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This is the sequel to "The tale to the noir" nominated as Best Dark Fic at the Fool for Love Awards. We hope you'll enjoy it! Roberta and Franca
PRINCES TO THE NOIR

By Dreamhunter and Rogiari
Sequel to “The tale to the noir”


“The children of the night, what sweet music they make”

Once upon a time two beautiful princes, as dark as a moonless night, reigned over a country made of darkness and blood. But one day love’s lightning hit them, and corrupted them, enlightening them with the bloody gift of a soul. Since then they have been travelling, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel of redemption….

Authors: Dreamhunter (Franca Bersanetti) and Rogiari (Roberta).
Translators from Italian: Rogiari and Laura Laghi.
Beta: Our dearest Pat
Rating: An extreme NC – 17. You read this story, you’re responsible for that! It’s dark, it has a lot of sex (including unconventional), bad language, slash acts, violence and some moderate Buffy- bashing). If this is not your kind of pie, don’t read it. This is not a classical Spuffy story, either, nor a Spangel one. You’ll see what we meanJ
Warning: the first half of this story develops on two parallel storylines every other chapter: be careful to follow both, since this is crucial for the understanding of the second part of the fic.
Shippers: lots of them!J
The way we were: After the events described in “The tale to the noir” Angel and Spike need to find a new reason to un-live. Two years have passed since “Destiny” (Chapter 20 of The tale to the noir): the two princes to the noir are now slouching on a difficult path to redemption, not without falls….New and old allies and enemies again overturn their existence….
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, to Mutant Enemy, to Fox, to whoever own them. We just like to play with themJ
Timeline: The beginning of BTVS fourth season/ATS first season, but this is intended to be loose. This is a total AU, where Angelus got his soul in 1998 and did not arrive in Sunnydale to help Buffy, but to seduce and defeat her….Many characters from later seasons of both BTVS and ATS appear in this fanfic, for artistic reasons. This is the sequel to “The tale to the noir”, that can be found here www.rogiari.altervista.org and here www.dreamhunter.altervista.org, with beautiful fan art, and on many other sites.
Note: this fanfic is the second instalment of a quadrilogy, already written and in the course of translation.
Feed back: always, please, to rogiari@fastwebnet.it and frankab@tin.it
Special warning: very bad things happen in chapters 9 and 13, be careful to avoid them just in case!



1. Happy anniversary.


Two years. Surrounded by the silence of the LA Library, Spike turned the pen in his long fingers, scribbling on the half–filled paper.
Two years had passed since the soul. And since Angelus’ soul. Two years since the events in Sunnydale. Two years without Buffy Summers.
He had to be honest with himself: he still thought of her. The young slayer, on duty on the Hellmouth. After all, her naïve and stubborn love for his grandsire had led to their souls…and to their new lives.
New lives?
A very simplistic definition. For more than a year, Angelus and he had wandered across the States, keeping in touch by cell. Whistler, the weird, annoying demon who had talked about “the Powers That Be” had appeared to them both a couple of times, insisting on his theory that both had been chosen to fight for the forces of good…

Chosen, yeah. Spike knew only this: a sort of instinct drove him towards innocents needing to be rescued, and more or less the same happened to Angelus. He had to admit it: there was some beauty in it, to preserve lives instead of extinguishing them was unbelievably extraordinary, something intimate, personal, something which warmed him more than the hunt had.
He didn’t often discuss this with Angelus, but it wasn’t difficult to understand that he felt the same. It was impossible to deny, the vampire who had been named Europe’s Scourge had changed a lot, even on the physical plane. His impossible dark eyes, which had been an abyss of perdition and sinful terror, were now so deep and sweet it hurt.
For ten months, Angelus had been established in Los Angeles. Spike met him there, now and then. Not too often. Los Angeles was too close to Sunnydale. A vibrating temptation…
Sure. That was oh–so-typical of Angelus. Holding his most blinding passion at arm’s reach and resisting it stoically. The soul hadn’t changed that. He still loved the pleasure of torture, he just used it on himself.
But I’m not like that, Spike told himself: I’m different. If the flame is near, I allow myself to burn…
Bedazzled, he crumpled the half written piece of paper and stood up, looking for his lighter and cigarettes in the duster’s pockets.
Exiting the readers’ room, he collided with someone and apologized absentmindedly.
Two years.
He absolutely needed to meet Angelus.


