Another Lifetime

by Wicked R

Angel teams up with an Immortal (but not The Immortal!) to change the past.

Wicked R presents Another Lifetime

A Wicked R and Ida co-production

Disclaimers: Angel characters belong to Mutant Enemy. The idea of Immortality belongs to Panzer/Davis Productions, Gaumont and Rysher Entertainment. The character Réka belongs to Ida.

No copyright breach is intended. Made for enjoyment, not for profit.

Genre: G, maybe a bit angsty

Rating: G

Set: takes place after the second episode of Angel, season 5.

Spoilers: seasons 4 and 5, Angel.

Summary: Angel teams up with an Immortal (but not The Immortal!) to change the past.

Pairing: sorta A/C, sorta A/D, A(us)/D, sorta A/R, A(us)/R. Just wait and see.

Warning: this story was not betaed. English is not our first language, so be kind.

Note of a quote or quote of a note: "Don't worry about a timeline. Vampires can be two places at once. They can fly after all." Obviously, this was from the script of some other film, because normally vampires can't fly in the Buffyverse. However, I found no reason as to why Angelus couldn't be in Hungary some time at the beginning of the 19th century.

Current day, Wolfram and Hart offices

Angel called Wes over to his office. He was using the interphone. Their two offices were not too far away in the building, but he couldn't just shout him over as he used to in the Hyperion.

Wes stopped at Angel's door wondering if the vampire was in a mood. The features of his boss told him a minute later that he could have been in fact tired. His tiredness was aggravated by the accumulation of the excessively numerous intense work days piled atop each other. Not that Wesley wasn't working hard himself ever since he started taking supernatural forces seriously. Way back that is. You just couldn't let anything slip out of control. And slipping things, as he knew all too well, could happen anytime. But Angel wasn't just doing that, he also worked in avoidance of thinking or in avoidance of anything that could have been considered fun.

Angel stifled a yawn. Wesley shook his head, scowling. He hoped he could do something to ease the stress of his workaholic boss, who, however, did not take advice very well.

"Hey," greeted him Wesley.

"Hey yourself," Angel gestured towards a brand new looking comfortable chair, "they have some nice stuff in here," he began.

Wesley could only see his bosses' rumpled hair and baggy eyes, "are you sleeping ok? Weird dreams again maybe?"

"I'm okay."

"Angel …it's me."

"I'm all right, damn it!" He certainly didn't usually sleep until he was so tired that he was confident he wouldn't have dreams. Things calmed down a little since last year if he was looking at it from the outside. Connor had a family and a chance of a good life, the team had a good opportunity to fight what they were up against. Still, Cordelia had always stayed in his mind. Not to mention that the past had always haunted him in his dreams the best of times. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Weirdly, when he was busy fighting the evilest of the evils, his mind didn't have too much time for such things. Now, when everything was calmer, the torture of his mind started again. It has always been that way since he first regained his soul. Maybe apart from a short time he lost it due to his fascination with Buffy and…for a longer time when Cordy taught him how to laugh. The Cordy who was lying in a hospital bed now, kept alive by machines. The Cordy that was maybe lost for him forever. He sighed, "okay, Wesley. It's not like what it was between us years ago. What if I assure you that I would tell you if there was any chance of something going really bad? We've been through enough together for you to believe my word, haven't we?"

"Therefore, there is - nothing on your mind you'd like to say?"

Angel looked at him for a moment, "no," he paused for a few beats, "how are things folding out at the filing room?"

Wolfram and Hart's huge documents section kept spitting startling surprises at them. Wesley couldn't go through all of it systematically yet, but so far there were interesting discoveries every week from data on the whereabouts of people with supernatural senses to the layout of the universe.

"Well, just to go through the main areas we covered lately, we have possible locations for djinns, magic spells on time travel and psychotronic weapons. Oh yes, and apparently we operate a unique support group for people suffering from spontaneous invisibility, and we summarise the data coming from them at the same time…"

"Wes? Psychotronic weapons?"

"Similar to what Jasmine was doing. There is a description on a machine sending out a beam of sound waves, which only persons at whom the beam of sound waves is targeted can hear. The beam is produced by a mixture of sound and ultrasonic vibrations which causes that the persons targeted by this beam hears the sound inside of their heads. In this case, the mind control techniques were used to facilitate inter dimensional travel, which is the harbinger of time travel. Tests were conducted that incorporated electronic mind surveillance and the control of distinct populations. The climax of this work was reached at Montau Point in 1993. It was at this point that the Montauk Project successfully ripped open a hole in space-time to 1943..."

"Anything that we can actually use, Wesley?"

"Well, as far as I can make it out, Wolfram and Hart have a tendency not to fib. If they say it's so, it's so. Another thing would be my willingness to try out any of this…"

"What about the djinns? If we know the locations, isn't it our responsibility to protect them so no one can get to them?"

"Well, they aren't all that specific. For example, Taopa Swamp. First, where is this swamp and where exactly in it would you find the lamp or vase or whatever the djinn is located? I don't think we would find them, unless you want our energies to be focused on that…"

Angel was about to say something but the interphone rang, so he pushed a button and they heard the familiar voice of Fred saying hi. "There is a woman here, who actually called Angel Investigations looking for you. She says it's to do with some of your old pals, Raven."

"Raven? I don't remember any Raven."

"And if you think in Gaelic?"

"You mean Bran? Bran MacFebal?"

"So you do know him? Celtic Mythology is also true? Did he tell you about his superb voyage onto the island where time doesn't exist? I checked it out. When he wanted to return to his country land, he realised quite a few hundred years had passed. Bran and his companions could not go back to their land for fear that they would immediately die and turn to dust. They were forced to wander forever about the ocean. Is that where you met him?"

"Eeee…khmm. Sorry to disappoint you, but no aging, turn to dust? Hey, does that not tell you anything at all?"

"No, no, no, he can't be a vampire!"

"Just because the ancient Celts gave it another explanation? I can assure you, he is a vampire. One of the oldest that exist. I met him in a German Principality, can't remember which…"

"Hessen-Hanau," added Wesley.

"Hmm. Thank you, Wesley. We travelled together for a few years with a whole bunch of other vampires to France and to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. We acted like buddies at times, but we were mostly drunk when that occurred. We were enemies really. We all used to avoid England at that time, there was this slayer, Edward or really Elizabeth Weston that posed as a nobleman to lure vampires into a false sense of security. Then there was the next one, Grace, from the Yorkshire Moors…However, Bran was impulsive. His first instinct was to challenge me for the lead of my pack. I accepted and only Darla could stop us from dusting each other. And that happened not just once…" He stopped in his tracks, lost in reverie.

"It sounds intense," urged him on Fred.

"It was…" Unspeakable images filled Angel's mind. They weren't his deeds, but they reminded him of his own cruelty…

1814, Nagyvarad, Austro-Hungarian Empire

The town had just put together its first theatre company and they were making an appearance at the Black Eagle Pub. It wasn't much of real entertainment for the vampires, especially now, just before Christmas, when the performance would probably drip of feelings of love and worship. However, it was a night time show and late spectators could be easy meat afterwards, so the pack had decided to leave the catacombs of the fortress and go. They had eaten dinner and could eat any time as the fortress of Nagyvarad was full of French prisoners of the Napoleonic wars because the French inevitably lost to the Austrians aided by the British, Prussian's, and Russian's in 1812 and 1814. On the other hand, most of the hostages were quite weak now from blood loss or previous injuries, so the vampires were quite hungry for something more refreshing. They got to the pub in time, in view of the fact that quite a few people were going, and the hall was getting full. They sat in front, sitting just behind somebody and watching their necks would have driven them crazy.

Before long the lights were dimmed, and the curtains opened. But the first person to come on stage was this guy that Bran once left to live, just to make his life hell with the memories of killing off his family. Angelus saw the actor looking in Bran's direction and watched his eyes searching for the rest of vampires. He saw the worry in his eyes, and the terror on his face. And they caused his worry and terror. It was a good feeling, overpowering. He leaned against the window, arms folded, watching him, just watching him, something he knew how to do rather well. He smiled, feeling good about himself.

Apparently, the actor was the leader of the performers, and he immediately recognised them sitting in front of him. If he could turn everyone against them, it was going to be a tricky situation. The actor didn't dare to reveal anything right away, so Bran was sent to deal with him and his new family right that evening. The player was from a village, from a small valley nearby. When Bran returned in the morning, he said it was all sorted. He washed himself cheerfully from the blood and gave a present, some delicate golden necklaces to Helen, his companion.

Only a few days later they heard the news. Dead. They were all dead. The whole village, not just the family. He did it cleverly, not to make anybody suspicious. It looked as if each human had committed suicide, apart from the children who looked as if they had died at their parents' hands. One of the vampires had asked Bran why go all this trouble. Bran said, "because they reproduce! In just a few generations they are dangerous." He was the voice of death…

No way was Angel going to speak about this, "so, what seems to be the problem? Where is this woman?"

"Jane. She is right here with me. Bran stole a talisman from her that has been in her family's possession for centuries. She is inexperienced in using it, but she saw her grandmother doing it. It's some kind of a dream control talisman. Back in the mist of time, a priestess of Athena escaped her duties and married one of her ancestors. However, the priestess still remained the guardian of this talisman, along with all descendant female members of her fam…"

"Dream control talisman?" Wesley got agitated, "are we talking about the Dhakka?"

