A Stolen Season

By Michelle Fields

Prologue

 

 

The last few days have been eventful for Mahleah. As I’ve mentioned before, she has been reluctant to inform her fiancé, Mark Fleming, about her Immortality despite the fact that Joe Dawson and Amanda have both advised her to do so. They ask how she expects to marry a man who does not know what she is. Endless questions would be raised: Why do you take your martial arts training so seriously? Why do you never age or get sick?

One can’t easily hide it after many years of intimacy -- especially if one is involved in The Game. They’ve also told her that it is unfair – and dangerous – to keep him ignorant of The Game. She had promised her friends that before taking vows she would have a long talk with Mark. Unfortunately, she hesitated too long. Even in this isolated hill country The Game found her in the form of Jean Samuelle, a relatively young Immortal only about fifty-years-old and looking to make a name.

The two Immortals encountered each other twice in public, before he caught her in the woods yesterday. With no other choice, she fought and took his head. As fate would have it, Mark was also in the woods and saw the fight and The Quickening. It appears this chain of events appalled our intrepid English teacher. Unable to reconcile the woman that he knew with the Immortal warrior that he has now seen, he departed. Mahleah, too, has left this part of the country: bound, so I understand, for her old roommate Diana’s residence in Los Angeles, California.

--Excerpt from The Watchers’ Chronicles

Cordelia Chase had been having a bad enough day before the visions started. She was still reeling from her first experience with the excruciatingly painful headaches the premonitions caused. She’d been in the middle of an audition for a commercial that would have been seen nation-wide when wham! A jackhammer was drilling into her brain, her nerves were on fire, and all she could see was some ugly, gray, blobby thing.

The audition was ruined, of course, but so was her faith in the memory of her last kiss with Doyle. She’d been furious with him for sticking her with such a painful and embarrassing curse until Barney, the empathy demon, pointed out that Doyle had left her the most valuable thing in his possession.

Of course, Barney had turned out to be a repulsive little snake who had tried to sell her at auction. To add insult to injury, he’d started the bidding at two thousand dollars, for goodness’ sake! Well, she’d put him in his place, literally, by stabbing him with the horn of a life-sucking demon.

So, all was well that ended well, except it wasn’t the end. The visions just kept on coming, and while she appreciated the trust Doyle had placed in her she would soon have to buy stock in a pain medication company to maintain her supply.

This week in particular had been horrific. She didn’t understand what she was seeing, and that made her feel worse. She guessed that this time the flashes she saw were premonitions of things about to occur rather than things already happening, but even then, they really didn’t make any sense.

She’d seen fighting … chaos really … more like several fights superimposed on each other. She saw the same woman every time, but couldn’t tell who it was. The stranger was always a blur in motion.

On a few occasions, she had glimpsed swords and since the last big sword fight she had witnessed had been between Mahleah and Phillip Johnson, she automatically thought of Immortals. In fact, the woman she saw repeatedly could have been Mahleah, but she wasn’t sure. Besides, Mahleah had disappeared over a year ago – vanished after the largest light show that Cordelia had ever seen. It had been her first Quickening, though, so she really had no frame of reference.

If it was Mahleah in her visions, what would that mean? Had she returned from the thin air she’d gone into? If so, Cordelia hoped she hadn’t brought along any more of those serial killer types who had stalked her last time. The funny thing, though, was that in her visions the woman she saw didn’t need help. She was always beating up someone else.

****

Angel closed his book, as his thoughts kept wandering far from the printed page. He wondered what Buffy was doing now: preparing for finals, doing some Christmas shopping, dating a new boyfriend?

He really needed to stop thinking about her, but it seemed a hopeless proposition. He’d thought he had himself well under control until she’d actually stepped into his office the day after Thanksgiving. His heart constricted with pain every time he thought of what had followed. They’d fought a demon together and its blood had restored his humanity.

Three simple little words: restored his humanity, but they conjured up ghosts of a past that existed only in his mind and were therefore deceptive in their simplicity. For 24 hours, he’d had everything he’d ever wanted: a heartbeat, a reflection, and the ability to eat real food and walk in the sunlight, but most importantly Buffy. Though the memory of their night together brought him pain, he preferred retaining its memory.

Those brief hours when he’d made up for years of physical and emotional hunger were the most precious he had ever spent. It had only been the knowledge that without his supernatural powers she would probably die that had left him with no alternative but to ask the Oracles to reverse what had been done. He hadn’t expected them to erase the entire day, but in the end, perhaps it was more merciful for her that way. She had asked how she could go on, knowing what they had and what they could have had.

This way, she wouldn’t be tortured with that memory and heaven only knew he’d given her more than enough in the past that would haunt her.

Yet, as he’d told Doyle, maybe he’d made a mistake. He’d not allowed her to have a choice in his decision. In his desire to protect her, he had sacrificed not just their future together, but the happiest moments either of them had ever known. Perhaps, it was a subconscious desire on his part to prove that he was no longer Liam, the selfish, drunken, disappointing son that he’d been before Darla.

Thinking of Doyle elicited more pain. It had taken him a little while to warm up to the half-demon. Doyle had been more than a little pushy at first, but it was because he truly wanted to help Angel and because it eased his own pain. Eventually, Angel had recognized a kindred spirit in his new friend: a man who, in his youth, made mistakes that haunted him, literally, in visions of others in need.

Doyle had feared that he would never make up for the self-absorption of his past, but his death had proved he was at heart a true hero. Angel had gone to the Oracles, begging them to restore Doyle’s life, but he understood what the woman had meant when she said that it would have tarnished the very thing Doyle had finally succeeded in doing. His noble act would have vanished, and Angel supposed that he didn’t have a right to take that redemption away from his friend.

It was odd to find that Cordelia had received Doyle’s visions. Although, he supposed, it could prove to be her personal salvation. Cordelia wasn’t a bad person. She never really had been, just oblivious to the feelings and concerns of everyone around her. Gradually, as she matured, she was starting to grow away from the adolescent concept that the world revolved around her. Doyle’s legacy could only help her in her evolution.

