This is just for my own and for the readers' enjoyment. Regular disclaimers apply.

Please email for comments and criticism. Cynicism is allowed too.

Thanks to Wolf Parker for the comments and corrections (aka beta) and everyone from the Adrian Paul Estrogene Brigade for their encouragement.

Genre: Angst/Romance

Rating: PG for violence. A very sad fic.

Pairing: A/D, A/I, A/C friendship.

Summary/Set: you know the speech Darla gives Angel about caring for her, ep. "The trial", season 2 AtS. Now, my universe starts there. Darla is ready to die in her lover's arms, but how will Angel deal with that?

The black volcanic sand at Perissa beech matched Angel's mood. He went out to the seaside gather his thoughts together, as it helped him hide away from the busy Agora. This way he was separated from it by a steep rocky cliff. It was of no use this day. Among other things, he forgot how unpleasant this place was just after the sun went down. The black sand soaked up the heat from the sun and quickly became unpleasant to lie on and too hot to walk on in bare feet. Angel liked being bare feet, it reminded him of a pleasant distant feeling of security, as if holding on to a woman's skirt to help not to fall when learning to take the first steps as a baby. Angel went down here to be away from Darla for a while. Not that it was any time available for them to be wasted this way, but he wanted to come up with some reasonable logic for what he was about to do. Angel grimaced cynically. The incorporation of Death on Earth, the Scourge of Europe had enough of Death! Not that this was the first time he felt that way. No more death! Angel was pretty sure that he didn't wanna do what he wanted to do to help Darla. It was definitely to help himself. Darla loved him for how he was now. Nobody else could see him the same way as Darla did. Darla did ask him to turn her several times, but not after that night he went through the trials for her. He was pretty sure she didn't want it anymore. Angel, on the other hand, was thinking about it since. What if turning somebody with a soul could result in the childe having a soul as well? Darla was going to die anyway, it was worth a chance. He could always stake her later. His body was tired of thinking, his mind muddled, his heart heavy and sad. His feelings and drives were just as mixed up as they were on leaving the stylish medieval mansion he owned. It was a left-over from the period of the Venetian Dukes of Naxos, who named the island after their St. Irene- consequently, Santorini. For Angel, the house was an place from the past. He had previously bought it with Darla somewhere around the 1850s, and Darla enjoyed every minute life could still offer her there. It had a clear view to the east coast. She didn't even need to leave the house. It was a wonderful place to completely relax, and where one was in direct contact with nature. The woman's condition deteriorated quickly in the last month and it was time for Angel to launch into action if he was gonna do anything. Whatever the reason, he knew what he wanted and an impulse in him didn't want him to give up on her. As the heat in the sand forced him to start climbing the slopes of Sedalla again towards the mansion he suddenly decided he couldn't decide there. He needed some proof, some sort of information before he could do that. On either side of the road he could see the cemeteries of the ancient city, where Darla wanted to be buried. But Angel had other plans.

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Darla was lying on a sun bed, but set in way it was shaded from the light on the terrace of the mansion all day long. She wouldn't burst into flames as she was human, but the sun exhausted her very quickly. She was still awake and wondered where Angel had gone. She didn't feel tired right then, how could she, she was in bed so often that it was a wonder that she could sleep. There was only one mirror in the whole house, she could see her face in it and wished that she could chase her imminent tiredness off her face. She felt as if her ribs would come bursting out her skin. She knew that this was hard for Angel, even harder than for her sometimes, she imagined. She didn't spend too much time thinking about these things though, she took everything as a last gift from life. It was a long journey, she was angry at first, but she now accepted her fate, as much as anyone could. Because of her dying human limits she stood amazed at every little thing, from a leaf to the small curve Angel's mouth took while staring at something distant and untouchable. She liked to think about that day Angel went through the trials for her, even though he wasn't successful in achieving to give her a new life. There was something unreal about her childe, something that shoved her how souled beings could care. It didn't matter anymore he didn't want to turn her, he gave her a lot more than that, every day. Darla never blamed him, for changing her life, or, what's left of it. She replayed that moment in her memory over and over, it helped her more than medication. Thinking about that moment stopped the pain. She hoped, if she could replay it enough in her mind, she could just stay in that moment forever and she would never have to think of dying.

Angel came closer slowly and she waved at him from the terrace. She drunk in the moment, she could tell how many times a bird chirped or how many times her heart beat while Angel was coming up the stairs to her. She always took in the whole picture, all of what she could because she wouldn't know for how long she could still go on. She felt happy just by enjoying the moment. That was all that mattered. How happy she was. Happiness. Ridiculous word. Looking back to heaven…where and when was that exactly were they most happy, the two of them?

"Coffee?" shook her Angel out of her dreamland.

"That would be nice. I'll help you with it." Darla went into the extensive lounge-kitchen area. Not that he needed any help, Angel's traditional kafe Elliniko was just great. Quite surprising for a vampire really. Direct result of his previous experiments on Cordelia with his cooking. But if Angel was around the house, Darla wanted to be with him.

"Can I help?" she asked nevertheless.

