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Covenant	By : Eleni Category: AtS AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1958 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Covenant
- 1
Title: Covenant

Authors: Eleni Angel and Marie Carrère

Rated: R

Synopsis: A new hero has arrived in Los Angeles, evil beware...

Content: Rewrite of Season One's 'City Of', violence, foul language, Joss
Fixers... :)

Spoilers: AU Season One AtS, some other stuff too, but most people are
caught up enough to read it.

Disclaimer: Angel is the property of TIIC, so in other words we seriously
don't own anything. After this past season, we've pretty much disowned
anything we might have had. Most of the dialogue was taken from the
actual episode of 'City Of...' so I don't really claim to have that
either, and I'm sorry if anyone is offended by my use of it. We've been
reading this serio coo cool bundle of Vampire books, and have been
totally been inspired to rewrite Angel from the first Season, though we
might just combine the whole thing and leave the norm behind. So if you
find something not quite kosher with the show, it's probably the AU
thing.

Distribution: Your Eyes, Fanfiction.net, Land of Denial, Perchance to
Dream, and anyone else who is archiving our fic may have it, anyone else
please just ask, We like to know where our work is going. (Psst...we like
to get new site URLs, we've got a fanfic fetish...)

Eleni's Dedication: This is to Elizabeth, whom I will be joining in New
Orleans fairly soon, and we're going to paint the whole town red. And to
everyone else who ever sent me feedback on any of my stories, especially
Ryan, Michelle and Pamela, whose suggestions have always made everything
so much easier. And of course, to for my beta, whose tireless work is
really what pulls my stories together.

Marie Carrère's Dedication: This is to one of my bestest friends Amy, who
beyond all is amazing and continues to put up with the craziness that is
me. Also, everyone who sent me feedback on my other fic. The next part
should be out soon.

Feedback: Send to eleni9724@juno.com and marie-carrere@cox.net.

Lyrics: Karma Slave by Splash Down, A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton

Eleni's Note: Does anyone have any good book recommendations? E-mail 'em
to me offlist por favor.

//Today I'll be spinning on a Wheel

I'm a slave to a Wheel

And there isn't any stopping

What mistakes could I have made?

I'm a slave serving time for a life that I've forgotten//

Do you remember when you were a child? Do you remember those long ago
fairy stories of vampires and demons, some of which have bled into your
adult life? Well, let me tell you, most of the things that you heard
whilst you were a babe in your mother's arms weren't the art of fiction.
I, myself am a creature of night, childe of the Nosferatu, a vampire. For
centuries I dined on the flesh and blood of the innocent, maimed and
brutalized my way across the Northern Hemisphere. The blazing trail of
destruction I left in the Old World caused the God fearing locals to deem
me the Scourge of Europe. To them, I was a mighty beast in league with
the devil.

For decades, they taught their children that if they misbehaved, I would
be summoned from the shadows to take them away. That if they disobeyed
their Lord's Commandments, that I would deal out the punishment in
Satan's stead. Funny to think that a creature that so despised the rule
of God Almighty and all his disciples would be the one to help encourage
the complaisance of the people as subjects of the Roman Catholic Church.
Even now, it makes me laugh until I howl.

Before I think, my mind transports me from the past and into this modern
city. Los Angeles, City of Angels, the place full of more lost souls than
any other betwixt Heaven and Hell. Junkies die on the streets, needles in
their arms and smiles on their faces. Grand churches are left all but
empty as the people join the congregation of those without dreams, those
whom live without ever knowing what lies hereafter.

All around me I can hear the sounds of the City of Sin, cars honking,
people swearing. Husbands and wives cheating, stealing, lying, and
dealing. It's common place to see women peddling their own flesh to put
food on their table a r a roof over their head, though not necessarily in
that particular order. And who could care about a few dead whores in the
morning? The police sure didn't, they had bigger things to worry about,
like when their next check was going to come from. Where they were going
to get their next hit. If the next person they tried to arrest was
packing and would blow a hole through their chest. With all that looming
over them, who could blame them for letting a few more of the city's
youth slipping into the shadows.