It seemed that, with Doyle’s death, he and Cordelia would have to work together to overcome both the grief that surrounded them, and the dark forces foretold in Doyle’s last prophecy.

He sighed, and wondered again what Buffy was doing.

****

 

Buffy clutched the fuzzy, tiger-striped journal to her chest with one hand as she unlocked the door to Mahleah’s old house with the other. She felt weary to her bones after working for hours with Giles to sort through Faith’s possessions. It had felt strange to go through the other girl’s things, but the doctors had insisted that she was not going to wake up from her coma and Giles thought that Buffy needed closure. She would have felt worse about giving away Faith’s things if she hadn’t had a dream while she was in the hospital herself.

After saving Angel’s life by forcing him to drink from her, Buffy had fallen into a dream that seemed to be shared by her fellow, unconscious Slayer. In it, Faith had given Buffy not only the key to destroying the mayor, but also all her belongings. The only thing left now was this journal.

Buffy had been surprised to see that Faith had kept such a record. She felt a little ashamed that she had tended to think of the other girl as illiterate. Her shock was increased when she opened the book – skimming through its pages, she saw several references to Mahleah. She’d never known that her former mentor had contact with the rogue Slayer.

So, she had come to the house the Immortal had left behind to discover the journal’s secrets. Walking in the front door, Buffy smiled involuntarily. She still couldn’t believe that the house was hers. Mahleah had planned. Knowing that if she succeeded in her quest to prevent Philip Johnson from killing Duncan MacLeod and was returned to her own time the house would be abandoned, she made the necessary arrangements to leave everything she owned in Sunnydale to Buffy. Joyce, Buffy’s mother, was more than a little shocked by this bequest to a girl not yet eighteen, but Giles had approved.

The house was hers and she came here often. Two or three times a week, she came to work out in the dojo/dance studio, but she also came to explore. Mahleah had decorated the house with mementos of her travels and each time she explored, Buffy found some new treasure to marvel over. The ancient Immortal had placed priceless antiques next to objects that were more valuable for the memories they preserved.

Buffy paused next to a table and picked up a small, but weighty statue. It was a copy of Cupid and Psyche by Antonio Canova. She loved it as well as the replica of Rodin’s The Kiss perched on a table on the other side of the couch. They were both carved from marble, and aside from their size, appeared completely authentic. She knew a little about them because she had asked Mahleah to tell her their history.

The woman had smiled and said they were a gift from an old friend – a forger in fact –a man with extremely talented fingers. Considering the subject matter – a pair of nude couples locked in a passionate kiss – Buffy figured the forger must have thought Mahleah possessed very talented lips. When she’d actually made a similar comment to her teacher, the older woman had given a throaty chuckle and said, "No comment."

She replaced Cupid and Psyche on the table, remembering that she’d later asked Angel who Psyche was. He’d told her the story of the old Greek myth. She sighed. Love and the soul didn’t seem to come together very well in her life. She walked over to Mahleah’s stereo system. One of the attractions the house held for her was the huge CD collection, as well as the fact that Mahleah had loved music so much that speakers were in every room. Once a song began, it could be heard no matter what part of the house one was in.

Mahleah’s taste in music was eclectic, which made sense considering her vast life experiences. Buffy loved to pick out a disk at random and play it. The whole house was one enormous adventure with surprises around every corner. She pulled out a favorite: Massive Attack’s Blue Lines, and gave a wry smile. It seemed ironic to her that the several thousand-year-old Immortal was hipper than her former roommate Cathy.

She moved to the fireplace. It really wasn’t that cold, despite being December, but she found a fire comforting. The most important reason she came back so many times was that she thought she still felt Mahleah’s presence here and the fire magnified that sensation. She had found herself in front of this fire several times in the months since Mahleah’s disappearance: when Giles had betrayed her on her birthday, when she was concerned that Faith was stealing Angel away from her, and especially after Angel not only broke up with her, but moved to LA for good measure.

Most recently, she had sought the warmth of the house and its fire when she’d seen Angel the day after Thanksgiving. It had been a devastatingly painful meeting, and she couldn’t understand quite why. She’d only seen him for five minutes or so, but when she returned to Sunnydale, her soul was in agony. Even the fire hadn’t seemed to help. She’d gone upstairs and lain across Mahleah’s bed weeping. There came a time though, when her eyes had dried and she’d looked out at the stars through the skylight. Sleep had reluctantly, but eventually, overtaken her.

After getting a small blaze started, she walked over to a large chest on the far side of the room. It was quite old with Celtic knots carved over its surface. It was full of memories, Buffy had assumed upon viewing the contents for the first time. On top was the long MacLeod plaid that Mahleah had wrapped herself in before finishing her tale on Christmas Day. Buffy removed it now for herself.

The trunk contained kilts, also of MacLeod tartan, a couple of sporran, and various books and letters. Underneath this she had discovered dirks, a sguin dubh, a basket-hilted broadsword and at the very bottom a claymore. Strong as she was, Buffy was still impressed that anyone could use such an enormous weapon. She could lift and swing it, but it was longer than she was and she would never attempt to use it in a real fight. It was an instance, she knew, where Mahleah’s considerable height gave her an advantage.

She had also found boxes containing jewelry and frowned a little with the memory. Among the brooches, torcs, armlets, and hair combs, was an unusual necklace that she had fallen in love with. Its pendant was a crystal globe encircled by gold and dangling from a long gold chain. When she’d shown it to Giles, he’d informed her it was a charm stone, which Highlanders believed possessed magical healing powers. He doubted there was any truth to the legend, but Buffy had worn it for luck. Unfortunately, there had been other, unexpected results from it as well.

After graduation, Buffy had been surprised by a telephone call from Duncan MacLeod. He had invited her and her mother to Paris for a week and after discussions with both Joyce and Giles, they had gone.

Buffy had not had a real vacation in a couple of years and the thoughts of going to Paris were intoxicating. Not only would she get away from her duties as the Slayer for a whole week, she would get to see one of the most famous cities of the world. A city, she recalled, that had played a rather prominent role in the history of Mahleah MacLeod. There were many places she wanted to see…not all of which were on the tourists’ maps. MacLeod’s barge topped that list.

