Author's note: We're into the second section of the story; this is Deirbhile.

Previously on Angel: The AI team attempted to enlist the Sisterhood of the Svrer to help battle the Beast, only to discover he'd been there before them and slaughtered the family.

Deirbhile Soulless

After the debacle at the Svrer house, Connor wanted nothing more than a shower and a rest. But he found himself hesitating outside Deirbhile's door.

Just to see if she's all right, he thought finally, tapping on the door. She didn't look well when we left.

In fact Deirbhile hadn't even said goodbye when they left, which was unusual for her; she'd been sitting in the lobby as they suited up, but she'd left without saying anything before they were done.

There was no answer to his knock, and he pushed the door open without stopping to think. The room was lit, brightly, every light turned on and three candles burning on the bedside table; Connor hesitated for a second, letting his eyes adjust. Deirbhile was lying on the bed, curled on her side with her back to the door, and while she must have heard him she didn't react.

"Tara?" He used the new name hesitantly; she didn't answer, and he took a step closer. "What's wrong?"

"They're dead, aren't they." He nodded without thinking, and she sighed faintly. "I thought they were."

"Are you sick?"

"Yes." She pushed herself upright in the bed. "But it's not anything you can help with, so don't worry about it." He smiled faintly, and she ducked her head, acknowledging the ridiculousness of that sentence.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, looking around. "Why is it so bright in here?"

"I can't stand the dark anymore. LA's dying, Stephen…the bits of it that matter to me, anyway. I can't…I thought I could stop it, but it just won't…" She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.

Connor looked away, twisting his fingers together. "Maybe…you should leave. Go back to Turtle Cove."

"No." She didn't even hesitate, and Connor looked up in surprise.

"Why not?"

"Two reasons. Turtle Cove's not that far from LA anyway; if this spreads it won't take long to get there."

"And?" Connor asked when she didn't go on.

"And, Stephen, if I leave LA I have to leave you. I don't want to do that if I can help it."

"You're dying here."

"Yeah." She rose to her feet, wandering towards the window.

"So why stay?"

"Why do you?" She turned back to look at him. "You're not so fond of anyone here that you'd miss them. And the Beast could kill you the next time you fight."

"He won't." Connor said with absolute certainty.

"Sorry. But why?"

Connor shrugged uncomfortably. "I…hadn't ever thought about it."

"We could go." Deirbhile came back to the bed, sitting carefully on the edge of it. Connor could see how tired she was, though. "Both of us."

"What…and live with Merrick and Shayla?"

"No. Not necessarily. Anywhere you want, Stephen."

"We'll talk about it when you're not about to fall over."

"I'm not!" she protested, but she was sagging even as she spoke.

"Yes, you are. Get some rest." He stood. "I'm going to…"

"Don't go." She sat upright, catching at his hand.

"I need a shower." He gently unhooked her hand from his sleeve. "But I won't be long, OK? I'll be back soon."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She was dozing when he came back, curled on the bed again. He sat carefully beside her, watching to see if she was awake.

"I'm awake." she murmured.

"I know."

"Feel better?"

"Mmmm."

She rolled over to look at him. "Was it really bad?"

"Pretty. They were just little kids, you know?"

"Yeah." She reached up to touch his face gently. "You're doing your best, Stephen. Try not to worry about it."

"Easy for you to say." he muttered, pulling away from her hand.

"Not really, no." She started to sit up, hesitated, then suddenly lunged out of bed and ran for the bathroom. Startled, Connor nearly fell off the other side.

"Tara?!"

"Stay there!" she ordered from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Like I'm going to go off and leave you like that."

"That wasn't what I was…worried about…oh crap…" She threw up, nosily, and Connor vaulted off the bed and across to the door.

"Deirb…Tar…what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Her voice was very tired. "It's nothing. I'm fine now." Connor backed away from the door as she came out.

"You're not fine."

"Am too." She stumbled on the way back to the bed, but she made it without falling. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"I just did. I'm tired, Stephen, and LA isn't good for me anyway."

"That's what you always say."

"Because it's always true." She flopped backwards, too tired to sit up any more. "LA hurts me."

"I should…" He backed towards the door.

"Don't." Her voice was barely audible.

"I have to. I have…I have something to do."

"OK." She forced her eyes open. "Come back?"

"I will. Go to sleep."

"It's not the same when we can't dream." She rolled over, almost asleep.

"Dream without me."

"S'not the…same." Connor waited until he was sure she was asleep; then he noiselessly left the room and went downstairs.

"Lorne."

The demon startled when Connor spoke from just beside him; the kid had a bad habit of sneaking up on people.

"You feeling better, kid?"

"Yeah. Much. I need something."

"What's up?"

"The number, the one Ta…Deirbhile asked you to call." Lorne studied him for a minute.

"Something wrong?"

"She's sick. Her friends…" He hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one was listening before finishing, "They'd want to know."

Lorne nodded slowly. "I can see that. Want me to do it?"

"No. I've talked to them, I'll do it."

"She's really sick?"

"LA's killing her, and she won't leave."

"You think they'll persuade her?"

"They'd want the chance to try." Lorne nodded again, fishing in one of his pockets until he pulled out a slightly dog-eared piece of paper.

"I'll leave you to it, then."

"Thanks." Connor didn't look at him as he pulled the phone towards himself.