7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.

Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.

Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.

I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.

a/n FYI, the flashback is original material NOT taken from any canon episode.

Chapter 19: Aftershocks

Andrew came to in an upright position with eyes closed and feeling rather sick to his stomach. The sensation seemed oddly familiar... Ah, yes...the ever present Hunger of the Vampire. It must have been some time since he'd last fed. A quick scan with his advanced nasal sense immediately pegged his surroundings as Nicholas' room at The Raven. Other than that, things were not as he had expected: there were others in there with him besides de Brabant. By their scent, none were strangers to him, yet he was supposed to have been left alone with his assignment until he called to be let out.

What had happened?

Groggily, he catalogued the dull aches at the back of his skull, his ankles and wrists...and the insistent pressure over his heart. It was all rather annoying--- especially the latter. He moved to brush whatever was causing the feeling away, but found to his chagrin that he couldn't move. That's when he forced his eyes to open and saw the wooden stake being pressed against his chest by a pair of slender hands framed against a backdrop of burgundy satin. He raised his eyes a little higher.

"Janette?"

The lovely nightclub owner gave him a ghost of a smile that did not even dare to approach the glare in her eyes.

"Bon soir, Monsieur," she said pleasantly---while never wavering in her hold of the stake.

"Bon soir to you, too, Janette," Andrew returned---though his greeting was, understandably, much more subdued. "Mind telling me why it is I should be waking up feeling like a Christmas turkey just before the big day?"

"Certainly... it appears that you have hurt my dear brother, Nicola."

"What?"

She eyed him coldly, but it was another voice that whispered icicle words into his ear, a silken voice, and the angel knew he was in really deep trouble.

"My, my....we were busy, weren't we?" Lacroix sneered, his composed yet bestial face moving into Andrew's vision. The Elder's energy aura fairly crackled around him. He took the wooden implement from his daughter's hand and caressed it lovingly. "Janette, why don't you and Miklos go fetch some bottles for me, hmmm?"

"Lacroix?" Janette respectfully asked as her mouth formed a delicate frown. As happy as she would be to quite literally bite Andrew's head off if he had harmed her sporadic lover, she didn't wish to destroy an Ancient who just might be innocent--or well connected with the Council. "We don't know for sure yet. At least let us wait until Nicola awakens."

"Did you not hear me?"

The lovely proprietress froze at the menace in her sire's voice. Lacroix had already made up his mind and was intent on playing judge, jury, and executioner. That she was being sent away meant that he had some concern that the High Council would not be pleased with what he was about to do---should Andrew indeed be one of their own. By being elsewhere when the act was performed she would not be implicated with him.

Giving a small nod at her sire's logic---if not actually agreeing---Janette reluctantly left to do his bidding, calling for the Irish bartender to accompany her.

No sooner was she departed from the room than Lacroix was circling the chair like a vulture. He settled for a position behind his trapped 'guest', large hands settling over the angel's shoulders like iron weights. They twisted him around---chair and all---until Andrew was facing the bed.

Nicholas lay there in his rumbled gray poet's shirt and ebony vest, unmoving upon the bedcovers. His parted lips were smeared with Lacroix's own blood. More of the scarlet liquid trailed down his cheek to where it dampened the black satin pillow. Apparently the Elder had tried to awaken his son by getting the knight to feed from his sire, but Nicholas had not responded to what should have been an enticing lure for any child of the Ancient's lineage.

De Brabant, it seemed, was dead to the world.

Lucien Lacroix, however, was very much aware and even more pissed off. His normally smooth voice was positively silken with malice as he ruminated aloud.

"I trusted the well being of my son to you---against every fatherly instinct I have. And what happens...?" the fingers dug into the material beneath them "Hardly the hour is started when I receive rather unsettling impressions from my child. Oh, Nicholas has of late been broadcasting his own truckloads of fear and sorrow before you ever showed up---but not like this. Not these feelings of abject terror and of being attacked. Well, it was my duty as a father to investigate regardless of any pact made or debt owed, don't you agree?"

The hands slowly and deliberately moved up to encircle the angel's neck.

"I didn't hurt him," Andrew explained as calmly as he could. "I only took the barest mouthful from him."

"And yet he is still unconscious despite my efforts to wake him by bond or blood---both of which fairly reek of confusion. Care to explain?" the 2,000-year old vampire asked with false politeness. The tone of the Elder's voce was so similar to Legion's that Andrew had to forcibly remind himself that the two beings were worlds apart: Legion had taunted them out of pure malice; Lacroix was acting out of worry for his son.