When she’d actually climbed onboard, she felt chills run down her spine. Mahleah had spent six ecstatically happy weeks here, but several of the most heartbreaking moments from her first lifetime had occurred as well. Her mother had noticed the view of Notre Dame, exclaiming over its loveliness.

Buffy’s frown deepened. She’d been glad to spend a week with her mother before she went off to college, but she had not anticipated the effect of Duncan MacLeod’s charms on Joyce. Duncan was just being himself, as far as Buffy could tell, but after all, that was darn good, and to a woman whose last serious boyfriend had turned out to be a homicidal robot, well….

She’d used her mother to suggest spending their first day near Notre Dame, knowing that several places that she wanted to see because of their role in Mahleah’s history, such as the Musée de Cluny and the Luxembourg Gardens were in the vicinity. They had seen La Dame á la Licorne, and she pictured an eight-year-old girl running away to see it one last time before leaving the country. They had lunch in the Gardens and she watched children sailing their boats on the water.

Everything, in fact, had been perfect until she realized that Duncan, and Joe who had joined them, was subtly pumping her and her mother for information about Mahleah. He had actually asked her point blank about the charm stone, which she had sentimentally worn one day. He had been a little pale and when she told him that "Morgaine" had given it to her, had walked away. It dawned on her, too late, that the necklace was familiar to him and that chances were excellent that Mahleah had received the stone from him in the first place.

She had done everything in her power to convince the two that the woman they’d met had been Morgaine, but little things would give her away and she knew they noticed. Like the night, she went to Joe’s club, for instance. When asked if she wished to go, she’d accidentally said she’d heard good things about the music there.

The final clue had been when she heard her mother innocently mention the name Mahleah MacLeod. Duncan’s eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline. Buffy managed to get her mother away before anything else was said, but her mother proved surprisingly recalcitrant to rectify the mistake. Since she did not know the complete history, she saw no reason for deceiving Mac. It was becoming evident that Joyce was falling more under the Highlander’s spell every day.

Buffy had swallowed hard and explained the facts of Immortal life. Joyce was stunned but still smitten, and told her daughter that Duncan MacLeod had the right to know the truth about the woman he had so obviously loved. Buffy agreed with that idea, what she had trouble with was whether she had a right to change history. She would have loved to see Tora, Mahleah’s sword with the tiger-eyes that detected future-changing events, then.

She tried to use logic: if Mahleah had prevented Philip from killing Duncan and his friends then her time line would have been restored. If she told Duncan about Philip, she might change the future, but wouldn’t she only be changing the fact that Philip messed with history to begin with? Her head ached. She could possibly prevent Mahleah from having to suffer through millennia of pain, but would it be right to do so? After all, if Mahleah never came back in time, then Buffy would never have known her. It was a rather selfish reason, Buffy thought, but no less valid. She was not the only person Mahleah had helped. Would the world be better off if Mahleah was forced to follow Philip back in time?

When Duncan found her, she was at Notre Dame, in the exact place, although she didn’t know it, that Tim had found Mahleah after the death of Fitzcairn. Duncan sat beside her.

"This is one of Mahleah’s favorite spots," he told her.

"Really," Buffy’s mouth went dry.

"Yes, she comes here when she’s troubled."

"Like teacher like student, I suppose," she said softly.

He looked at her intently. "Are you admitting you know her?"

She took a deep breath and plunged in, "I knew her, but the woman I knew was not the same as the one you’re looking for."

He frowned. "How do you mean? Is she Mahleah or is she Morgaine?"

"She’s both actually." It was her turn to stare at him.

"I don’t understand, I knew Morgaine when I was growing up while Mahleah is only in her late twenties. They can’t be the same person."

"The Mahleah you found in Sunnydale is both. Look, Mac, this is complicated and I can’t tell you everything, but…"she gulped, then blurted it out, "something happens many years from now that sends Mahleah back to the past. When she fixed it, she went back to her own time. It took her a while to do it, so she met up with you in the past."

"That’s crazy," he stared at her like she had suddenly sprouted two heads.

"Time travel?"

"That’s any less bizarre than Immortality? Hello, how about vampires and Slayers? Aren’t they a freaky concept? Come on, there are more things on heaven and earth, Horatio…"

He stood up. "So, you’re telling me that something goes very wrong in our future and Mahleah travels to the past to set it right?"

"Yep."

"So, the person I knew as Morgaine was actually Mahleah trying to set history right again?"

"You got it."

"Am I allowed to ask how she did it?"

"No."

"Okay, how about why?"

She sighed, "I really shouldn’t give you many details, Mac. You could screw up the future and she tried so hard to prevent that."

He took a few steps, pivoted, and then walked back to her. "Philip – this has something to do with Philip, doesn’t it?"

"Mac, please…"

He ignored her and continued, "Philip tried to kill me: first in 1780 and then recently. She wasn’t sure when he would try so she came to the Highlands when I was a child."

He was putting too much together, she thought frantically.

His dark eyes flashed angrily, "So, if I kill Philip now, history will never go wrong."

She jumped up and went to him pleading, "Mac, you can’t do that."

"Why not?"

"Think about it. If you kill Philip in 1999, you would never have known Morgaine in the seventeenth century."

She saw she was making an impression and kept going, "Mac, Mahleah helped a lot of people. Do you want to undo all the good she did? She brought me through the most devastating event of my life. She made me realize that I had the strength to go on living, and the hope to keep on caring. I’m not the only one, either. Do you want to take away the relief she brought to the people she cared about? She told me once that she thought she was supposed to travel back to the past. She even helped herself by making sure that she had a weapon to kill Kenneth with. If you respect what she stands for, all in fact that you taught her, then you have to leave it alone."

He stood very still, a light breeze catching his dark hair. She held her breath waiting for his answer. He bowed his head and reluctantly resigned himself to her words.

"I can’t imagine my life without Mahleah or Morgaine," he admitted.

Wrapped in the MacLeod plaid and sitting in Mahleah’s old chair by the fire Buffy gave herself a mental shake to bring herself back to the present. She needed to find out what Faith had written in her journal. She opened the book and began reading.