"There is nothing to do, I'm almost ready," while preparing the cups, Angel was wondering how to start the conversation. Waiting for the water to heat up, he turned a chair around and sat on it with the backrest facing his stomach, in a defensive position. It would be a hard job to convince Darla to leave Greece. The woman couldn't keep her eyes of her perfect mate, kind hearted, good looking, the one she found again and wanted to keep.

"How are you, Darl'?" came the sudden question Angel never dared to ask.

"What do you mean by that?" came the confused response.

"Should I get your paink.."

"No!" she responded fiercely. "No," she repeated and tried to seem calm so the man would believe her.

"Darl'." The nickname Angel called her, my darling Darla, shrunk to Darl' now, as her waist shrunk each day. "I need to talk to you".

Darla wasn't surprised. The doubt in her was always there, since the first day, that even the perfect man will leave her when he is not able to cope with her sufferings anymore. She waited for this moment, completely arming herself against the hurt it will cause.

"I know you always wanted to go to Egypt, but..." here it comes, she thought, he's going to make excuses for spending less time with me. "..I'd like to go back with you to the place we were the happiest."

Darla smiled in disbelief and not sure where the conversation was going now. "We both know I couldn't make it to Egypt, it is too hot for me. Besides, it would be ridiculously dangerous for a vampire. We agreed that we would not talk about any more travelling as if our illusions could become true at some later stage and that we will concentrate on the present. I thank you for all the happiness you offered. We are here for a month now, and if you want to leave…could you just leave me in this house? The white shining surroundings, it's so godly, close to the light! Let me experience the likeness of heaven just until I have to descend to hell…"

Angel had to realise he had started off on the wrong track and scared the woman. He stood up, went closer to her. Turned her around, cuddled her. She thought. About how wasn't as easy as she'd imagined. Angel couldn't and wasn't going to protect her forever.

"I'm not leaving you." Angel's voice was so certain, sure, that she understood Angel meant it, at least for the moment. She couldn't help it, she leaned her head on Angel's chest and cried, for the first time in a long time. She screamed, she wailed, she moaned, she howled, sometimes even on a high pitch.

Angel just stood there, waiting for her to calm down. They stood for a long while, the water for the coffee long boiled and cooled down again. Angel stroked her hair, her back. She finally cried herself out.

The stroking of her back became slow and sensual, Angel's hand entered under her blouse. What followed was just as natural and flowing as their whole time together. Angel knew how she felt and this feeling became more intense through lovemaking. It involved the experience of sensing the other's subjective state: shared desire, aligned intentions and mutual states of simultaneously shifting arousal, with the lovers responding to each other in a synchrony that gives that tacit sense of deep rapport. Lovemaking, at its best was an act of mutual empathy and they both used their immense practice to share the positive they had inside, to ease her pain.

Back to her mostly unbreakable dynamism, she came out of the hug and went to the kitchen tub to clean herself. "We forgot the coffee," it always made it easier to cope if they talked about neutral and unimportant things.

Angel spent a few seconds re-evaluating the appropriateness of bringing the issue up again, but the time factor won. He came at it from another, less dramatic angle this time. "Remember northern Romania? The stretches of the most unspoiled landscape in Europe? The splendour of the Carpathian mountains, the horse-drawn carts on the winding rural roads, painted monasteries, medieval vil…"

Clinging laughter stopped him. "Angel. You sound like a travel agent!"

Angel shut his eyes embarrassed.

Darla, in her all awaiting clearness got to the point: "It is obvious, something going on in your head for a few weeks now. And now, you want to take me to Romania?

Why?"

Angel had a lot of practice at lying too. "Because that was where it ended. And there, maybe I can decide what I want to do." He didn't want to tell her that he was thinking about siring her, because he didn't want to confuse her or get her hopes up.

Darla assessed what she heard for a while. "It doesn't make sense, Angel, what you're saying. And you know that I will have a hard time travelling, but you beg me to come. For what reason?"

"For the reason that…the alternative is unimaginable."

Darla looked up in disbelief. After all Angel had offered to her, she did not want to die alone. This man showed her there was so much more to life and she had to go. In a way, he made it harder to leave this world. She was a fighter though. She was determined to fight for the last sip of life she could get. Angel was part of that life. If he wanted to go somewhere, Darla would follow. She trusted this man with all she had. "If you wanna go, I'll go," was the easiest way of settling the debate, no time for disagreements either.

Angel lifted the phone to order the plane tickets on the next flight to Budapest, closest airport to the portal into Transylvania, Oradea, before Darla would change her mind.

Act 2

Angel rented an apartment for them on the phone, while they were still on the plane. He was quite grateful that Darla wanted to rest when they arrived, he wasn't needed to keep her company and could go off to see what state the fortress was in. It had been about a couple of hundred years since he had been around there.

Darla couldn't comprehend what the great rush was about, Angel acted as if he was the one with only a few weeks or month to live. But she was long past of making any effort to question him any further.