Every day the city bustles with new immigrants who came from all over the
United States and surrounding countries, each hoping to make a name for
themselves here, each of them dreaming to be a star. And every night, the
city's seedy underbelly shows itself as each and every one of those
fresh, hopeful faces begins to succumb to the hard life of being a Los
Angeles party hopper. It's as if they think that just one more party will
cause some big wig producer to spot them and give them a job. Really,
it's like watching a druggie jonesing for his next fix.

People won't wonder why I care. They won't ask themselves who the tall,
looming man was that saved them from that gang member hopped up on PCP.
No, they won't. People are sheep, and ignorant that way. They'll just go
home and persuade themselves that it was all just a bad dream, and that I
really don't exist. And no one will ever thank me for what I'm doing, and
some will just gawk and wonder why I don't ask for monetary gifts. The
answer's simple.

I'm a man on a mission. You see, a hundred years ago wise gypsies sought
to punish me for my crimes. And now, what seems like eons later I'm still
atoning, still trying to right the wrongs of the demon within me. And I
care. Evil had better watch out, because I'm moving in.

And Los Angeles is going to be my town. Not theirs to play with any more.

//I'm a slave of Karma

Spin the Wheel and I'm a king reborn

I'm a slave to Karma

I'm coming back, yeah, I'll be coming back

But for the last time.//

One of the things that I missed allowing myself indulging in is liquor.
I'm sitting here on this barstool, slurring drunkenly to the man next to
me. I know he doesn't care, but I keep talking. For almost an hour, I
ceaselessly babble about the one thing on my mind - Buffy. My friend just
sits there nursing a beer of his own and nodding absently. I can sense
the hopelessness and despair in this one, he won't make it another year,
that's if his liver doesn't give out on him first.

"She was a really, really pretty girl. No she, she was a hottie girl.
She, she had - I mean - her hair was... You know? - You kind of remind me
of her. Because, because - you know - the hair. I mean - the hair." It's
an endless ramble, I'm sure he's thinking that I'm crazy right about now.
"Girls are nice." Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's about to get up and leave me
to myself.

But there's one difference between him and me; he's drunk and I'm not. I
glance up warily as the object of my curiosity waltzes up to the bar and
hands the bartender a couple bucks to cover the beers and use of the pool
table. He and his buddies then wrap their slimy arms around a pair of
tipsy young college coeds. Once they've past, I covertly swing around and
follow them outside.

By the time I find the three young men, who happen to be some vampires,
and their obviously terrified companions, I have the drunken idiot act
firmly back in place. Stumbling, I approached them asking about my car.
The men angrily attempted to get me to leave them to their meal, even
threaten violence. But I cannot allow that, stuff like violence, that's
not allowed.

"Excuse me. 'scuse me. I'm sorry. But has anybody seen my car? It's big ,
and it's shiny." The one that seems to be the leader of the pack saunters
up to me in full game face, hoping to scare me off. Yeah, good luck with
that.

"Piss off pal," the vampire growls, loosening his grip on the girl he
held by the throat. I walk a little closer to him and he snarls at me. At
my comment on his foul breath, he swings the girl into some trash cans
and swipes at me with clawed hands. His buddies attempt to tackle me,
running from opposite sides and I flip my arms out, stakes delivered by a
mechanism that I'd worked out after a few long days recently.

In a short amount of time the idiots are dispatched of, and the two
trembling girls are quivering, sobbing in a frightened huddle. The blonde
had a trickle of blood running from her temple, the smell of it was hard
on my senses, her build even worse. It was just a reminder of something
that I could never, ever have again.

"I-thank you." one of them stammers, the one with the head wound.

"Go," I urge them, trying to slink back into the shadows, there's no way
I can calm enough in the face of flowing blood to soothe my vampiric
countenance away before they could see it. Still, she walks towards me,
and annoyed, I step out into the pale illumination of the street lamp.
"Go home," I growl, and she grabs her friend and runs, screaming into the
night.