"I don't know. But we shared a rather harrowing experience through a series of his memories. It could be that his unconscious mind is just busy sorting it all--"

He held his breath as the Elder's right hand moved under his chin, causing Andrew's head to tilt back and to the right---baring the jugular.

"Aristotle seemed quite impressed with you," Lacroix casually admitted. "I must admit, I'm very intrigued by what he might have found in your blood. Considering this new development, I'm sure you won't mind if I take 'the barest mouthful' to verify for myself your intentions?"

Father! Andrew thought as cold breath on his throat was quickly accompanied by the feeling of two eyeteeth against his skin.

The intercom thankfully chose that moment to interrupt.

With a snarl of annoyance, Lacroix left Andrew's side in order to answer it.

"What IS it?!"

There was a nervous cough from the other end, before Miklos' voice came through sounding strained and oddly stilted. Andrew frowned. Sure, it was unhealthy to incur the General's wrath, but Miklos seemed overly affected by a single growl from over an intercom. Something was wrong.

"Sir-- your presence is...needed...immediately...sir?"

"I'm rather busy right now, Miklos. Get Janette to handle it. It is her club."

"Uh..." the bartender coughed again, "Janette is indisposed. We really need you to come down to the bar....right now, sir. It's...rather urgent."

Lacroix sighed, but answered, "Very well. But this had better be of utmost importance, Miklos!" He jabbed the OFF button and stalked back to Andrew, irritation at the delay plain on his face.

"It seems I am needed elsewhere... probably just some unruly patrons." He frowned. What could be so dire that Miklos, Janette, or Aristotle singularly or together could handle it without him? Mentally shrugging, he headed for the door. Whatever it was, he'd deal with it and return soon enough to where he'd left off here. In either case, there was no safer place for his son to be left at the moment---even with the presence of the mysterious Ancient: this room was a veritable fort.

Still... it was always prudent to take precautions.

"If you are indeed innocent," he said to the bound angel as he went about breaking the chains, "then I hold you responsible for his well-being until I return. If you are not and I find him harmed any more...?" He let his glare and the Ancient's imagination fill in the rest for him.

"You'll slice me into little bitty pieces----I get the picture," Andrew ruefully sighed.

"Good---although a tad on the optimistic side for you as I was actually contemplating something far more painful. But as long as we still understand each other: Watch over my son and guard him well or you will wish you had stepped into the Light rather than crossing over."

The door had hardly sealed behind the master vampire when Nicholas groaned. Quickly, Andrew went over to him.

"Nicholas?"

At the sound of his voice the blond man jerked awake, his blue eyes wide with astonishment.

"It's gone...?" Nicholas grinned and bolted upright, swaying dizzily on his feet. "It's gone!"

The euphoric vampire didn't protest as a smiling Andrew gently tugged on the black material of the other's thigh-lengthen vest to get him back onto the bed; the Angel only half-jokingly rubbing his ringing ears, feeling pretty euphoric himself. Very much so.

"Okay---I got the message already. No need to deafen me," Andrew joked. Lord knew he was very happy for the man... er... vampire.

"And you were there!" de Brabant continued with unrestrained passion, his excitement almost a palpable thing. "And I was afraid of you at first, so I ran, but you wouldn't leave me until I started to trust you and then you helped me to be free of them! They're gone!" he repeated as if Andrew was, indeed, suffering from a hearing deficiency. The Angel of Death found himself being squeezed by a grizzly bear of a hug. He might best the knight by a good two inches in height, Andrew thought, but Nicholas was certainly no weakling. No wonder the chains were done in titanium.

"You're...welcome," he managed to gasp out.

Nicholas hastily let go and offered a rueful smile in apology as Andrew rubbed his bruised ribcage.

"Sorry."

"It's alright," Andrew smiled despite the sudden wave of remorse that swept over him. "Fortunately, in this form I don't need to breathe."

His new friend scooted back so that Andrew could sit with him, folding his legs Indian style. The vampire looked pensive.

"Was it true... that you are an Angel... of Death?" Nicholas haltingly asked him.

"Yes. None of what I told you was a lie."

"Then you would know---wouldn't you? You could tell me if Gwyneth, Alyssa, Amelia, Natalie----all those I wronged---they are happy now?"

Andrew smiled as he gave the other's knee a friendly pat. "Everyone who is escorted to the Father is happy, Nicholas. None of them hold a grudge. And it was not you who wronged Gwyneth."

Nicholas looked downcast at his lap. "If I hadn't fallen in love with her..."

"Your uncle would merely have found another convenient scapegoat. It was not your fault he killed her."

"But..."