"Yes."

"Any significance to it?" now Angel got more interested as well.

"It can be a very potent weapon. Orpheus brought it up from the Underworld. It can create precognitive dreams of the unchangeable kind. They tell the future while not giving enough details for any one to change the predetermined outcome. Whatever happens, it happens because it is put in the universal plan by the talisman and this kind cannot be changed. So, whatever we do, we got to find this thing and lock it away safely."

"Destroying it would be my preferred option…" intercepted Angel, "anything that could stop me doing that?"

"Other than finding it, you mean? No."

"Um, well, let's get on it then," Angel said.

They all agreed.

Conference room, evening, the next day

Time had rushed by in a blur. At first they had hoped that Angel's input about his ex companion would lead to a helpful profile. But none of that, or the circumstances that Jane could tell them, or their contacts to the demon world could come up with nothing.

The case files were spread out over the desk. Wesley did some research about the Dhakka, but the ancient history of how vampire and Greek god of death Thanatos gave the talisman to his brother Hypnos gave them no clues. It could only suggest that maybe Thanatos and Bran knew each other and that now that he found the talisman, Bran would consider it a rightful possession.

They all seemed worn and it became obvious that neither of them had slept much, if at all since the day before. They had been working almost nonstop on the case. The talisman could be very dangerous in the wrong hand.

"…I mean, it's not like we haven't faced worse than this guy before," continued Gunn, "we'll beat the crap out of him, right ?"

"Easier said than done, " voiced his doubts Wesley. He was annoyed by the circumstances, "just how do you propose to find this vampire? He doesn't seem to leave traces. He must've even stopped feeding on humans, given his big plan."

"Uh, well, I dunno."

Wes studied again the deep lines on Angel's face. He nodded thoughtfully. Angel would from time to time find himself drowning in the evil with no one to turn to who understood what he was experiencing. Only that after the last couple of years Wesley came to think that he understood at least some of what Angel was feeling. It was only that same fine line between good and evil that he also had problems finding and keeping to, "we'll talk about this tomorrow," he finished up the report of an unsuccessful day, "in the meantime, I'd suggest a good night's sleep. I can surely use it."

Angel headed out straight away, after he was assured that if there was any lead on Bran he'd be the first to know.

"He's off," stated the obvious Gunn.

"Yes. The question is how off is he?"

"What do you mean? Isn't that just his normal self? Gloomy and miserable?"

"Probably…I can't say I see anything special happening…just it's a feeling. Keep an eye on the situation, will you?"

Angel didn't go to his room though. Cordy's bed was set up just one floor below and since he felt shattered, but he didn't think he'd be able to sleep, he knew this was the only place that he wanted to be right now, and that if there was any sleep to be found, it would only be here, next to her. It gave him a certain comfort, this familiar place he spent so much time waiting on her to wake up.

He sat down onto the bed and lethargically elevated his weighty, tired legs onto the bed. They seem to be asleep. A strange idea entered his mind. At least the legs were getting some sleep.

For long minutes, he looked at the ceiling without actually seeing it before he closed his eyes in another attempt to get some sleep…

He was feeling around for the door latch of his old convertible and pulled it open, stepping out of the car. He stood still for a few seconds just staring at the two-storey house with its pretty peak and bright crimson door, with the same colour public mailbox in front of it. Having just gone past a fire station, it was a strange succession of the vivid colour. He was arriving at a party. He had to wait at the door and chap again, involuntarily listening to the throbbing music that was audible from behind the door. While he waited, he looked back. There was a telephone pole, and a suspicious looking guy was leaning against it. Then the door opened and a woman with chestnut hair greeted him without asking who he was and rushed back to a large room. There was a long counter of food off to one side with a bar behind it. The bartender, a bulky individual with blue hair, offered him a glass. Considering that the content of the glass was hardly blood, he refused it with a gesture, without looking what it was. It's not that he didn't drink alcohol occasionally, but he was probably going to need all his strength in the next few days. There were about twenty-five people in the house. There was an attractive woman who waved at him from a distance when he entered. She had long, chocolate brown hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Not quite as pale one would suggest she was avoiding the sun, but white nevertheless. She was somehow different from most women he had met before, Angel couldn't tell why. It was a hunch.

There was also a very handsome man who looked like James Dean. Unless of course James Dean was made vampire and it was really James Dean. No time to verify the scent now.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time. The sound of music, jingling of glasses and chattering voices filled the air. Suddenly a considerable amount of tall, green demons appeared at the scene and started attacking the gathering with cruel aggression. Angel didn't know why, but he started looking for symbols on the walls, but before he could spot any, he was charged by a demon at full speed. At first he leaped out the way to look for the signs, but the demon turned around with a spinning fist. He blocked it with a quick palm strike. It leaped into the air and attacked with a flying axe kick. Angel met it in the air, grabbed its shoulders with both hands, and tossed it to the ground.

He had a second to look around and then he felt for some reason very disturbed as a bunch of demons carted away the woman who waved at him before.

Everything seemed to escalate after that. Demons ran after him trying to slice him or stab him with a variety of weapons. He escaped out the door only to run into another demon trying to stake him. Looking backwards he missed noticing another stake and only knew it existed when it went right through his heart. He had a final desperate look around. The dream was in vivid colour, full of blood and gore as people all around him were torn to pieces. The last thing he saw was the woman again, as she was being decapitated…

The memories of the dream were pushed aside by the bright morning sunlight surprising him once again. He sometimes forgot that all the windows were vampire proof in the building and he jumped unnecessarily at first, then dragged his tired body into the shower upstairs.

He should go to bed now. When everyone else is getting up... Sleep now! It would be his most natural time for sleeping. After all, he was a vampire, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. Then again this was the time the offices were open, people were working for him, so he had to get on with it.

After the shower, he still couldn't quite completely open his eyes, he needed a dose of caffeine. Taking the paper and browsing through it, he drank coffee. Finished with the coffee, he picked up his portfolio bag and went out of the door towards another day of work.

All of his team waited for him in the office already. Wes was seemingly tense, "we would've called you, but they said you were on your way by now. We are on! There seems to be an increased amount of demon activity reported, all tied to a so called gunk jelly demon."

"Why? Are they like more gunk and more jelly than the rest of them?" asked Fred. In the last few years she had seen everything a demon can transform into and couldn't imagine anything that could be even more disgusting then what she had already seen.

"It's not just that," explained Wesley, "they transform into little piles of green jelly when they die. But ok, they have a proper name, just let me look through here…Wngelwi," he read it out of an ancient wooden roll of inscriptions, that looked quite original and not the computer books Wolfram and Hart normally used.

"And how do we know there is a connection?" asked Angel, disturbed by the unnecessary interruption.

"I'll get to that if…" but Wes got interrupted again.

"Nge what? How did you say that?" asked Gunn, "to be honest I do prefer the gunk jelly term if you don't mind. No need to go all academic, now is it?" He might have gathered special powers in the white room, but he was still basically the same old rebel Gunn.

"Exactly. In my view…" Wesley thought he would never get to say anything, as he was interrupted by Angel this time, who was trying to get closer to the point, "as far as I know, the Wngelwi might be big and might be frightening looking and unbeatable, but they are vegetarians. They use their huge nails to harvest their cabb…or whatever grows in their dimension. They would make sure to go out the way so nobody sees them instead of getting into any fight, never mind several. They are too colourful for this dimension."

"Correct. However, there is a reference in Shamrock's that suggests that the Wngelwi were related to the cluricauns. They are a lot bigger, but virtually the same, " Wesley could finally indulge himself in what he was still best at, despite all his success at the more active side of demon hunting, "now, the leprechaun family appears to divide into two separate groups, the leprechaun itself and the cluricaun. Cluricauns may steal or borrow almost anything, creating havoc in houses during the hours of darkness, raiding wine cellars and food stores. They will also harness sheep, goats, dogs and even domestic fowl and ride them throughout the country at night. All this as slaves of any seer warrior, usually a Celt god, who has them under his power. Now, could we be assuming that Bran holds this knowledge?"

"All right," took charge Angel again, "we have things to do. Gunn, Fred, Lorne. You go out to all the locations the demon activities have been reported and gather up any information you could think is useful to lead us to Bran. Wesley and myself will go out to locations where there still might be some of these demons and try to fight them and make them speak…"

-----------------------------------------

Her attacker was at least seven feet tall, green and dreadfully stinky. A demon of some sort. What are the chances that you would get assaulted by hell spawns in a deserted parking lot? Rapists, muggers, all right, but a demon?

Réka didn't have much time to think about it though. She ducked just in time as the fiend reached out for her neck. The eight inches long, razor sharp nails of the beast caught the steel pillar instead. It screeched with a nerve racking noise as the nails scratched its surface. The creature turned around with surprising agility given its size, its red eyes were looking for its desired target.