//Today I'm a king on the Wheel

Still a slave to the Wheel

But this time around I'm smiling

Keep me cautious, keep me safe, just in case there's a chance

I can leave this Wheel behind me.

Stand in the Middle and you won't get dizzy

Stand in the Middle and you won't fall down

If you stand in the Middle you can keep your balance

Stan the the Middle while the Wheel spins round and round//

The last thing that I expected when I entered my sub-basement apartment
was for someone to be there. You'd think after all of the unexpected
visitors that I'd had in the last couple of years that I'd invest in some
sort of security system or something like that. But alas, I'm one of
those old-fashioned guys who's trying really hard to pretend that the
digital age never happened, and that people still talk to each other over
the telegraph and listen to actual music on their record players. I
smirked, remembering words a kindred soul had spoken about technology.
And tI reI remembered my visitor. The guest who wanted to tell me a life
story - mine.

"I don't think you grasp the concept of me wanting to work alone," I
replied once he'd given me his sales pitch. "Less liability that way, no
more innocent people dead."

"More like you don't want to open yourself up to having a friend," the
man retorted, his faint Irish brogue an aching reminder of a home I left
behind so many years ago. "Because then you'd have to talk to someone,
instead of hiding down here and brooding your years away. It's not the
way to get things done, you need help to fight the good fight."

"I get the job done," I answered, both my voice and posture defensive.
Who was this stranger, this nobody to come into my home and tell me how
to do my job. He might know a pretty rhyme or two about my past, but he
knows truly nothing about me.

"Sure, you slay one or two a night, working yourself to the bone to go
after the big kahunas," the man granted, nodding his head and folding his
arms. "But the ones that you let get away would lead you to the real big
fish in this town, and not just the fledglings grandstanding to attempt a
reputation. The ones that you let get away because you're too exhausted
to deal with some double nighter go back out there and kill, maim, and
make more drones than you coulssibssibly imagine. That's why you need
help, my friend. That's why the Powers sent me to you."

"The Powers sent me a fucking riddle box," I scowled, beginning to walk
into my bedroom. His next words stopped me cold in my tracks.

"You miss her, don't you?" he asked. Slowly, I turned around, not even
noticing that I was growling until I realized that he'd backed up against
the far wall, closer to the door. "Chill," the word sounded even more odd
to me with his lilt than it ever had in the sixties. "I was just sayin'
that I know that you miss her, and the road to redemption will inevitably
lead you back to her. You were supposed to come here, to grow as a
person, but you can't do that if you don't make human contact. Because if
you're cut off from the world, you're going to slip farther and farther
away, until suddenly you find yourself so deep into the dark that you
can't find your way back. You came to Los Angeles to fight crime, to
atone for your sins. But you've become a shadow - a faceless champion of
the hapless human race. And that's the danger."

"An I w I work with you it's a straight shot, that what you're saying?" I
snap back, anger boiling in my thrice damned blood as I stand here
listening to this strange little man. It's then that the somewhat
familiar smell in the room hits me. "You're not human, are you?"

"Please," the little man answered in annoyance. "I'm ceteletely human."
He sneezed, and his face was covered with short, blue quills. "On me
mother's side. My father, he's a Brachan demon, lucky me I'm a half
breed." In that instant, I could feel myself beginning to like this guy,
and then the warning bells went off in my head.

Run.

Run away now.

Before it's too late...

//I'm a slave of Karma

Spin the Wheel and I'm a king reborn

I'm a slave to Karma

I'm coming back, yeah, I'll be coming back

But for the last time.

I'm a slave of Karma

Spin the Wheel and I'm a King reborn

I'm a slave to Karma

I'm coming back, yeah, I'll be coming back

But for the last time.//

The silent purr of the phone as it rings unnerves me in just the
slightest, most terrifying way. I cannot decide if I want her to answer,
or if I want to receive the answering machine. Right now, I'm so weak
that I'm doing the one thing that I promised myself I would never do.
Dammit, I miss her so Goddamn much that I can't seem to care that I was
the one who'd insisted on a clean break. My body's shaking.