Angel had great difficulties finding the fort. Not that he didn't remember where it was. He found the main street and the fort must've been to the left from the end of the main street, about 20 minutes walking distance along the river. But he couldn't see it. Where he knew it should've been, there were several red tower blocks of flats. Could have it all been destroyed? They were in Romania, everything was possible after all, from demolishing European heritage worthy buildings to re-electing ex-communist leaders. But if so, where would have a new vampire colony hide? Maybe in the crypt from under the cathedral, or basilica as he read it was known as nowadays. Some of the vampires could act as a great bunch of modern guys, they knew that it is resistance to change which caused the difficulty and not the change of times. They would've survived. Angel concluded it was still worth asking where the citadel is, or was. If it didn't exist anymore, he could still find a clue about the whereabouts of the local vampire colony. He stopped a man in the park, where the old market used to be.

"Scuzati-ma, unde este cetatea, mai exista?" He was still fluent in Romanian.

"Dupa blocurile de acolo," pointed the man, indicating the fortress behind the blocks of flats.

"Multam," Angel thanked him in the local dialect, but in fact giving his thanks to history and the Romanian people that the fortress was still there. After catching the first glimpse of it, it wasn't hard to remember to go round to the left and find the entrance to the catacombs. It looked deserted, just a few people walking their dogs. Which was a good sign. The people here still didn't know where their vampires lived. The flashlight found the turning white stone easier than his lantern did around a centuries ago…

The wall started to turn slowly and….

Act 3

1912, Nagyvarad (Oradea)

The fire seemed to have started at around St. Orsolya Nun's School. Angel, known to the people as Master Pataki, owner of the huge Beius Farm was nearby when he noticed people shouting about the fire. The nobleman run to apply first aid to the burnt people. Where no one else would go, no matter whether it was a house only standing on one pillar, the rest burnt, or the melting horse shoe shop, he rushed in saving lives and was miraculously unstoppable by the smoke that over clouded the area. When everyone was safe outside, he organised a water passing chain coming from the river, to save any property that could be saved. Only standing by the river, passing buckets of water did he notice that the fortress at the other side of the river was in fire too. He dropped the basket. Ioana! His two childe! If they scorched, or if the fortress burnt down and they had nowhere to hide by daytime, they would all smoulder to death by sunlight. As he run closer, his worries dampened. The fortress was a military base after all and the soldiers have done a great job of controlling the flames. But he wanted to see Ioana safe anyway and jumped down the hole leading to the hall of coffins. He turned the white device, and the wall started to turn slowly. The next thing he knew, a stake was touching his chest. All the other vampires where there. Even his childe Bozuklu Mustafa had a sword directed in his direction. Angel couldn't see what this was all about. They shared a history together, him and the other vampires. Especially with Buzuklu. Angel arrived together with him and Ioana a few years back, after he had given up all hope of being together with Darla in China. It wasn't just all lies he told Darla about trying to accept his demon side again. The result of that was Ioana and Buzuklu. Thing was though, he couldn't kill for the sake of killing. So he Sired the two, giving them some sort of a chance of life after life. It was a time of turmoil in his mind, in his soul. He didn't know himself which way he was gonna go, which side he was gonna take. So he experimented on both sides. But even so, his soul rebelled and he found himself helping humans all over again. Like that day.

"Would you like to have a seat, my friend?" tried Buzuklu to ease the tension.

"I don't usually sit down with friends who threaten my life."

His response caused unhappiness in the camp of the vampires, some cursed: "neither do we".

Buzuklu eventually explained the situation: "Look, Angel, you know that we always tolerated you, although you seemed to behave in strange ways from the beginning. We trusted you knowing everything about us, we gave you all the privileges that were due to be given to a famous vampire like you …"

"Cut the crap, Buzuklu, we know you are good at oratory," intercepted one of the other vampires.

"Now, what do you want?" Angel was also starting to get impatient, "and where did you hide Ioana?"

"As I said, we gave too much. We shouldn't have. We saw what you did for the humans today during the fire. We had a meeting and we decided that you must be dusted. Thanks to the wail of your mistress childe we will let you go if you promise you will never come back. Your choice. Do you understand the verdict?"

Angel understood. It was the law of nature, the nature of vampires. It was what it was all about.

Act 4

A.D. 2002, Oradea, Transylvania.

…turned slowly, and Angel took out his sword in case he was gonna meet Buzuklu or anyone from the others in there. He did not want to harm them just yet, it was for self defence. A long row of candles showed the way into the main hall, as it always did. Some coffins lay there, although not as many as he had remembered. Ioana's coffin was a small, oak tree one, her initials on it, I.B. Ioana Benkovits, daughter of the ex religious leader of the town, who threw his daughter out when he found out what she was. There were a lot of new looking coffins, some old ones, but the one with I.B. on it was nowhere. He called out her name to find her. He sired her, he instructed her in vampire matters and as far as he had known, she didn't ever show her demon side. If there was a possibility that one of his childe possessed a soul, it was her.

"Da. Aci sunt," a woman rose and some fright showed in her eyes. It could've not been every day that a stranger showed up in there. "Who are you? What do you want from me?" she asked in Romanian.

"I'm…I'm an old friend of Ioana."

"You're no friend of mine, I never have seen you before."

"Oh! You're name is Ioana too?. I'm looking for the other Ioana. Ioana Benkovits."

The woman, appearing as she was in her early twenties, but unmistakably dead to practised eyes like Angel's, stood up, her face showing interest and confusion at the same time. She leaped to another coffin and wanted to open it to ask for help.