"Nicholas de Brabant, stop that," Andrew scolded him in exasperation. He brusquely straightened the vampire's shirt where the collar ties were running all askew. "Didn't we already clear this up? You're forgiven." He lightly slapped the other on the chest in emphasis. "A new vampire"

The 800-year old scratched his head and grinned sheepishly back at him.

"Yeah.... okay. Just give me a half-century's worth of slack, on this? Seeing as old habits dying hard and all that?"

His subdued demeanor despite the sudden joviality got the angel's attention. Strange how he seemed to have this connection to de Brabant now, an inner knowing of what the other was feeling---and how much he was feeling it. Wild joy, bitter remorse, thorough unsettledness, now intense disappointment--- didn't the man come with a lukewarm setting on his emotional dial? No wonder his blood was considered ambrosia---if vampires craved experiences via sanguinary methods to while away their abundance of time, then Nicholas was a regular Mardi Gras in liquid form.

The angel reached out to pet Nicholas's arm in a soothing manner. "What's wrong?"

De Brabant seemed to deflate a little as he confessed, "You said it yourself," he wiped off the trail of Lacroix's blood from his cheek and purposely licked it off his fingers, opening his mouth just wide enough for the tips of two fangs to be seen "I'm still this. How can I still be...trapped in this... if I'm forgiven?"

"Oh, Nicholas... gaining forgiveness doesn't automatically erase past choices. The Father will help you to deal with them, but they still must be dealt with. Being born-again doesn't mean some magic wand was waved and all your troubles disappear. Far from it---the Enemy just becomes that much more determined to reclaim his lost pro--"

His tongue stumbled over the word on his tongue.

Demons were known for their tenacity: they didn't give up after just one blow.

Nicholas uncurled his legs and swung them over the bed with concern for the angel in his eyes, sensing the Andrew's distress through the temporary bond that seemed to have formed between them. Or was it a one way thing? After all, he had drunk from the knight without the bite being reciprocated.

"Sir Angel--Andrew... What's wrong?"

Andrew barely registered the inquiry, what the Father had said was running through his head. Uneasiness gripped him.

"It's not over."

How long ago since Lacroix had left? Why hadn't he returned? Surely nothing short of a planetary disaster would keep him away from his son this long?

"Andrew!"

The angel turned towards the increasingly anxious vampire now clutching his jacket sleeve.

"We have to get you out of here," Andrew informed him with quiet urgency.

Nicholas chuckled ruefully. "Sure. Fine---I've seen enough of this room to last me another decade at the very least. There's just one little problem," He tugged on the chain that trailed upwards from his middle "unless you care to undo this thing? My sire didn't exactly confide to me the code for his little 'child safety' device."

The angel grimaced as his gaze fell to the restraint around the knight's midriff. "Oops. I forgot."

"I thought you might have done."

Reaching for the metal device, Andrew meant to call on his own sire to break it open, but he never got the chance. The door suddenly opened to reveal a massive vampire with the biggest set of fangs the celestial denizen had ever seen save in really bad horror movie posters or affixed to baboons and Siberian tigers. The dental hygienist's bad dream stepped inside enough to allow another with the same overbite problem to join him in the room.

These black-clad poster boys for Steroid Usage By The Undead leered at them, their yellow eyes taking in Andrew's startled expression, but settling on de Brabant. Nicholas was on his feet in an instant levitating to mid-level between floor and ceiling as he prepared to do battle. He bared his own, much smaller fangs in warning, his body poised to take flight in any possible direction that was open to him. Fear poured through his mental link, the intensity twisting Andrew's stomach. Despite his outward show of resistance, it was patently obvious that de Brabant was in no shape to fight anyone---making flight his best course of action. Unfortunately, with the restraint still on actual escape was an impossibility and both sides knew it.

The intruders actually managed to form grins around their fangs.

"Enforcers! What do you want?" Nicholas hissed.

The two members of the vampire police force were on him in moments, suffering the Brabantian's well-aimed kicks and punches without complaint until they had the struggling medieval warrior pinned between them. It all happened so fast that Andrew only then noticed that there was now a third Enforcer glaring down at him. He raised his hands to the level of his head---empty palms facing outward in a gesture of surrender---afraid that the other two would hurt the knight if he provoked them.

His friend apparently was past caring who he provoked.

"Let me go!" snarled Nicholas from his prone position on the floor, after biting one of the Enforcer's hands that was trying to get him to swallow something. "I haven't done anything to break your precious Code!"

"No one said you did, young one," Kurkan smiled at them from the doorway, one handedly holding a sweating Merlin by the scruff of the neck.

"You!" de Brabant's eyes narrowed. "I remember you--argh!"