"Hello?" Her sweet voice was like a lullaby, wrapping around me and
coaxing me to relax and sleep. I could listen to her talk all day, but I
can't bring myself to answer her. I can't break my rule entirely. Not
right now. Probably not ever. She deserves a clean break, a normal life
with a normal guy who can make her happy. No matter how much that makes
my insides twist at the mere thought of her with someone else. This isn't
about me.

"Hello?" Shit, far too much internal dialogue. I should have hung up a
long time ago, now she probably thinks that I'm a stalker calling just to
hear the sound of her breathing. At times during the beginning of our
relationship, that is how I had felt - like a stalker. Jerking, I slammed
the headset on the base, my body a quivering mass of nerves.

"Satisfied?" a voice asked from the doorway.

"Jesus Doyle," I grumbled. "You scared the shit out of me."

"And you probably gave the poor girl a complex," Doyle answered, flopping
down on the only chair in my apartment. Sighing, I resigned myself to the
fact that this man wasn't going away, and that I was going to have to
make the most of it. "I had a vision this morning, and when the blinding
pain stopped, I wrote this down."

He reaches into the pocket of his worn jacket and hands me a rumpled
piece of paper with the words Tina - Coffee Spot written on it. "Tina?" I
ask.

"Nice looking girl, needs a bit o' help," Doyle shrugged.

"What kind of help?" I asked, leaning against the kitchen table.

"Not sure, that's your problem. I only get the names," he replied, taking
a sip from what I assumed wasottlottle of alcohol. I couldn't quite tell,
it was wrapped in a brown paper bag like what a wino would carry.

"I don't get it, how the hell am I supposed to help her if I don't know
what she's in danger of," I growled, flinging my arms up in the air in
frustration.

"That's where the socializing part comes in handy," Doyle answered. "Get
into her life, make friends, and show up unexpectedly when she's in
trouble. It's a shoe in."

I remember sitting there, arguing with him for several more minutes
before giving in. A few minutes la I p I pulled up in front of the Coffee
Spot, nervous as hell. This wasn't exactly the sort of thing that I was
used to doing. Back in Sunnydale I helped Giles read portents and I'd
show up to help Buffy when things were bad.

I spot Tina begging her creepy boss for more hours, promising to work
Saturday nights when her fellow employees would want to go out. I can't
help it, but I already feel pity for this young woman. So many people
come to Los Angeles without realizing just how much it takes to make it
here, and I'm not just talking about money. LA will eat at your very
soul, grab you tight and drag you down into the dark shadows, feeding on
your misery like...well, like a vampire.

After a few unsuccessful attempts to get her attention, I finally settle
with asking her a mundane question like what time this place closed. She
gave me such a startled look when I spoke, and questioned whether or not
I was talking to her as if she shouldn't exist or something to that
extent. I preformed some sort of parlor trick, catching a falling coffee
mug before it hit the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces.

We speak a bit about happiness, and she leaves, promising to talk to me
when she gets off at ten. And so I wait patiently by my car, and out she
comes. She's wearing some sort of evening dress, probably going to some
party or another, and she's wielding a can of mace or something to that
similar extent. "Wow, suddenly I feel underdressed. Want to go get a
drink or something?" I ask, and nearly cringe the moment that the words
leave my mouth. It sounds like some sort of lame pick up line, one that
she probably hears every night that she works, and every time that she
goes out to bars. She aims the can of mace directly at my face.

"I know who you are and what you're doing here. Stay the hell away from
me. And you tell Russell to leave me alone," she says, her voice is
trembling with a thousand emotions. The one that's easiest for me to pick
up on is fear, second to that is rage. Whoever, whatever, this Russell
guy is, I know that I don't want to know him. And I have an inkling
that's what Tina needs help with. I didn't know that the Powers That Be
wanted me to deal with boyfriend troubles. I thought that that was what
Dear Abby was for.

"I don't know anyone named Russell," I answer, hoping to avoid the
burning sensation brought by the chemical in the canister she holds.