The Immortal laid motionless behind a car. She suspected that the green guy would not give up that easily. The demon groaned slightly, then started to smell around. Réka heard its breathing. Closer and closer. It seemed that the beast had as good a nose as a bloodhound. The woman was seeking her car out and started off towards it as cautiously as she could. Only that the little noise she made was enough for the beast to find her. It launched itself towards her with a victorious groan. It didn't make sense to try to hide anymore. She raced to her car at full speed, with the drooling demon close behind. She searched for the keys in her pockets while running and she switched off the alarm. It was only a matter of milliseconds to open the boot, and one other millisecond later she was holding the handle of her weapon. She instinctively bounced away from the arriving demon and swung her sword with the same movement. The blade slashed the hand off the right arm of the demon. Crying out in an inarticulate manner, the creature stepped back. Its cut off arm shuddered in front of Réka as if still wanted to catch her legs. The Immortal kicked it away with disgust. Raising her blade, she stepped towards the demon to finish the job she started.

The demon raised its severed arm and smirked at the Immortal. Réka watched in shock as the demon's arm opened like a flower and a new, completely healthy hand grew out of it. With a difference. This new hand held a huge, dangerous looking sword…

The hell spawn didn't wait around, it swung the blade. The two blades connected with a metallic clatter. She took the blow but its brutal force numbed her arm. Playing for time she stepped back but the creature was upon her and didn't allow her to regain herself. The next strike tore the sword out of her hand then the blade of the demon flashed...

The clattering sound woke her up. She was alone in the peaceful, dark quietness of her bedroom. She hastily looked for her bedside lamp's switch, but didn't find it. Instead, she found the remote control of the television. Not finding anything better, she pressed the turn on button. The light coming from the screen was enough to let her see her surroundings. The floor was scattered with the remains of the Tiffany lamp. She must've smashed it in her sleep. Its noise woke her up, presumably. She turned over to the other side of the bed to miss the broken glass on the floor. She stood up and went towards the kitchen. Not taking account of the measuring jug, she poured an generous amount of coffee into the machine. She didn't have the guts to go back to bed. She waited in the kitchen instead for the poison strong coffee to boil. Nightmares. They were haunting her for days now. Not as if she didn't have dreams before, good and bad, but this was something entirely different. She saw herself being fighting for her life in them, night after night. And the demon, which no weapon could harm…it came every night to kill her. Sleep didn't give her any rest any longer. More so, it was as if these dreams would've taken all her vitality out of her. The coffee didn't help at all either. Though her hearth started to beat like mad, her mind still remained dull and tired.

She checked the clock hanging on the wall. 4.30 am. The population of the city snoozed happily at this time, while she was afraid of the thought of sleep itself. As her last chance, she decided that she would go out running into a nearby park, no matter what the time was.

The "nearby" park was a mere quarter an hour car ride away. With hardly any traffic, a mere ten minutes. The Immortal approached the deserted, half lit parking lot and started off towards her car, when she noticed something weird. A symbol appeared on the surface of the grey, graffiti marked wall of the parking lot. It was as if it was lit up in green. A pentagram, with a distinctive sign in the middle. The light green glow intensified, the lines that made up the symbol were already radiant. However, their brightness wasn't constant, it slowly pulsated, once intensifying, once diminishing…just like a heartbeat. She stared at the odd manifestation in dread when she felt that she wasn't alone. Something moved behind her. The demon.

The whole thing was a nightmare come true. She knew what was going to happen, she knew what the demon will do, and she also knew with utter certainty that all was in vain. She was standing next to her car, sword in hand. Wherever she hits it, the demon would not die, the way she saw it so many times in her dreams. No matter whether she cut its hand off, chopped its head off, staked him through the heart…thinking about this she remembered the thumping pentagram that she previously also saw in her dreams. With a sudden inspiration, instead of slashing out towards the demon, she threw her sword towards the pentagram. The blade cut through the air in a flash and battered the concrete wall with a loud clatter, hitting the pentagram in the middle.

The demon cried out with an inarticulate, non-human sound. There was a repulsive, green and foamy liquid drooling from his mouth. Réka stepped back disgusted. She could see now that her last desperate idea was a perfect hit. The demon dropped on the floor. In a few minutes, there was only a small amount of disgusting, stinking jelly in its place.

The pentagram with the strange sign was still on the wall, but it was disappearing quickly. Réka managed to find some paper and a pen in one of the compartments of the car, and she copied the image the best she could.

Nothing. Almost nothing. Although the Los Angeles museums were not amongst the best in the world, she still expected more. Though, nobody can say that they keep a relatively small amount of data on stinky, green dream demons and pulsating pentagrams. The only clue she found was an old Greek vase that once was meant for the temple of Pallas Athena as a promise gift. Amongst the black and red outline she could clearly distinguish the same representation that was in the middle of the pentagram. She couldn't find anything else. She searched the databank of the Natural History Museum until it shut, but she made no other discoveries.

As it was normal for the time of day, the parking lot was completely empty and deserted. In theory. Noises gave her some other impression though. It is a bit too late for a visit, she thought, but her curiosity pushed her towards the noise.

She first saw the pentagram, and the blood froze in her veins. She also noticed the gunk demon. It was looking like the twin brother of the one she terminated the same morning, but this one was obviously not hunting her. There was somebody fighting it as well. The person was wearing a long, black duster. He was fighting it with his bare fists. Somebody else was also around, this one was tall and slender. He held a handgun that he couldn't really use while the other two were fighting. She was just about to shout at them, when the man clad in black shouted, "Wesley, the symbol!" The tall man hesitated for a second, then released the load of his gun into the middle of the pentagram.

The demon fell on the ground. As the man clad in black looked away from it, he caught Réka's eyes for a second. His face wasn't yet human though, it only changed back a second later. A vampire! That vampire! And he apparently has a similar problem to hers.

"How? How did you know that about the symbol?" exclaimed Wesley a bit relieved.

"Not now Wesley! Meet you back at the office. I have to catch this woman."

"What woman?"

"The one who was here a minute ago. She was in my dreams. It is important!" With that, he run towards the only car that was still in the parking lot. The woman was standing next to it, as if not really sure what to do. Take off, or wait for him. Angel knew she saw his game face, he was quite surprised she didn't just run away as fast as she could. As he approached, the woman raised a sword out of the boot of her car and took her guard position with a well oiled movement that made Angel think that she was an expert in martial arts.

"Angelus!" addressed him the woman.

"Do you know me? Did you also see me in your dreams as I saw you?"

"Dreams? What do you know about my dreams?" The woman frowned and glanced at the remnants of the demon. "Demons and dreams... that's weird enough. Then we may have the same problem. But no, you weren't in my dreams... or not recently at least. I remember you from Spain. I think it must've been before the turn of the century. It was, so it was because the Romangordo bridge was still intact as I recall."

"Turn of the century? To the nineteenth you mean?"

"Yes, sure. Just all these centuries…sometime I don't know which is which," she shrugged, "anyway, you were…hmm…posing as a French army officer taking advantage of the ravaging…"

"Let's not ponder on what I was doing. What about you? You are not a vampire," stated Angel, "you are an Immortal."

"You know of us?"

"Met some in my time. Even beheaded some. Your kind and my kind...sometimes we can be the greatest enemies or the greatest allies."

"Oh really? And which one do you suggest for us just now, vampire?" she asked, mockingly. "You do not even remember me, do you? Of course not, but I did not forget you... neither did I forget what you did to my friends..."

Spain 1780

The covered wagon moved very slowly on the muddy road. The horses put all their strength into hauling through their harnesses, and they hardly managed to keep the wagon in movement. The mud became more and more deep and more and more gluey. They were approaching the moors. No man in his proper mind would've come this way this season but the passengers of the wagon had no choice. It was wartime and both the Spanish and the French soldiers hunted them, all for the small amount of belongings they possessed.

Arriving at a shallow trespass, the man sitting in front stopped the horses. The head of a woman popped out from amongst the fabric that covered the wagon, "we still have an hour till darkness, Ramon," she checked the skies, "are the horses that tired?"

"The horses are tired as well, Réka," answered Ramon, a young gipsy man, "but I stopped the wagon because the Estadea. It would be too risky to cross so late. This is their territory."

"Evil spirits?" Réka giggled, "Ramon, since when do you believe in fairy tales?"

The man looked at her in a disapproving manner and started praying quickly, "this is not a fairy tale, Réka. It's very easy to loose your own soul if you don't take the Estadea seriously. We will honour them with an appropriate gift at the evening fire and we will continue our journey in safety tomorrow."

"As you wish," smiled the woman, "Rosa will certainly be happy for the longer rest, although she just fell asleep." There was some worry in her voice, "she hasn't got all that much time left…"

Ramon's wife, Rosa was heavy with child, their first one. She was a strong, healthy young woman, Réka was still concerned herself about her having to bring her child into the world under these circumstances. "I'll get some firewood," said Réka, "let her sleep a bit more, Ramon." The man nodded, and started taking the horses out the carriage. Réka disappeared amongst the trees.

It was thoroughly dark when she got back to the group. She was almost there, she just noticed the wagon when she felt as if her neck was touched by icy fingers. And a second later the sensation became reality. Slender female hands got her from behind. Their power had drawn her into their embrace with a supernatural force.

