Chapter 1

He twisted her copper-brown hair through his fingers while he dusted kisses over her face and neck. He was consumed by the twinkle dancing in her eyes from the reflection of the fire in the hearth. Her body writhed underneath him; her soft moans of "Greg" floated in the sweetly scented air.

"Allison," he called as her hands massaged the backs of his thighs ever so addictively. A breeze drifted through the windows, lifting the silky white curtains from their resting place, tickling their already damp skin.

The full moon glowed in all its mystery and seductiveness into the bedroom. Through the dizziness she was creating in his mind, he reflected on how pure the bright beam made them seem. There was no one in the world that mattered but them. In this reality, there was no muscle-loss or canes, no dead husbands, or drug induced actions. It was just Greg and Allison.

She pulled the covers up over them more, then lifted her head to kiss him on the lips. As he was about to join them physically as one, his amazing blue eyes looked down at her. He cupped her face with his hand to urge her to look at him. When their eyes connected, both felt as if they were in that fireplace—burning, popping, twisting with desire.

"Allison," he whispered gruffly, "I love you."

Her face cringed in pain, and she dug her fingernails into his biceps. His eyes bulged in panic. He helplessly watched as her breathing became heavy and her body bowed from sheer misery. "Ally, what's wrong?"

"Greg, help me," she begged weakly before her heart stopped. Her body went limp. He cried when he looked into her still open, but lifeless eyes that were staring vacantly at the ceiling.

Greg House jumped in his bed as if trying to escape from his nightmare. He had dreamt of his employee Allison Cameron before, but it had never ended like this. Throwing his feet over the side of his bed, House dropped his head in his hands. He never wanted to go to work, but definitely not today. After that dream, he did not want to look at her for awhile.

House's thoughts drifted back to his nightmare. He kept seeing her pained, dying face, shuddering each time it flashed through his mind. The diagnostician was not one to believe in omens, but as he stepped into the shower, he had a sick feeling that something bad was going to happen.

……………………………………

Cameron was making coffee in the office early that Monday morning. Inhaling a deep breath of the coffee beans, she felt good. It was a bright, sunny day. She had heard the birds chirping. And she had realized once and hopefully for all that she wanted nothing more to do romantically with Greg House.

Allison Cameron had been hurt so many times by love. She didn't want to be the victim anymore. Her affair with Chase was over now when he fell for someone else. The young doctor wanted to take life by the proverbial horns and shake the hell out of it.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she did not hear him enter the conference room.

"Cameron?"

Turning, she saw Wilson standing in front of her. "Good morning," she nearly sang. She then spun back around to finish the coffee.

Wilson pursed his lips. He knew this wasn't a good idea. But seeing House almost die last month had woken him up. James Wilson was wasting his life. He had three failed marriages and no children. All he had was Greg House. Wilson wanted more. For almost a year and a half, he wanted Cameron, but he never let it show because he thought that House had feelings for her. The oncologist had even pushed House to start a relationship with her because he thought it would make him happy, but inwardly he had been dying. Wilson wanted to hug her and kiss her and share all things not sharable with anyone else—not even House. "Good morning," he answered in his normally deep voice.

"If you're looking for House, he has yet to arrive. You would think this hospital was a red carpet event the way he likes to make entrances," Cameron told Wilson with a witty smile.

Wilson's eyes swung towards the window as he coughed nervously. "Actually, I'm here to ask you something," he said, stepping closer.

Her eyebrows shot up and she stopped what she was doing. "What is it? Is everything all right?" she asked, his tone worrying her.

He waved his hands in front of himself to calm her. "No, nothing's wrong," he replied. "I just wondered if you would like to go to dinner with me."

Cameron tried to not let her jaw fall, but it was difficult. She gave his request some thought. Wilson was a good man, but he was House's best friend. That could cause some tension, but she did know that nothing was going to come of her feelings for House and Wilson could be a potential future. She asked him as she had House, "Like a date?"

But this time, she got a different answer. "Yes."

Cameron glanced up at him. "Okay."

……………………………………

THREE DAYS BEFORE

Angel walked into his apartment, tossing his keys onto the coffee table. His living quarters were small. The vampire did not need much room now that his team, his friends were gone.

Memories of that last day of battle two years ago with them still chased him in his dreams and in his thoughts, of the day that he had decided to take on the big powers that ran the wheels of Wolfram and Hart.

Needless to say, he had pissed off some already angry demons. But Angel knew it was time to end it. They certainly would not stop evil with this fight, but they would cause a stir. And a stir was all he wanted. He wanted the bastards to know that he would fight forever, hard, no matter how hard or how long forever was.

