Chapter Nine- A Hunter Hunts

"In violence, we forget who we are." - Mary McCarthy

When Angel arrived back at his apartment the next evening, he was less than surprised, but more than annoyed, to find that Whistler had waited for him while he was gone. His living room looked like a gang of drunken frat brothers had taken up residence there -- the floor and tables were littered with empty beer and liquor bottles (a few of them from what little had been in his own cabinet), and the remnants of several take-out meals.

Angel kicked a Jim Beam bottle out of the way, waking the demon, who slept on the couch, a young raven-haired beauty in his arms. Whistler stirred, waking the girl, who looked up at Angel, startled.

"Whoops!" She said, and disappeared into thin air. At least Angel had thought she was a girl...

Whistler scowled up at him, "Boy, you sure do know how to ruin a guy's fun..."

"Get up, Whistler, and clean this mess. We have work to do," he kicked more garbage out of his path as he headed for the shower.

"Where's your Slayer?" Whistler called to him as if asking after a favorite pet.

"She won't be coming," Angel answered, "We're going to take care of the Damned ourselves."

Whistler was disappointed. Battling evil was always more fun with the spunky Slayer around. Not to mention less dangerous...

"Oh," he said, and with a wave of his hand, made the garbage disappear.

******

They spent that night and the next day scoping out the Damned and learning all they could about their power. Which turned out to be less formidable than any of them thought.

"...although magickal, if one was protected by basic wards, your everyday anti-vampire techniques will kill them, if you can get close" Giles had told him, "Of course, using counter-magick is always the most effective means..."

But the problem was, Angel had no one at hand who possessed the magick battling these creatures required. The issue, then, was in numbers, and it was clear to Angel that they would need more bodies. He sent Whistler to call on his supernatural connections to help out.

What he got as back-up was a little disappointing, "They're not, um... terribly... ah... sturdy..." Whistler told him. The only volunteers he'd been able to conjure up had been a pack of very earnest, but very non-threatening looking, ghosts.

"Well, if the Damned scare easily, we'll be in luck." Angel quipped.

******

The messenger insisted on bowing to her, which she hated.

"Yes, what is it?" she snapped at the poor creature. She'd been so edgy, lately.

"Your honor, it's the Double Damned."

"The what?"

"Pardon me, your honor. The Double Damned. A gang of demon assassins. They hunt... well... demon hunters, ma'am."

The idea piqued Dana's interest.

"And?" she encouraged, "What about them?"

"There is talk that they were hired to hunt Angelus. And that he is getting ready to do battle with them."

"Is the Slayer with him?" She asked, half from personal jealousy and half from concern for Angel's safety.

"No, ma'am. The Slayer remains on the Hellmouth."

Dana frowned. This piece of news was unexpected. She hadn't thought fully about the implications of Angel's existence and rise to the society being widely known, or how the Prophecies, barely understood and greatly misinterpreted, would spread throughout he vampire grapevine like wildfire. This would only be the first danger Angel would have to face, and some part of Dana worried that the Slayer wasn't by his side...

Some other part of her rejoiced.

"I see. Thank you." She dismissed the messenger. Something would have to be done about this, and quickly.

******

It wasn't hard to find out where seventeen giant vampire demons hell-bent on murdering Angelus, the legendary lover of the Slayer and fabled Chosen One, were hiding out. Everyone seemed to know.

Including the rats, Angel noticed, who were conspicuous by their utter absence from the area. Whether they had flown in fear or been consumed was anybody's guess. He approached the high window of the warehouse with as much stealth as he could muster. He had nixed Whistler's Ghost Army idea, and the demon had abandoned him in a huff. Now Angel wished he'd been nicer... any assistance would have been helpful.

He focused on the pile of garbage in the corner of the cavernous room below. It was nice to know the demons were predictably sloppy -- he'd been counting on it. He rested the crossbow he carried against the wall beside him, and took a Molotov cocktail out of his duffel bag.

`Glassy Flaming Death!' Buffy called them. He did not shake away the thought of her, this time, but tried to draw from her strength, across the miles. Using the memory of, and his feelings for, her as a shield against the fear that always threatened to freeze him before a fight.

Angel lit the fuse and tossed the gasoline filled bottle in the window into the garbage pile, and felt a small pang of victory as it immediately burst into flames. The demons assembled jumped up from their doings to put out the mess, opening themselves up to three neatly sprung crossbow shots in a row. Each took out a demon, which turned to convenient vampire-style dust.

