the Powers That Be. 

His memories of his days in the cell were still hazy.  The strongest memories being Titia's blood, scent and the steel grip of her hand on his neck as she urged him to feed the first few times.  That was it!  The reason they had sent her, an unknown quantity, to him.  She had the power of strength and blood, and had no previous emotional attachment to him.  Cordelia hadn't the strength needed to get him to drink or, more importantly, to make him stop.  Her blood would not have been strong enough to bring him back so quickly.  Buffy's emotional confusion towards him would have made her foolhardy and stubborn.

As his admiration for the woman in front of him grew, the more he felt it safest that he should leave.  But he thought he would answer some of her questions first.  He had brought it up and he owed her.  "No.  It's not as simple as just sex.  I was most at risk with Darla, because she was my sire and lover for nearly a hundred and fifty years.  Our relationship was as close to love as I had ever known, until I gained my soul and met a young woman named Buffy Summers.  It was with her that I discovered the clause in the curse and the extent that the sharing an existence with a soul had driven Angelus insane.  Buffy,"  He could not keep the love from his face,  "is like no other."

"I take it she survived Angelus' return and somewhere in there you got a soul to lose again.  She sounds remarkable.  Maybe the type of remarkable that any smart vampire would run from if they met her."  Her right eyebrow was up in askance. 

"Yes.  She is the Slayer."

"I wonder why They didn't send her.  She would have had the strength and the blood to do it.."

"Buffy's young and headstrong."  He smiled inwardly, realizing he no longer considered Titia young.  "And she is not emotionally set up to fight mortals.  Slayers aren't supposed to harm humans.  Going in after me would have left her emotionally damaged, if she survived."  This rationalizing process had made him feel better.  He knew that part of him had been upset at not being rescued by his friends.  He felt better about the Powers for not sending his friends on such a useless endeavour.

He stretched, feeling better than he had in days . . . weeks really.  Still, he was tired and hungry again.  He dragged himself from the comfort of the couch and stood.  "I think I should leave.  I've imposed enough on your hospitality."

Titia got up from her chair,  "Do you think that's wise?  The Dream told me it would be seven nights and seven feedings of my blood to bring you back to full health.  It's always seven and seven, did you ever notice that?  By my calculation, it would take another ten days gorging on regular human blood to do what mine can do with two feedings.  Not that - "

"I don't think it's necessary, I'll lay low for the next week.   I'll move into a different suite at the hotel, just in case."

" . . . I like being a wet nurse to a vampire,"  She continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "but if the Powers say seven, then I believe them.  I've been in Their service long enough to know that They wouldn't bother if it wasn't necessary.  It would be foolish to leave the protection here, especially in your weakened state.  Hell, I could probably take you.  It would be more dignified if you just let me follow orders." 

She stepped closer to him and took the fist he didn't know he had formed into her warm hands.  His eyes went to her throat.  All but last night's bite had faded to pale scars on her creamy golden skin.  How had he not noticed this last night?  He licked his lips in spite of himself.  Pushing the guilt away he let his features shift and raised his golden-yellow eyes to hers.  As she stepped into his embrace he didn't realize that the eyes holding his were gold as well.  She tilted her head as their bodies touched.  He sighed and looked heavenward not knowing whether to curse or praise them for this gift. 

He quivered as his lips met her warm skin, he lingered savouring her smell and the sensation of her warm body trembling in response his presence.  There was a time when he would have revelled in the power he had over her at this moment.  Now he just felt guilty at enjoying the sensation of her body touching his.

"Angel, just do it.  Or you're going to have your soul tested again."  She whispered.  Her hand on his neck applied pressure.

He closed his eyes and bit down.  He growled as the blood and the taste of her skin sent waves of pleasure through him.  He shuddered as he felt the power of it surge through his veins.  A few more swallows and he had to let go.  The sensation was overwhelming.  He panted as he licked away the few drops that formed on the ragged punctures he'd left.  He wasn't ready to let go of the warm woman in his arms.  She reminded him of what had been missing from Darla's embrace.  Heat.