The Enforcer used the distraction to pour the small vial of liquid down de Brabant's throat. Slowly, his struggles ceased as the drug took affect. It was a special derivative of curare----the pure form of which put vampires to sleep. The derivitive paralyzed, yet kept the victim conscious. It also effected while keeping the drinker's blood composition intact. Kurkan's master had been rather insistent that he would be most annoyed with his underling to find the prize had been supped upon.

He gave a faint bow to Andrew. "Ahhh...the pup's 'guardian angel' still hovers around, I see."

Andrew stared sharply at him, but then decided that the vampire was only speaking figuratively.

"You will not interfere this time will you, Andrew?" Kurkan challenged. You see, my friends here have orders to tear Sir de Brabant's arm off if you do. Rather messy and terribly excruciating for him...however, not fatally so." He grinned maliciously at the apparent Ancient. It was a bluff, but the stranger would not know that unless he drank from Kurkan---something the Greek had no intention of letting happen.

He tossed Merlin in the direction of the trio.

"Get that thing off of him. As aesthetically pleasing as it is, it's just not appropriate for travel."

Stumbling a bit, Merlin offered his vamped-out friend a sick smile as he knelt down to work on the electronic lock of the band. "Hi, Nick. I'd like to say that I was glad to see you looking more yourself, but..."

"Merlin... what's going on?" Nicholas asked as his countenance relaxed into that of a regular mortal's. The real question 'Where's Janette and Lacroix?' a silent inquiry in the blue eyes. No way Lacroix would let Kurkan just waltz into his home like this without a fight. Well...not since that time with Janette, anyway...

-----------------------Flashback: 1798 AD London, England---------------------

Nicholas glared at his maker, his posture making it clear that he had no intention of following orders. As hard as it was for him to 'read' his sire when he wished to hide his feelings it was obvious something was upsetting Lacroix, but he had no idea what it was.

His master glared right back.

"Nicholas---I have no patience for this right now. You will stay in your room tonight."

"I can't. I promised Janette I'd take her to the theater tonight. The last evening performance for 'Julius Caesar' is tomorrow."

Lacroix snorted. "Excellent. Then you may take her out to see that bit of twaddle tomorrow--with my blessings."

"Tomorrow we've been invited to the party," his son exclaimed in exasperation. "Or have you forgotten?"

He stumbled backwards as the back of Lacroix's hand struck his cheek, the force of the blow making his skin sting.

"Insolent pup-- watch your tongue!" his master snarled. "We shan't be attending the party."

Eyes wide in consternation, Nicholas stuttered. "B-but...the invitation is from the Elder of London--"

"I said we are not going! Be satisfied that I am allowing you to attend the play---lest I revoke even that and keep you locked in here for two nights instead of one." The ancient vampire headed for the door. "Even so, I may well change my mind on the matter. I'm not overly fond of this city just now."

"But we just got here. To get away from all the strife on the continents, you said, remember? Surely you don't want to go back already?" Nicholas hated the whine that had crept into his voice, yet couldn't hide it. He had plans! Though not as grand as Paris, the growing town of London had a lot to offer and he had envisioned savoring all of its delights before moving on.

The door shutting with a sharp click as a heavy lock slid in place was his only reply.

Nicholas glowered at the door, giving it a petulant--though half-hearted--kick. It was only made of aged oak. If he took precautions, he could easily batter it down without garnering so much as a splinter. But the noise would alert Lacroix and his master would be absolutely furious at the damage---in addition to his act of willful disobedience. Darn the 'man' for being so unreasonable! Still... Nicholas smiled slyly at a square panel in the opposite wall.

That didn't mean he couldn't escape via the dumb waiter!

It was a matter of mere moments to cram his lengthy frame into the box and lower himself to the basement. Not a terribly comfortable means of escape--but it worked. From there, a quick levitation up the staircase to the first floor. Cautiously he listened and heard Lacroix upstairs with a nervous-sounding Janette, giving her advice on how to comport herself during her interview.

Interview?

Nicholas mulled the word over. Janette was not the type to seek employment under anyone. She'd once confided to him that upon becoming immortal, she'd meant to adopt the lifestyle of the aristocracy and stick to it come what may. So why was she waiting for an interview? And why was Lacroix so adamant that he stay oblivious of the event?

Maybe the interview was for a potential suitor?

Jealously threatened to engulf him, but Nicholas squashed the feeling down---Janette had long ago declared her independence from his 'stifling love' of her. Besides, if suitor this was, then there must be something not quite kosher about him. Janette would not bother to hide a romance just to spare her brother's feelings, would she?

Nicholas chuckled to himself. If Janette was so embarrassed by this job or beau that she would implore Lacroix's help to keep her brother in the dark, then this just had to be interesting! And he had never really paid her back for that practical joke she had pulled on him back in Germany with the royal court, had he?