"Please, no! I'm not sure I'd be welcomed."

"You bet you aren't!" laughed the woman. She seemed too interested in the newcomer not to discover him for herself. He was food or enemy, the same thing. As long as he didn't have a stake, she was safe. If he was attacking, or else, well, she went to some evening karate classes to one of the black belt karate champions of the town. And, it was obvious, that the man didn't just got there accidentally, no one ever did, at least not since 1944, when she had arrived.

Angel used the momentary silence to check on the other coffins. Neither of them showed signs of moving. Or nothing else in the area for that matter, "look, Lady, I need to find some old acquaintances. Ioana or Bozuklu, do you know either of them?"

"You are a friend of Bozuklu?"

"I was once. You know him?"

"I do. Everyone here does. He is a funny guy and you praise humour if you live long enough and need things to fill the time with."

"Tell me about it. Can you take me to him?"

"Hmm.. How do I know that you are really an old relation?"

"That's depending whether you heard of me or not. Bozuklu must've included me in his stories though. I believe, he had even stolen some of my stories which happened before his time…"

"Who are you then?"

"My name is Angel."

"Angel? Angelus? You're Angelus?" the response caused the young Ioana to instantly laugh, "ok," she said, "if you are Angelus, tell me why am I laughing. What could it be so funny about you that it makes me laugh."

"Well, if it's not my soul and it's a story, you probably think about my bare hand fighting adventure in one of our battles against some Russians, just after I sired Bozuklu?"

"I…I wasn't. But I heard that story too. For your identification, it will do. Carry on with it."

Angel wasn't in a story telling mood, but he had no choice: "I should make it sounding the way Bozuklu tells it? Let me see if I can remember his exact choice of words… I was known in Turkey as one who was noted for his unusually long punch reach when fighting without a weapon, and, in those times, when it came to men to men in a battle, we often did that. Since it looked like the fight was gonna end to my advantage, I wanted to knock my opponent out in one shot and move on to fighting someone else. But my opponent quickly tried to avoid the punch by moving closer to me. As he did this, his head hit my elbow. This acted as a lever, adding even more power to my swing. My arm completely circled the other man's head and wound up coming back straight at me. My fist crunched in my own jaw..."

"He succeeded to stand for a few seconds," Angel got interrupted by a dark skinned man, hard to achieve if you are a vampire. His skin was naturally darker though. "groggily trying to remain vertical. But then he collapsed and was out. He knocked himself out," finished the man with a hardly noticeable Turkish accent, "Ioana, this is indeed my Sire. He's Angel all right."

Ioana sounded upbeat to: "I'm sooo happy to meet you. I heard a lot about you, from Buzuklu, from Ioana…"

"Where is she? And where are the others?"

Ioana looked down to the floor, Buzuklu played with his moustache: "I'm sorry Angel."

Angel wasn't surprised. To go back somewhere a century later and find anyone who remembered him alive, that was a miracle on its own, "how did it happen?"

Ioana answered, "Angel, you have to know, she saved my life, in a way, but she saved my family completely to live a quiet life of common people in America. She died doing it. According to my sister, she made an appearance in broad daylight in front of the German officers so they got distracted by her strange death and my Jewish family could run away…"

That sounded too good to be true. Could or would anyone without a soul do that? But if Ioana had a soul, would the Ioana standing in front of her have one too? What about Buzuklu? He turned against him back then.

As if the Turkish vampire guessed his thoughts, he started, "it's dark outside. Angel, be my guest for a beer. Actually, as many as you want. As an offering of peace for turning against my Sire. The others will come out soon so let's go out to a beer garden before that. I don't want them to see us, the community here still doesn't allow for weaknesses and I'd have to turn against you again…"

It was a good opportunity for Angel to get to know them. Did his childe still hunt? Did they kill? Buzuklu did in the old days, but maybe that was to conform with the other vampires? He needed to know. Also, it could've been a trap, but for Darla's sake he needed to be quick. So he just went with them.

The beer garden was as pleasant as advertised by Buzuklu. Popular, but not too overcrowded. There was music, but not deafening. It was outside, but sheltered from the awakening autumn wind. It reminded Angel of the hot summer nights they went on riding with Ioana to the caves. One night there, one night back. And the day they spent in the protecting darkness of the cave making love over and over again…Of course, even vampires would travel more easily now. There were night time flights…not like when they met…just shortly before Angel sired her…

Act 5

1902, Vienna

Ioana Benkovits socialized with the people assembled in the caste's park. She looked down at the lengths of fabric that made up her dress feel so awkward. She longed for her leather boots and trousers, her riding gear, something a little more lightweight. But this was what her father required. So reams of fabric it was. Unknown to her, a figure watched her as she went, from the shadow of the trees. A slight figure, dressed in black, watching her with interest. Angel now moved back into the crowd. Ioana took up station on the edge of the promenade through the garden, resting her glass of wine on the stone urn that was alongside her.

"Ioana?" A voice spoke at her ear, and she almost jumped, before quickly regaining her composure.

"Yes?" A soldier stood opposite her. "Soldier?"