****

Mahleah stared sightlessly out of the window. She was thousands of feet above the earth and a million miles away. In her ears, the rented headphones merrily treated her to Christmas songs. As if Christmas were truly the joyous occasion everyone claimed. Not for her, it wasn’t.

It was true, she had experienced some happy holidays. Two in particular stood out: the first one after she became Immortal when she and Duncan MacLeod had mended their friendship, and then, of course last year. Last Christmas Mark had proposed to her. Why hadn’t she said no, then? She should have at least told him about her Immortality. He had a right to know because just being around her put him in danger from the Game.

She’d been a coward – afraid that if he knew he would leave her. Well, that had certainly been proven, but maybe if she’d told him before, he would have been able to accept it. As it was, he had little chance to prepare himself for the sight of his fiancée cutting off a man’s head.

Even so, if it hadn’t been her Immortality it would have been something else in the end, wouldn’t it? After all, everyone left. Everyone she’d ever loved had gone, leaving her alone. Mark was just the latest to do so. Before him, there had been a steady line of figures: her mother, Kevin, Darius, Tessa, Fitzcairn, and Richie. She couldn’t really blame them, though; death hadn’t given them a choice. On the other hand, Roland had used her, Kenneth had abused her, and Duncan had abandoned her. Even her father, who after being an on-again, off-again parent for sixteen years then seemed to get his act together, had reverted to type. She’d finally accepted his marriage to Belinda, hoping the woman would bring him happiness. Yet, after her combustible breakup with her fiancé, she’d seen her father sneaking a drink once more.

What was wrong with her? No one seemed to want to stay with her for very long. The Pointer Sisters’ jaunty rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" ended, but she barely noticed. When the next song began, though, it caught her ear: U2’s version of (Baby) Please Come Home."

"Oh, that’s just what I need," she thought bitterly, but found herself unable to turn the music off.

"They’re singing deck the halls

but it’s not like Christmas at all.

I remember when you were here,

and all the fun we had last year,"

Bono keened.

She felt herself dying a little more inside. If only she could cry, but it seemed like with every betrayal she lost a part of herself. With Mac, it had been her singing voice, and now with Mark it was her tears. If the pattern continued, there would be nothing left of Mahleah Brennan.

****

Deep in the night, the vampire dreamed. In the old days, her human days, she’d been frightened of the visions. They branded her as different: a thing of evil. Then, she had met him. Her darling daddy had told her to accept her destiny and embrace her power. He had shown her how petty and useless mortal ideas were. Humans themselves were pathetic, fragile containers filled with the dark elixir of life and he had given it to her.

The innocent, petrified girl died and a strong, self-confident queen of darkness had been born. She had been his perfect consort: the force of her visions giving his reign of terror an almost physical shape. Truly a match made in hell, their fiendish union was severed by a gypsy curse -- a curse that drove him into the arms of the enemy and caused him to turn against his own kind. He had fallen from the heights of greatness and she’d wept bloody tears to see the depths of his degradation.

There had been a short but joyous time when he returned. Her beloved sire was restored to himself with a merciless glee that sought to eradicate all traces of his former weakness. Then, they’d both been betrayed and he was taken from her again. She had dealt with the betrayer. Now, she awaited his return. Until then, she had her vision. Soon, Angelus would be hers once more….

Chapter One

 

Mahleah paid her taxi driver and walked up to Diana’s front door. She knocked, but no one answered. She suddenly heard raised voices and the sounds of breaking glass. She pounded on the door in frustration, and then ran to the back of the house. That door was locked as well, but she knew where Diana usually hid a key. Retrieving it, she quickly let herself in.

The kitchen was in front of her, and there were signs of a struggle here. A chair was overturned, and the dishes had been pulled off the table along with the tablecloth. Mahleah followed the sound of a male voice screaming, "I’m not going to take that from some little hillbilly whore!"

Coming around the corner, Mahleah saw Diana sprawled on the floor. She had the beginnings of a black eye and her dark hair was sticking to a cut on her face. A strange man, three times Diana’s size, loomed over her brandishing a broken bottle. He told Diana in a voice choked with rage, "I’m going to teach you to have some respect, you…"

Before he could finish, Mahleah grabbed his arm from behind and bent his wrist back, making him drop the weapon. Then she spun him around.

"What exactly should she respect?" she questioned.

"You’re that bitch she talks about all the time, Melinda, aren’t you?"

"That would be me," she agreed, "only the name’s Mahleah."

"Why don’t you mind your own business?" he demanded.

"Well, I’m afraid this is my business, chum," she told him.

He threw a punch at her, which she sidestepped. She caught his out-thrust arm with her right hand and drove her left into his side. He howled and staggered, but continued struggling so she lowered her left hand to his leg and used her two-fold hold to throw him over the couch.

When she walked over to him, she discovered he had a small pocketknife, which he proceeded to slash her in the arm with. Fortunately, he didn’t get beyond her thick coat.

"Oh, you do like cutting people, don’t you? Trust me, you really don’t want me to respond in kind…my blade’s bigger. So, how about I just make you eat that thing?"

She kicked his left side and pinned his hand with her foot. She grabbed his right arm and twisted it back to make him give up the knife. He stubbornly held on. She applied more pressure until the bone gave and he screamed, his hand opening.

"Are we done?" she inquired.

"Go to hell," he hissed and tried to head butt her.

Ignoring the pain, she grabbed him and rammed his head into the wall. Suddenly the sound of a siren penetrated Mahleah’s concentration. She stepped back from the nearly unconscious man and looked over at her battered friend who wore a grim expression. "I called 911," she was informed. Mahleah nodded wearily, as two uniformed policemen entered the room.

As it turned out, the man’s name was Jordan Parker, and he was apparently Diana’s current boyfriend. He was taken to the hospital. Diana insisted on accompanying him there, so Mahleah followed the ambulance in her friend’s car. When they arrived at the emergency room, she insisted that Diana be treated as well.

Officer Hall talked to the doctor who informed him that Diana was fine other than a couple of cuts, a black eye, and various bruises. Jordan, on the other hand, had a broken arm and rib, a dislocated shoulder, and a concussion.

