I don't own BTVS or AtS, but I would bring the limp and beaten body of Bob Barker to Joss Whedon, if I thought that it would get me anywhere. I don't own the characters that I write about, except a few that are obviously not on the show. Okay, I want to say that last chapter sucked but it was necessary, believe it or not. So, I guess, that being said, I should be...

On with the show.

::Stuff and Nonsense- The Prophet's Song::

It was almost Four A.M. when Kelsey leaned into her brother's embrace and sighed. Tim was 15 years older than her. He took care of her. He loved her. She knew no other life than the one he had introduced her to. That's why she cried when Tim had explained how he had to give her to another family, for a while.

"Kelse, I love you more than life itself. You don't think I would abandon you, do you?" Tim cocked his head to the side and smiled, in his most charming way. His long blonde bangs flopped over into his face and he blew them out of his eyes, casually.

Kelsey rolled her eyes and huffed. "No. I just don't want you to leave me with them forever!" She exclaimed, in dismay.

Tim smiled and shook his head. "It will only be until I help the people that I told you about. Then, I can come back and get you."

Kelsey bit her lip and crossed her arms across her chest, in a defensive fashion. "How long will that be?"

Tim looked thoughtful and shrugged. "Forever?"

Kelsey took a jab at her brother's shoulder and he hopped up from his crouching position. "You're mean!" She yelled at the retreating man.

Tim stopped walking backward and swooped back down to gather his sister in his arms. "I love you, munchkin-head."

Kelsey sniffled and nodded into her brother's neck. "I love you too, butt- face."

Tim tickled his sister's ribs, as he reprimanded her. "If I hear that you have been calling other kids names at school or at the Simmons' house, I will personally come back and beat the tar out of you."

Kelsey pulled back and looked up at her brother with liquid brown eyes. "Then, I'll make sure to call all the kids names, as much as I can."

Tim quirked a brow at the child and sighed. He never would understand his sister's little girl logic. "Why?"

"So, you will come back to me. Even if it is for a spanking." Kelsey buried her face into Tim's chest and cried.

Tim hugged his baby sister to him and tried, in vain, to hold back his own tears. "I love you so much."

"You already said that... twice." Kelsey's voice dropped a few notches, as she dried her face, with her sleeve.

"I mean it twice as much as other people do." Tim whispered back.

Kelsey seemed to understand that explanation. "I love you twice, too."

Tim put Kelsey down and wiped his eyes, with the back of his hand. "I have to go, Kelse."

Kelsey nodded. "I know. Be careful, though. I see monsters."

Tim shook his head and sighed, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. "You see monsters?"

Kelsie nodded. "I'm having dreams again."

"Were they real?" It was a question that passed between Kelsey and Tim, ever since Kelsie was four and could remember her dreams.

Kelsey nodded again. "They had sharp teeth and funny foreheads. I'm not sure that they are bad, but they are still monsters."

Tim pet his sister's hair and nodded. "I'll call you in a few hours, before you go to school."

"And I'll call you when I get out of school." Kelsey hugged her brother's leg. "Bye bye." Kelsey turned and ran toward the big house that she was going to be living in. Mr. Simmons was standing there waiting for the girl with metaphorical open arms. They walked in the house together. Kelsey didn't bother to give her brother a second glance. She knew he would be gone. She always knew.

Tim was always ready to pick up and leave. It kind of came with his calling... his family's calling. He had to be ready to get his stuff gathered and move, when the call came. He was a seer, a prophet, a psychic, an oracle... He was all of the things that gypsies pretended to be, and more. He was the dooming factor for some, and the savior of others. He was an errand boy, and a mailman. In a few cases, he was the Angel of Death.

That's why Tim had decided that he would rather die than tell one more fortune, to one more uptight rich person. Yes, in addition to all of his important jobs, he was a party favorite, when it came to the elite and powerful. It was a way to get quick cash, yes, but it sapped him of all his feelings of self worth.