"Here Madame." Buzuklu took her arm and let her a little away from the crowds. He was undercover together with Angel, no one noticed his Turkish accent. Not even the Emperor Francis Josephs, who recruited him with Angel for spies.

"The captain has escaped. We don't know how, and we don't know where he is. But he must be heading back here. Even if your captain is not coming back here he has surely contacted his lady wife to tell her he is free, and of his whereabouts." Buzuklu took her hand, kissed it, and turned to go, but as he did so Ioana saw a figure in the crowd, looking at her. Their eyes met and held before he broke contact and turned away. Who was he?

"Soldier?" she called as Buzuklu turned to walk away. "Yes Madame?"

"Who is that man? By the palace, wearing black."

"That is Mr. Angel, advisor to the army." And with that Buzuklu walked away. He knew Ioana would be curious enough to go and find out about the captains whereabouts and they could follow and find out themselves. Double agency was an exciting business. However, it replaced the menacing games Angelus was once playing.

The park appeared altered in the dark for Ioana, there were so many dim sections and such a different atmosphere. Ioana walked up to the palace using the line of trees as concealment. She could hear sounds of laughter from inside. Good. That meant no one would be in the room, and she could look for a certain letter. Ioana was now dressed in lightweight trousers and shirt, able to slip unnoticed through the shadows. She came up to the side of the building, and to the French windows that lead into the bedchamber of the captain's wife. She grasped the handle and turned it. It wasn't locked, and slowly she opened the door. At that moment footsteps came down the hall outside the room, and a key sounded in the lock. Moving quickly, Ioana was back outside. The door closed behind her, as into the room came two women. Ioana backed away under the trees to a point where she was hidden but could still watch. The women inside went to a drawer at the writing desk, unlocked it with a tiny key and produced something… a letter! The two ladies left the room, and Ioana shifted in her hiding place... Now she would have to wait until they brought the letter back... or leave and return tomorrow. But before she had time to think a hand came round from behind and covered her mouth, and she felt the point of a dagger at her back. Slowly she turned around to find herself looking at the man from the party that evening.

"Mr. Angel" she said.

"The mysterious woman from the party... what are you doing here?"

"Mysterious? I am Ioana Benkovits and what right have you to be asking why I am here? Besides, what reason has the advisor to the army got for hiding outside this room? I'm sure there are people in the fortress who would be interested to hear of that..."

"Perhaps I am here looking for people such as yourself."

"Such as myself? What's that supposed to mean? How dare you…" she was cut short by the point of Angel's knife piercing the light shirt she was wearing. Suddenly there was a noise from the path behind them. Glancing out Ioana could see a figure walking towards them… a patrolling guard.

"Quickly!" said Angel, as they each glanced around for an escape route. Ioana could not see any way out, the guard would hear her, would question her mode of dress, and Angel would surely give her away.... when suddenly Angel was kissing her. Unable to resist she let him, and they kissed until the guard had moved on. Then Angel pulled away, and Ioana was left in a confusion of emotions.

"What... do you think you are doing?" Ioana asked in disgust.

"Disguise."

"What?"

"The guard. We would have seemed to him simply to be two illicit lovers, hiding from the prying eyes of the palace. And that was what he thought."

Ioana considered this. "In that case...I must thank you. I think." With that, she ran. Angel let her. The assignment required them to find out about the captain's location. And Ioana was the best bet.

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As Ioana was circulating around the rooms of the castle, another face leapt out from the crowd across the room, that of Angel's. He was looking over at her, and she stopped and returned the gaze. His look was one of interest, hers one of intrigues and suspicion. She couldn't be sure whose side he was on. Before he could make a move to walk over she broke eye contact and walked over to where Doamna Camelia, the captain's wife was sitting.

"Excuse me? May I join you?"

"Why, of course... I don't believe we have been introduced?"

"No I am not sure we have," replied Ioana, taking a seat opposite. "I am Ioana Benkovits. We come from the same town? My father had known your father-in-law. We are all concerned. I came to you to ask about a loved one of yours...Captain Szabo? Have you had any word? I understand he was taken prisoner..."

"Yes he was. But I received word from him a week ago saying he had managed to escape, and was making his way back." Camelia's face did not convey the happiness that one would expect from such news.

"But…you do not seem relieved?" asked Ioana.

"No, you see, in the letter…" she paused a moment, not sure if she could trust her. "He should have been here by now! When he wrote he said he was only days away, but since then I have heard nothing..."

Ioana's mind was racing. What could that mean? He couldn't have been re-captured...

"I am sure he is all right," Ioana said to Camelia. "He is probably being careful not to be discovered."

Camelia laughed, rather hollowly. "Jancsi is not known for taking the careful option..."

"Excuse me?" A voice said from beside the two women. The two ladies looked up to see Angel who bowed in front of them before putting his hand out to Ioana. 'You don't mind Doamna Camelia, if I borrow Ioana for a moment do you?' He smiled.

"Mr. Angel!" she exclaimed. "Certainly! I wouldn't want to keep her from a more pressing matter…" Camelia smiled as Ioana got up and took the advisor's arm. He led her away to bay window, further away from the people, and sat down opposite her.

