Part 1

<That was a damn foolish thing to do Angel. Running off like that.> I berate
myself for the hundredth time as I sit here on my jet en route to Spain.
It's been two months since Willow left with Kane. Kane. Just thinking of his
name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. That so innocent a person as Willow
should have been lured into a dangerous web of such as his makes me sick to
my stomach.

And it's all my fault.

I practically drove her into his arms. How could I have been so stupid? I
should have realized that she was my soulmate. My other half. My missing
link. It hurts to even think about what I have lost, so I turn my mind to
matters of how to regain the treasure I threw away. I pick up the phone on
my jet and dial Buffy's number for the ninth time in a week.

"Summer's residence." Buffy's chirpy little voice proclaims over the phone
line.

"Don't hang up," are the first words out of my mouth.

"Leave her alone, Angel." The connection breaks.

Furious, I throw the phone away from me. "Damn!" If only they'd hear me out
then they'd know Willow was in trouble. This isn't about me being in love
with her; this is about her safety. I've told them a thousand times and they
won't listen. "Leave her alone, Angel." I swear, if I hear those words once
more, I'm going to scream. Me, the 243 year old vampire who is known for his
cool, his charm, and his control, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Could be an interesting sight.

But I refuse to give into the temptation. I've been doing fine without Amy
or Buffy. I have hundreds of contacts scattered throughout the world. Living
for over two centuries has its advantages. I've been following leads from
all over Europe. I have to give Kane credit for one thing; he sure knows how
to cover his tracks. Then again, I know how to follow even the slightest
trail.

I walk over to the small table in the middle of the jet and sit down.
Picking up my notebook, I look over the notations I have made. It's a common
practice of mine when I am searching for someone or something. I keep a
notebook of anything I find, no matter how trivial. In most cases it's the
trivial thing turns out to be the key

I sound like a damn detective in one of those old black and white films. I
allow a small chuckle to escape me as I envision myself sitting behind a
desk; a wide-brim fedora perched slightly crooked on my head, the patented
trench coat hanging by my door.

Revealing in the image for a moment, I shake myself out of my trance and
bring myself to the matters at hand. I review my notes from the past week
and the clues that have lead me to believe my Willow has been taken to
Spain. My last stop was in France, where I spent a week blundering around
trying to remember how to speak French once again. Hey, I'm immortal, not a
linguistic genius and I haven't been to France in over 95 years.

Seems that Kane has property in France, a rather large estate at that. It
works to my advantage, however, for it's that much more conspicuous to the
common populace, who are more than willing to gossip with mysterious
foreigners such as I, when a house that has been empty for years is suddenly
occupied and just as suddenly deserted.

They have been everywhere: France, Germany, England, stopping for no more
than two or three weeks in each country. Kane knows I'm following them. I
wonder if Willow is becoming suspicious of the sudden moves. Of course she
is, she's too smart to not realize something abnormal is happening. A sudden
thought strikes me and I feel my face contort into a grimace.

Is he telling her I'm stalking them again?

Why didn't I think of it before? Even if I do find them, what's to help me
convince Willow to come back with me? He's been feeding her lies for months.
Yet again I curse myself for being so stupid. How could I have let Willow
go? Why did I have to go back to Buffy?

I feel a sudden stab of remorse for Buffy. I haven't exactly been the nicest
guy in the world as of late towards either of the women in my life. Once
this is all over and Willow is safe again, I can apologize for being such an
ass. They'll forgive me. They'll have to see I was only doing it to save
Willow and because I love Buffy. I do love Buffy, I always have and I always
will. But the thing about Buffy is that she was a dangerous love. I was with
her for the thrill of the ride.

Damn, could I sound any shallower? 'For the thrill of the ride'? Now I have
to explain. Explain? Explain to whom? Myself? God? I was with Buffy because
I loved her but when I was with her, there was always the thrill of defying
fate. I knew the higher powers were screaming at the mere thought of a
vampire and a Slayer in love. That titillating twist to the love kept me
coming back to her, like a moth to a flame. Knowing I would be burned but
not caring.

That light blinded me so that I didn't see the miracle that was Willow. She
was there for me. She offered everything she had to me. Her patience, her
compassion, her loyalty….her love. I knew she was in love with me. I think,
deep inside myself, I had always known. Her love for me was utterly without
limits. She held nothing back from me. She loved me enough to let me go back
to Buffy, to be happy.

And I thought I would be happy there, with Buffy.

In all my two hundred plus years, I still haven't found out how to recognize
the jewel of my life when it's shoved right in my face.

I don't mean to say I don't recognize an extraordinary woman when I see one,
I'm an expert at that. I've been in the company of the best the female
gender has to offer. Beautiful, brilliant, compassionate, brave, I've been
with them all. But none have come close to Willow.

Willow, the 19-year-old girl, the computer geek, the girl who couldn't
handle caffeine the smallest increments, and the only woman I want. The only
one that I can't live without.

Look at me, blathering about love and soulmates. It's kind of ironic that
"Bringer of Death", the "Dwich da le Hachia", the "Hombre de la Muerto", and
a hundred other names in languages from all over the world could have
finally done the impossible. That he could have fallen in love.

And that he could have been so stupid as to drive her away. To break her
fragile heart.

I'm startled out of my reverie of love by the piercing notes of my fax
machine warning me that a message is coming my way. I wait for the paper to
unfurl before ripping it off and reading the latest update from my contact
in Berlin. It was he who found the anomaly in Kane's past, he who found my
proof. According to him, Kane Havor is remarkably rich. He has hundreds of
bank accounts all over the world. And if that wasn't conspicuous enough,
some of them dated back to 1808, in the same name. No Kane Havor Sr. to Kane
Havor Jr., just plain and simple Kane Havor. I continue to be amazed that
someone smart enough to have eluded me for a month could be so stupid as to
not have taken measures to disguise this flaw in his charade.

It also amazes me that no one have ever noticed that Mr. Havor is, in fact,
over 191 years old.

END PART ONE

~~Don't judge too harshly. Dayna's a hard act to follow.~~
 
 
 

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