Now, Tim had always prided himself on being spontaneous, which was hard to do seeing as how he always seemed to know what was around the bend. He also tried to live a comfortable life, while making Kelsey as happy as he could. Tim knew that Kelsey's life would be just as difficult as his, or worse.

Now everything had changed. Tim didn't know what was around the bend. He knew that he hated the direction his life was turning toward. He had fought the fates, in as many ways as he could, but to no avail. They told him, in as few words as possible, what they had planned for him.

He had no choice. He had to leave Kelsey. He had to leave Santa Barbara. He had to find the dark haired man. Then, he had to die.

Tim laughed at the irony of the situation. The times he had to kill were easy enough. Now, that it was his life being taken, he wasn't so sure he could manage.

Tim waited at the bus stop and sighed. The bus came rolling up, right as he reached the sidewalk. He stepped through the sliding doors and smiled at the man behind the steering wheel. "Looks like I got here just in time."

The man smiled back at the boy. "Almost like you knew exactly when I'd be here."

Tim nodded and reached in his pocket. "It's a gift." Tim pulled out a handful of bills. "How much?"

"How far are you going?" The man asked.

"As far as you are willing to take me South." Tim said, nonchalantly.

The man scratched the back of his neck. "My route reaches to Lannalee, from there you can take the shuttle bus to Long Beach."

Tim shrugged. "Well, I don't need to go that far south, but if you can get me to that bus station, I would be much appreciative." Tim handed a fifty to the bus driver and headed past the gate.

The driver turned and whistled for Tim, making the young man turn. "It's not close to this much to get you to the station. I'm at the end of my shift, anyway."

Tim looked around the bus and saw that it was, indeed, empty. "I know, but I figure you can get more use out of it than I will." Tim smiled sweetly. "I don't need money, where I'm going."

The bus driver quirked an eyebrow, and asked cautiously. "Where are you going, son?"

Tim was thoughtful for a moment, and then answered decisively. "The city of Angels."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Spike lay on the hard wood floor, staring at the ceiling. "What in the bloody hell was that?" He stroked the inside of his forearm and grimaced. He was bruised and he didn't really feel like moving much.

Angel sat in the corner gripping his knees and growling. "That was Connor."

Spike shook his head, in disbelief. "That wasn't Connor. It couldn't have been."

Angel gave his childe a withering glare and hissed. "I could hear his heart beat. I could smell him. I could..." Angel sighed and almost whispered. "...feel his presence." Angel looked down at his shoes and growled again. "It was him, but... it wasn't." Angel thought about the day, so far. He had been to a bondage club, he had had upwards of twenty men and women try to pick him up (some literally), and his son had beaten him up. All things considered, Angel was having a bad day.

"What's wrong with him?" Spike wasn't really asking Angel. He was just musing out loud. "He wasn't himself."

Angel rolled his eyes and banged his head into the wall behind him. "No, I would say that is a good observation. Connor wouldn't shoot out all the windows and make us cower against a wall." Angel nodded matter-of-factly. "I would say that's something I've kind of discouraged him from doing."

"Good to see that you took a firm hand in raising him, then." Spike rolled over onto his side and glanced over at Angel. "I can't move over any further, or I'll burn like an elitists' cross."

"Then, sit up." Angel muttered. He wasn't in the mood to exchange antic dotes. He wanted to feed. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to kill... something.

"No. You can be all curled up and uncomfortable, but I'm laying down." Spike put his hand up and looked at his nail polish. He had painted them only a few nights before. "How long we been here?"

Angel shrugged. "Seven hours, almost eight."

Spike nodded, because he already knew how long he was a captive of the light. He had just wanted to hear something other than that humming sound that was reverberating through Angel's skull. "I can't stand your brood mode. It gets me all worn out and tired. You mind if I close my eyes for a few?"

Angel shook his head. "No, go ahead."

Spike arched his neck so that he was looking at his Sire. "You wouldn't let me roll into the light would you?"