"You're lying," she says frantically, shaking her head as if I was
messing with her perception on reality. I guess she really is jaded,
doesn't recognize help when she sees it.

"I'm not," I insist.

"Then why were you watching me?" she demanded. Good, very good. She's
very observant, and that'sadmiadmirable quality in a girl these days. So
many of them have their heads up in the clouds and can't tell night from
day unless it's color coordinated.

"Because you looked lonely," I lied, pretending to be admitting what was
going on in my head. "And I figured that we have something in common." I
traced a line on the pavement with the toe on my shoe, trying to pretend
that I was anxiously awaiting her reply. She apologized, and I accepted,
telling her that it wasn't necessary. Then she started talking about the
only help that she wanted was a ticket home - not that she was asking for
money. I took the bait.

"Where's home?" I asked.

"Missoula, Montana," she answered, a slightly sheepish look on her face.
But when I heard the name of the town, I couldn't help but smile. It was
nice to be well traveled sometimes. She seems to understand my look.
"You've been to Missoula?"

"During the depression. - Ah, my depression. I-I was depressed there. -
It's pretty country though," I hammed the whole thing. This talking this
is sort of tricky, because I 't e't expect her to believe about me being
there during the depression unless I told her I was a vampire, and if I
did that, I would have an even harder time trying to get her to trust me
again.

"Lots of open land, lots of nothing else. - I came here to become a movie
star. But they weren't hiring. - Well, I have a fabulous Hollywood party
to go to. Hence the glamour. The girl giving it owes my security deposit.
- Well, it was nice threatening you."

"You need a lift?" I ask helpfully. I'm surprised when I'm not
immediately shot down.

//How do all the Wheels inside the Wheels revolving,

Go on, and on, and on, and on, and on...

Spinning on the Wheel the souls of One evolving,

Live on, live on, live on, live on, live on...

Anyone who claims that they know the answer's coming back again...//

When we arrived at the party, Tina's friend Margo was walking around
video taping the people there. It was your typical Hollywood party, all
the wanna be glamorous people trying to socialize and 'network' with big
executives and producers.

"Tina! Smile for the camera. And who is this hunk of tall, dark and
handsome?" Margo seems to be going a mile a minute, and I think that
she's not a very good friend from the way that she's looking at me. I've
seen Buffy go berserk when other women acted like this girl, and I know
that it means something, just not what.

"Just a friend. Margo, I really need to talk to you."

"Uh, grab yourself a drink. I'll be right there." She's evading
questions, and already I can tell that she's not going to be of any help
to Tina and her plight for money. Flaky friends aren't the kind of people
that you want around your money, especially if you're having to pinch
pennies as it is. Looking up, I notice that Tina is moving around, and so
I follow her.

We wonder over to ref refreshment table, and she picks up a tiny finger
sandwich. "Cute. Everyone's a star," she drawled sarcastically. I watch
with a slight smile as she brings it up to her mouth and takes a tiny
nibble.

"Who's Russell?"

"He is someone I made the mistake of trusting," she almost snapped at me.
You can't really blame me for being persistent. I want to get this case
over with and move onto the next one. I neo keo keep hitting the pavement
until I can reach the point where I can start helping because I like it
again. Right now, it's just about clawing my way to level ground.

"Here I am," Margo sang out, approaching us with a glass of spiked punch
in her hand.

"This won't take long," Tina assures me as she follows Margo off to the
side. I can't blame her for wanting to take this out of the limelight.
Conversations over money can never go right unless you're on the
receiving end of a very large check. And even then there are going to be
some problems.

"I would not leave that one unattended." I hear Margo teasing Tina as
they wander off.

Now alone, like always, I drift around the party, unsure of what it is
that I need to be doing. I can't watch Tina all the time, she'd boot me
out of her life in an instant. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an
older, slightly balding little man approaching me.

"You are a beautiful, beautiful man," he said, and I gave him a weird
look.

"Thanks," I reply, my voice slightly rattled from the experience.

"You're an actor." He said it like it was a question, and I tried to
respond the only way that I knew would get him to leave me alone.

"No."