Angel leapt into the chaos, fists and feet flying. He immediately staked one demon, and fell to battling the rest with whatever was available. He was badly outnumbered, and was quickly being overwhelmed. He continued fighting with all his might -- the thought of Buffy being their next target driving him on.

He dusted several more before four of them overcame him, wrestling him to the floor. So this was it, he thought, a sudden calm falling over his soul. He was sorry he would not be able to help Buffy... again. No prophecy would save them, now. The furious leader of the demons approached , grinning his drooling, fanged grin, his scaly face a horrible vampire/lizard mask, and Angel prepared to die at last.

"You made it so easy..." the creature hissed at him, a particularly nasty stake in his hand. Angel noticed with bitter humor that it literally had his name on it -- carved in delicate letters into the wood. Craftsmen, these monsters...

As the demon raised it's arm to end Angel's life, it burst into flames. The others let Angel go in their surprise, running hither and yon to pinpoint their new foe. Angel re-gathered his strength and began the fight again, barely caring where the assistance had come from.

But when Dana stepped into the light, Angel didn't think he had ever seen anything more glorious. She was dressed in black, allowing her to better blend with he shadows. None of the chaos seemed to touch her as she calmly walked through the fire, leaving only piles of demon ashes in her wake. He heard her calling incantations, each one causing an enemy to burst into flame or sometimes explode in a gory spray. When most of the gang had been reduced to refuse, the final three turned to flee. They almost made it to the fire exit, but Dana's magick reached them first. They began to bubble and steam, melting together into a disgusting pile of red slime on the concrete floor.

Dana turned casually and blew on the quickly spreading blaze. It disappeared. She turned back and grinned at him.

"That was fun!" she exclaimed

******

Angel was hurt. Badly. He numbered his broken ribs at at least three, and he was covered with welts and bruises the likes of which Dana hadn't seen since the Inquisition. Despite knowing he would heal quickly, the sight disturbed her greatly.

They walked the mile or so to her downtown apartment -- a ritzy affair in a snappy new building complete with a doorman. A doorman who was clearly a vampire, and who bowed deeply to them as they passed, eyeing Angel nervously.

Dana let them into the apartment, which immediately came alive with soft light. She headed to the kitchen for supplies, offering him a desperately needed seat on the plush couch in the living room.

He sat, examining a nasty gash on his arm. He wished he'd had Dana along on more of his hunts -- he'd end up a lot less dented that way.

"Is your work always like that?" she asked when she reappeared, arms full of fresh herbs and hand-labeled bottles, as well as a basket full of rags and bandages.

"Do you deal with a lot of critically wounded people?" he asked, eyeing her portable holistic hospital.

She shot him a look, "You'd be surprised what I deal with. Take off your clothes."

He looked at her.

"Just do it," she insisted, mocking his modesty. He complied, stripping to the waist. Dana couldn't help but admire his fine physique.

"Nice Tattoo," she observed.

"Thanks. All the girls love it," he shot back.

"I'll just bet they do," Dana chuckled, cleaning the gash on his other shoulder.

"OUCH!" he shouted, flinching.

"Hold still. Don't be such a baby."

He relaxed under her experienced healer's touch. She chanted some words in a language he didn't recognize, and he was surprised to find that the pain had all but stopped.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the glass of blood she offered him.

"They weren't nearly as tough as I'd heard," Dana said, gathering her things and leaving the room once again.

"Maybe not for *you*," he replied, remembering the murderous look on the head demon's face, and the feeling of watching his long life flash before his eyes still clear in his mind.

Dana returned, dressed now in a long, casual skirt and a strappy tank top reminiscent of Buffy and her friends. Her thick red hair tumbled over her creamy shoulders, and Angel had to look twice to take her in. She walked to the stereo and put on a soft jazz CD, then moved to the couch and slid easily in beside him. She poured herself a glass of the blood wine and sipped it, a look of divine pleasure on her fine features.

"I can't remember ever feeling so... exhilarated," she told him excitedly.

"You were pretty amazing. I wish I had you around more often -- your talent would come in pretty handy. Thank you, by the way, for saving my life."

"Oh, I've no doubt you would have prevailed somehow, Angel. Besides, that was the most fun I've had in centuries!"

They were quiet for a time, Dana remembering the battle fondly, and Angel thinking thankfully how easily the danger had passed. Perhaps too easily?