Angel smirked and looked thoughtful. He put on a sarcastic tone and grinned. "No, I wouldn't do something like that. Don't you know me at all?"

Spike nodded and lowered back down to the floor, fully. "Keep your smart ass statements to yourself, Angelus. Being a smart ass is my job, not yours. You brood over things you can't change, lust over things that are bad for you, and drink pig's blood out of a mug. That is you." Spike grinned when he caught Angel's look of contemplation. "Stupid pillock. Why is it that we always get caught in this room? I mean, you would think that you would put in bullet proof glass or summit'."

Angel shrugged. "It's expensive."

"Poof." Spike muttered and crossed his arms across his chest. "You're a bloody tightwad."

Angel grunted. "No, I'm just not a spendthrift. You, on the other hand, spend more money than you make, which is nil, by the way."

"You should just drop this and let me sleep." Spike mumbled, with a smile.

Angel dropped his head back and sighed. "I think I *will* let you roll into the sun."

"No, you won't."

It was the answer Angel had expected, but it came form an unexpected source. Angel looked toward the door and squinted. A young man in a denim jacket walked in through the door and dropped a small bag, at his feet. He shut the door behind him and sighed. "Who are you?"

The man looked at Angel and smiled, an almost blinding smile. "I'm here to help. I'm Tim." Tim pushed his long blonde bangs out of his eyes and grinned wider. His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Why are you guys cowering?"

Spike turned his head toward the new voice and opened his eyes. "Hey, you got a blanket on you? We need to get out of this corner and we can't get in the sun." Spike caught the disbelieving look and nodded. "I know it sounds stupid, but I'm serious."

Tim looked down at his body and shook his head, with a smile. "Sorry. I don't carry Afghans, on my person."

Spike nodded. "Everyone is a bleedin' comedian."

Tim's face dropped and he shuddered, slightly. "I'm bleeding?"

Angel watched the boy closely and cocked his head to the side. He had never seen anyone turn so white, so fast. Well, other than when he was bleeding them dry. "You aren't bleeding. Spike's just British."

Tim nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I see. So, how can I help you guys?"

Angel stood up and pointed toward the closet, near the man. "Bring us a couple of blankets."

Tim opened the closet and pulled out some covers. "These work?" He took the blankets toward Angel and Spike and held them up for inspection.

Spike harrumphed. "Now, I'll never get to sleep."

Tim chuckled and threw the blankets at the vampires. "So, you guys must be allergic to light, huh?"

Spike chuckled. "You could say that." Spike pulled the blanket around himself and turned over. "Good night."

Angel kicked Spike, in the side. "Get up. We need to hot-foot it, if you will excuse the pun, upstairs."

Tim chuckled when he looked between the two 'men'. "Monsters." He muttered to himself, under his breath.

"What's that?" Spike turned over and peeked his head out from under the cover. He looked like a young Indian women, except blonde, blue eyed, and male. "Monsters?"

Tim nodded and shrugged. "Monsters. They are everywhere."

Angel looked at the boy, from under his blanket and took in his casual air. He seemed almost arrogant, yet he was openly friendly. He seemed very innocent, but he was obviously well informed. He was laid back, but he went into a panic quickly. He was confusing and a waste of Angel's time. "Thanks for the help... Tim. Goodbye." Angel gripped the blanket tightly around his face and ran for the stairs.

Spike stood up and watched his sire run upstairs. He turned toward the boy and took a chance to look him over and gather his own conclusions. He came to a more devastating observation than Angel did, because it was distressing enough to make him yell. "Angel! The boy is a demon!"

TBC

-Hmm... Who is this guy Tim and why is he crawling into the storyline? What will become of Connor? Why is Lorne such a snappy dresser? How many licks *does* it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop? Hmm... *laughs evilly and vanishes in a cloud of smoke*-

--The subtitle to this was The Prophet's Song. If you can guess who the band was that did it, I'll give you a cookie and a chance to win a million dollars!--