Titia pulled away from him, looking into his demon eyes before kissing his cheek and saying good night.  He watched her walk out the door with wonder.  How can she be so fearless in the face of my true nature?

... 

Titia awoke slick with sweat.  Her Dream had seared itself in her mind.  Its nuances captured with surgical precision.  She reeled under the power of it.  Images shifted in her mind until one handsome blond male image resolved into near solidity.  Tears ran down her face.   She would not forget that face anytime soon.

Blinking at the clock, she tried to clear her mind enough to understand the numbers there.  It was four in the morning.  She got up and pulled yesterday's sweater off the chair and dried herself with it.  She dressed in whatever came to hand first, silently, thanking her love of dark colours.  She ran a brush through her hair and tied a scarf around her neck to hide the evidence of Angel's snacking.  Then she packed.

When she turned to leave she remembered, "Oh, yes can't forget those."  She went to the bedside table and pulled open a drawer.  She withdrew from it a small ivory handled wooden stake and an ornate gold crucifix on a thick gold chain.  She stuffed them in the pocket of fitted black hip length leather coat that she had left thrown on an upholstered chair.  She put on the coat and carried her baggage down the hall.

"Okay, now to get some answers."  She headed for the guest room.

"Angel." She knocked.  At the soft moan, she opened the door, "Angel.  I need to talk."  The smell of him was strong in the room after his two days of occupancy.  She took in his smell as her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark interior.  He pulled himself up into a near sitting position, drawing the blankets further up his naked chest.  She tucked her left leg under her and sat down facing him on the bed.

"Where are you going?" He said rubbing his face with his hands.

"I won't know until you tell me.  I just had a Dream.  The capital 'D' kind.  It seems to be my month to be at the Powers beck and call.  I have about three days to be somewhere and do something.  At this point all I know is you're the key."  She pressed on her temples with her palms, willing her mind into action.  When she rubbed her eyes, the beautiful unnatural blond from her Dream was looking out at her with dark eyes.

"How can I help?" Angel pulled himself more upright, stuffing the extra pillow behind his back.

"In my dream, I saw you connected to three beings by a red thread.  Obviously, blood ties.  I'm guessing vampiric, since they are 'alive'."  She squeezed her eyes together to focus on the images inscribed on her brain.

"They would have to be Darla, Drusilla and William.  Drusilla is one of mine."  He bent his head, so she couldn't see his face, and studied his hands.  "William, or Spike as he prefers to be called, is one of Drusilla's.  He was her first 'childe' and her lover for over a hundred and twenty years.  Are you being sent to kill them?"  There was a hint of sadness in his voice.  Titia reached out and clasped one of his cool hands in her two warm ones.

"Sorry to keep digging issues up that you'd rather leave buried.  Your life is safe with me.  And, no, I'm not being sent to kill them."  She smiled at him then, "My Dream was focused on William.  He is in trouble.  I believe he is soon to commit suicide.  He's in a place that has a portal to a powerful hell, but the portal is partially closed.  It still has a strong effect on its surroundings . . ."

"That has to be Sunnydale.  But why would the Powers want Spike alive?"

"Is that where the Slayer is?" At Angel's nod she continued. "I saw her.  She was both descriptive of the location and part of the trouble I must solve.  Can you think of any reason why she would have influence on Spike's death wishes?"

"No.  Other than he was never able to kill her.  He has killed two slayers and had hoped to make it three with Buffy.  I had heard something had happened to him, something involving Buffy's current boyfriend, Riley."  His face darkened at the mention of Buffy's boyfriend. 

There's probably a story there.  Titia thought, as Angel continued.

"He belonged to some government military operation, called the Initiative.  It experimented on demons, and was trying to make demon-human hybrid super-soldiers.  Apparently Spike got captured, and they did something to him to prevent him from feeding."

"That's horrible!  No wonder he wants to commit suicide.  Buffy dates someone who helped do this?"  She couldn't quite get her head around it.