He reached into his coat pocket and handed me his business card. "I'm
Oliver. Ask anyone about Oliver. I'm a fierce animal. I'm your agent as
soon as you call me." He sounds pathetically eager to have me as a
client, who knows, maybe he's hard up for cash too. see seems to be the
song and dance thaeryoeryone here is peddling underneath their finery.

"I'm not an actor."

Oliver laughed slightly, clutching his chest like he was trying to keep
from ruining his 'tough guy' image. "Funny. I like that. I like the whole
thing. Call me. This isn't a come-on. I'm in a very serious relationship
with a landscape architect." He walked off, leaving me staring at his
card with a frown. And it's then that I hear a voice that's so familiar
that it almost makes me homesick, if it weren't for the face and
personality that I knew were attached to it.

"You know, they asked me to come back and read for a third time! I'm and
actress. I don't put up with things like that!" I can hear Cordelia's
'stage laugh', and almost picture the way that I know she's tossing her
hair with a winning smile.

"Cordelia?" I turn around and spot her speaking with two men in business
suits. I know from experience that she's hoping that they're some sort of
link to the people who make the movies, the commercials, the television
shows. I hate to burst her bubble and tell her that there are no
important people at this party, the only ones here are those who are
equally desperate for work as she is.

Cordelia spins, and I'm almost amused as I see surprise light her face.
She almost lost that California Cool that she was always so proud of.
I'll bet that she never thought she'd have to deal with seeing someone
from Sunnydale until after she'd made her big break - when she could rub
it into their faces. "Oh my god. Angel?"

"Nice to see a familiar face," I tease, putting a sheepish smile on my
face to try to pry some information out of her. Does this mean that Buffy
and her friends are here too? Was this what she'd done after high school?
I was so wrapped up in the guilt of leaving her alone to fight that I
never really questioned her about it.

"I didn't know you were in LA. Are you *living* here?" She sounds
surprised, so maybe she was as clueless as I pegged her for.

"Yeah. You?"
S
She flashed me a beaming smile. "Malibu. A small condo on the beach. It's
not a private beach, but I'm young so I forbear," she admitted with a
laugh. I was proud of her for a second, not everyone here does so well. I
fight the urge to ask her about Buffy.

"You're acting?" He had made it a question, because if he hadn't heard
her earlier conversation, he wouldn't have guessed...well, actually it
seemed like the thing she'd want to do.

She gave another one of her stage laughs, tossing her hair as if I were
someone to impress. "Can you believe it? I mean I just started it to make
some quick cash, and then boom, it was like my life! - So are you still
-" She held up her hands like claws and made a mock vampiric game face.
"- grrr?"

"Yeah, there's not actually - a cure for that," I reply wryly, awkwardly
shifting my feet to keep from rolling my eyes at her inane question.
Yeah, I wish. Things would be easier.

"Right. But you're not evil, I mean your not here to bite people?" Ah,
now I see what the question was about, she was fishing to see if I was
Angelus or not. I decided to give her the vague answer, just to keep her
on her toes. An evil thing to do, but it gives me little joy.

"No, I'm here with a friend." I hide a covertly wicked smile by looking
behind her.

"Oh, good. Well, it was nice seeing you, but I've got to get mingle-y. I
really should be talking to people that *are* somebody," I don't know if
she ever understood what I'd said to her. Strangely, she was just the
same old Cordelia Chase.

"It's nice that she's grown as a person."

//Who's at the center of the Wheel

The inventor of the Wheel

or another spinning servant

I'm the Master of my Wheel of my very own Wheel

Univerand and recurrent//

Turned out that this person that I was supposed to protect Tina from was
another vampire. Russell was one of those who sought out his food, made
them trust him and then took it all away from them. Even as Angelus, I
had looked down my nose at psychotics like that, deeming them raving
lunatics looking to get caught. Though Russell had a good thing going
there. I doubt that anyone would have ever pieced enough information
together to get a conviction or whatever it is they're doing to criminals
these days.