This was typical of the former Europe’s Scourge, too: big spaces.
He had bought an old, abandoned hotel and had it restored, and now he lived there all alone, surrounded by a hundred and more empty rooms. Stunning.
Spike crossed the Hyperion’s large hall, shadowed and gloomy, and climbed the stairs to the first floor, stopping in front of door no. 217.
Angelus invited him in even before he knocked.
The dark vampire was comfortably seated in an armchair, his long legs crossed, a block of paper on his lap, brooding.
“God knows why, but I was sure I’d find you like this,” Spike berated him “The same, identical position you were in last time I went out of that door…fuck, Angelus, are you glued to that leather?”
”Don’t call me that”
“What? Oh…yeah” Spike rolled his eyes. “My bad…Angel. I can understand your desire to change your name, but why you chose that name, which reminds you continuously that you killed your sister, well, it’s beyond me.”
“My sister, indeed,” Angel replied, closing the block and putting it in a drawer. “The reason.”
“I don’t know any more how to tell you that. You were just following your nature. You didn’t have a choice”
“But now I do” Angel crossed his arms, a grim look about him. “I want to be certain not to forget it”
“…And they say I’m the stubborn one” Spike complained. He kept walking, the duster billowing around his ankles. “Let me understand, your way of not forgetting consists of sitting there like an old country squire in a tweed suit? By the way, what happened to the black leather trousers? I hate to admit it, but they became you…”
“Women…look at me…when I wear those…” Angel stared awkwardly at his nails. “And I don’t sit here. I go out every single night, saving people, and…”
Spike stopped, feigning surprise. “God, yes! I can see you…sliding catlike along the alleys like a Vietkong in the jungle…the dark avenger without a face…who is that guy?”
The blonde vampire chirruped. “Bollocks” He leaned over to the other, with a smirk. “Please, don’t be a pansy, now! Women would look at you even if you were wearing flowered bermudas…”He stopped, batting his eyelashes. “ Anyway, don’t wear them”
Angel ran his hands through his hair, with a tired gesture. “Spike…make it short, please. I don’t know how it works for you, but for me it is difficult, ok? I struggle to maintain control…especially with women.” He touched his chest. “The darkness…here…doesn’t leave. And it’s as strong as the soul. I’m afraid, right? I’m afraid to lose control…”
Spike’s frown eased. “Don’t think it’s any easier for me. But I can relate to your problem. You’re older than me…and, fuck, eviler. But I’m sure about this: staying away from humans won’t help. I think it could even make it worse…” He crouched in front of him. “Two years have passed, Angel. It’s time to go forward. To take a chance. You’re strong…God forbid, you have always been the toughest one…the one nobody could subdue…don’t disappoint me, please!”
A smile shadowed Angel’s mouth. Gaining confidence, Spike insisted. “Two years. It’s an anniversary we deserve to celebrate, if only because we survived, right?” He stood up. “Get out of that comfy chair and come out with me for a drink. And I’m not talking about blood”
“Mmm….if I accept, what do I get?” Angel taunted him, now bemused.
“Six months” Spike replied. “I stay out of your hair for six months”
“It’s not enough. Let’s make it a year”
“What?! A bloody year? Not even in your wildest dreams. If I come back in a year, I’ll find you mummified. My best offer is seven and a half months” Spike replied, with a resolute expression.
“As you like” Angel sighed, stretching. “Let’s go. I only hope I don’t regret it…”