"You have to understand that the Slayer's job is very black and white.  Kill demons and protect humans.  I think one of the reasons I was sent to her was to blur the edges somewhat.  But that solid belief in right and wrong makes her decisions easier and keeps her daily battle in perspective.  Her job is hard.  There is no goal other than to kill as many demons as she can, before she dies young."  These thoughts brought creases to his young face, giving it the appearance of having aged.  She could see the love and respect that this ancient being beside her had for the young slayer. 

It was funny how Angel gave off the feeling of age, even though he had that undercurrent of cockiness equivalent with a human the age he appears.  The only other vampire she'd met so far, that did not live in the perpetual age of his 'death' was Locust.  Locust was also, the only vamp she could ever picture giving Angel a run for his money in combat or charisma.  The only one she could think of that touched his beauty was Dillon.  Dillon's handsome Mediterranean features wavered in her head.  She hadn't thought of Dillon much, since she'd felt Angel's presence in her Dream.  She thought for a second. Yes, Dillon should be coming home from Oklahoma soon.  She had looked over the progress report and his mission had been nearly complete.  I'll have to push his standing when he gets back.

Her mind had drifted, a voice in her skull reminded her of the task at hand. "How long ago did Spike get . . . declawed?"  She couldn't keep her disgust out of her voice.

Angel seemed amused by this, "I believe is been a year, at least, since he's been kept from being the scourge of humanity he was."

"I can't believe you don't get riled by the thought of innate cruelty . . . I suppose you're really in the same situation.  I hated to turn around and seem like a hypocrite, but I like you the way you are.  From what you've said and what I've read, I don't think I would have liked Angelus before or after he was crazy."  He squeezed her hand in response.

"You should take care around Spike, regardless whether he can bite or not, he is still a remorseless killer.  He is smart and so, still capable of doing harm.  Don't forget he is still a vampire.  Also, he can be very . . . charming when he needs to be."

"Don't worry.  I've dealt with vampires . . . I was going to say 'before', but I guess you know that.    I still don't understand is what is driving him over the edge.   If it has been over a year since he lost his bite that can't be the sole cause.   I'm not even sure if I have been given much of an idea why he is so important.  I will have lots to contemplate on my little journey."  She put on a brave smile.  God, I'd love curl up here beside him and sleep for days.  I need a vacation. 

She stretched, then remembered. "Here," she dug out one of her cards from her pocket and handed it to him.  "This is the number of Jasmine Dupont.  She works for me and came down from Montreal to help set up housekeeping for my new employees.  She's a bit older and I know she'd love the opportunity to lessen her workload and stay here in sunny California.  I think that you should consider her as a live-in maid.  She's fun, but not too talkative and she can keep out uninvited guests.  I'll have Collin prepare her for your call.  She will be able to appreciate you."  Titia reached up and took the scarf from her neck.  "Lucky number seven.  Remember, I'm in a hurry this time and you're probably naked under there." 

She bent forward and pulled his head to her neck, before he could issue a verbal complaint.  His scent filled her nose as she rested the corner of her brow against his cool shoulder.  Her hands felt hot against his chest.  Her mind fought her body's urge to curl up on that wonderful chest and sleep.  Her mind won as energy and adrenaline were released as his sharp canines bit into her carotid.  The pain quickly passed as she was overwhelmed by his scent and feel of his cool arms as he engulfed her.

Again, it was over too quickly.  Her mind felt woozy.  Her body trembled as the cool tongue glided across her neck.  She could feel him pant beneath her as she found the strength to pull away.  She looked into his true demon face and couldn't resist the temptation to run her fingers along its ridged brow before kissing him good-bye.

There was a slight look of dismay as the human features reclaimed his face.  She had to smile at his discomfort.  She couldn't imagine a vampire who was embarrassed of his real face. "Take care of yourself.  I've invested a lot in you, so keep yourself 'souled', okay?"  She tied her scarf in place again and got up, "Think about Jasmine, she's good." She turned back at the door. "I'll call when I get back, if not before."

To Chapter One