"I missed you," Dana said, "How was Sunnydale?"

He looked at her, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Oh, not much you do goes without comment anymore, Angel."

He nodded.

"So?" she urged.

Angel shrugged. "It was fine."

Dana gave him a look that told him she knew full well that wasn't the case.

"It was difficult," he admitted, "And mostly fruitless."

"The Watcher had nothing to tell you, then?"

"Nothing I didn't already know. But he did say that the King of Prophecy wasn't me."

"Oh?" Dana leaned in closer, suddenly very interested in what he had to say.

"The King is said to be mortal, according to what he found. And I am most decidedly not that."

"Mm. Good point." Dana agreed vaguely, "You're not that."

"Is that all you have to say? I mean, doesn't that kind of contradict your theory that my actions will lead the Council to a New Era or something?"

Dana smiled mysteriously at him, "Prophecy is rarely what we think it is." She paused for a moment, examining her glass. "So, how is Buffy?"

Angel reeled slightly at the sudden change of subject, and was immediately uncomfortable at the mention of the Slayer.

"She's fine. She's the same. Her life is getting better."

"You miss her still." Dana looked at him with sympathy in her eyes.

"Every minute," he said without drama, stating a simple fact which felt more like a searing pain, inside.

"What does she think of all that's happened?"

He shrugged, "She's scared for me... and glad."

"I find that surprising."

"Why? She loves me. She wants me to be happy. She thinks living here will do that for me."

Dana chuckled bitterly, "Maybe so. If that's the truth, then I afford her the highest credit. I wouldn't be so quick to bless my lover's whole new life if it was without me."

"Well, Buffy is a special person."

Dana winced at the love and admiration in his voice.

"I imagine she is," she said apologetically, "Perhaps I am just jealous of the place she holds in your heart."

Angel considered her for a long time, then smiled sadly. "You have your own place there, you know. No matter how confused I am about all this right now, I still have you to thank for bringing me into your world."

"No thanks are necessary, Angel. It is my calling."

"But I know how strongly the Council opposes you on this. I know they don't look kindly on your helping me."

`If only he knew what an understatement that was...' Dana thought.

"Well, my sweet," she answered, "There was little else I could do, but ride the tides of fate to your door. I've always known that my destiny was bound up with yours... that my duty was to help you. I believe in what you are going to do, Angel. I believe in the world you are going to help to create. I would give my life, without hesitation, if it meant the future of my people... of you, who will be so important to them..."

Angel was speechless. Again, more talk of his importance. And now, Dana offering her life to help him. She was so breathtaking in the soft light of the room... her pale features were flushed with the blood she drank, and her eyes sparkled prettily. She looked for all the world like a sophisticated woman, spending a casual evening at home with her lover.

Her eyes widened as he suddenly, slowly, leaned in to kiss her. A shock swept through her as his soft lips met hers, and if she could have died at that moment, she never would have been happier.

Then it was over. He pulled abruptly away.

"I'm sorry. I just..." he mumbled, but did not break their eye contact. She blushed under his intense gaze... how she wanted to kiss him again! But no, that was not her purpose, here. She had to try to keep as much control as possible.

"It's alright." She rose and smiled down at him, "It was nice. Why don't you stay here, today? There is a guestroom down that hallway I think you'll like. Tomorrow night there is a fair in town -- now that you've saved the Slayer and the world once again, perhaps you'd like a little fun!" She turned and was gone, not waiting for his reply.

Angel sat, watching her retreating form. The kiss was clearly a mistake, and yet it was something he had very badly wanted to do.

`You really care about her...' he heard Buffy say. He remembered the hurt in her eyes. He had denied it, mostly, but he knew it was true. He did care for Dana. She was a beautiful, fascinating woman who had helped him in more ways than he could name. But he also knew that what he had told Buffy was also true -- his heart would always belong to her, and could never truly be given to another. He would be with Buffy, or he would be alone.

What had happened with Dana tonight couldn't happen again...

******

Dana shut her bedroom door behind her and braced herself against the wall beside it.

"Get a grip!" she chastised herself. She was fired up beyond words. The battle, Angel's kiss... she absently brushed her lips with her fingertips... these had driven her to a point of excitement she couldn't remember feeling, before. This was getting out of hand. If she lost control, who knew what might happen? If she let what had almost transpired between them tonight continue, everything would be put at risk. She had to keep her distance, at least emotionally, from Angel.