"Thank you" Ioana said. "You will have started off a lovely selection of rumours with that."

"And what is wrong with rumours?" replied Angel.

Ioana didn't comment, she simply sat and looked at Angel, waiting for him to give her a reason for pulling her away in such a manner. At such an important point of her conversation. She found herself meeting the glances of several people interested from a distance. She looked down to see Angel's hand still on hers, and quickly withdrew her own.

Angel smiled. "More rumours?"

"Look, what do you want?"

"I was hoping to find you. Before I came here for talks with your Emperor I was in Romania talking to the king there."

"Ah, so you are playing both sides?" she asked. She didn't understand why would the man disguise himself, if he was doing so.

"Not exactly, just keeping my options open. I am here in the court to gain a better idea of the feelings on the Transylvanian side."

But something inside her told her Angel was not about to turn her in; after all he could have done that the previous night...a woman of her position, out like that…the stranger was continuously speaking:

"I understand there are rebels in the border area who seem to be attacking either side as they see fit. Perhaps the captain has been captured by them?" Angel suggested. Ioana considered this information.

"Yes, that does seem likely. Especially if he did not know they might be there, he would have been unable to avoid them... but I don't see what that has to do with.."

"Have you heard of Katalin Eszterházi?" asked Angel.

"Yes. She is the wife of one of the soldiers, right?"

"She is also the god-daughter of the Emperor. He has demanded her return to the court. She disappeared a few days ago from her home. It was near the border so my suspicion is that she was also taken by these rebels.'

Ioana stood up, tired of these stories.

"Well, thank you for the information, Mr. Angel…"

Angel caught her hand as she moved to leave. In a quiet tone of voice he asked, "As well paid as 500 gold florints?"

Ioana stopped in her tracks and looked at Angel. He didn't seem to be making it up. She sat back down opposite him. "500 florints?" That was more than she could even expect from her father.

Angel smiled. "You are interested now aren't you? That is how much the Emperor has offered as reward to whoever brings back Katalin. The Emperor has offered that reward to anyone."

"What is more…" Ioana pondered, if she is being held by the same rebels as the captain....That is too tempting to miss" She glanced around again at the people, all engaged in their own little discussions. "I will have to think of a reason to leave…as will you...but I'm sure I can come up with something!"

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It took Angel and Ioana several days to work their way though the countryside to locate what seemed to be the rebel's base. It was a small, seemingly quiet village but the movement of armed men was too great to make it insignificant. In particular the movements were centred around the main village building, larger than the rest. Watching from a viewpoint above the village Ioana remarked, "that must be where they keeping the prisoners. They never leave that building unattended."

"What do you think we should do?" asked Angel.

"I need to go down there, to scout it out, see if it is the right place and that the right people are in there! If we storm in there and the captain and Katalin are not there our plan will fall apart and we'll probably be killed trying to get out."

"Agreed" said Angel. "I assume you're not going to go down there now?"

"No, I'll wait until they're eating. They do not seem to be the most organised band of rebels and that should play to our advantage."

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Ioana placed a dagger and a pistol under her belt and slid cautiously down the hill and into the village, with Angel keeping an eye out on the hill above. She moved cautiously through the outer buildings, being careful not to be seen. From his vantage point on top of the hill Angel spotted someone emerging from the main building. Not a rebel... he tried to get Ioana's attention but now she was too far away, and moving the direction of the stranger. Sliding round the wall of one of the houses Ioana was suddenly face to face with the stranger, and in a flash had her dagger drawn. She took a step back when she realized who it was.

"George!" she gasped.

"Ioana!" Her old servant and Ioana stood and looked at each other, both shocked by each other's presence.

"What are you doing here?" asked Ioana, putting away the knife she had whipped from its casing and glancing around to check for anyone else.

"I came here to help the captain, he was quite badly injured."

"So he is here! We were right. Are you free to leave?"

"No, I am a prisoner now too," George replied, and glanced around himself looking for any rebels who might have spotted them. Suddenly there was a noise behind them and out of the darkness stepped a dark figure, Angel. In one raised hand he held a pistol, and was pointing it at George.

"Don't move any closer," he said, coming to a stop just behind Ioana.

"Not alone?" asked George.

Ioana leant back towards Angel and said: "You can put the gun down, this is George. He and I... know each other."

"It's lovely to stand here and talk" mentioned Angel, "but perhaps this is rather a dangerous place for a reunion?"

"Indeed" replied Ioana, and she glanced around before looking back at George. From the buildings behind came a noise; and a scraggily dressed man emerged from a doorway, a rifle slung over his shoulder. From his way of walking he was most likely drunk. But rather than walk away to the other building it was the man's misfortune to look up to the road and spot the three talking. In a second Ioana had her pistol drawn and fired at the man. He fell to the ground as the noise of the shot echoed around the houses. Angel looked from his gun to Ioana in confusion. He had barely managed to fix his sights on the man in the time it took her to draw and shoot. Ioana saw his look and smiled.

"We attack now?" asked Angel.

"No, they'll be expecting something now. We've raised the alarm. George… you should get back before you are missed. We'll wait on the hill until things have quietened down."

