Author's Note: I forgot to mention in my earlier writer's note (although it's probably obvious by now) that this series has become an AU for season two, branching off from the end of Reunion. That fact will prove to be important a little later in the story.

Chapter Two

Angel led the way through the dank tunnel, his vampire eyes untroubled by the gloom. His sensitive hearing picked up what his companions could not, and he held up a hand which stopped them in their tracks.

"Just up ahead," he mouthed and they nodded, readying their weapons.

Four vampires sat around a make-shift table in their lair, suffering from varying degrees of boredom. In terms of their species, they were all fairly young, all but one having been turned within the past decade. Equal to their youth was their frustration. They should have been out hunting tonight. But they were under orders to stay put. Something was brewing, they had been told. Something larger than their urge to hunt for fresh blood.

So instead, they were playing cards.

A blonde vamp wearing a Metallica t-shirt threw a handful of chips into the center of the table. "I'll raise you. Next three kills."

The vamp beside him with spiked hair laughed derisively. "I'll see your bet and I'll raise you another three necks."

The vamp with long hair groaned and dropped his card onto the table. "I fold."

"Pussy," the vamp wearing a letterman's jacket replied. "I'll see your bets and I call."

One of the grates in the lair swung open, interrupting their game. Five more vampires entered, a young terrified girl in their midst.

"Yum. Snacks," the Metallica fan said.

The long-haired vamp was less impressed. "You couldn't have grabbed a few more? She's not really enough to share between nine of us."

One of the newly arrived vampires grabbed the girl towards him and smelled her neck. "Sometimes it's not quantity, boys. It's quality. She's a gypsy."

The others licked their lips appreciatively.

"I hear gypsies are the best screamers," one commented. To prove his point, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back. Terror flashed in her eyes, but the girl didn't make a sound. "Damn, bitch! Scream."

"Here's another idea," a voice behind them said. All heads turned to see Angel and his two companions filling the entrance. "How about you do the screaming for a change."

Before they could react, Angel had swept in and swung his sword, slicing through the long-haired vamp's neck like butter. His bones were still turning to dust when his sent his fist into Metallica-fan's face.

Armed with his homemade axe, Gunn batted one vampire out of the way before cutting down a second.

Wesley ducked around the battle, attempting to reach the girl, but the vamp in the letterman's jacket blocked his way.

"Come on, you nerd," he goaded. "I'm gonna kick your ass."

Affronted, Wesley pushed his glasses further up his nose and readied his sword. "I am not a nerd."

When she was settled on the bed in Angel's room, Cordelia had told Kathy everything, describing each dream and vision in as much detail as she could remember. With each moment that passed, Kathy felt herself become more and more unsettled. The dreams - particularly those which occurred in the forest which Cordy had described - rang eerily familiar.

Kathy waited until the seer was asleep before silently leaving the room and returning to the lobby. She thanked the goddess that the boys were still out. She needed some time to think.

She had known the risks involved when she decided to make Angel aware of her existence and insert herself into his life. It hadn't been an easy decision for her. Her purpose was to steer him back towards his true path - the one which Wolfram and Hart had derailed him from by bringing Darla back into his life. In doing so, Kathy had helped to prevent a great deal of future heartache for everyone involved. But it was not without an equal measure of sacrifice.

A sacrifice which, deep in her heart, she knew she had no right to choose for her brother.

So far, things seemed to be working out perfectly. But she had been constantly on alert, waiting for the day that repercussions would come baring down on all of them. There were forces in the world - besides the Powers and Wolfram and Hart - that had a vested interest in the vampire with a soul. Those who would stand in his corner as allies. And those who, if they caught wind of Angel's reasserted path and growing contentedness, would be less than happy.

Kathy thought of the ritual in Cordy's dream, her mouth set in a grim line. Cordelia may not yet know what her dreams meant, but Kathy certainly did. She had recognized it immediately for what it was - a gypsy blood vengeance ritual. No one did vengeance quite so well as the Romani, but one clan in particular stood head and shoulders above the rest in terms of sheer vindictiveness.

Of all the people to piss off, her big brother had to have crossed the Kalderash clan.

