A/N: First immensely busy and then work-related spell of depression resulted in very late update. On the plus side, this s almost done: two more parts after this.

Part 30: That Had Need Of Healing

"No--you will not die," Lacroix voiced the command first to his son, then at these angels he had let near his child.

Damn the universe for trying to deny him at every turn; what he had feared had become reality----they wanted to take his Nicholas away from him!

"You can't have him," Lacroix glared at Andrew as if the angel was the source of all his woes, "I forbid it. I won't let you have him." He spared a wary glance at Adam hoping the other had forgotten the hasty promise he had made while J'ranor had been destroying his son.

"Lucius..." Andrew began, hating to have to do this to him---to them---but it was not his decision to make. How to get the old strategist to understand that angels had no right to say yay or nay on who died and when? He began again with the air of one sent by royalty. "General, I must respectfully request the company of your son, Sir Nicholas de Brabant, to be escorted into the presence of His Most High, Jehovah, Lord of All."

"Then you will take me with you," the Elder quietly but forcefully demanded.

The angel blinked. Surely he wasn't serious?

"Lucius, I can't do that. I was only told to bring De Brabant. Besides... the Light of Heaven would--"

"I will bear it," Lacroix asserted, "If my son can bear your... heaven... then so can I. I am his master and sire. You cannot make decisions about his future without my consent."

"Lacroix, please.. you really can't--" Nicholas tried to intervene.

"Be silent, Nicholas!" Lacroix sternly rebuked him, reddened eyes never leaving the blond Angel of Death as if he was afraid the celestial being would snatch up his son the instant he let his guard down. "This is between Andrew and myself."

Hello! Nicholas wished then he had more energy if only because he wanted to scream aloud: And this has nothing to do with me! Did his sire really believe he could take on the power of Heaven and win? But a curious lassitude creeping over him kept Nicholas' own temper from breaking out. He glanced at Aristotle and Merlin, Janette, Feliks and the others---centuries-old friends as well as new acquaintances not seen before this battle. They were upset and shaken, yet fixed upon the Elder as if he was their last hope.

Their only hope.

Understandable, Nicholas realized, as the vampires' imagined supremacy in the cycle of things had just been blown sky high. Now they knew they were not the 'biggest kids on the block' and that knowledge was frightening; as disquieting as when each realized for the first time that the recruitment spiel they'd accepted of 'forever' and 'invincibility' was a lie: that under the right circumstance death came even to their kind. But, this was a far worse shaking of their sense of security, he knew, and Nicholas could see the desperation in their eyes that Lacroix would somehow prevail, that they were safe from this unseen threat of the spirit world. Did they honestly think that they had defeated J'ranor themselves? That he and Lacroix had managed the battle without divine aid?

No... his friends were not stupid. But they clearly wantedto believe it. And in wanting, would make it so if only in their own minds.

Yes, Nicholas, they will forget if allowed to.

"What?" Nicholas asked, wondering who had spoken. He wished his eyelids hadn't suddenly grown so terribly heavy that he couldn't seem to raise them. The speaker had sounded very familiar. But oblivion beckoned and he so needed answer it's call.

Then Andrew was there before him in a white suit, so brilliant with Light that he couldn't see anything else---which was funny as Nicholas didn't remember having managed to open his eyes. Where was Lacroix? Had his sire given up his claim on his person? That was not like the General at all. Somehow, he felt perversely disappointed in at the thought that his father would give up. For centuries, Lacroix had been like a fixture in his life---often an unwanted fixture, but there nonetheless.

His friend was smiling down at him, offering a hand up. "Come, Nicholas... It's time to go."

Yes. It was long past time for him to go and receive Judgment. Without hesitation, he took the hand and stood up. "I'm ready."

(section break)

It was extraordinarily beautiful this mountain valley they were walking in.

Okay, so it had been awhile since he had had the pleasure of appreciating the glory of colors under the sun during a leisurely stroll, but this surpassed anything in his memory. Everything was so.. so... real. The flowers were positively exquisite. Stopping, Nicholas paused to touch a delicate petal, smiling when it remained unbruised by his touch. Wouldn't Feliks just die to see this place?

The thought disturbed the peaceful feeling that had blanketed him since he'd taking Andrew's hand.

Feliks would have to die to see this. But in dying, would the horticulturist be allowed here? Twist did not go out of his way to murder and pillage, true... but he was still a vampire who willingly indulged in human blood---as did all of his non-human friends. Where would they go when they died? For---claims of immortality not withstanding---everything did eventually die.

Sensing the change in his companion's aura, the Angel of Death paused. "Nicholas?" Andrew asked, concern evident on the angel's mild features, "What is it?"

"Nothing," the Crusader automatically replied—-then seemed to belatedly realize that he'd spoken a lie and where he was so swiftly amended: "I mean, I was just thinking." He set his gaze to the flowers, not wanting to meet Andrew's eyes. What good would it do to share his worries when there was nothing to be done about anything. He was dead and awaiting judgment as a sinner.

"Anything you wished to share?"