As they turned to go their separate ways George looked back: "Ioana?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"… Look after yourself."

Ioana smiled subtly. "You too." And with that she and Angel disappeared back into the dark.

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Out of breath Ioana collapsed on the other side of the hill and lay just over the summit of the hill overlooking the village once more.

"So what was your friend doing there?" Angel asked.

"He's prisoner himself. He came to help the captain. Apparently Jancsi's been injured. But now we know for sure that he is there."

"You seemed to know each other rather well?"

Ioana smiled, "we did once."

'"But not now?"

"No… we haven't seen each other for… a couple of years now." Ioana sighed. "We knew each other back home." Ioana turned back to look at Angel, who was watching her. In the dark she couldn't quite pick out his expression.

He put out his hand and ran it through her hair.

Ioana made a slight movement away, "Mr. Angel!"

"Just Angel," he said. And with that he pulled her close and kissed her.

Ioana had no time to react before their lips touched. At first she gave herself into the kiss, but then realised that she must stay alert in case of any danger. She pushed Angel away from her. Danger, was indeed close as the rebels located them and shot in their direction and hit. Angel stumbled backwards and fell into a small dip, sounding out a loud thump. Ioana tried to flee, but as she turned around she had crashed into one of the men in the dark. The rebels grabbed hold of her and they took her back down to the village.

Angel lay still and unnoticed in the bushes.

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Angel was starting to rouse, not sure of what had happened. He soon concluded that a loose bullet must've caught him. He was still dizzy. He looked around him, but Ioana was nowhere to be found! He began scanning the village, looking for rebels. Suddenly he saw a patrol coming out of the forest and towards the dirt road to the village. They sounded a loud horn and awoke the rebels. They proceeded to light torches to welcome the party. As light fell onto the group, Angel noticed that they had a prisoner! The rebels were beginning to celebrate as the realisation of their prize became apparent. The prisoners were separated and led away to their respective holds. Women were kept separate from the men. The arrival of the patrol had doubled the men in the village and Angel knew that it would make it nearly on impossible for Ioana to get out. There were now over sixty men guarding the village of no more than two acres. Best thing to do would be to go back to the palace at once and tell the Emperor. He slipped down towards the camp, stole one of the rebels horses and made for the palace as fast as the horse would carry him.

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

A calm daybreak was broken by the sound of a jumping horse and agitation. It was Angel returning to inform the Emperor of the situation. "Your majesty! Your majesty, I have news!!" He cried, exhausted by his long ride.

"What? What news?!" Franz Joseph, the Emperor cried as he rushed in one of his reception rooms after being woken from a lie about.

"Bad news I am afraid. Katalin was captured by the rebel group along with lots of others that I did not know." He said in a melancholic tone.

Franz Joseph arose from his throne and headed towards the balcony. He could not lose Katalin, not now, after the assassination of his wife, the beautiful Hungarian Queen Sissi. Tears began to well in his eyes.

"How many men do they have?" Franz-Joseph asked with growing concern.

"50, maybe more", Angel replied, "do you have a royal guard that I could take with me your Majesty?"

"I could give you about twenty man," the Emperor replied, still gazing out the window so as to no one could see his wet eyes, "you see, this is not a political matter. More personal than anything else, since we can't make the Romanians responsible and it happens to be at the other side of the border. People can't even know you are acting on my behalf. I can't give you more soldiers. Angel, thank you very much for your help. Perhaps you would like to rest for a while before the journey?"

"Thank you your majesty, I would be honoured to help," he responded, "we can leave after the sun goes down."

The Emperor nodded in approval and Angel was left with a pretty young maiden to relax.

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Act 6

…of course, even vampires would travel more easily now. There were night time flights…not like when they met…Angel let the other two order for him too. The mustard covered sausages were still the same, and they could still be ordered half cooked, bloody, he noticed happily. All three of them ordered the customary eight pieces on a plate.

Buzuklu was in anecdote mode, "…I was quite a well known person in Istanbul, they printed out in the newspaper that I was dead. So I phoned them up and complained about my name being printed in the obituary column. "Really?" replied the editor calmly. "And where are you calling from?" Haha. Hmm. How many adventures did we go through together?"

"They were good times, Buzuklu, they were good times," agreed Angel, mostly just to keep his childe happy.

"Do you wanna hear the whole story of Ioana? She will tell you."

Ioana finished liking the bloody sauce off her plate. "Nuhmmm…Ioana, your Ioana saved me from dying. I was shot by German officers and I would've died. She tasted my blood, put her teeth in me so I stay alive, as a vampire. She told me I reminded her of her own death. Before I died, I asked her to never do that again with my family. It was her choice to save them another way…"

It sounded promising, for Darla's sake. But he needed to know for sure, "was she into killing at all?"