He had been to Hell once, and that had been—well, hell. But this time he had reined it down upon Earth. And for once, Buffy would not be at his side during an apocalypse. If she didn't trust him—fine. Angel would think twice about waiting for her cookies to bake any longer, if he lived to do any more cooking of his own.

"Well, personally, I want to slay the dragon. Let's get to work," he told the last shreds of his friends, his only family. More demons than the eye could see were charging towards him, Spike, Illyria, and a dying Gunn. Angel thought one more time about how much he loved them before he ran into the crowd, his sword above his head.

As the metal clashed against the thick skin of brutal demon, a piercing white light flashed through all of LA. It was so blinding that the four of them had to shut their eyes. Once they reopened them, they blinked through the rain. Angel bobbled his head from left to right, but no demons, no monsters, no scary things were left in front of them. They had all disappeared.

But something was still glowing in the distance. Angel lifted his hand to tell the others to stay put as he went towards the light. Two women stood there in flowing white gowns.

Darla. Cordelia.

He ran towards them. Blood trickled down his forehead as he fell to his knees in front of them. Darla placed her hand on his cheek and smiled. "My darling boy." When she saw the confusion still in his face, she continued, "The light was the Powers that Be."

Cordelia finished for her. "They thought you could use some divine intervention. I could have told them that!" she teased. He stood up in order to take her all in. She had been his love and he couldn't save her. "You did it, Champ," she said. Then her face pulled down thoughtfully as only Cordelia Chase could when there was some bad news. "You might get a little miffed about this though."

Angel grabbed her arms, mostly just to feel her one last time. "What is it, Cordy?" he asked quietly, joyful tears of survival stinging his eyes.

"The Powers say that the Shansu prophesy wasn't really talking about you in this particular instance," she informed him. There was an ancient prophesy that claimed a vampire with a soul who had a role in an upcoming apocalypse would shed his demon and become once again, human.

He shook his head. "I signed my right to it away. It doesn't apply to me now anyway."

Darla stepped back in, saying, "That's not exactly true. Just because you told a bunch of lowlife demons that you didn't want it does not mean that the Powers have to adhere to it. It just means that—"

"You're not going to be the lucky boy today," Cordy finished.

Angel's head teetered between both women. "Then who is?" he asked with frustration.

"Hey, hey, I'm not a vampire anymore!" Spike cried, seeing his reflection in a puddle of water. "That's bloody all right!"

Angel threw his head back, letting the rain pelt his face. "Oh, hell."

So Spike got rewarded. And Angel got to keep fighting evil. It was so not a fair trade, but what could he do? At least Buffy was still dating the Immortal and turned Captain Peroxide down when he came knocking. That had been about his only solace.

Angel moved to Cleveland six months ago. He heard there was a hellmouth there, so since Buffy had decided to traipse around Europe with her eternally young boyfriend, he went to Ohio. Staking and having visions and killing and helping the helpless.

But at least now he wasn't on his own. Spike had told Faith, the second-string Slayer, what had happened in LA. The bad girl had always liked Angel more than the self righteous Buffy anyway, so she packed it in and had headed back to the states. Faith was now living in an apartment down the street from him.

And then there was Keen, short for Joaquin Cooper. He was twenty-five and Angel had met him in Ohio. He was a demon hunter. The kid was tall and muscular with a mop of black hair messily tossed on his head.

And thus Angel Investigations was back in business.

Faith opened the door and barged right into Angel's apartment. "So, you got anything for us, boss?" she hollered to him from the living room. She rightly assumed that he was changing his clothes. "I'm itching for a fight," she added, punching the air. The young Slayer had calmed down considerably compared to what she was before she had went to prison for murder. Angel saw a lot of himself in her and he was grateful that they were able to turn her around before she had been completely lost. "If I can't have a brawl, I'm up for a good screw," she said huskily. "Are you?" she asked with the double entendre in mind.

He smiled. Faith, good or bad, was always blunt. "I'd like to keep my soul, but thanks for the offer," Angel said shyly. All those years, and he still had an awe shucks demeanor. Faith found it odd but comforting. "I haven't had a vision yet and no one has called in about a case, but—" His words cut off as images zoomed through his mind.

"What is it?" Faith shouted, running for his room.

She saw him doubled over, his hand to his head. It wasn't that painful because his demon half soaked up the pain. He had instead reacted from what he had seen.

Road sign. Vampires. A bar. Kate.

Angel grabbed the shirt he hadn't had time to put on before, quickly buttoning it up. Rushing past her, he said, "I saw New Jersey. Kate Lockley is in trouble in New Jersey."

TBC