"Too white a skin for a gipsy…" whispered the satin voice. It was sweet and deadly, as honey mixed with poison, "and your smell…Angelus would like you."

There was a devastating scream coming from the direction of the wagon. Rosa appeared, she stumbled off the cart covered in blood, and tried to escape. Chasing her was a demon from hell, as if Estadea would've materialized into real life. A vampire!

"Although if I guess right, he is a bit busy right now," the voice chuckled. Réka felt the pointy teeth scratching at her skin. She tried to run off, but it was impossible to break the hug. The last thing she saw was Angelus catching Rosa…

"Let's say we will tackle that question right now. Lack of stakes, a beheading would take as well, bloodsucker, " and before Angel could react or do anything, she lunged at him, sword first. Just as she was about to deliver a blow by leaping towards and stabbing him with her blade, something inside him, probably due to the many years of having to fight, warned him and he managed to jump to one side. She was quick to try and get in another one. He jumped back once more to avoid it before leaping forward to deliver his own strikes. He missed, and subsequently blocked another strike, then somersaulted to steer clear of another one. He scrambled to his feet and tried to avoid the next dose of the ever so swift chain of attacks, but he got caught across the ribs by the sword. He tried to step back so he can shield himself better. A wash of red flew out from his side. He grunted, but his face never changed. Then his hand came down in a snap, connecting with her legs, sending her crashing down. She slumped upon the floor, the sword having fallen by her side. She tried to catch it but he dashed at her pinning her body onto the oil-stained concrete. She fought fiercely to get out of his clutches but Angel held her tight.

"Damned bloodsucker!" she snarled when her efforts to free herself proved vain. "Don't play with me! Finish the jo..."

Her words stopped short as she looked into his eyes. To her surprise, the vampire did not change his face as if he wanted to avoid the use of his dark powers. Although vampires didn't need to breathe, the man was gasping, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. And his eyes…for a second they still showed the ardour of the fight and blood thirst also, but that disappeared and sorrow showed through them. Yes, that was it and…remorse. The Immortal was surprised by what she saw in those sad, brown eyes. She stopped struggling to free herself, "what is this? Who the hell are you?" she whispered astonished.

"I don't want to fight you!" Angel moved away the sword, one hand pressed against his side, "we can both at least agree we have to talk, right? What is it with you Immortals? There can be only one? Vampires don't play by the same rules. In fact, quite the opposite."

"It's not that." She answered hesitating but the old memories stirred up her anger again. "You have killed some people I have loved!"

"I've done many things I regret, but….I've changed. Things changed. Let me prove it to you. I was gonna suggest my offices. My associates can show you everything we know so far about these demons and the dreams. Here is my card."

"Help the helpless? Haha. To do what? Committing suicide by blood loss?" The Immortal concealed her developing confusion behind the irony.

"Well, it's a long story, but not everything is what it seems. I'm trying to find the Dhakka, a talisman that makes weird dreams happen and come true. My car…"

"No. We go by my car and you drive. And if you are up to some mischief, I will kill you in no time. I swear." With that she headed towards her car then stopped short and looked back over her shoulder. "Actually... if you didn't know my name from your dreams," a small smile appeared around her lips. "Just call me Réka."

Angel's office, 3 hours later

"How come we can't track this Bran down?" wondered Gunn, "I followed several of the demons. After killing their targets, they just go after their own business, as if nothing had happened. How would they get their orders?"

"Possibly the same way as the victims get targeted," said Wesley, "same way, dreams. There is no reason for physical contact and Bran would like to keep it that way."

Their guest, the woman who sat there listening to their arguments and to the follow up reports for the last couple of hours, stood up and stretched, "well, I'm really happy for you guys but I can't say I know a lot more than when we started. I know that someone is out there who wants to kill me, but hey, what's new? It doesn't help me at the least if I'm just sitting here and listen to your theories. I need to take a break from it all. I just know of the best entertainment for distraction at a friend's house. I will be there if you want me, I scribbled down the address," she pointed at a piece of paper on the desk and shot the door behind herself.

Angel lifted the piece of paper up, "Gunn. Do you know by chance where 186th Street is? You are properly local after all."

"Oh, yeah and what's with the trust me, I know, I lived here long enough comments?"

"This is a new house, that's my excuse. So, where is it?"

"From here downtown? You have to get off the highway and go toward the auction house."

Angel blinked. "Which highway?"

"The one that lets you off near the auction centre."

"You pulling my leg now, aren't you? Which auction centre?"

"The one near the school. There's an auction centre and a school. When you get off the highway, there's an auction centre and a school on the same street, and there's a traffic light."

"Gunn!" he started to loose his temper. This was getting better and better.

"Okay. Okay. Take the Harbour Freeway exiting on 190th Street. Turn right onto Vermont Avenue and there are some new houses on the right side."

As if a light would've been turned on in his head. He flung the pen on the desk, "did she say entertainment?!? At the corner, is there's a fire pull box and a mailbox? A telephone pole?"

"Mailbox man? How do I know?"

"It's important. Fred, can you check the US postal website? Detailed street map? Anything?"

"I'm sure I can find something."

"Hurry up! And stop the woman leaving the building! If we are lucky she is still downstairs. I think we are running out of time!"

Réka was leaning next to the office wall with her arms crossed. She aired annoyance. She had to spend some more time in this weird company instead of being together with her friends. A tall, slender Brit, an Afro-American with the face of a youngster, a thin, almost anorexic looking woman, and above all, another green demon with corns on his head, wearing a flawless, snow white suit. And of course the vampire with black clothes and unusual eyes. Apparently, he was the boss around here. This also surprised her. Of course she knew that vampires would keep human servants. But this wasn't the relationship between them you would expect in those circumstances. Not even the slightest. She saw not only concern in the humans' eyes, but also love. Not the most characteristic feelings you would have for a vampire. This confused her even more. Angelus was a monster that killed her friends, or so she believed until now. She was curious now what could transform this child of the darkness to that extent?

On the other hand, his dream he told her about…the one on which he saw her die. Could this really be the end? In her dreams, when she fought the demon, she never saw her own death. She always woke up before that. But in Angel's dream they both died. Réka didn't want to believe that this could be true. That she will not loose her head due to the game and that her Quickening will not live on in another Immortal. Instead, a green demon will behead her and her Quickening will strengthen a greedy vampire who wants to play God, "will just hit the pentagram again," suggested Réka at last.

"We can't! We don't have time to! That's how it appears in my dream."

"Oh, that's perfect! Then what on earth could we do? Any suggestions?"

"If we don't go to this party, it will happen somewhere else. This is the way it was with all the victims, Fred can confirm that."

"Protection spells?"

"No. We mapped all killings and there was one target that tried…" looked up Fred from her notebook.

"It's alright. Don't rush. Just try and think, okay?" Angel asked in a more composed tone.

"Think about what? Avoiding the inevitable?" Réka pushed herself off the wall and turned to the window. "You can run but you cannot hide if it's your destiny." She paused for a moment feasting her eyes on the brightly illuminated city. Los Angeles, she thought, as good as a place as any... to die. "Unless you are able to change the future," she added bitterly.

"As a matter fact, we could," said Wesley hardly audibly. He took his new glasses off and started to polish them a bit perplexed. Just like Giles would, "not exactly the future, but the past. Our time travel machine…"

"Your what?" Réka turned on her heels and faced Wesley. "You have a time travel machine?" Réka was somewhat surprised.

"We have a time travel machine?" echoed Gunn.

"It's particle accelerator basically. It wasn't accurately tested yet... so to speak." Wesley was playing again with his glasses for a few seconds, as if at a loss. Finally, he put them on and started speaking a bit more confidently, "to be more exact, we know from the test results that the scientists at Wolfram and Hart were successful at sending objects back in the past and brought them back too. In the case of a living being however…there were certain problems. Luckily, we managed to overcome them and they would not be an issue in the case of certain individuals with the appropriate length of…well…I mean Angel," Wesley glanced at his boss apologetically, "if it works at all, I can send Angel back anywhere in his past. And given that he met Bran in the past, we can send him there and he can stop him there."

"Wait a minute," intercepted Gunn, "if they go back and do things to the timeline, our whole present can change. I may as well not exist."

"No. According to the most recent theory, you can't change the past because the past already happened. It sounds like a paradox, but it actually isn't. If we decide now that Angel has to go back, that means that he already was there in 1817 and he did whatever he did. As a result of that is the present what it is."

"How will it work? Can I bump into Angelus?" questioned Angel some other details.

"There's a chance for that... or to meet Darla." Wesley answered quietly.

Angel pondered on what he just heard for a few seconds, than nodded, "all right than, let's do it." He stood up.

"Wait a minute." Réka stepped next to Angel. "I'm going with you," she said in determined voice.

"You're staying here."

"No. You need help over there. And I am the only person who can go with you." She looked at the others in the room and shrugged. "This thing can do me no harm either. Besides, this Bran guy is my enemy as well. And I want to make sure it happens and that you do the right thing."

Angel bit back a growl and turned towards the Immortal who was following him towards the door, "we don't even know if this is possible. It is my past the machine will be sending us to. I want you to be where you'll be safe."

"Safe? Are you kidding? With all those stinky demons at my heels?"