He dubiously eyed the tall woman beside him. He couldn’t read the expression on her face. "What are you?" he asked her. "Do you work for the government or something?"

She almost smiled, "No," she replied. "I’m just your average martial arts junky -- picked it all up from a Jackie Chan movie."

"Yeah, right," he snorted in disbelief. He saw his partner Fitzgerald coming down the hall and went to meet him.

"What did the neighbors say?"

Fitzgerald heaved a sigh, "They’ve heard Parker screaming at his girlfriend on multiple occasions. According to the couple who live next door, she usually shows up the next day sporting some ugly bruises."

"So, why didn’t they do something?" Mahleah demanded.

Officer Hall was a little startled. He hadn’t realized that she had followed him. "Ms. Brennan, could you please have a seat. This is confidential."

This time she was the one to make a rude noise of disbelief, but she left.

"What do you make of her?" Fitzgerald asked.

"She claims she found him waving a broken bottle at her friend and tried to restrain him. He got violent with her as well, and there was a struggle."

"Pretty one-sided, I’d say," his partner observed. "I don’t think she has a scratch on her."

"There’s a tear in her coat where she claims he tried to cut her with a pocketknife. I did find a knife in the floor. As unlikely as it may seem, her story seems to check out."

"Damn," Fitzgerald swore, "what is she, some kind of ninja?"

"She told me she learned it from a movie."

Both officers looked at each other, then back at her and laughed.

Mahleah drove Diana back to the house. She attempted to make small talk, but the other woman was uninterested. Back on her turf, Diana turned to her best friend and demanded, "Why can’t you mind your own business?"

Mahleah gaped at her in disbelief. "Diana, he was about to kill you," she finally protested.

"No, he wouldn’t," the smaller woman’s temper was blazing. "You don’t know anything about him or us. You just barged in here and started slinging him around like a rag doll. Well, who asked you to?"

Now Mahleah’s temper was beginning to burn as well. "Were you just going to let him beat you to death? According to the neighbors, this isn’t the first time he went psycho on you. Why didn’t you call the cops? For that matter, why didn’t you throw his sorry ass out yourself? Mac taught you how to fight years ago. Why wasn’t it you breaking bad on that sorry excuse for a man? You know, after all the things your dad did to your mom, he was the last kind of guy I’d have figured you getting with. What’s the story morning glory, ‘cause it’s not making sense."

"What do you know about it?" They were shouting at each other now. "Mark and MacLeod always treated you like you were porcelain and might shatter if they breathed on you hard."

"Are you forgetting all the bruises Mac gave me in training?"

"Those were accidents, Mahleah, unless you’re trying to tell me he hurt you on purpose. If so, I think you’re lying through your teeth. MacLeod would never deliberately hurt you."

"No, he wouldn’t, but what about Philip, my insane stalker boyfriend-wannabe? He hit me once; actually he hit me twice, ‘cause I turned the other cheek. Then you know what I did, Diana? When he went for me with his fist, I decided I’d been peaceful long enough. He got a foot in the crotch, his head slammed into my knee and the rest of him kicked to the floor!"

"Yes, but that was Philip. You never gave a damn about him. He never dated you."

"No, but Kenneth did. You remember him – smooth, dashing English professor who just happened to be a vampire? Oh, and not just any vampire either. No, I had to go and pick one who wasn’t satisfied with merely biting my throat. He had to feed from my thigh as well, and damn near took my nipple off! And you know what happened to him, Diana? With what I thought was my last breath, I drove a wooden dagger into his back and poof… He was dust. Starting to get the pattern here – you don’t have to take this crap."

"I know he really loves me," Diana protested. "He’s promised to get help."

"Not good enough, while he puts treatment off until tomorrow, he’s beating your face in today. Hitting does not equal love, girl, I don’t care what he says."

"You’re pretty quick to fight yourself," Diana lashed back. "Maybe you should take a look at your own behavior. You’re not beyond reproach you know."

She was stung, "The only times I’ve used actual violence, other than in training, was when someone was hurting someone else. Can he say that?"

"I’ve already spoken to your dad. He said Mark left you. That’s what all this is really about. You’re pissed off at all the men in the world, so Jordan became your scapegoat. Face it Mahleah – you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, and you are the smartest person I’ve ever met, but it’s not done you any good, has it?"

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you’ve attracted some wonderful guys, but you’ve never managed to keep them, have you? Have you ever stopped to think about why that could be? What could possibly be wrong with Little Miss Perfect? Even Duncan MacLeod left you in the end, so don’t try coming in here and telling me how I should deal with my love life. You know, at least I still have one."

Mahleah stared at her with contempt, "If that’s your idea of a relationship, go ahead and let him beat you. I’ll tell you one thing, girlfriend, I may not have the greatest track record either, but at least I’m not some guy’s punching bag."

"Get out," Diana screamed.

"With pleasure."

Mahleah grabbed her bags and headed for a motel. After getting a room for the night though, she found herself pacing restlessly. Leaving the relative calm of the motel, she wandered the streets, aimlessly.

She bought dinner in a moderately priced restaurant, but later couldn’t recall what she had eaten. The sounds of Diana’s words rang in her ears. She felt more ripped apart by this quarrel than by the dissolution of her engagement. She and the dark, petite woman had been friends nearly their whole lives. It seemed inconceivable that her best female friend, someone she regarded as a sister, should turn on her with such a vicious ferocity.

After all they had been through together – bullies, high school, college, Kenneth, Diana’s own family problems – to have her friendship thrown in her face like a worn-out welcome mat was a betrayal she never could have imagined. She had only tried to protect her friend, but obviously, Diana resented such a favor.

Mahleah left the restaurant morosely looking across the street. She saw a corner bar and remembered once again the sight of her father, who had sworn to never touch another drop of alcohol again, secretly gulp a glass of whiskey before she left. She took a deep breath and decided to discover if her destiny, like David Brennan’s, lay at the bottom of a bottle.

Charles Hillman was transfixed. He’d come to Harry’s for a couple of beers to unwind after work, but he’d never expected to see Aphrodite walk into the room and sit at the bar.