His sensitive ears caught the soft footsteps approaching the main door. Nicholas hastily positioned himself on the other side, hand ready on the doorknob, making sure that Lacroix and Janette were still busy upstairs. Oh, yes....this was going to be good! He'd just pop out the door, whammy the fellow into telling him what embarrassingly plebeian position Janette was applying for or that her suitor held----and scamper merrily back the way he'd come with neither of his family the wiser. Then at the theater, he'd whisper his juicy knowledge into his sister's oh, so, regal ear.

Ha--- revenge was his!

Unfortunately his opening the door had revealed not some pocked-skin vampire or tawdry mortal but a very intimidating---and very old---vampire.

South Eastern European in appearance, he was absolutely bald with eyes the color of dead skin and exuded a sense of menace that had the knight momentarily frozen in his tracks. A small pendant hanging from his neck held what Nicholas in his consternation didn't recognized till much later was that of the High Council. Good thing or he might well have fainted altogether.

Bumping into a member of the High Council would be akin to spilling wine on the coronation dress of royalty.

Was this a vampire or some sort of zombie from the Aegean Sea come to haunt them? De Brabant would have snickered at the thought if he didn't feel so alarmed.

The Ancient stared narrowly at the shocked vampire gawking at him like some googly-eyed fish not expecting to be hauled up by a fisherman. At only 570 years, Nicholas quickly made way for the powerful elder without the stranger even having to ask. The knight struggled to find his voice---his wits just wouldn't cooperate long enough to make his mouth work properly. Thankfully---at the moment anyway as he knew from his master's look that he'd pay dearly for this later---Lacroix had just come to 'rescue' him by flying down between him and the newcomer.

"Kurkan," the Roman frowned in distaste even as he bowed his head in reluctant submission. "You're a bit early."

"Am I?" the Mediterranean-born vampire smirked, checking his pocket watch in a bored manner. "Have I inconvenienced you, Lucius?" he asked, allowing Nicholas to glimpse the two neat rows of pointed teeth their guest had.

Did he chisel them that way every night or was he brought across with them that shape? Nicholas wondered as he shrank back from the sight.

Kurkan tilted his chin at the 'adolescent' in their midst. "Someone I should know about?"

"Not at all..." Lacroix smiled tightly at his guest, "unless you are interested in my latest 'accidental crossing'. This bastard was just leaving. My daughter awaits you upstairs."

The two Ancients exchanged cordial shark smiles before Kurkan flew up to the balcony where Janette had remained in her own room. But not without giving the Brabantian a long, thoughtful look.

A few seconds later, Nicholas felt his bones as well as the hardwood they collided with crack as he was unceremoniously flung against the door.

"By the gods, Nicholas---what did you think you were doing?" his sire snarled as quietly as his mounting rage would allow.

"I..." de Brabant fumbled for a placating sentence.

"Oh, of course, how forgetful of me mon fils---you didn't think did you?"

"I..." this time he was kept from answering by a hand crushing his windpipe.

"Never mind! Just make yourself scarce until the sun is ready to rise or I come looking for you. And Nicholas...either way, you had better come home tonight. No excuses. No dalliances with some lady fair." Lacroix released his grip and stepped away.

"But Janette? What does he want with Janette?" He looked anxiously up at the second floor. "Is she in danger?"

The scarlet eyes of his sire faded to their normal icy blue, their gaze uncharacteristically mild considering that he had just been disobeyed but a moment ago.

"It's nothing you need concern yourself with, mon fils. She'll come to no harm---I give you my word. Now go. And Nicholas... watch yourself tonight. Don't talk with any more strangers, oui?"

If he hadn't known better, Nicholas could have sworn Lacroix had been terrified for him that night.

-----------------------End Flashback-----------------------------

.

Nicholas groaned as he fought the imposed lassitude of the drug. Now that he thought of it, maybe the Ancient General had been.

Review Answers:

Trecebo: I'd like to put a whoa on Life after this past month. Anyway, I don't like my characters in love unless it's unrequited. When a character is in love with another character (canon or Mary Sue) it tends to bring on the mess known as Marriage... quickly followed by the plague known as Adorable Tyke. -shudder- Nothing ruins a good character faster than his/her getting mixed up in a wedding and breaking out the baby rattles. IMHO, of course. Still, look at all the tv series that were brought down after some fool writer decided it was time for the favorite character(s) to get hitched. Death knell, that.

And I don't like Jean either though so far she's not been too bad in the movies. Just stupid. ("Get on the blasted plane, you idiot! You can lift the Blackbird just fine while sitting in it!") Ahem.