"What is this about her not being hurt by the time machine?" intercepted Wesley, "she is not a vampire, or is she?"

Angel looked at her, questioningly. As an answer Réka shrugged her shoulders. "No, Wesley. She is not vampire. She is Immortal and she is older than me," said Angel tiredly.

"Oh." Now it was Wesley's turn to be surprised. It took him some minutes to digest the information. "Have you been anywhere around the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1817?" he asked the woman at last.

"No. I was in Spain that time as I recall. Nevertheless I know Transylvania quite well. Even the language. I lived there for years."

"Angel, don't you think it would be a good idea to have somebody as back up? I know you are still not the best at teamwork, but think about it."

Angel opened his mouth to protest further, but he couldn't find a counter-argument for what was logical. With a shake of his head he said "come on, let's get on with it."

"So it' been done after all," Réka stared at the apparatus filling the huge room. They were way underground in the secret lab of Wolfram and Hart. In the middle of the room, on a small stand there was something that mostly resembled a medical examination bed. There also were a huge number of device consoles of unknown usage all over the place, computers and gear with undeterminable names, "the theory is been known since Heisenberg, but I would've never thought that somebody will be actually able to build it."

"Are you familiar with quantum physics?" asked Fred, head of the science department at Wolfram and Hart. She was showing Réka around in Wolfram and Hart's underground complex.

"So and so. I'm just an amateur, really," Réka smiled, "or I've just read too many science-fiction stories. However, I'm worried about the time paradox."

"Nobody had ever tried what would happen," contemplated the small Texan, "there are theories that state about such things as impossibilities. I mean the event that would change the past simply DOESN'T happen, something always occurs to stop it. If it does, a so called time loop develops. We can imagine this time loop most simply by picturing a small soap bubble that just got off a big film, which will soon burst. The big film is reality, the small soap bubble is the event that the time traveller's actions created. After completing the task, from the point of view of our time dimension, all factors will chase to exist. At the scene however, the crime will have no committers," she spelt it out with one single breath. She looked at Réka, not really sure if the other woman could follow her thought process, "sorry, my friends tell me a lot to slow down and talk sense, which I do better nowadays than I used to just after I came back from…" she realised she was again doing her old thing, "well, basic idea is you don't have to worry, that you go back and somehow stop you parents meeting," she was smiling apologetically.

"Immortals don't have parents, Fred. At least we don't know about them if we do," answered Réka, and shrugged, "and I would have to go way back in time to meet the people who raised me…although it would be an exciting idea," she added thoughtfully, "I would at least find out who they were."

"Right enough, Angel mentioned that you are older than him. Can I ask just exactly how old you actually are?"

"Well, I would tell you woman to woman, but it would be hard anyway to put down an exact number…given that it was way before the Birth of Christ. Besides, I don't remember. On the other hand, as you just mentioned Angel…he is so…" Réka paused to find the right words, "…different than the vampires I met so far. And I can't understand why."

"Well, it's a long story…" sighed Fred.

A bit later Réka entered Angel's office with a handful of clothes in her arms. The vampire sat behind his desk and scribbled something, deep in thought. Réka coughed slightly to get his attention. "I could only find these," the woman deposited the clothes on one of the chairs, "there is a dressing room down there, full with all sorts of clothing. It is quite surprising, but they don't actually keep reproductions of style of last centuries'," she smiled faintly, "but these will be good enough for us not to completely freak people out over there. How do you like this one?" she turned around on her heels, so the vampire can see her long, dark brown dress better, "and we found this one too," Réka took out two purses from under the dress collection, "authentic local currency, both creutzers and napoleons. This is gold," she put the smaller purse in front of Angel on the table, "I'll keep the silver," the Immortal grinned and sat down to hide the bigger purse in her dress.

Angel flashed his famous 'haha, that's very funny' look at her. Seeing that she couldn't soften the vampire up a bit, the woman became serious as well, "I think I was wrong when I thought…anyway, I'm sorry."

"No need to be. I'm sorry. Some of my friends call me the broody, and sometimes they are right. Doesn't mean everyone around me needs to be like that. By the way, is there anything you'd like to mention or ask before we go? Probably we won't have much chance to talk over there."

"Wesley mentioned some woman called Darla we would meet. Can I ask who she was?"

Angel struggled to remain strictly professional, "what you need to know about her is that she was my Sire, teacher and companion for almost two centuries. Probably I don't need to detail what it means for two people to stay together for that long."

"Ah... I see." The Immortal was immersed in her own thoughts for a few seconds, "was she…was she the one with you in Spain?" she asked finally.

"She was."

Réka nodded, then continued, "what happened? What I know is that if you do stay together that long, you do tend to want to stick together, at least know where the other is and what is he doing. Unless you really loose each other, or one of you changes. Is that what happened?"

"Yes and no. You can call it keeping in touch, we did. But she is dead now. And because we have caused some harm to you in the past I want you to know that she had changed as well. She tried to do the right thing when she died…Come on!" He changed the subject and offered a hand to pull her to her feet, "we should get going before it gets too late."

He could feel the wires attached to him as he moved his arms and legs, on his chest and head as well. Floating. Gentle motion. Blackness all around. Are his eyes open or are they closed? Is this blackness he sees only in his mind? Blackness lightened to…

March the 30th, 1817, Nagyvarad (currently Oradea)

…dark grey. Like the sky at night, covered by a few clouds, but not enough to envelop the moon. He could see that the moon was also out. A dirt road was nearby, and he could see a man struggling to move a wooden cart stuck in water that reached the mans' knees. The trickling rain, so characteristic for early spring, had become torrential rain over night. A swift warming trend had been melting the thick snow cover of the mountains at an alarming rate. Unprecedented amounts of water rushed down the riverbeds. The danger of flooding was impending over the city. In less than twenty-four hours, all rivers were reaching flood stage.

Suddenly, Angel found himself standing in front of the cart. Réka, just as dazzled as he must've looked like, was standing next to him, "where is it we are exactly?"

Angel looked around. They were standing next to a river, but he could see the fortress from a distance, "I think we are where we should be. The town was called Nagyvarad in those days. The vampire colony is just up there at the fortress. That's were Bran should be, unless…" Angel paused for a moment, pondering, "unless this is the day of the rivers overflowing. In that case, he is out hunting right now."

Réka raised her eyebrows, "could it be more obvious than that?"

Just that moment, desperate shouts could be heard in the distance followed by one long scream. Looking at each other, they run down the mud-covered alleyway, following the constant shouts and screams. In addition to the screaming and shouting, they could hear the enraged howl of the swarming, wild river. The sound of its ferocity was practically deafening.

They turned the corner of a building and slid to a halt, almost having bumped into a hysterical woman in her late twenties or so. She was crying and shouting incoherently, "my daughter! Where is my daughter? Please, help! Anybody! Where is my daughter…" She was swinging around madly and screaming crazily, "Kati! Kati! Kati! Where are you?!"

Not having seen any young child around, Angel hopped up to the nearest rooftop, and looked around. At the edge of his eyesight and quickly disappearing, there was a five or six year old child in the water. She was kicking and screaming. She knew how to swim, but the current was too fast to let her escape. Angel hopped down from the house indicating Réka the direction and they started to run again. Then a little faster, then a little more. Réka found it hard to keep up with Angel. She didn't have supernatural powers after all. However, the current had taken the child quite far already and Réka doubted they were going to be able to catch her, but she ran on anyway, bewildered by the vampire's efforts. Putting everything she had into this sprint, Réka run. Gradually they started to gain on the current. Angel ran faster and faster, his arms pumping energetically and his legs flying over the ground. As if his redemption would've depended on this single rescue. He was a protector now. Or so he claimed. And Réka started to grasp that. Justice . . . and protecting those that cannot save themselves, as it stood on the card he gave her earlier. Or say later, about two centuries or so. And his efforts were not in vain. With Réka only a few feet behind him, he reached for the girl from a cliff, hopping and timing it perfectly, vampire features on at the crucial moments. He didn't mind to use them if it was that important. Weeping, the girl quickly raced back towards her mother, who couldn't run as fast as they could, but was not very far behind them. The frantic and sobbing mother enclosed the child into her arms like she was trying to absorb her. The little girl turned towards Angel, "thank you for saving me, mister." She was so pale and she looked so fragile. Mortal…She sobbed, disregarding the fact she had just seen somebody wearing a not so slightly unusual face, not to mention that even though they tried to be dressed in clothes that would not be too outstanding in these circumstances, Wolfram and Hart did miss a completely time travel friendly wardrobe. Something to be rectified later, if they ever get back.

Angel suddenly became aware of the fact that they were not alone anymore. There she was. The woman once meant everything for him. The woman who didn't know yet that she will also have a soul one day and that she will give her life for her child. Angel had to put himself together, and quickly, if they were going to see after their business. He was meant to behave as if he had just seen her a few hours ago, and not dying in his arms a year ago. It was so hard as his feelings were always double founded towards her. They always had each other. Of course, she was also the woman who appeared so often in his dreams seducing him over and over again, driving him into temptation. As attractive and stunning as ever. He stared at her charming face, her gorgeous blonde hair hung stylishly over her shoulder as she looked at them. Her hair was longer than he remembered it, and he thought it made her look even more beautiful. A few stray hair locks covered her eyes, but barely hid them, and he could see the intensity that always shone so beautifully when she looked at him. He just stood there for a few seconds, looking down into her eyes, "Darla..." he whispered.