Her grandmother had told her all about the gypsy rituals. The vengeance magic that they used. Her stories had been vivid in their detail - not to frighten Kathy, but to prepare her. Life as a messenger for the Powers, particularly with her connection to Angel, would inevitably mean going up again the Kalderash.

Frustrated, she rubbed her hands across her face and went to the bookcase. When she located the correct volume, she carried it to the desk and sat down. She needed information, and fast. The visions were a warning, not only to Cordelia, but to all of them. The Kalderash had plans for Angel and it wouldn't be long before they made their presence know. Kathy needed to be ready.

As she read up on her enemy, Kathy found her mind wandering towards the Aberjian prophecy. She had not looked at it yet. Part of her longed to read it, to see if anything had changed since her arrival in Angel's life. But she avoided looking for the very same reason.

What if the wrong things had changed?

She could no longer bury her head in the sand. Outside forces were now coming into play, as she always knew they would. Things had been set in motion. She could do nothing to prevent them - all she could do was be prepared to face them. And that meant one thing.

She would have to tell Angel and the others the truth.

The fight had been fast and furious, with blood and dust filling the stagnant air.

The vampires were falling fast. Flex, the leader of the group held back from the fight, one hand hooked around the gypsy-girl's arm at all times. When only two of his crew remained as distractions, he sneered at her.

"Time to die."

Grabbing her close, he sunk his teeth into her neck, savoring the rich, spicy blood that coated his tongue. The taste of her fear and the adrenaline of the battle raging around them made his appetite even deeper, but he forced himself to stop drinking after only a few mouthfuls. No - this girl was to serve a quite different purpose that a just simple meal.

Flex watched as the vampire named Angel dusted his last opponent. The smell of fresh, human blood drew his attention, and he began to stalk towards Flex and the girl.

"Let her go," he ordered, his game-face still firmly in place.

"As you wish," Flex told him, shoving the girl with all his might across the room and into the ensouled vampire's arms. With a laugh, he spun around and fled towards the exit, only to find his path blocked by Gunn and his hubcap axe.

"Going somewhere?" the young street fighter asked, before removing Flex's head from his shoulders.

The smell of the girl's blood and the fast pounding of her heart awoke a dark hunger within Angel. Looking down, he watched, fascinated, as blood welled up from the twin puncture wounds in her neck. Blood pounded in his head as the rest of the world seemed to fade away, save for the red, nourishing nectar before him. Instinctively, he licked his lips.

Wesley looked on, his worry growing. "Angel?" There was no reply, his vampiric friend seeming to be in a trance. "Angel!" he said more urgently, moving forward now and touching him on the shoulder.

The contact seemed to snap Angel out of it. He looked up and shook his head as if to clear it. "Sorry. I - uh - sorry." Still steadying the girl, he reached down and tore a strip from his shirt. He pressed it against her neck to staunch the flow of blood and helped her into a chair.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

She looked at him, still terrified, and only then did Angel realize that he still wore his demonic face. He had transformed back to normal when he heard a voice behind him.

"You wanted to drink her, didn't you Vampire?"

The man was old, his skin swarthy and wrinkled with age. A dark hat, which toned in with the rest of his clothing, was pulled low, shading his eyes. He leaned heavily on a cane, but something about his demeanor told Angel not to underestimate him.

"Who are you?"

"I am but one of many, Demon," he said, his accent thick - Eastern European, if Angel had to guess. "The girl is my granddaughter. As was Janna."

Guilt clouded Angel's eyes as he realized who the man was referring to. "Jenny." A whisper, laced with pain and remorse. "You're one of the Kalderash."

The man locked eyes with the girl and without a word she scurried to stand by his side. He then turned his gaze towards Angel, not a trace of fear in his eyes.

"There will come a time when you can not resist. When your friends are not there to stop you. Your true nature is ever present, just beneath the surface. And yet you continue to live among them. As though one of them?"

"I…" Angel found himself at a loss for words, the truth of the man's words ringing all too clear. "I'm just trying to help."

"Atonement is not possible, Demon. Not while your heart grows lighter everyday. You are meant to suffer, not to love. And you will suffer, Vampire. This is only the beginning."

To Be Continued...