And though I didn't accomplish my mission - Tina died because I failed
her - there was an unexpected, though I'm not quite sure it was
unintended, rescue this evening as well. Cordelia had also been duped
into Russell's little crew, though she was more of a midnight snack to
him than a long term project. I wonder how many times she'll have to go
through experiences like this before she realizes not to randomly trust
people, or if she'll finally just not come home one of these nights
because of something like that. I wonder why I'm sitting in my apartment
brooding when I should be hounding Doyle for another assignment.

My gaze sweeps around the room and comes to rest on the one thing that
has become the bane of my existence. Most people would say that there's
nothing threatening about a telephone, and that I'm just having issues
with myself. But those people don't know what it's like to want someone
so badly that you have to fight making the simple phone call to bring
them home to you. I think my hand is shaking as I reach over to pick up
the handset, my fingers almost slip as I dial the achingly familiar
number.

"Hello? Hello?"

The sweet melody of her voice dances around me once again. God, I'm
turning into such a stalker, and I think California has laws about such
things. Last thing I need is for her to put some sort of trace on the
line and have me arrested for bothering her. I let the seconds pass by
before I slam the phone back down. Just in time for Doyle to walk in and
catch me. I hope he hadn't been there too long...

"What happened to Russell?" he asked, taking a seat in the easy chair, I
think it must be his favorite spot or something. I can tell that he's
dying to know the blow by blow news of the fight. I choose to be
deliberately cryptic.

"He went into the light."

"And yet you don't seem to be in a celebrating mood." To Doyle,
everything is an excuse to celebrate. To drink, to womanize and have fun.
It's tempting to take him up on his offer, just to have some more human
contact. He was right in the beginning, and now I'm starting to crave it.

"I killed a vampire. I didn't help anybody," I reply. My shoulders sag
and I sink down onto the bed. He stands up, looking surprised and
gestures.

"Are you sure about that? Because there is a girl upstairs that's as
happy as can be," he teases with a slight smirk. Now he's got my
curiosity running, because I don't have a clue as to whom he's talking
about. Margo? One of those two girls that I saved from being vamp chow
three nights ago? My train of thought is interrupted by a loud screech
upstairs. Doyle and I share a glance before racing up the stairs to
Co
Cordelia shrieking with a duster in her hand.

"Ah! Look over there! A cockroach! In the corner. I think it's a bantam
weight!" She looks a little hysterical now, but she turns to me and
flashes me a brave smile. "Okay, first thing. We need to call an
exterminator - and a sign painter. We should have a name on the door!"

"Okay. I'm confused," I glance at the both of them, wanting an answer
from either. Cordelia is the one who chooses to open her mouth.

"Doyle filled me in on your little mission. So I was just saying, if
we're going to help people, maybe a small charge. You know, something to
help pay the rent, and my salary. You need somebody to organize things,
and you're not exactly rolling in it Mr.
I-was-alive-for-200-years-and-never-developed-an-investment-portfolio,"
she said, and instantly I was humbled. The great Cordelia Chase was
lonely for friends, and she couldn't seem to kick the mission that Buffy
had instilled in each and every one of us, the need to help those who
could not help themselves. I had just one question.

"You want to charge people?"

"Well, not everybody. But sooner or later we are going to have to help
some rich people, right? Right?" She's attempting to amend her answer,
fishing for something that I'm not sure of.

"Possibly, yeah," Doyle backed her up. Oh, I think she wants a job, and
he's going to help her plead her case to me. As if I were some penny
pincher who would turn them all away. Besides, even if Buffy didn't
really like her, she would kick my ass for throwing someone she knew out
on the streets. Especially since I knew that she was trying to change.

Cordelia gives me what I'm sure is her best smile and starts and order.
"Hand me that box. So I think that we should charge based on a
case-by-case analysis, but with me working for a flat fee. - I mean,
um…that is, - if you think that you can use me?" She shuffles on her
feet, unsure for what I'm sure is the first time in her life. I stand
there, pretending to ponder the suggestion. And then I hand her the box
with a smile of my own.