"What are you doing here?" She said, irritated, "we were supposed to go out together, remember?"

By this time, Angel could put on his assumed role. As the little girl was so close to him, he grabbed her first, launching her at Darla, "just tear it in half if you don't want the whole thing," he recommended.

"Thank you," she savoured the smell, "so good," she added.

He snatched the woman in the same time, turning his face. She just stared at first, shocked disbelief on her face, "we are all betrayed!" she shouted, a look of utter fear twisting her face. She started to cross herself hysterically.

Darla smiled, "Oh! I like that…I definitely like that! Save them to eat them. Nice specialty of yours. The mastermind strikes again for another round."

But the problem was, Angel had no idea how to deal with the situation. Convincing Darla was one thing, but he also had to make sure that these people will live. How was he going to do that he didn't know. And there was also the question of Réka, who was standing beside him, also a bit puzzled by the situation. He hoped she would understand if he'd first drawn the blood out of the Immortal instead of the vulnerable mother. His mind was whirling in a thousand different directions.

"Nooo!" Réka grabbed his arm, apparently coming to the same conclusion as he did. He shook her off easily, and she was playing along. She fell to the ground, in front of Darla.

"And two for you," he said to Darla.

"You're too good to me," Darla drooled sensually.

"I know," he replied, with a faint grin, "you deserve this," he purred.

The girl struggled fiercely at first but was paralysed with fear when Darla turned her face. Kneeling before Darla, Réka had a good sight on this. Time to play, she thought. She was ready to attack Darla to give some time to Angel and try to get his Sire away from the mortals. Reka smartly pulled out her dagger from her boots, and launched herself upwards onto Darla. She wasn't expecting the attack. The silver covered blade cut a deep, sore wound on her arm. She cried out in pain and let the girl loose. The child dropped to the ground, exhausted by the shock of both this and her previous ordeal.

Réka stepped back and smiled wickedly, "that must hurt vampire, does it not? Pick on someone equal to you if you want to play."

The Immortal woman rather felt the vampire's attack then saw it. However it happened, she successfully jumped away from her in the last millisecond. Darla was swiped a few steps further by her own move. In the meantime, Réka stepped to the child and scooped the small body into her arms. She looked around quickly, thinking of possibilities of escape. She had two choices: one, she could try to hide in the alley from a hungry vampire, which is almost impossible, or…the enraged, mucky river just didn't seem as discouraging anymore. Before Darla could stop her, Réka jumped into the torrent and disappeared from sight.

As for Angel, dealing with the mother was easy, he just had to drink as much to make her faint, but not die. As easy as it ever was to restrain himself from the delicious liquid if it was already in his mouth. Because it felt delightful. Because he needed it to be stronger. Because it was one thing he didn't have to wait for. Redemption could or could not come. The blood was there. It would make him forget, at least while he was indulging himself. He wanted it. Now.

The heartbeat will still be there, but given the enormous craze of the river, Darla will not be able to hear it. He let the woman down. He was feeling miserable, salivating, and wanting to gulp down the rest of the blood until he dried her out completely. It was after all, the main purpose of his existence. The more he fought against the desire, the more extreme that craving became. Form a tranquil image in your mind, he commanded to himself. Imagine being in a special place where you can feel secure, relaxed, and peaceful. With Buffy. Cordy. Réka. Réka? Where did that come from? Being suddenly confused by his own thoughts, he became a bit more detached from the idea of drinking more. He felt more in control. He could look at the woman without grabbing her instantly back for more.

Darla growled in anger as both her meals got loose, "you will pay for this!" The smell of the mother's blood drifted across towards her and it smelled mouth-watering. And the expression of pure embarrassment on her face for letting her food escape was priceless. She looked at Angel, who started giggling.

"Are you having fun on my expense?" Darla said, her expression shifting to that of accusation.

And he giggled a bit more.

Darla grabbed him, "it wasn't that funny!"

"Oh yes it was!" And with that he let out a big chuckle, "oh jeez...your food running away."

Darla just rolled her eyes and turned on her heels, "you will pay for that too!"

Just then, they heard a scream coming from the west. "Going to go check it out?" indicated Angel with his head.

"Lets go! I'm starved!"

Bran was having a good time. Right in the centre of the town, the water had isolated some houses from each other. There was no escape from him, and the screams of the victims could not be distinguished from the screams of the flood victims. As for him, he could easily circulate with his little boat, looking like somebody gone out to save others. They all had boats at the fort, other vampires left them behind from the time the fortress was surrounded by water. He just had to make sure the bodies would sink. When the flood is over and they start to decompose, no one will be able to tell that it wasn't the water that killed them. He was in the house of one of the nobles now. Four daughters the man had. All young, almost ripe virgins. The mother not a bad shot herself. He pulled his fangs out from her corpse and wiped the blood off his face. When he finally turned away from her, he spotted Darla and Angel in another little boat travelling down the main street, as you would on the river itself. Companions for entertainment! That if Angelus was in the mood to accept him as such. Because sometimes he just wasn't.

Bran let his last victim down from the boat and moved the vessel towards Darla and Angel. That woman…he always wanted her, yet she always remained faithful to Angel as far as he knew. He couldn't understand that. Faithfulness wasn't a trait most vampires had. For your Sire, yes, but only at the beginning. And the unattainable became an obsession of his, he wanted her, more and more. If only he could shove Angelus out the way, but without Darla suspecting him. If anyone harmed his precious boy, he was sure, she would kill that person, whoever it was. Angelus already looked at him suspiciously and became more territorial. The town's vampires looked up at him, no one was more ferocious than he was. Bran tried to outdo him in cruelty, but it was Angelus who's turf this was. His town, his childe, his companions, his lady.

And as they got closer, Angelus acted just like it. Angel thought he could play the not so friendly card he sometimes put on with Bran anyway, "what are you doing?" he demanded, "a flood is not a reason to put us in a flashlight." Angelus might've been brutal, but lately he was taking care when it came to his and his companions' safety. Vampires have been hiding in the catacombs for centuries, there was no need for some idiot to give away that perfect place out of greed just for one night of feast, "isn't this my territory you're messing around with here? Just who the hell do you think you are, anyway? You think you're funny, smart-ass?"

Bran paused to gaze at Angel and folded his arms, "depends," he said steadily, "would you like me to explain the concept first?"

Angel stared. This man really had nerve. How fascinating. He stared at Angel with interest here, as if waiting for some kind of predictable effect. What could it possibly be? Angelus took a step forward, eyes intent on Bran now, "remarkable," he said, "you really don't know when to shut up, do you? I'll give you a clue. It's now. Shut up."

Bran paused thoughtfully, "do you want me to shut up before or after answering if I know when to shut up?" he asked innocently.

"You," he said with remarkable restraint, "are getting on my nerves." He was nuts now, too. Kinda unnerving, for most people. Not necessarily Bran though. It was quite hard to pick a fight with this man, he went to extremes in annoyance before he actually took some action. For Darla, this will just be another pointless clash of words between the two of them. So far, she didn't even look interested. She was lifting a body up from the stream of water and nibbling at it. The person was dead anyway, so Angel didn't give it any attention.

"As if my day couldn't get any worse," Darla muttered, "you two," she growled in a sarcastic tone, "how old are you? Did you not have fun when you were five, or you need to relive it now? Does it matter what I want? Because it all comes down to a power play doesn't it?"

Angelus stepped towards Bran, looking fiercely, "you've wanted to kill me for a while now and you still do. So do it." Was a good occasion to finish him. He was playing into his hands.

"That's right Angelus," Darla said a little too sweetly, "take yourself out of the picture," she glared at him, "how nice of you to want to die for me...they write songs about that kind of thing you know..."

Angel did not back off. Instead, he took another step forward, his look one of badly concealed disgust. Bran edged to one side, basically circling Angel. As he edged along, his hands found a heavy barrel, obviously full with something. So he grabbed the barrel, knocked it over and kicked it in Angel's direction, who was taken off guard. The barrel knocked his feet out from under him and he hit the ground hard. In the meantime, Bran sprang at him, not about to let him get back up. Angel was gasping, but managed to find his feet before Bran got there. But just when he did, Bran's took his feet out from under him for the second time. He let out a startled yelp and fell on top of Bran. Rolling off him, he got to his feet again. He hit out with fists and feet for any part of the other man he could reach, but was caught himself and knocked sideways. Bran lunged at him again, not having much leverage being on his knees but doing the best he could to get on top of the other vampire to knock him all the way down. He managed what he intended to do and drove his left fist at Angel's chin, trying to keep him down with his legs.

Darla had enough, "you! You bastard!" she raged towards Bran.

Bran didn't want to go against her wanted lady, so he stood off Angel, "sorry, but just for your sake, Darla," he managed to blurt out. He had the good sense to step back into his boat and quickly disappear. This fight will be settled another day.