2. First impressions.

Angel looked about, uncertain. “This is a singles bar …”
Spike nodded. “You got it. That’s what we are, aren’t we?” He adjusted the duster on his shoulders and switched on the sex appeal, with his patented smirk. “Let’s go, honey…you have got it all. Broad shoulders, big dark eyes…if you can conjure up a smile, it’s done”
“I don’t need a woman…” Angel protested.
“What’s your problem, mate? I can see a lot of hunky guys, too. That one there…Ouch!”
Spike stopped, massaging his shoulder. Fuck, Angel still got in those lethal shots…”Damn, can’t I tease you a bit?”
“I’m already regretting this…” Angel complained. “Have you heard a single word I told you?”
“I got them all. One by one. And I didn’t miss the way you hid that block. It was her portrait, wasn’t it?” Spike stared at him.
Angel’s deep eyes couldn’t escape him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
“Oh, please, you understood me perfectly! You were drawing Buffy…two years down the line, and you still think of her…”
“And you…don’t?” Angel replied.
Spike hardened his jaw. ”That’s why we need a woman”
Hastily, Spike fished out a cigarette. “I’m tired of discussing this with your brooding face. With your permission I’m going to circulate. Alone”
Angel watched him go, blonde and sure, with his usual self confident stride, and leaned downheartedly on the bar counter.
He didn’t expect Spike to get his point of view: emotions had always stemmed from the human side of his grandchilde, which – somehow – he had kept, but he was different. His passions were born from his darkest, most uncontrollable impulses. From his malaise. Letting go could mean losing himself. And becoming, again, the monster he wanted to rein in. A monster who was still alive and kicking, a monster who clawed its way through the walls of his soul, looking for a way to resurface.
He swore, massaging his brow.
“Are you okay?”
A feminine voice, uncertain, to his left.
Angel jumped. “What?”
“Uh…sorry. Nothing” The woman war fair haired, elegantly dressed in a light dress with spaghetti straps. She slowly rotated the straw in her glass, and on the whole she was so luminous it hurt his eyes.
“Do – does it seem to you…I don’t look well?” Angel asked. He was irritated by his own stutter. What an idiot he was!
“Yeah” she admitted, and then she reddened. “I mean…no…you look fine…you look…great…I mean…” She kept silent, widening her big, clear blue eyes, and for a while the straw swirled furiously in her drink.
God, is she beautiful, Angel thought And she’s blushing.. “Thanks” he said.
“For what? For having told you you look well…or bad?”
“You choose. I’m Angel”
She relaxed. “I’m Kate. Then…do you come here often?”
“No…this place is…”Angel smiled, guessing what would be the correct answer. Hell, he had been an unstoppable speaker, and he knew all about motivational tools…in the past…he was famous for hypnotizing his victims with his savoir faire…
But this isn’t a potential victim, you idiot, this is just a young woman who thinks you’re cute. She is delicious. And very sweet indeed…
Get out of here, jerk. Get out of here now!
His unexpected, fleeting smile had hit the target, and now Kate’s heart was speeding up every minute more so. She liked him and, God, this was a sort of miracle. Since when had a man caught her attention like that, from the first look? Kate didn’t remember such an event. Ok. She had to stay in control and if possible avoid stuttering. She took a deep breath, and she sank in those deep, warm, dark eyes, feeling caressed, embraced by them.
She started talking. About herself, her issues about trusting people. About trusting men. About the hiding people do, with the help of some carefully crafted mask. She talked and talked, forgetting about the drink she had ordered out of habit, exposing herself, and that was a first, since she usually only opened up in front of her mirror. The stranger with the black leather jacket, the man with a most beautiful name and enchanting eyes, listened to her. He really listened.
He heard what she said, feeling ashamed. That woman, with that doll’s face and white nervous hands, was telling him she was looking for someone to trust, someone who was what he seemed. And she was saying it to him, a vampire feigning to be a man, looking alive and being dead since two centuries…He would have tried to stop her, to suggest to her that she give those precious confidences to a deserving man, but he had walked this earth a long time and he knew he was already too late.
“I look for…a connection” she ended, examining him. “And you?”
“Me?” Angel shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll know what I want when I find it”
Kate’s breath broke. Oh, that sentence…”Would you like to…” She leaned absentmindedly over to him, her cheeks blushing as far as her neck.
“To…”
“To end this night somewhere quieter? Do you like the idea?” She asked hastily, eating some syllables. Angel looked at her. She was splendid. Gold, cream and clear water.
Hell, no.
On the opposite side of the room, above the crowd, Spike saw them leaving, hand in hand not to lose each other, his grandsire dark and gloomy, the fair haired girl sparkling with life and tremulous energy.
“You got the moves, Scourge” he thought, breathing out some smoke. But his mind wandered in another direction. That hair, so golden and soft, caressing the black leather of Angel’s jacket, looked so much like another woman’s…


