Disclaimed: Neither Angel or Charmed belong to me.
Background: Obviously set very differently to the way they went. Details are fuzzy right now, but hopefully things will get shiny. There's a smallish read for back stories. This story may contain many chapters.
Things follow most of the course until midway season 3. Except Prue, Piper and Phoebe are made aware of Paige's existence. Considering the threat that the four could possible be, the Source steps up his confrontation with the sisters. They are able to wound him, and he temporarily takes residence in Cole's body (who has battled with evil forces). Soon afterwards they all face a fierce and devasting battle. Cole and Leo are killed in the process, while Prue is left with serious bodily damage and in a coma.
While in Angel, Doyle managed to avoid death by the glowing purifying light. Though in the process of disarming it, he manage to be slightly disfigured. But considering he thought he was going to die, he passed on the visions to Cordelia. His injuries aren't horrific, but something that causes him distress. The three fang gang members come across Wesley while his hunting down Barney. Darla was brought back and Angel did walk the fine line, though lawyers weren't killed. After the advice of Lorne, Angel was able to talk to the others and it was agreed by all to move.
The warm night had gotten to the people of Glendale, and those in the surrounding area. They had all taken advantage of the travelling fair that was occupying a small section of the large Forest Lawn Memorial Park. Earlier that evening, the seer in residence of Angel Investigations, Cordelia, had a vision of girl in trouble. So they had taken the ride of their usual neighbourhoods and went to the fair.
Angel glanced around taking in the various shades of luminous attractions at the fair. Right now he was left wandering by himself, the others longs since parted and going in their different ways. Cordelia had announced that night that they would try walkie-talkies, as a way of covering more ground. There were probably other reasons, reasons she surprisingly didn't go into. Though considering that heavy density he was willing to giving this idea a try. The knowledge that the demon would find Cordelia scary after only one round at a shoe sale didn't hurt matters either. She would be of course safe with Doyle hanging around her. Unless they got to each other first by extended quarrelling. Wesley of course, had sulked off, and the last Angel had seen of him, he was awkwardly scuffling off. He had decided to stay on the outskirts of the event, lifting his head he sniffed the air and smelt fear. Not the fear of serious danger, but that of a controlled environment. People were swinging on the electrical rides, their hands and feet dangling and rushing uncontrollable by their sides. The bright neon lights fuelling the adrenaline that already pumped in their system.
Wandering around Angel was able to see all the different stands placed at random over the area, a pit stops for the pleasure provided by the various entertainment. Although the walkie-talkie was a second from his reach, he was always alert to spotting any of his people wandering around. Occassionly he thought he caught of glipse of them, and every now and then heard the wicked laughter of Cordelia raised above the rumble of the masses.
One of the tents caught his attention. Decorated with silver stars, Angel was reminded of his insane childe and of his past. Unable to prevent himself, he continued walking directly to the stand. He was unable to help himself.
He looked at the girl sitting in front of him behind the parted velvet drapes, he knew immediately she had no ability to perform any of the tasks that she claimed on the board outside her tent. Having spent so many years with Drusilla, he knew the aura and the essence that surrounded a seer. She was also no witch either, the use of magic would leave a constant smell of the person who casted. Or more like a sharpened version of their own individual smell. Though she did possess power in the form of knowledge; she knew the myths and what people wanted as well as expected of her.
Her hair was a beautiful black colour, to beautiful to be real. With his vampiric senses he was able to see a strand or two of straight blonde hair sticking out of the wing. Her green eyes were enhanced with the use of wide khlour strokes, creating a surprising elegant appearance, to what would have been a sharp face. She stood up as he approached into the tent, gesturing towards the wooden table with an elegant thin pale hand hidden beneath layers of darkened material. Her dress was similar to something to which Drusilla would have worn, though it was adorned in places, hidden to the eye, with small bells. Each gesture made would stir them and only the barest hint of their sounds could be heard over the loud noise and many layers.