"That didn't happen all that often," answered Buzuklu, "I never really understood her. She missed you, you know. She wanted to be like you and did strange things. These humans. Why? Are they any different from us? They tend to want to look all civilised, but when it comes right down to it, during a war…huh, we went over the border to Croatia a few years ago, now that was good fun, wasn't it Ioana? Brutal eradication of hundreds of innocent people. By the soldiers," he winked at the other two as if he was revealing a big mater plan, "the armed forces and mercenary corps spared practically none of those who had been unable to run away. You must've heard the journalists Angel? I can still remember. It went something like this: "among the dead were dozens upon dozens of children between two and fifteen years old, women and old people. The position of the bodies indicated that the people had been killed in cold blood, calculatedly, without any sign of a struggle or of having tried to escape. Some had been taken. Many had been killed as whole families at once. Some corpses displayed several wounds, one of which was invariably on the neck. There were corpses that had clearly been robbed. And you know what was best? Nobody could tell afterwards if it was us or the Serbs. It was almost as good as just munching on the battlefields of the world wars, if I may Ioana…But I'm telling you Angel it wasn't us who spilt the most blood. Besides, it wasn't unusual in the past ages for a victor of war to drink blood of his enemy. You must know the story of the well-known anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski who talked to a cannibal who, hearing of the war raging in Europe, was most curious to know how we Europeans managed to eat so such huge quantities of human flesh. When he told him the Europeans did not eat their massacred enemies he looked at him with shocked horror and asked what sort of barbarians we were, to kill without any real object…hahah…however, new ages, new tactics for us too," added the Turk, "we have connections at the blood transfusion unit. And, there are all the amounts of blood thrown out which are thrown out because of some kind of contamination. We have a huge supplies of it still. It is an easy way to shut our cravings off. You want some? Or would you like some palinca instead? It is just as powerful of a rocket fuel alcohol here as it always was."

Angel gulped the full amount of the glass of liquid down in a oner. The burning sensation on his throat was an indication that the high concentration alcohol would

soon take affect and he would forget that it was all over…for Darla. She was still with him, but for how long? After everything they've been through he couldn't believe it was going to end like... like... this! Because no matter how hard he tried to imagine it differently, these two didn't have souls. He will have to stake them now, once he will be able to put himself together. Not even his Ioana was the way he remembered her. Perhaps he wanted it so badly he even forgot Ioana's first words as a vampire…

1902, Rebel Camp of the ethnic Romanians

By the time Angel and his men reached the village, it was too late. He would've never left going for reinforcements if he knew this was going to happen. The village was deserted, the prisoners massacred. Everybody, including the Emperor was assuming that the prisoners were going to be kept alive for some later trade or some reason. Possibly, that was the rebel's initial plan as well. Angel couldn't figure out what could have happened but he had seen similar events several times before. Conflicts and warfare was unpredictable, it distorted human nature. It made them do unimaginable things. The rebels left charred bodies and smouldering huts behind.

Those attempting to flee were shot.

Angel didn't care much about most of the prisoners. He didn't, he realized. He didn't care about them. He couldn't. History was just repeating itself as far as he was concerned. Unless he was keeping himself numb on purpose, he would remember his own deeds as Angelus. The only thing worth saving was Ioana.

He headed towards the place he'd previously seen the women prisoners being put to. He didn't find Ioana amongst the dead and he started to hope she got away until he saw her lying a bit further away by the trees. A trail of blood led up to her. She must've attempted to get away, characteristically. He approached the scene with concern, but his senses got overwhelmed by all the blood around her. He also knew that it was too much of it on the grass for her to have survived. His face had changed uncontrollably before he go to her. The whole area gave off an appetising smell like a dream. Like the dream he had every night about not having a soul and being together with Darla. Devouring, indulging. He needed someone so much to share everything with. And he needed this, now. There was nothing he could do for Ioana now. Except that one thing…

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

…they are going to pay for this…they are going to pay for this…he kept thinking about those words Ioana said when she had risen. Pay…Darla was dying and there was no one to blame. God, maybe, but it was pointless. Did the Powers want him to go through this? And if so, why? Did Darla need to die in this way for HIS shanshu? Was it worth it? He was kneeling beside her bed back at the Hyperion hotel as he had been for the last few days, her hand gently in his. His expression was something similar to emptiness.

"Angel," Darla began, her voice quiet, "don't worry about redemption. As a demon you didn't have a choice. You can't be punished for something you don't have a choice over…I thank you, truly, for everything…and hey, it was a great game…"

Angel's other hand fisted and clenched as Darla's eyes seemed to glaze over. Her breathing was difficult, but she did not seem to struggle against the pain. Her face became tranquil, and she was gone.

Angel pushed his face into the bedding to muffle a heart-wrenching wail.

Whatever could he have been doing? He'd seen so many people die, enemies, innocent bystanders, vampire friends, Doyle. In the end, could anything really been done? The dead were dead. The terrific continuation of the cycle of death.

Kneeling besides Angel, Cordelia put her arm around his shaking shoulders and attempted to pull him away from his position of stifling his cries into the bedding. He resisted on the first, but on the second try, Angel's body folded into Cordelia's grasp, collapsing like a rag doll against the young woman. Feeling the sobs issuing from Angel against her chest caused Cordelia's own tears to overflow from her eyes. She wasn't crying for Darla, she was crying for Angel.

Finally, Angel began to speak, "I...over and over around in my head…I wonder what I could have done…I don't understand…I have tried so hard to do right…"

"And you did Angel. You did. Let the Powers decide."

"You can live with that? Like that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

The End.