They had talked of nothing in particular, just touching lightly on different topics, such as books, travel, movies…innocent tales over several cups of coffee, in a small, discreet bar, exchanging glances, sometimes touching, casually, or maybe not…a long, slow dance around each other, the vague sensuality of which inebriated both.
When they were out in the warm night of Los Angeles, Angel noticed he had a hand on her back. And she wasn’t preventing him from doing that. She turned and almost leaned on his chest.
“Did I give you my number?”
“Yeah. I got it in my cell” he reassured her.
“You…you don’t have to call me” Now she was adorably reddening again.
“I’ll call you”
Angel smiled, while a cab stopped in front of them. “I think it’s yours…”
“Yeah” Kate whispered. God…yes…she was in danger of falling in love, this time, of falling seriously in love. Dangerously.
Get out of here, Kate, you’re not ready for such a man.
But she leaned over and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. “See you soon”
Three words blown on his cool skin, words that stayed on his lips when she left. Bedazzled, Angel touched where she had kissed him. Two hundred and fifty years and that was the first time he had experienced such a simple evening: words, some glances, light smiles, some unexpected sweetness running between strangers…he had only known sex, perversion, violence, death. That could be magic.
Obviously, he had lied. He hadn’t memorized Kate’s number. He didn’t intend to call her. He didn’t want to see her again. She was pure. She didn’t deserve to be soiled.
But…hell…that light kiss…God, it burnt.
He kept on walking, his large hands deep in the leather jacket’s pockets, his head down.
The screams reached him, muted at first, and then sharp. And very near. The alley on the right. A woman shrieked. God, it was high time. A bit of violence and an innocent to rescue. That was exactly what he needed.
In the gloomy alley he found a grotesque horned and nondescript demon. He was smashing a girl on the dirty floor and looked bent on breaking her neck.
But Angel broke his, first. The monster went down without a moan, and the vampire leaned down over the young girl, panting and shocked.
She was…hell, she had a familiar face. With her sassy beauty, her long dark hair, her large dark eyes, her perfect nose….and she gaped at him amazed. Yes. It was…
“Cordelia?”
”Angelus?”
They talked at the same time. And then they laughed.
“Are you all right?” Angel asked, helping her to get up. Cordelia leaned on his arm, shaky on her long legs, shown generously by her miniskirt. She had laddered hose and a broken heel. “Yeah…I think…uh?” She jumped out of her skin, her mouth open from pain and fear. “I’m bleeding…”
Angel moved her under the streetlamp, making her sit on a bench. A deep gash crossed her palm and her blood…it smelled like spice, but it was easier than he had thought to resist it. Good.
Excellent.
“It’s just a superficial cut” he explained. “You’ll need some disinfectant and a plaster”
“It itches..” she protested with a grimace.
“The demon was bleeding, too. Maybe your blood mixed. You have to clean the cut carefully”
He looked at her. She was shaking. “May I call you a cab?”
She swung on her broken heel. “I don’t live far from here…you could take me. You did it in Sunnydale, do you remember?”
Did he remember?
God, she knew she did. A lot. She had often thought about it. She had thought of that most beautiful, damaged man who had saved her and taken her home. She had thought of that vampire with the soul who, according to Willow, had broken the heart of little Miss Slutty Summers. She had thought about those burning black eyes that pierced you like arrows…and here he was, two years and he hadn’t changed a bit, except for the clothes. He had taste…and he was even hotter, now.
“Sure…” He was saying.
“Uh?”
“I said I remember” Angel offered her his arm and together they crossed the sidewalk. “Are you living here, now?”
“Yes. I graduated, and then I moved to LA. You get it…I wanna be an actress”
“With good results, I guess”
She exhibited the patented star’s smile she practised every morning in front of her mirror.
“You can say so. It couldn’t be otherwise. I’m Queen C, after all”
“I’m glad” he commented.
She stole a glance towards him. “And you? Still …grr argh…?”
Angel smirked. “Well, yeah…they still haven’t found a cure for that”
“But you have still your soul, haven’t you’”
“I don’t think there’s a cure for that, either…”
“And that’s what you do now?” Cordelia asked, holding to his leather jacket. “Do you rescue…people?”
“I try”
“It worked…with me”
They laughed again and notwithstanding her ruined favourite pair of shoes and that damn cut oh–so-itchy, Cordelia was amazed to feel strangely at peace, leaning on his solid body. She didn’t feel alone anymore. She didn’t feel sad, or angry, like every other single day.
“I hated Sunnydale…”she murmured suddenly. “Its anonymous inhabitants, and those horrible events nobody talked about. Even graduation day ended in a blood bath because of the Mayor’s Ascension…I fled, Angelus. For my career, of course, but mostly to leave that madness…”She leaned heavily on him, dumbfounded. “But Los Angeles is even worse, a hunting place for demons…and people are just their daily food…”
Angel covered one of her hands with his. “Exactly. You have to avoid dark alleys and passageways during the night” He lightly caressed the hurt hand. “And call me Angel…please”
He smiled and Cordelia did the same, wrinkling her nose. Angel...yes…an angel. Without wings, maybe, but beautiful and sweet as one. A balsam of strength and certainty in her hollow existence. Regretfully, she threw a glance at the elegant building on the other side of the street.
“I’m home. You see …there’s a porter in the hall. There’s no danger”
“Ok…then” Angel stepped back, loosing himself from her. “Good luck with your career, Cordelia Chase”
Fighting inopportune tears, Cordelia nodded. “Good luck to you for your…rescues…Angel”
A nod, and then she saw his broad back vanishing in the dark. Cordelia sighed and ran her hands through her dishevelled hair, limping towards the glass entrance door. She hoped they would allow her to call for a cab. She couldn’t afford a cellphone, and the taxi itself would be an expensive extra.
She knocked on the glass and the janitor opened the door a bit, looking coldly down on her.
“Sorry, lady. Your type of girl uses the phone booth on the corner”
Cordy squinted, threateningly. “And your type of men should get sterilized so they don’t reproduce. Go hang yourself”
Angry and frustrated, she was back at square one. She didn’t have coins for the public phone: she had to walk the whole way home. Four damn blocks. She hoped it was too late for demons’ dinnertime.