He quietly observed her and drank several more bottles. She was so damn tall, he thought in amazement, and her skin was flawlessly perfect. She wasn’t one of those super-scrawny model types who looked like textbook cases of eating disorders. No, this woman had curves – just the way he liked. As for her hair, he wiped away a trickle of sweat gathering above his upper lip. Her hair hung down her back in a glorious silken curtain. Its thick, shiny depths seemed to beckon him hypnotically, inviting him to gather it in his fingers and pull her to his hungry mouth.

What he failed to notice was that Mahleah was growing increasingly angrier with herself, her actions, and her surroundings. Her father’s prescription was failing to provide her with a miracle cure for her pain. She scowled into her shot glass.

At that moment, a stranger seated himself beside her. Mahleah wouldn’t have noticed him, except for the fact that he loudly told the bartender: "Harry, give the little lady anything she wants." He then laughed, adding, “‘Course, she’s not that little, but I don’t care about that."

Mahleah gave him a look that would have instantly frozen a four-alarm house fire, but he blithely ignored it.

"My name is Charles, gorgeous," he announced "What’s a beauty like you doing in our neck of the woods?"

Mahleah turned up the glacial stare a few notches, "I’m attempting to have a drink, and I’d prefer to be left alone."

"Ah now, baby, that’s not what people come to Harry’s for," Charles chuckled.

Harry, who possessed more common sense drunk then his customer did sober, tried to step in before things got out of control. "Charlie, why don’t you go back to your table? The lady just wants to have her drink."

Charlie wouldn’t take the warning, waving off the friendly advice, "Harry, I think I know a little something about women," both the bartender and Mahleah got a wink, "and I know when a beautiful woman comes into a bar she’s looking for some company. Am I right, peaches?" He laid his hand on Mahleah’s knee.

She immediately tensed and brushed it off, as if he were an unsightly insect.

"Sorry Charlie, my name’s not Camilla," she told him.

He blinked, obviously not catching the reference. "Well sweetie, I never called you that, but since you mentioned it what is your name?"

She was so not interested in this guy. "Was that a little vague?" she inquired. "See if you understand this any better: if I wanted a pet, I’d buy a dog."

He was beginning to get angry and his voice rose, "Now look, I’m just trying to be friendly. There’s no need to get snooty, Princess." He grabbed her arm, "Just come back to my table so we can talk."

She jerked free of his hold and loudly told him, "Leave me alone. If you touch me again, I swear, I’ll break your arm off and stick it up your ass!"

Harry intervened, "Look Charlie, just go back to your table and don’t bother the lady, huh?" He unobtrusively motioned for his assistant who doubled as a bouncer.

"I’m staying right here," the drunken man asserted.

Wayne, understanding Harry’s signal, came out from behind the bar and escorted Charles to the door. Mahleah sighed, and Harry apologized to her, "I’ll make sure no one else pesters you. Here, have another scotch, on the house."

She nursed the drink, brooding over the incredible behavior of the male sex.

Outside, Charles was angrily puzzling over the recent events. She had humiliated him in front of the whole bar. She’d compared him unfavorably to a dog, and then physically threatened him. Who did she think she was, anyway, Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile? What gave her the right to treat people that way?

She reminded him of his ex – always putting him down and thinking she was so superior. What was it with women anyway? They all seemed to have a goddess complex and no ordinary man was good enough for them. His mother had been that way once, but his dad had taught her differently. He had tried to teach Cindy, his ex-wife, the same thing, but she had left him for a librarian, a librarian, for God’s sake!

Well, it was about time that some man put his foot down and showed these uppity females that Xena didn’t really exist. Outside of make-believe worlds that women liked to pretend were real, men were the stronger sex. He thought that the man who could get that message through would be a hero.

Mahleah walked out of Harry’s and down the street. Her senses were a little blurry from the scotch but she still spotted the figure of Good Time Charlie trailing her. "Fine," she thought a little grimly, "if he wants trouble I’m happy to oblige."

She strode into an alley knowing he’d follow. No doubt he’d think he’d trapped her there. Her mouth curled up contemptuously. She’d see exactly what kind of man he was.

Charles was triumphant. She was alone in a dimly lit alley. This was as good an opportunity as he could get. She stopped, as if confused about where she was going and he thought, "Oh good, she’s drunk."

He stepped up to her, saying, "Remember me, sweetheart? I’m the guy you had kicked to the curb."

She turned around and regarded him calmly, "Someone else saved me the trouble."

He was a little unnerved. She wasn’t scared. Hell, she wasn’t even nervous. He licked his lips and taunted, "Are you ready for a real man, baby?"

She sneered, "Sure, if I ever find one, honey."

He backhanded her as hard as he could. She staggered, but didn’t fall.

"Change your mind?" he queried.

"Because of that little slap, get real!"

He punched her in the stomach, and heard a whoosh as the air left her body. She sank to her knees gasping for breath. As she panted, she spat out the words, "I could do better than that when I was ten years old."

He ground his teeth together, and grabbed her by that long, beautiful hair. Wrapping it around his hand, he threw her viciously into the side of a brick building. As she slumped to the ground, he began walking away, expecting to hear her sobbing. He would know by that sound that he’d won. He stopped several paces away, puzzled. He could hear her breathing, but nothing else. In fact, her breathing was beginning to even out. He turned around in confusion and saw her stand. In fact, to his shock, she was smiling.

"Oh, you have no idea how glad I am you did that," she told him. "You see, it makes things so much simpler. You have a few lessons to learn, and I’m just the person for the job. Lesson number one: when a girl says no, she means no!"

With the last word, she forcefully punched him in the nose. Pain exploded behind his eyes, as blood ran down his face.

"Lesson number two," she continued cheerfully. "Is never, never bother a woman when she wants to be alone, and lesson number three is be careful about thinking with your crotch – your blood supply might get shut off!" She kicked him in the groin. He moaned and fell to the ground.

She leaned in closer and hissed, "Keep your hands out of a woman’s hair!" She clutched a fistful of his, and brought his head down into her knee. He heard something crunch in his jaw.