The threat still hung in the air, and Angel knew precisely what Bran meant. Same as what Angelus would've meant. But he couldn't kill him right now, it seemed like Bran was getting the upper hand, and not just because of Darla's presence. Not to mention that the wound Réka managed to inflict on his side was still hurting. Things were not exactly going as planned. He slowly got up.

"Angelus, you're not hurt are you?" Darla asked right before cupping his cheeks and planting a kiss on his surprised face. For a second, he froze, but instinct and a flare of desire kicked in. He kissed back, but just as the kiss deepened she pulled away, smiling. She always liked to play the taunting game. Always. Then she put an arm around him, walking by his side to the boat and pretending to help him in. All that lack of sleep…he felt tiredness seep through his entire body as he began to loosen up in the boat. Not Superman. Why does he keep forgetting he is not Superman, starve and tire himself to this extent? It would be nice to have a little sleep right here in the boat without having to bother with nasty green dream monsters.

The water was horribly cold. Reka was unable to go against the current and was lifelessly carried by it like a log. Besides keeping the girl's head above water, she tried to swim towards the shore. Luckily, there were a fare amount of people gathered together on the stone bridge trying to catch the people that fell into the water with their huge wooden sticks.

She had to give up quite a good amount of her silver creutzers to find the girl a suitable, warm home for the night, and even more to buy a horse. She wasn't too happy about leaving the girl alone, but time was precious. Angel mentioned that Bran will have a big hunt tonight. And given that she knew the hunting habits of vampires well, it wasn't hard to guess where to start looking.

The real Angelus stretched cheerfully with his hands behind his head. It had been an excellent meal, and he didn't even have to hurry in case somebody came along. The whole town was a single lunch table. Meals were always a highlight, especially if one could torture them beforehand. He thought about Darla, where she would be now. He had promised her he would go back for her. He didn't because he was sure he wouldn't find her at home anymore. It would be too good an opportunity to miss to stay in hiding while all hell was loose. It was actually more likely meeting her out here somewhere.

He heard the rhythm of a horse trotting in the distance and he looked up. Réka noticed him as well, she was raiding right towards him. She immediately noticed his clothes and knew this was Angelus. Alone. Which was good. If she was meeting him, she could keep him away from Angel, or maybe even meet Bran. On the other hand, it could be suicide. But she knew from her long experience that sometimes one can only win by putting her own life at stake.

She strode up to Angelus. He helped her dismount like a gentleman would. Pretty meat was to be played with first. Also, there was something he couldn't explain about this woman.

She remained quiet, not having a plan yet. Besides, he was staring at her. He almost made her feel like she'd forgotten to dress.

Angelus was impressed. Her features were beautiful, strong rather than delicate, but nonetheless notable. She looked different from the women he'd seen before, even her dress was a bit distinct. Amidst it all, one thing was clear. She was special. In spite of her lovable exterior, he could tell there was a great deal beneath the surface that he hadn't seen yet. He began to hope for a chance to discover what kind of woman she really was. That, before anything else.

He smiled down at her, "you are obviously a stranger to these parts. Can I help you?"

Réka flashed her most innocent smile at Angelus. "Thank you, Sir. It's a pleasant surprise to find a gentleman in this deserted place." She smiled but her thoughts raced. Seduce him somehow, she thought to herself, offer him something really tempting... a plan was forming in her mind. "Excuse me for having the nerve to ask for further assistance, but my nieces are stuck somewhere here in a house. They are twins and they only just turned fourteen…they were not brave enough to leave alone. I'm afraid the flood will soon reach them. I am their only relative, there is nobody else to help them," the Immortal didn't colour her story anymore. She was afraid that Angelus would find it too good to be true and would start guessing. "Please, Sir, I see you have a boat, help me!" Her voice was appropriately pleading, "I come from a prosperous family, you will be rewarded greatly," as her last reason, she fussed around with her hair, seemingly by chance, giving the vampire a good view of her neckline.

Angelus couldn't believe his good fortune. The chance he was waiting for to get to know this woman a bit better offered itself. He smirked. This was going to be easy if she kept handing him ample ammunition on a silver platter like this. He instantly remembered his manners, "of course!" he smiled at her, "please, lead us." His mind was racing ahead, how he would taunt her, eat her nieces first as if somebody else had done it and send her up to the fortress for help. This seemed too good to be true, which in his experience meant that it was a small chance that it was, but mostly not. People were naïve, especially when it came to vampires.

The woman was leading the vampire seemingly determined towards their non-existent destination. On the way she was searching for a place where she could trap Angelus for the night. And that would mean the following day too. A single day was enough, since the next evening they could return into their own world, and everything will be the same as it was before. Except for one thing.

Réka was not aware of the fact that this one thing was heading straight towards them. She didn't know that they were heading in the direction where Angel and Bran had just been wrestling.

Bran was fuming. Angelus spoiled his evening, his dinner, and put him in an awkward position in front of his desired lady, and on top of it all, he couldn't even come up with a decent answer. Darla was there and he couldn't kill him. She shouldn't know he had a hand in it when Angelus dies. But one day, he thought with dark satisfaction, one day he will pay for everything. Not just pay, overpay. Maybe sooner than he could ever imagine. Bran didn't want to believe his eyes when he could see Angelus with an alien woman. But he didn't waste his time with details. Angelus, his enemy, the stone is his shoe was right in front of him, and Darla was nowhere to be seen. In addition, he could take the appetizing human being for dessert.

Angelus was taken aback by Bran's assault. The other vampire almost knocked him over with his own body. Angelus fell into the fence of a nearby house. The wood broke behind him like a stick, but that cushioned the damage on him. Bran stepped back to have enough space for his next blow. Angelus was successful this time in jumping away, his opponent hopped on the spot Angelus previously occupied. It was only than, that Angelus found his voice, "Bran!" he shouted, but he couldn't finish whatever he wanted to say before the next attack. He was now ready, and he managed to plant a perfect hit on Bran's solar plexus. Bran looked like he was crouching from pain, but he aimed at Angelus' legs instead, making him loose his equilibrium. Before Angelus could react, Bran was on top of him, his face a feral grin, a sharp wooden piece of the fence in his hand…

Then the grin turned into nothing in a second. Literally. Bran disappeared, turning into dust, covering the amazed Angelus with a grey layer.

The Immortal was standing over Angelus with a stake in her right hand. She stared at his demonic face. It would be easy, she thought, just a quick flick...She would have had chance to stake the vampire, they both were aware of this fact. Angelus. The most feared vampire of Europe. Yes, he was. Looking into his eyes, Reka saw nothing but his soulless, dark power. The eyes were so different from Angel's...

Angel. Réka dropped her stake onto the ground. It landed with a small thump next to the vampire. "As it seems, nobody seems what they look like. Godspeed, Angelus, or whatever your kind says in these circumstances," she said tiredly. And she turned away to split before the vampire could get himself together from being flabbergasted.

She wanted to find Angel now. Their job has been finished here and she wanted to know if her companion was all right. Companion. Was he? Her thoughts and feelings she had about Angel startled her. She was worried. About a vampire with hairspray and sad eyes. She should have known better than that.

As the beautiful dark-haired woman calmly turned around and left Angelus looked down at his male body organs. He had always been fascinated with strong, bright, independent women.

She only just turned the corner when arms folded her from behind, "how mysterious. You didn't freak out. But you are not a slayer. You are not strong enough for that. And I can't feel the dark force in you. You killed Bran, but left me un-dead. Why? Who are you?" Angelus whispered in her ears.

"Somebody who saved you. Let me go now, please," she tried to escape, but was unsuccessful.

"There is something special about you," whispered Angelus, "it would be a pity to let it slip away," he stroked her hair with one hand and leaned on her neck. As he talked, his breath made the little hairs stand up on the woman's skin.

"Let me go!" Réka started to panic. She fought to get away, but didn't get anywhere.

"Calm down," chuckled the vampire, "if you fight, your heart will only pump faster and give me the liquid quicker," at this point Réka almost managed to escape. Merely almost.

"And I want to feel your heartbeat for a long time," he whispered, almost as if he was trying to soothe her, "this isn't death, it is rebirth," with that he bit wildly into her neck.

Réka drifted. First pain subsiding, some strange weakness took over her. It was different than the time Darla drunk her out. Different, but still the same. That time it was only devastation and anger that she had experienced. Now there was a certain amount of desire and devotion amongst her feelings. She tired to fight it, but as her willpower slipped away from her body with the blood, she found herself willingly leaning into the vampire's arms. She saw herself from a distance, as if she was standing on the bottom of a well, she heard the vampire saying something, but she couldn't make out what it was.

She felt something moist on her lips. It was thick and warm. Blood. Angelus' blood. The thought provoked queasiness at first, but as the initial drops went down her throat, she didn't care anymore. It was like liquid fire. Like a Quickening. She wanted more. Réka was sucking Angelus' blood more and more greedily till he said stop to her. Then the last thing she remembered was that he kissed her hard.

Despite Angel's firm resistance, Darla went into her much-loved tavern. Angel knew that if there was a favourite place to run into himself, the tavern was it. Angelus would be most likely looking for his partner by now. And he was right. But luckily, Angelus arrived just as Angel went to the bar for a drink and he could hide into a dark corner, where he could also listen to the conversation the couple had.