“What time is this to come back?” Spike reproached, laid on the bed, his bed, with an open book on his naked chest.
Angel discarded his jacket on a chain. “I had a mother, once” he replied “I killed her”
“Ooookay….I get the message” Spike drummed with his fingers on the book’s cover. “But I saw you”
Angel ignored him, undressing slowly.
“With the blonde…” Spike insisted. “You took her away. With you. What a sly, sly man”
Angel flexed his shoulder muscles. The tattoo shone. “First, I didn’t take her away. Second, we just talked”
“Lovebirds…” Spike smirked. “No, seriously, this is a huge improvement. Once upon a time you fucked them and then tortured them and maimed them….Now you talk with them. You’re evolving”
Angel threw his trousers over his face.
“What’s her name?” Spike asked, discarding them.
“Kate”
“Mmm….Katherine…like your sister…is this an omen?” The blonde vampire frowned. “She is really cute. What about the next date?”
“There won’t be a next date” Angel replied, naked, picking up some towels and clean underwear. “Now, listen to me. While I’m in the shower, you make up my bed, empty my ashtray, vanish into one of the hundreds of other rooms in this hotel, and stay there until sunset. Did I make myself clear? Do you want a written note?”
Spike growled. “Grrr…bau bau….I like it when you use your lash! For Christmas I’ll send you a leather suit and…”
This time a bar of soap hit him on the brow.
Hard as a stone.