"Since you like walls so much, how about letting me introduce you to this one, up close and personal," she grabbed him and rammed him head first into the brick edifice. He staggered backwards, and she studied him for a split-second and then went in for the final blow.

"Most importantly of all," she announced. "Never, ever piss me off!"

He managed to open his eyes, and blearily saw her coming toward him. The last thing he saw before blackness consumed him, was her going into some sort of spinning kick, her long dark coat twirling around her like a cape. Then her boot connected and he saw no more.

Mahleah looked down at the unconscious man. She wouldn’t kill him. She remembered seeing a payphone down the street and decided to call 911. She’d leave an anonymous tip that he needed medical attention.

Strangely, she felt better than she had all day.

Chapter Two

Mahleah sipped her Scotch and glanced up into the mirror over the bar. To the casual observer it would appear that she was checking out her appearance, which barely interested her. She already knew that her long hair was pulled back into a tight braid, and her makeup had been applied to subtly enhance her features. She wore her usual long coat to conceal Tora, as well as a red silk blouse and black leather pants. All of that was familiar – what she was surreptitiously watching was a man in the corner of the room, who was arguing with a girl.

He was slowly becoming familiar to her as well. A mid-level pimp with a nasty streak as wide as the Mississippi his treatment of his "girls" left much to be desired. Mahleah had been quietly watching him for two weeks now. She knew his schedule and his habits. Unfortunately, he normally kept bodyguards with him at all times and so she hadn’t been able to have the little chat with him she’d desired. Oh well, she hadn’t been completely bored.

She noticed that her prey for the night was approaching. She caught his eyes in the mirror for a lingering moment, then paid the bartender, and walked away. She knew he’d follow.

Outside, she heard a man’s voice call, "Hey sweetheart, I thought you were looking for a good time?"

Turning, she forced a smile to her lips. "Know where I can find one?" she bantered back.

"Come with me, and you’ll get the ride of your life," he promised.

Repressing the natural inclination to roll her eyes, Mahleah followed him to his car. He drove them to what she assumed he thought of as lover’s lane before pulling over. Apparently she didn’t rate a bed, she thought sardonically.

"Come here, baby," he murmured.

Ignoring his loud cologne, Mahleah allowed herself to be pulled into his arms. She began kissing his neck and letting her hands run over his body. He began doing the same but contented himself with a firm grip on her rear when her fingers began stroking him through his pants.

She teased his nipples through the fabric of his shirt and increased the pressure and rhythm of her hand.

"Oh babe, that feels so good," he moaned. One of his hands began pushing her head down. "Oh yeah, taste me."

She gave him one more squeeze for good measure, and then sat up. He blinked in confusion that turned to anger as she laughed.

"If you think I’m wasting my time putting that number two pencil in my mouth then I feel sorry for you…your ego’s so much bigger than your prick."

"What?!"

She got out of the car, slamming the door satisfactorily behind her.

"Where the hell do you think you’re going, bitch?" he bellowed in fury, erupting from the car like a mini-volcano.

"I’ll take a cab home," she sneered, "or walk. It doesn’t matter as long as it’s not with you."

"What the hell’s wrong with you?" he screamed. "Why’d you bother coming with me if you knew you weren’t going to put out?"

"You acted like you needed to be taken down a notch or two," she said coldly. "Since you volunteered me for the job, here I am."

"Oh well, since you’re here," he repeated mockingly. "You’re going to finish what you started or I’m not going to be nice any more. Women like you have got to learn that you don’t treat men this way."

"What are you going to do about it?" she scoffed. "’Cause there’s no way you’re getting a piece of this."

"We’ll see about that," he snarled and hit her. The blow knocked her into the car, and hurt like hell.

She saw the confusion on his face, as she smiled victoriously.

"Thank you," she said sweetly. "I’ve been waiting all night for some one to do that."

She sprang.


From the seclusion of his car, another night predator smiled with pleasure as he watched her work.

******

A file slid across Detective Kate Lockley’s desk.

"What’s this?" she inquired.

"Thought you might be interested in doing some real police work," came the mocking reply.

She thumbed through the folder quickly. "This isn’t a homicide case," she noted.

"No, but it might be soon. This one has all the earmarks of being something big, Kate. Right now, it’s just random assault cases, but I’d bet my badge that it’s going to escalate. What do you say, Lockley? Want to help me with this one? It might not be as exciting as the strange cases you’ve preferred lately, but it could actually put you back in the captain’s good graces."

Kate felt a slight interest. She could use a break from her efforts to single-handedly stop all the preternatural creatures of the night. Since the death of her father by the fangs of vampires, she had devoted herself to helping as many victims of the supernatural as possible…. Especially since their only other savior was one of the bloodsuckers himself.

She sighed. Let Angel handle the demons of LA for a week or so. She’d devote herself to catching a human criminal before someone ended up dead.

*****

Lindsey Macdonald smirked as his colleagues paced back and forth in front of him. They were terrified that they would end up dead due to their incompetence. Three of their last cases had gone sour and the reason for that bitterness could be traced back to one individual: Angel.

Lilah and the others were raving about scheme after scheme that would destroy the souled vampire. Lilah, in particular, was sore because the child her last client had needed to sacrifice on the night of the full moon (i.e., last night) had been rescued and returned to her parents ten minutes before the ritual could be finished. On top of it all, her client had been killed in the ensuing fracas, which meant that Wolfram and Hart would not be paid for the whole fiasco. The senior partners would not be happy about this.

Lindsey himself held onto a bit of hard earned knowledge that had so far eluded his colleagues. The Senior Partners didn’t want Angel dead or destroyed. They had plans for him in the future – something involving an Apocalypse.

Let them weave their plots, he thought, gleefully. None of them will work anyway. When they’re done, I’ll bring Angel to the Senior Partners on a leash.

Chapter Three

Mahleah screamed. The bleach she had added to her bath water burned away at her skin but she still didn’t feel clean. Despite the pain, she continued scrubbing and scrubbing until all she could smell was bleach. Dizzy from the fumes as well as the agony, she let the water out and then turned the shower on to rinse the cleaner away. Once it was all gone, she grabbed the soap and loofah, cranked the water up scalding hot, and went at it again. Once she finally felt scoured she let her hair down and began lathering, rinsing and repeating over and over again. With as much hair as she had, she was going through at least half a bottle of shampoo a day.