"Where is my drink?" asked Darla impatiently.

"I'll get it for you in a minute, just tell me what will it be," answered Angelus light-heartedly, completely at ease with the world.

Darla smelt the fresh blood on him, "you had the perfect drink already," she said offended, "I can smell it on you."

"I took it and I gave it back," he grinned, "you'll see. I found something special. A woman."

"Hah, Angelus, what is so special about that?" A dinnerless Darla was especially grumpy.

"She saved me from Bran. She killed him."

"He jumped at you again?" asked Darla sharply. She didn't notice Angelus' surprised face, because she was thinking about something else, "she killed Bran. Is she a slayer?"

"No, because she left me alone. You'll see, I told you. Special, because she wasn't afraid of us. Quite the opposite. She also knew me, but I don't know how," admitted Angelus.

"Wait a minute." Darla was thinking, "somebody who is not afraid. Isn't it that woman in a brown dress?

"She was wearing a brown dress." answered Angelus a bit confused.

Angel decided, he had heard enough. It was time to move. Disappear for one, but save Reka as well.

He didn't have to look for a long time in the cemetery. He just knew where Angelus would've put the body. His previous self didn't like to dig, but liked luxury. He started off towards the biggest crypt.

The woman was laid out on a stone sarcophagus. Although Immortals don't turn, the blood loss could take the woman out for hours. Not to mention what would happen if Darla would see her.

How ironic, he thought, I would've never thought that I would save somebody from myself. He lifted her onto his shoulder and started off towards the exit.

Voices reached his ears as he left the crypt. He only just had enough time to hide amongst the graves when a very disturbed Darla and a slightly confused Angelus arrived to the crypt.

"I hope this woman will provide some proof for your fairy tale. But if this will turn out to be one of your dumb jokes…" Darla and Angelus disappeared in the crypt.

Angel laughed a bit. He almost pitied himself. Now he only had to find a hiding place for the day and they could be home by the time the moon came up again.

Death always seemed momentary to Immortals, no matter how long it really took them to revive. Mortals compared it to sleeping. Although it wasn't like that. Death was timeless. There were no lights. Not even darkness. There was nothing. Of course, there always were exceptions. Like now. Given that Réka was actually dreaming. Dreaming that Angelus was there with her. Dreaming that he leaned over her and kissed her again. And again. The blood of the vampire was running around in her veins madly, and was setting every inch of her body in fire. She craved him. She yearned for the force. More and more of it…

Suddenly life surged through her, burning her lungs, searing her mind with the knowledge of being alive... and with the loss of the dark force that came from Angelus' blood. She blinked as her senses returned one by one. Twilight. Cold. Air was scented with barley, which she enjoyed. She struggled onto her feet, stepped to a tiny window and found herself staring out over the town from their hiding place in the roof space of a warehouse for the local brewer.

"How are you feeling, Réka?" Angel asked. His gaze seemed watchful, as though he was searching for something in her.

"Still alive," Réka assured him, "do you not know that I can't turn?"

"Just like to be sure…" he smiled, "don't like to loose friends to vampires." He stepped close to her and looked down onto the roofs of the houses as well. Dawn was just around the corner, "this wasn't an easy night for anyone around here," he sighed.

Réka turned away from the window. She realised that the vampire was standing just a bit too close to her liking, blocking her way. But probably not in purpose. Probably? She looked up and gazed into Angel's eyes, smiled and closed some more distance between them.

His hand was reaching up to caress her cheek, waiting for her to react. He wasn't thinking at first, once he acted he started to feel worried that he made the wrong decision going on treating Réka like that, "I'm sorry, we don't have to do anything you're not ready…" he trailed off unable to actually say what he wanted, because he didn't actually know what he wanted. Her strength reminded him of Buffy, but it wasn't just a deja-vu affection. It had nothing to do with Buffy or else. They were not even in their own time frame, nothing really mattered. His friends always told him to be more relaxed, isn't this the occasion? Besides, it might be his last chance with her. If he wanted to have her and keep his soul, he needed to do this before either or both of them really fell in love with each other. He had an idea it was going to happen, at least as far as he was concerned.

"Shh..." Fingers touched his lips. Touch answered touch as Réka's fingers traced along his jaw-line then down the muscled throat. The collarbone was next. Réka turned into his caress, eyes closed.

Now his thumbs were caressing the exposed skin of her neck ever so gently in a featherlike touch, which gave him the chance to become aware of the change in Réka's breathing. It had increased somewhat, every breath teasing his earlobe. It was weird how sometimes necks made him only think of eating, sometimes only of sex and sometimes both. A part of his mind wanted nothing more than to grab her and kiss her senseless.

He felt Réka gasp silently, but she didn't withdraw. His fingers moved, his fingertips gently stroking the soft skin of her leverage now, and she let her head sink against the vampire's chest, "Angel?"

"Hm?"

The teeth scratching her skin had her flinch, "Angel!" she managed.

"What?" came the seductive whisper. But then it came the realisation that Réka was slightly resisting him.

"I'm sorry…" he tried to gather himself together and stepped back.

"Angel…" Réka whispered cautiously, suddenly afraid that the vampire will not continue, "don't be sorry." I know that he needs this, she added to herself. No. No more self-deception, she corrected herself. You need this as badly as he wants it.

"Do you want this?" Angel asked as if he read her mind.

"Yes," Réka gasped, then felt the vampire nuzzling her neck again. She began to return the kisses.

Angel moved a little, allowing her a better access to his tender lips. He leaned in for a deeper kiss. In one quick move, he flipped them over, "we have too many clothes on," he pulled his shirt off.

Réka watched with a half smile as Angel got rid of his shirt. When seeing Angel's questioning expression, the half smile widened and it became teasing. She turned away slightly, gesturing towards the buttons on the back of her dress, "would you mind helping with the unpacking?" she asked bantering.

Angel couldn't keep himself from tasting her shoulders when the dress came off them. It dropped on the floor with a slight swishy noise, and Réka could step out of it easily now, "your turn," she said slyly. She allowed her arms to fall by her sides.

Angel sighed with delight as the Immortal's lovely body was exposed to him. The sight of her naked body pressing against his own was arousing, almost electrifying. Without forewarning, he rolled her over and landed on top of her.

Réka's hands began exploring the vampire's body, stroking and rubbing his lower back, "the shorts," she reminded him.

"Right!" Angel answered enthusiastically as he reached down to remove his shorts, "shoes…" he muttered , "now, where were we…," he purred triumphantly…

When he woke up a few hours later he felt Réka's body stir against his. Dusk had settled over the town and the carts cast shadows in the courtyard of the brewery.

What have they done? They both were quiet for a while, lying in each other's arms enjoying the moment and preparing for what had to come. Neither of them knew exactly. He kissed Réka, her hair soft against his hand. Her lips even softer.

"Angel..." she whispered, her voice sorrowful, desire mixed with fear.

Angel perceived the tone in her voice. What did he do wrong? Could she understand his longing for a relationship, or would she think of it as only lust? At last, he asked very quietly, "regrets already?"

"No regrets," she looked at Angel, "just…"

"Afraid?"

"Uhm."

"I'm scared too. I'm afraid of what happens when we leave this timeframe and have to face the world again. And all the other things, the past, what I've done, that I'm having to face no matter what. We both have things we'll never be able to put out of our minds. But I don't want to exist that way anymore. I'm tired of hurting. I don't know what to do. If you asked me to just walk away, I would. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"It wouldn't be the first time someone's made me uncomfortable," she said, "but you didn't."

"Are you attracted to me?"

"Yeah," she shrugged.

"You need to know, taking off is what I've done several times in the past if anyone got close to me. Because I was scared of hurting them. Then I was ready for a different decision with Cordelia. She was a companion for me for the last seven years and somehow friendship had suddenly turned to love. But she isn't really in our dimension now. Given what I felt with her, I'm sure I could find a way to... be together, without me turning into a monster. Once in my life, I just want to love someone and not lose them."

Underground Lab, current day

Réka stood a few feet away from Angel, trying to get rid of all the sprawling wires still attached to her. Angel took a quick look over to the computer screen. It said 22.13 pm, same day as they departed, just one hour later, the time they agreed upon previously.

"Greetings, sweetmeat," Lorne chirped, "you too, toffee mint," he nodded towards Réka.

"Report?" demanded Angel.

"There has been no demon activity in the last hour. Seems like whatever you have done, worked, but there is something else…"

"What's wrong?"

Fred stepped ahead, "nothing's wrong. Cordelia is out of her coma. She woke up a little earlier."

Angel threw her arms around Fred. She returned the embrace.

Angel whispered, "Fred, what happened? Will she be all right? Is she...?"

"Apart from amnesia of knowing anything from after the time she got pregnant, she seems to be well. But it will take time," Fred answered and Angel nodded, his eyes shining from the agitation.

Fred smiled, "you better go in now. She's been asking for you ever since."

With that, Angel disappeared up the stairs.

Réka knew the last day they shared would have meant nothing to Angel given the circumstances...all that mattered to him was that Cordy was awake. Not hurting, or hurting less would mean leaving now.

"See you in another lifetime, Angel..." she whispered and left.

The End.