Spike had obeyed and moved, thank God, and he had vanished completely. He hadn’t seen him in the last three days. As usual. Months of silence and then a long long week drilling your mind with chatter like a woodworm.
Angel laughed, strolling through one of the most dangerous Los Angeles districts. It was very easy to bump into something inhuman, there.
He had to admit it. Spike could be a pest, but he was rarely wrong. Especially about him. And he was right this time, too.
It had been too pleasant to spend that evening with Kate, and saving Cordy, too. That had been…great! He had eventually felt his soul, not only in terms of suffering and atoning, but as you feel an asset, a source of blinding and warm energy to tap into, in order to fight and overcome the darkness.
This was hope, wasn’t it? The hope he had never dared to believe in. That minimal spark which for two years had been trying to ignite.
His cell rang in the pocket of his long coat.
Spike. It was him. Of course.
“What do you want?” He answered, absentmindedly.
“I’m sorry…maybe this is not a good time…”
Angel stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t Spike. “Kate?”
He heard her breathing. “Yes…yeah…hey….I know you were going to call me, but…am I disturbing you?”
“No! No…How…how are you doing?”
“Me? Fine. And you?”
“Me too. Thanks. I was thinking about calling you tomorrow. You were faster” What a disgusting liar….
She laughed a bit, with relief. “I’ll sound bare-faced, now…let’s have dinner together, right? Friday?”
Angel stared at the pavement. Some trash rustled in the wind. The vampire closed his eyes and saw in his mind hers, two round sapphires, like cloves of a springtime sky in which emotions ran like clouds. No…no…no…no…
“Angel? Are you still there?”
“Uh? Yeah. Ok” he nodded, as soon as possible, before the hugeness of the mistake he was doing suffocated him. “Let’s meet at our bar, right?”
God, did he say “our”?
She confirmed, repeating it. “At our bar. On Friday. Goodnight, Angel”
“Goodnight” he sighed, switching off the cellphone with a dry gesture. He would rather have crushed it, but just the idea of entering again into a department store…
“You’re fired, bitch!”
The male voice, heavy with booze, sounded in the night, while the dirty door of a coffee bar slammed a few meters from the vampire. A girl in a waitress uniform came flying out of it. No compliments. The owner, fat and bald, threw after her her jacket and her purse. The coins and make up rang on the pavement.
Angel approached her, really missing the old good times when you could kill a human. Cordelia was shocked to see him, but then she sobered. Her chin trembled, but she didn’t want to cry in front of him. All this was enough of an embarrassment.
“You busted me, didn’t you, hero?” she laughed, a false, unsure laugh, her hands busy picking up her belongings. “Yeah, right. Queen C. isn’t an actress. Her career stopped even before it started. And the cherry on the top is that she doesn’t live in the building you took her to, but in a disgusting hotel, a block and a half from this stinking hole”
She refused his hand and rose, swallowing tears of frustration. “Queen C. isn’t all that, after all, not even as a waitress…”
Once she started to cry, it was impossible to stop. She was blinded by her tears, and hiccups shook her. Only the broad, strong chest of Angel could be a refuge for her. He held her close, rocking her gently.
“I’m sorry” she whispered, against his pullover. He smelt good. He smelt musky. “What…”
“Sssshhh” he interrupted her, raising her face. “I’m the last to judge…” He gave her one of his rarest smiles, seductive as a ray of light in the fog. “I don’t think you’re not all that”
She quietly stopped crying, blowing her nose on his handkerchief. “Yeah…well…I know that. But these moments happen to the strongest people, too. Why are you staring at me like that?”
Yeah, Angel was looking at her, his dark head bowed, his eyes sparkling with amused interest.
Wait a moment….Interest ?
Cordelia straightened, unconsciously caressing her waitress uniform. He was interested in her. Sure as gold.
“What about a job?” he proposed.
“With…you?”
“Uh – huh…I’ve got so much money, conjuring up an adequate wage for you won’t cause me any trouble”
Money.
The magic word. Cordy’s beauty, dampened with tiredness and disappointment, sparkled back. “Go on. I’m listening”
“I…it seems to me you…know about money. How to invest it, and…”
“God, yes!” she exclaimed. “That’s a mathematical truth! Money is for me what silicon is for Pamela Anderson!”
Angel coughed. What a girl…”Exactly. I’d need someone who could take care of my investments, contacting the banks…dealing with a lot of questions I’ve always considered boring and…”
“I’m in!” She was hurting him with her enthusiasm. “You won’t regret it. I’ll make you a real vampire tycoon!”
“I get it…obviously, you’ll be my guest. At least until you get a new place to live. It’s an old hotel, with a lot of empty rooms…no privacy problems…” Cordelia hung on his shoulders. She was looking at him like he was an idol.
“There is an old hotel to furnish?” She asked, impatient. “May I do it?”
“Well…yes….if you want to…”
She gave him a big wet baby kiss on the cheek.
”Angel is not just your name! You are an angel!”
Angel feigned indifference, but now Miss Cordelia Chase, a.k.a. Queen C., was again at the top of her game: she linked his arm in her own and pushed him forward.
“Let’s go, boss. We have to move into the hotel”