Sitting down she began a speech of the dangers of the unseen and mystical world. Although suppressing the urge to laugh dryly, her mentioning this impressed him. He had seen to many people mess around with forces they shouldn't have. Sensing his interest, or a least the most enthusiasm she'd seen from anyone prior, she continued to talk. He already knew the information she gave out freely, and he knew many places he could correct her but the sound of her voice was something that he needed know.
Unlike the more exploitative in her field, the table remained bare. There was no cystal ball or other nick nack gracing it's surface. Though the small shelves place behind her, had such possessions contained there. The touristy people would remain enthralled and curious about how this girl would recive advice from the ethereal realm. Next to a few selected cytrals, was a a frame announcing, "Mystic Alyssa at your services!!!"
Extending her hand out, Alyssa peered into Angel's eyes with a cool detachment. Although not often use to contact with people, Angel was oddly calmed by the sensation of warm friendly skin against his own. Glancing down at their hands he was oddly entranced by the sight of the two pale hands holding onto one another, and closing his eyes he felt calm.
If she before hadn't impressed him, he would be sorely disappointed by the guidance of the spirits she shared with him. She too, like so many others had failed to look past his appearance and see him. It was a tool Angelus had used too many times to count to lure victims to their torture and death.
She spoke to him of topics that were at best described as predictable. Though his interest was peeked when she went to cast a spell of protection over the circle, why he had no idea. Unlike before, her rapid words slowed to a harmonic flow and his experience in life, he found her to be picking her words deliberately. The Gods and Goddess she called upon, with the herbs she worked would do nothing, would summon nothing. Unlike many other individuals, she was not tempting faith. Even if she never believed in this, she knew of the time in the night when the world didn't belong to humans.
Angel almost failed to notice the slight increase of the temperature, though the smell of blood brought him back to attention. Blood had begun to pool up in Alyssa's hands, the liquid was slowly defying gravity and snaking it's way up both their arms. Shocked, he tried to break away from her but her strength was overwhelming and she continued to press harshly at his hands. Snapping his attention to her face, he realised he was no longer starring into the face of the girl minutes before. He was now gazing into the face of a woman with long flowing chestnut hair with darkened brown eyes, as deep as his was described as being. Overwhelmed, he numbly noted the breaking of some bones in his hands.
"You have to know Angel, you have to see. It's all about this" the unknown figure urged him.
The pressing became a gentle tug and Angel snapped his eyes opened to see the concerned face of Alyssa staring down at him. Looking to the side, Angel realised he had fallen from his chair. Jumping up from the ground, he dusted the dirt of his leather jacket, mumbling irritatedly.
"Are you okay? You just spaced out and started making these wounded sounds. Do you want me to call anyone? It wouldn't be any problem, I know this -"
Pushing her aside, he walked off into the night. Not bothering to stay and listening to the rants. Still fazed by what had happened he was glad to know that he would not have to worry about the pretend psychic. Whatever happened to him, was caused by something or someone else. Nothing she could have done would have caused any mystical event. Stalking off, thinking in his mind, he needed to know what happened. Although the situation was slightly violent, he felt no malice directed at him. He was confused as to why he would see things, and to why someone unknown to him would seek him out. He failed though to see the two hand marks that were left on his wrists.
Angel woke up gasping from his dreams. For all the nightmares that he could possible have, he was surprised this non-event had the ability to rattle him so. This dream had been plaguing him for months. Although he had yet to speak of it to his colleagues … friends, it was something he knew he could not pass aside lightly.
Getting out of bed, he put on his back silk robe and wandered the apartment. He was surprised that the move had been easy as it was. The apartment had been a fantastic find by the teamwork of Doyle and Wesley. During the move, and the difficulties in finding separate accommodation for all, it was decided that they should move in together. And on nights like this it was comforting to hear the heartbeats and steady breathing of Cordelia, Doyle and Wesley.
In the darkened foyer of the old building, Angel could sense apprehension growing in his bones. San Francisco would be a challenge, he was certain of that, hopefully one that they would all be able to face head on. Without disaster.