Loud cries of delight brought his attention up from the bed of irises. People were running through the grass towards them, hailing the knight by every imaginable dialect and version of 'Nicholas' that he'd ever heard his name spoken with. For a moment De Brabant felt a twinge of panic---recalling the time he had visited a 'haunted house' during a police case and been chased off the premises by the vision of a horde of angry ghosts wanting his demise. Were the good denizens of Heaven taking exception to his tainted presence here?

Andrew couldn't help but laugh at the look of dismay on his friend's face, grabbing his arm before the knight could bolt away from the descending mob. "No, Nicholas," he grinned reassuringly, "those are the people you've helped over the centuries."

"But...?" De Brabant gulped. Surely there had been some mistake? Yes, he had helped a few people as he'd striven to atone for his past evil; however, this... crowd?

No. It was a mistake. They thought he was someone else. And yet as Nicholas looked upon each face as they cheerfully greeted him with enthusiastic hugs and slaps on the back---he did recall each one and the circumstances under which they had met.

A light touch to his cheek made him turn.

"My lord husband."

Alyssa!

The doll-like woman he had once taken for a wife kissed him, ignoring his confusion. Nicholas caught her hands in his.

"But Alyssa.. I murdered you," he felt compelled to remind her. "I took your life! How can you be happy to see me?"

"Oh, Nicholas--you didn't know?" She tenderly kissed him again. "Before you sought my hand, my father was going to betroth me to one of the powerful brutes who would have seen and treated me as merely a means to get heirs. I would have lived a harsh life under them. True, we only had a short time together, but you always saw me as something precious to be cherished for my own sake and not what I could give you by way of land or sons. That was worth more than years of life."

And so it went. Each had a story of how he had affected their lives either directly or indirectly. Nicholas was stunned. In the throes of his guilt, he hadn't realized he'd been making much of an impact on the mortals---at least, not in a good way. Certainly not in those years before he'd started feeding only on animal blood. And yet there, too, were a scattering of people who fondly remembered some kind act of his during his personal 'Dark Age'.

"Hey, pard!" a short, dark-haired man enthusiastically exclaimed as he wrapped Nicholas in a bear hug.

"Schanke!" Nicholas gasped, barely recognizing his old detective partner. Not only was he much slimmer than when they had worked together, but the man sported a full head of hair! He ruffled the fully covered pate, then with an amazed look pronounced: "Wow, Don---you look good."

Donald G. Schanke grinned like a maniac as he stood up straight to show off his svelte form. "Yeah---ain't it great? This Paradise thing really agrees with my waistline. Not to mention my hairline. I can't wait until Myra sees me." He chuckled, smoothing back the black hair with one hand. "This will knock those bobby socks right off her feet!"

Laughing with a mischievous gleam in his eye, De Brabant playfully swatted him on the stomach. "Maybe it's just from staying off all those jelly donuts and souvlaki lunches, Schanke," he kidded . God, it was good to see him again!

Taking hold of an arm, Schanke pulled him a little aside.

"Listen, Nick," Don practically whispered as he confided: "I wanted to tell you that... you know, it's okay---you're not telling me about.." he made fangs with his fingers. "This angel compadré... Adam? He explained to me all about the Code thing of yours---that you were just protecting me from these Enforcer guys." The former detective's eyes misted over. "And he told me what you tried to do for Myra and Jenny after I kicked off."

"Schanke.."

"Nick, you're the best friend I ever had, you know? And now you've saved Jenny's life. I can't thank you enough for that alone."

Blue eyes looked apologetic.

"If it hadn't been for me she wouldn't have been in danger in the first place."

"Aw, c'mon, Nick! That's bullshi---er.. I mean.." his friend blushed. "Jeez, but you know, that's the one thing about Heaven that's hard for me---a guy can't adequately express himself anymore."

That got a smile out of his friend.

"I'm sure you'll manage to survive, Schanke," Nicholas grinned, making to depart.

Don shook his finger under De Brabant's nose. "Oh, no---you're not brushing this off and pulling another one of those disappearing acts on me here too. Just you listen up, Nick Knight, or De Brabant, or whatever your real name is. I owe you big time...capiche?"

"Sure, Schanke, I'll remember."

They hugged once more.

"Now I gotta go, pard. Andrew's got someplace to take you. But before you head off to meet the Big Guy, there's someone else you gotta say hello to."

And before Nicholas could say anything, the newly deceased got a sudden 45 degree angle change and a hearty push in towards a lone figure.

The blue eyes went wide. Oh, God---what was he going to say to her!"

"Hi, Nick."

Swallowing hard, he met her halfway.

She was just as lovely as he remembered, with her halo of warm, brown hair and expressive eyes... Dr. Natalie Lambert. His physician. His friend. The one he had denied himself a closer relationship with for six years to protect her from his deadly brand of 'love'.

The last human he had drained of blood.

"Nat."

"Nick.."

"Nat, I.."

They paused, suddenly feeling even more awkward---if that was possible.

Natalie started first.

"Nick I'm so sorry. Can you ever really forgive me for what I did?"

His jaw fell to the floor.