But his draw was so powerful... she remembered his eyes, his lips on hers... imagined his strong hands touching her...

She shook her head. No. Time was short and there was still much to be done...Dana had to help Angel fulfill his destiny. And that destiny did not include her. His heart belonged to his fated love. His heart, and his future, belonged to the Slayer.

Chapter Ten- Sometimes Fate Drives a Hard Bargain

"It is not what you have lost, but what you have left, that counts." - Harold Russel

The following night was warm and hazy, one of those nights when the humidity in the air made it feel like he was breathing soup. Dana dressed in another strappy dress, this one ankle-length black velvet, and black sandals. She made a gift to Angel of a casual cream shirt and a light pair of jeans, telling him he dressed "too seriously". She wished they could see themselves together-- your average young, wealthy, beautiful couple out for a night at the fair.

Dana knew the carnies well -- she'd been seeing them perform for several hundred yeas, all around the world. All the troupe were Souled Ones -- or at least vampires. Dana dragged Angel on all the rides and stuffed his smiling face with more junk food than a body could handle.

"Ah, but that's only a *mortal* body. There are some perks to being dead, you know!" she announced to him through a mouthful of cotton candy.

An hour later, her arms were filled with a giant stuffed bunny Angel won for her at the dart throw. The game was obviously rigged, but with a vampire's enhanced strength, dexterity and senses, Angel was able to finally overcome... after
20 worth of darts. When the prize was finally awarded, the carnie winked knowingly at Angel, and whispered over the counter to Dana that he was never sad to lose to kin.

Angel didn't think he had never experienced anything so odd in his life... and that was saying something.

He took Dana's hand automatically when they entered the House of Horrors. A little shock passed through Dana at his touch, and she turned to look at him, but he was smiling, looking ahead and didn't even seem to notice as he handed the carnie their tickets. It was a fairly decent scary house, and Dana found herself genuinely startled a number of times. Once, so much so that she practically jumped straight into Angel's arms. He laughed at her and their eyes met...

A million jumbled thoughts and emotions rushed through him... but the loudest voice called for him to kiss her...again.

A second elapsed... two... if Dana had a heart that beat, it would be pounding. Their lips were only inches apart.

Then the moment was over, and they were pushed along by the line.

As they walked back to the car in silence, Dana thought that a few more moments like that, and control might quickly become a concept she lost any concern for.

She suggested Angel remain at her apartment in L.A., while she went back to the Council to face their angry inquiries. Distance was what she needed, for now. She needed to think about what she would have to do next.

"I want to come with you. You'll need me when you go before the Council," Angel insisted.

Dana sighed, running her fingers through her thick curls. "I think it will only be worse if you were there right now. Besides... I've been dealing with the Council since before you were born..."

They argued more, and Dana left with Angel still angry with her. That was fine, as far as she was concerned. She would not subject him to the danger of the Council, not yet. Not while he was still so fragile and uncertain. And the angrier he was at her, the less likely he was to come after her in some misguided attempt at chivalry.

She sat at her desk, staring absently at the report she held in front of her. The words and numbers seemed to run together, and her mind wandered... to some joke Angel told her or some sweet thing or another he'd done...

She snapped herself out of her reverie. Where was her *brain*?! She had *work* to do -- work that would be much more important to Angel's future than her lust for the boy!

She adjusted her reading glasses and tried to focus. Suddenly, the room lurched, then began to spin. Dana's stomach followed suit, and she struggled toward her bathroom to be sick. The moment her hand touched the doorknob, she was over come by a vision -- she was chasing a small, dark girl down a dirty alley. Bloodlust flooded her every cell and she stalked, a predator out for one thing only -- the kill. Dana caught the girl without much trouble and rejoiced in the smell of youthful blood as she sank her fangs into the sweet flesh, answering the child's screams for mercy with hungry snarls...

Dana's vision cleared. She quickly sank back down in her chair while she shuddered, fighting to regain her composure. She found herself shaking and sweating horribly -- exhausted as if she had just taken part in the chase she had seen. What was *that* all about? She hadn't even thought about killing in 2000 years... she let herself drift for a moment. Why would the bloodlust return after all this time? And how could it have just overtaken her like that, so completely, so overwhelming?

In a flash, she knew. The curse... the spell that had returned her soul all those years ago, banishing an exceedingly cruel and homicidal demon. Her time was growing short. She did the math, and realized, yes, it was almost 2000 years to the day since the ritual that had put her on the path to this place -- that had given her her life, her purpose... Angel...