"Of course this is just temporary - until my inevitable stardom takes
affect," Cordelia replied, taking the box from my hands and walking away
with a small grin on her face. I turned to Doyle and gave him a look. He
chose that moment to explain his eagerness in more than words.

"You've made a good choice. She'll provide a connection to the world.
She's got a very - humanizing influence," he said with that Irish-lilt
that has me aching for a home that's long gone. I can tell he likes
Cordelia - really likes her.

"You think she's a Hottie."

"Yeah, she's a stiffener alright, I can't lie about that. But, you know,
she could use a hand," Doyle admitted. I smirked, clasping my friend on
the shoulder, silently wishing him all luc luck that a relationship with
Cordelia Chase could need. I have a pretty good idea of what it would be
like for Doyle, after spending some time watching Xander Harris and the
others interact with her.

"True." Doyle wasn't wrong, Cordelia was out here in a big city where no
one cared that she was head cheerleader or that she was the richest girl
in school. She was going to need lots of help to keep from biting the
dust before she had the chance to thrive.

"You know there's a lot of people in this city that need helping," Doyle
drawled.

"Hmm. So I noticed." Look, note my humble sarcasm. I may not have a sense
of humor yet, but I'm working on it.

"You game?" I thought hard as Doyle quirked an eyebrow and watched me.

"I'm game."

//I'm a slave of Karma

Spin the Wheel and I'm a King reborn

I'm a slave to Karma

I'm coming back, yeah, I'll be coming back

But for the last time.//

Some how we wound up at this club that Doyle knew by reputation. It was a
demon bar, but there would be no killing here tonight - there was a spell
against any harm committed inside these walls. Besides, it was usually
frequented by a group of harmless demons looking to sing a little
karaoke.

The owner of the place was an anagogic demon who liked to call himself
the Host. He's a very strange man, who looked at me like I was a piece of
meat. I could tell that he wasn't in the habit of meeting ensouled
vampires, but he kept a vaguely polite distance. It was a nice place,
kind of felt like just the safe haven I'd been searching for.

And then through the buzz of the alcohol racing its way through my veins
I felt it hit me like a ton of anvils. I could feel the familiar
sensation that I always equated with peace and home singing at the cold
wall that I had erected around my heart. The woman up on stage sounded so
familiar, her voice so full of pain.

"If I could fall into the sky / Do you think time would pass me by /
'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles / If I could just see you
tonight," she pulsed along with the music, unlike any of the annoying and
tone deaf people that usually could be found up on stage. Out of the
corner of my eye, I could see the Host approaching, his eyes still half
on the stage as he 'listened' to the performer.

"She's full of hurt," he admitted to me. Hey, I thought those things were
supposed to be confidential. Sighing, he sat down and I realized that
this girl was someone he knew quite well. "If I ever find out who made
her this sad, I will beat him to death myself." We both sat in silence,
neither of us looking at the stage as we sipped out drinks. The girl sang
on, pouring her heart out before her audience.

"It's always times like these / When I think of you / And I wonder / If
you ever / Think of me." I couldn't believe the utter agony that this
woman was exhibiting. as las like she was mirroring my own soul.

"She's got amazing pipes," the Host smiled, trying to brighten the mood.
"She's had it hard, being the hero she is. Say, you two would make a
dynamite couple..." Ouch, that was below the belt. I haven't known him
all that long, and I'm not into relationships right now. Instinctively I
began to try and back out of any setups.

"Well, actually I just came out of a relationship and I..." I trailed
off, spinning to look at the singing temptress. When I got a good look at
her, my eyes nearly bulged out of my head. I blinked a few times, it just
couldn't be true, she wasn't here, I was imagining things. But when I
opened my eyes again, the vision was still there.

"Angelcakes, you all right?" the Host asked. "I mean, I know she's a
hottie, but-"

I whispered her name in wonder as the last strains of the song she was
singing faded into the darkness of the club, and the patrons exploded in
a round of applause. I watched in awe as the singer disappeared into the
shadows, leaving me in shock. I blinked again. The only thing sounding
through my head was her name.

"Buffy..."

THE END
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