"What you did? Nat, I'm the one who broke your trust.You died!"

"Obviously," she smirked, gesturing at their surroundings.

He hung his head in shame. Natalie gave a small smile at that. Nick was still.. Nick. Stubbornly determined to carry the weight of he world on his shoulders. "Only after I practically brow-beat you into it. I'm the one who demanded you drink from me--remember?"

"Because you thought I'd take just a little."

"Stupidly forgetting I'd had you starving yourself of your food---such as it was. Shoot! You were denying yourself way before we ever met---and I just made it worse with my fool theories."

"You couldn't have known," he argued in her defense.

She smacked him in the shoulder, a good solid hit. "For crying out loud... for once, Nick, let someone else take the blame, will you? This rabid martyr syndrome of yours is getting old."

"Nat, please... I betrayed your trust. Your innocence."

"No, Nick! I knew darn well I was taking a chance---you even warned me of that fact a gazillion times. What I did in the loft was blatantly against the laws of scientific study. And innocence?" She shook her head. "Oh, Nick... Do you have any idea what I was willing to do to keep you from moving on without me?" When he didn't answer she confessed: "I was even considering letting Lacroix bring me across." Tears spilled from her eyes. "Isn't that sick? You'd become my whole life and I was so desperate to keep you in Toronto--I'd have let that conniving Roman use me to get to you---just so I could be there too/ Innocent! Heck, Nick---I was right up there with Lacroix for knowing how to push your buttons. And boy---did I ever start pushing them, right from day one."

"Night one," Nicholas gently corrected.

"Yeah..."

Natalie quietly sobbed as she stared down at her shoes. He patted her on the back, pulling her into a close hug so that she could cry on his shoulder, not paying attention to his own tears mixing with hers.

"W-When I found out you'd asked Lacroix to stake you so that we could be together," she sniffled, "I felt so horrible it took two angels to console me. I never wanted it to end that way. Can you forgive me, Nick?"

"Only if you forgive me at the same time."

"Deal," she wiped her eyes and smiled up at him.

They stood clinging to each other for what seemed a small eternity.

At last Andrew managed to steer his charge back onto the path to the Father's 'throne'. He smiled to himself as he guided the increasingly pensive vampire towards the Outer Holy of Holies. Never before had he been so delayed when escorting someone to God. But then, Andrew mused, never before had Heaven welcomed someone like Nicholas. The Guardians opened the luminescent doors and bade them enter. To Andrew's surprise, Tess and Monica were there waiting for them, as well as Sam and Adam.

And she who was known as 'Courage'.

"Jeanne.. Jeanne de Arc," De Brabant knelt down on both knees before the soul who was still heralded as a heroine in her native France. It was a reverence he shared, for he owed her much in reawakening him to his need to be redeemed.

"Nicholas," she touched his head and smiled. "I see you have lost your curse. Get up. You do not owe me homage."

He shook his head, reverently kissing her hand.

"You planted the seed of faith in my dying soul. I owe you so much more than mere homage, my Lady."

"Only Jehovah deserves such adoration, mon chevalier," she solemnly rebuked him. "If you truly wish to honor me, you will honor Him."

Nodding, Nicholas got back to his feet.

"Before, my Lady, I failed to honor your first request---that I hold up the cross for you to see as you died." He kissed the back of her hand yet again. "I will not fail your second directive. Even if He throws me into the Pit."

She gave a delicate snort.

"Eight hundred years and still so melodramatic, you are, Nicholas. But I think you will find your fears are unfounded. Have faith in the cleansing power of His Love, chevalier. It is stronger than anything."

Tess stepped forward then, accosting him by the arm.

"Now you just mind your P's and Q's in there, Fang Boy, you hear?" Nicholas smiled a little warily at the somewhat bossy angel as she fussed with his clothing and hair, trying to make him look more presentable.

"Yes ma'am," he dutifully replied, catching Andrew's look of amusement out of the corner of his eye.

The male angels traded knowing grins. Of all those who had been involved with this monumental assignment for the full duration, Tess had been the only one with deep reservations about Nicholas' desire to be reunited with the Father. Now you'd think De Brabant was her personal protégé that she was sending in to see the Creator of Everything. Their looks were not lost on the object of their mirth. Tess gave them a quelling glare.

"You boys have a problem?"

Sam, Andrew, and Adam gulped in unison.

"Uh...no."

"Nope."

"None at all."

Tess shook her head.

"Uh, huh."

She finished straightening Nick's collar then shooed him and Andrew to the door that led into the Holy of Holies.

"Go on---you don't want to be late, now."

Nick reluctantly headed for the inner door, nervously wondering what sort of reception lay beyond it. But he had one more delay. Monica rushed forward to give him a chaste peck on the cheek.

"See you later, Nick," she told him, confident eyes asserting that he had nothing to worry about, that there would be a later.

He smiled and kissed her in return, grateful for the indirect vote of confidence. Coming from the one that had feared him the most, the short comment warmed him even more than Jeanne's had. And then the doors opened to a spectacular light and Andrew ushered him inside.