Now the magick was fading, as she always knew it would, but she be moaned the timing. Why now? There was still so much to do, so many decisions to make before she would be ready to leave this incarnation...

She remembered the dank temple hall, the smoke of frankincense, lotus and sandalwood... millions upon millions of candles... the walls echoing with chants from the assembled Council. And they had told her that her time was finite -- that it was meant also as punishment for her crimes. The end of her curse would not be so simple as to leave her finally, permanently dead. The Council had made sure she would pay not only by knowing the time of her death, but also the nature of her ending. That her soul would once again be ripped from her and cast into the ether, leaving the demon inhabiting her body, to be hunted down and destroyed like a rabid dog. Perhaps, she often thought, like they should have done then...

But then she never would have experienced all she had in her long life...never seen the magick and the beauty of this world. She never would have seen her precious nation rise around her. And she never would have gotten to know Angel.

Soon it would all end. Of course, she had no intention of letting her demon loose on the world, or of letting the Council put her down with a stake through the heart in her sleep, like a rabid dog. She had something completely different in mind...

Angel. What was she going to do about Angel? She'd been considering her options all along, and she knew, mostly, what needed to be done, but she was finding its undertaking more difficult than she ever imagined. Her other defiances of council law would pale in comparison to this, and no doubt Angel would be less than happy with her, as well.

She laughed at the understatement, despite her growing sense of dread. If she told Angel the whole truth, it would throw his already confused life into yet *another* blinding tailspin. But if she didn't fill him in on everything, who knew what the Council might do to him when she was gone? They had gone to extraordinary lengths to destroy him once before... and in the long run, the truth, and Dana's magick, would be his only defenses.

She had to make a decision, and soon. Angel's fate, and the future of her entire race, depended on her next actions.

******

At the moment that Dana was having her spell, Angel was thinking of her across town...

Despite his anger over her stubbornness, he thought happily how spending time with Dana made him feel so normal. How much he'd come to enjoy their evenings together, and the warmth (at least, metaphorically) being around her made him feel. There was a fire to her that pulled him, despite his ongoing struggles to the contrary. He thought of kissing her, a few nights before... her lips were cool and sweet, like some exotic fruit, and she awakened passions within him he had long ago been forced to abandon, for Buffy's sake.

When he found himself comparing Dana to Buffy, it always tended to bring him back to his heart's ultimate reality -- that his love for Buffy was the brightest diamond, and Dana only a pale sapphire in contrast. What Angel felt for the Slayer came from his deepest depths, from some part of his soul that was unable to put to words what she meant to him. All their tragic time together, never had two people struggled more to give all that they could to one another, against impossible odds. Angel loved Buffy beyond space, beyond time, beyond the not-so-mundane facts of their daily lives... the facts which kept them apart.

But Dana was real. She was before him, open, warm and waiting. What he felt for her was something different than what he felt for Buffy, but it was just as much a reality... and a safer and less ironic one, at that. Buffy seemed only a dream of perfect happiness, dangled before him like the eternally unattainable carrot, while Dana was a feast lain on a table before him -- a physical reality -- a solace right within his reach.

He struggled often with his conflicting feelings. His continued fear and mistrust of Dana -- his nervousness about a momentous future she sometimes held before him and sometimes withheld... his vow of devotion to Buffy... his ultimate and growing desire to be alone once again, free of all these decisions.

It never dawned on him before that part of him wanted to be alone... his only companion his memories and his constant and nagging pain, both easily understood.

But as it was, he somehow wasn't alone... and he found himself wishing that Dana was there.

*****

Dana stood, gathering her strength, before the Chamber door. She knew there was going to be trouble when the messenger told her it was only the Elders who were to meet with her, rather than the full Council. That usually signaled something dire, something that required the immediate action that waiting for citizens to vote never provided time for...

Apparently, the time for democracy, tolerance, patience, and lenience was at an end.

A page swung the doors open before her, and stepped aside to allow her entrance. The Elders' Chamber was as familiar to Dana as her own office, as she had been among their number for a thousand years. She had assisted in the design of this building, this room... insisting on a circular table rather than the enormous rectangular one that dominated the public Council hall. This way, no Elder sat at the head, or foot, but each had equal view of all the others.