Thank God, it was dawn, at last. Angel flexed his shoulder muscles. It felt as if he had moved the whole of Olympus.
Olympus…and it was just Cordelia’s luggage.
He opened her door a crack and looked inside. She had fallen asleep still fully clothed, on her side, her long dark hair across the blanket, her thumb in her mouth…Beautiful. A most beautiful woman. Ripe with life. Colourful. Unstoppable.
Kate had talked about finding a connection. He noticed that his absentminded answer had become reality. He needed a connection. He had realized it in the moment he had found it. A connection. To good, to light. To hope.
And that connection was Cordelia Chase, in her disquieting, oh–so–human splendour.
Angel closed the door quietly, keeping on smiling, like an idiot.
He caught the call at the first ring.
“Hey, you” Spike greeted him.
“Uh…glad to see the other vampire with the soul still exists…I had my doubts”
“Well, you know me. I’m like a weed: I can survive anything”
“Where are you?” Angel asked, frowning. “You sound far away…”
“I’m on a highway. Don’t ask me which. I never take notice of signs”
A beat. “I just wanted to say hallo. Seven and a half months, my dear. Make them worth it. If I come back and find you in a chair, I’ll stake you”
“You’ll try, you mean” Angel replied. Spike’s voice was sending him a sort of subliminal message, he had to think about that…his grandchilde wanted to tell him something…but he didn’t know how and so he avoided the topic…
“Hey” he whispered. “Wherever you are…be careful”
”Dad, you know I have condoms in my purse, don’t you?” Spike smirked, toying with his lighter.
“Fuck you” Angel answered, closing the call.
The blonde vampire laughed. He was sure Angel was laughing too. And he was right, of course.
Yeah….right…I’ll get myself properly fucked…
The sky was clearing and dawn was approaching.
Spike saluted the sign.
“Welcome to Sunnydale”
“Home, sweet home” he murmured to himself, getting into the car for the last few meters of his trip.





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