Today, Dana did not feel so diplomatic about the round table. She took the seat of one accused, rather than her accustomed position of one in charge. There were six present, including herself. Six vampires of a thousand years or more -- three older than she herself. And these three had been present at her restoration: Erishka, her foster mother, Toloshan, her trusted mentor, and Kayeli, an ancient Caribbean man whom she had often argued metaphysics with.

Never before had she been so glad none of Martonius' young troublemakers were among the Elders. In the end of any vote by the Society, it was their opinions that ultimately held sway -- and the Elders were nothing, usually, if not fair. But considering the angry looks on the assembled faces, Dana doubted she would fare much better with these than with the full Council.

"I am here," Dana declared, "What is it that you want?" She had decided the offensive might be the best tactic.

"Dannan," Toloshan began, "Certain facts have come to the Council's attention which concern us deeply. Facts that imply you might not take your vows to the Council regarding Angelus as seriously as you might."

Erishka continued the lecture, keeping the ruse of her ignorance with conviction, "We simply want to understand your intentions -- and your motivations."

"And the implications of any possible actions you might choose to take." Kayeli added.

Dana nodded, "I am well aware of all these things..."

"Are You?" Toloshan stared pointedly at her, "Once, perhaps... but now? You threaten to unravel our very existence. You have shared more details of Angelus' destiny with him than any of us -- or indeed, the entire Council -- is comfortable with."

"Rumours abound, Dannan," Kayeli went on, "Our entire population is in a terrified frenzy over Angelus' presence among them."

"Nonsense," Dana objected, "They like him. They treat him as the honored brother that he is. He is becoming one of us, just as you requested."

"Is he?" Erishka asked. Despite her love for Dana and her growing affection for Angel, she wondered... "Is he only another Souled One? Just another vampire?"

"No. He is not," Toloshan confirmed, "He is the Chosen One -- the Damned of Prophecy. The Greatest Vampire to ever live. His life and its product will signal the start of a war that will stretch across eons. His issue will take control of this Council. We will no longer be able to live in the safety and peace we have enjoyed all these centuries..."

"Why are we reviewing all this again?" Dana interrupted.

"Because we know that your time is short." Erishka answered, an edge of sadness to her ancient and powerful voice, "And we fear what you might do in your guilt and desperation."

"We realize our decision to amend Angels' curse was an unpopular one -- and in hindsight, perhaps, rash and unwise. But it is done, all the same. The Council decided an age ago to provide the Kalderash with the magicks to restore Angelus' soul, but also to prevent him from building his prophesied life with the Slayer. To prevent his legendary obsession with regaining his mortality. To prevent his union with the Mother of Kings..."

"I KNOW ALL OF THIS, TOLOSHAN!" Dana shouted, "I TRANSLATED THE BOOKS MYSELF! I WAS ON THE COUNCIL WHEN THE VOTE WAS TAKEN! I HELPED TO..." she quieted, "I helped to create the magicks used against Angel..."

"We are aware of that, Dannan." Toloshan ignored her outburst and went on, patiently, "But we feel perhaps you have forgotten the importance of these events. And it is now time for you to be reminded what we hoped to accomplish all those years ago."

*****

The grilling went on for hours -- more and more of the same. The sum result was that Dana was to find a way to throw Angelus off the scent by the Vernal Equinox, or he would be summarily executed.

Dana chuckled bitterly. She didn't have that much time left to her, but it was enough to do what she had to. It was enough to save Angel and restore him to the life that had been stolen from him. So far, her luck still held, and Erishka had kept her silence about the Incantations of Incarnation.

Only one task remained to be undertaken before she could proceed.

She had to assure Maella's silence.

*****

The girl had lost weight, and her skin had a pallor unusual even for a vampire, having a greenish tint. She was sullen and pouty, sitting in the love seat in the eastern parlor, waiting for Dana with her hands in her lap.

Dana regarded her from the hall for a long moment. She felt horrible that Maella had chosen such a fierce stance against she and Angel, and she regretted the events at hand coming between their long friendship. Especially in these final days... they had shared so much together, it seemed a shame they could not share in this, too.

She put on her serious Council face, determined not to give away her sadness and anxiety, and stepped into the room.

"Maella," She said, startling the girl form whatever thoughts she had been lost in.

Maella's thoughts were jumbled, as they often were, these days. She struggled between her fear of what she knew was coming and her anguish over her rift with Dana, especially in light of the latter's impending death. She struggled too, with her choices -- would telling the council that Dana had the magicks to restore Angel to his destiny solve any of the problems at hand? Surely the two would be hunted down and executed, but would the Souled, their people, still be saved? She knew from years of learning from Dana that prophecies were tricky things... that as often as not, they came true when all odds seemed against it being so... Dana was always telling her that all beings must evolve -- if that were true, whatever happened to Dana and Angel, might her race not become extinct anyway?

This was ridiculous. Why should she allow Dana's love for some boy set their destruction in motion? She had finally accepted Dana's invitation to talk, hoping to force her to see sense before it was too late. But if she continued to be so stubborn...

Now that Dana stood before her in all her blazing glory, her bravado about her like a cloak to protect her from Maella's anger, the girl felt a pang of regret that things had gotten so far out of hand. Something in Dana's carriage warned of her deteriorating health, and set Maella to mourning their younger days, when the nation of the Souled was brand-new, and a world of possibilities lay at their fingertips...

"Hello, Dana," she said as coolly as she could manage, trying to keep her feelings as close to the chest as possible, so as not to loose any advantage she might have in the argument.

Dana sat beside her in the loveseat, curling her long legs up underneath her. The casual, easy way she moved made Maella notice something else new in her sister, too... something that almost overshadowed the aura of death around her...

She was certain it must be love, and she found herself both glad that Dana had finally found it, and angry once again, that it would be with someone who would mean her end...

"I'm glad you agreed to meet me," Dana said, allowing some measured emotion in her voice

"Time is short. You were right -- it is time we talked," Maella replied.

"You know, then," Dana said, not surprised in the least. This woman knew her better than anyone...

"I can read a calendar. I can read the signs."

Dana nodded. "Then you know too, what I must do. What justice... what fate... no, what love, compels me to do."

Maella reached out and took her sister's hand, holding her gaze. "I beg you, Dana. Don't do this. Let Angel return to his old life... send him away. Don't spend these last few weeks plotting against your own people... against me... Angelus is no good for us -- no good for you..."

Dana shook her head. "My sister... I must..."

"WHY?" Maella exploded, months of not sleeping or eating well swiftly catching up with her, "Why MUST you? Why do you owe this boy anything!? He will kill you -- destroy your life's work!"

"My death is already at hand..."

"But you know... you KNOW... the Spells of Incarnation will kill you! The amount of soul energy it requires to bestow life would rend the giving soul dead even in the strongest being..." Maella began to cry, all her control now gone, "You can't think to do this..."

Dana looked at her, her face drawn in pain, "Maella, can't you understand? Every being has a right to pursue their destiny! And after what the Council did to deny Angel that fundamental right... What I did, however unwillingly... there is no other choice. I must restore him!"

She hesitated for a moment.

"I love him so much, my sister... can you deny us these few days together? Can you deny me the right to finally make amends for my crimes?" She looked directly into the girl's teary gaze, "Can you deny me the one gift that I have to give the man I have loved for all time?"

Maella tore away from her and leapt from her seat, angrily pacing the floor.

"Dana... what about all else you have loved -- have dedicated your life to? What about me?" Her voice became small and weak at the last, "Have you not loved me, as well? Can you destroy me, destroy our world, so easily? For love of a man?"

Dana rose to go to her. But the room pitched, she lost her balance, and nearly fell to the floor. The blood filled her vision and she became consumed with irrational rage.

"You are an underling. No more!" Dana spat at her, her voice low and vicious, "Do not presume to tell me about love. You know nothing of it!"

Maella gasped. As Dana rose, she found she was looking into a face she had never seen before -- the face of Dana's demon. Her vampire face.

"Dana...oh..." Maella objected weakly, fearing suddenly for her very life, yet utterly unable to move. Dana crossed the space between them in a moment, clenching Maella's throat in a crushing grip. Her yellow vampire eyes flared, and her breath stunk of dead things... Maella had never felt such terror before, not even in the hands of the witch hunters, all those centuries ago.

"Do not interfere with me, girl," the creature snarled, "Or you will quickly be dust."

Maella said nothing, but only quaked in Dana's grip. A moment passed, then another. Suddenly, Dana reeled, releasing her and falling to the floor, gasping.

Maella had a brief urge to stop and help Dana, but her anger and survival instinct got the better of her, and she bolted out the door, slamming it behind her.

"Maella, wait! I'm sorry!" She heard Dana call weakly from behind her.

The pathetic sound only convinced her further of what she must do. Time was slipping away as quickly as Dana's soul...

Go to Chapter 11