Exhausted, she stepped out of the tub and dried off. After slipping on a robe, she looked in the mirror. Damn Immortality, she cursed. After all that she had just gone through, her skin was already almost back to its normal flawless appearance. She felt like she was aging at least five years every day, but the face that looked back at her in the glass was still as young and innocent as she had been at twenty-six when she died the first time. All was as it had been…except for her eyes, which stared at her accusingly. Trembling from the lies her flesh told and the truth she couldn’t run from in her dark gaze, she reached for her makeup kit to find some balance between the two.

******

Joe stood outside the door of Angel Investigations for a long time before turning the knob. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing here. He realized that Mahleah needed help, but was he looking for it in the right place?

He still felt furious over Mac’s refusal to come to LA. Part of him understood his friend’s reasons, but in this case, he felt that logic should be damned. This was Duncan’s friend, family, student…hell, his lover and he refused to come help her.

"I can’t, Joe," the big Immortal had said slowly. "She specifically told me to stay out of her life because she needed to handle her own problems. If I rush in now, I’ll be breaking my word."

"What the hell does that matter if you save her?" Joe had demanded. "Mac, she’s trying to destroy herself."

"If I save her," MacLeod had replied, his eyes suspiciously shiny, "she’ll never forgive me. She has to make the choice to save herself."

"And if she needs a nudge – or a kick in the ass – to get her going in the right direction?" Joe had asked. "You’re really not going to come?"

Mac rose. "I can’t," he said finally. "I love her, Joe, but I also respect her which means that I have to honor her request."

"Well, that’s that, then," Joe muttered bitterly. He turned and made his way slowly toward the door.

"Joe," Mac said behind him hesitantly. "I can’t help her, but maybe I know someone who can…"

Mac had given him the name, and Rupert Giles had given him the address. Joe knew, of course, through his fellow Watcher’s reports, all about Angel. How he had been the Scourge of Europe for over a hundred years, and how gypsies had cursed him by restoring his soul. He’d heard a vague report about Buffy, the current Slayer, falling madly in love with Angel and vice versa, which had led briefly to the return of Angelus, Angel’s darker half. Mac had told him that because Angel feared that he and Buffy might break his curse again, the vampire had left her and moved away to Los Angeles. It now appeared that he ran a detective agency.

He still might not have come to Angel Investigations if it had not been for the fact that he’d learned that Angel had been Mahleah’s mysterious savior in New York when she was five and vulnerable to the fangs of a vampire looking for a sweet midnight snack. Perhaps that former tie, plus his friendship with Morgaine MacLeod, who could be Mahleah Brennan’s twin sister, would persuade Angel to help Joe with this unusual situation.

Taking a deep breath he finally turned the knob and opened the door. Inside he saw a pretty, but rather bored looking girl sitting at a desk filing her nails.

"Can I help you?" she inquired.

"I’m looking for Angel," he told her. "I need his help."

She brightened. "That’s what he’s here for. Now, let me tell you about our easy payment plan…"

"Cordelia," a familiar English voice cut her off.

"What?" she shrugged, "Just trying to do my part to keep the office going, Wesley."

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce regarded Joe warily for a moment, before extending his hand. "It’s good to see you, Joe."

Joe smiled, glad to see someone he knew here, "Same here, Wesley. Sorry to hear about the Council firing you."

"Yes, well," the other man winced. "It seems my destiny lay in a different city."

"Just feel lucky they just fired you," Joe said wryly. "When they wanted rid of me, they shot me."

"Yes, I’d heard," Wesley frowned. "I would say that my former side of the Council was more reasonable but recent events would not bear that out, I’m afraid."

Cordelia snorted, "You think? Considering they sent a squad of psychotic loons to assassinate Faith I’m not giving them a vote of confidence anytime soon."

"Yes, thank you Cordelia," Wesley replied. Joe could tell she’d hit a nerve somewhere. "Well, what brings you to Los Angeles, Joe? Is MacLeod in town?"

"No," Joe shook his head, regretfully. "He’s still in Seacouver right now. I’m hoping that Angel can help me with another problem."

******

When Joe walked through his office door, Angel recognized him as a friend of MacLeod’s he had seen briefly just after Mahleah MacLeod had defeated Philip Johnson and returned to her own time. Joe Dawson: that was the man’s name. He also remembered hearing about the Watcher from Mahleah’s stories of her past. He was a good friend to both her and the Highlander.

"Hello," he told the Watcher, curiously. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," the man replied, wearily.

"Please, have a seat," Angel invited.

Gratefully, Joe eased himself into the chair opposite Angel’s desk.

"This has something to do with Mahleah, doesn’t it?" he ventured.

Joe looked at him in surprise. "How did you know that?" he asked suspiciously.

"You’ve met Cordelia? She gets visions from the Powers That Be that are meant to guide me. She’s had several of Mahleah in the past few months but never enough to tell what she needs or where she is," Angel explained.

"How do you know that the visions refer to Mahleah and not Morgaine?" Joe inquired. "After all, you’ve had no contact with Mahleah since she was five, right?"

Angel gave the Watcher a half-smile, "I have every reason to believe that Morgaine is perfectly content right now. Since she and Mahleah look so much alike I believe that’s who was in Cordelia’s visions."

Joe was still regarding him dubiously, "You seem to know more about this than I do."

"That bothers you," Angel observed.

"Yes," Joe answered bluntly. "I’ve been Duncan MacLeod’s Watcher most of Mahleah’s life. I’ve known her for a very long time and I care what happens to her. How can you, practically a stranger, know more about her than I do?"

Angel’s reply was gentle but honest. "It’s not my story to tell or my secret to reveal, I’m afraid. If you ever meet Morgaine you can talk to her about it."

"Fine," Joe sighed. "The point is Mahleah needs help."

Angel straightened in his chair. "What’s wrong with her?"

"Good question. She’s been acting peculiar for a long time now. In fact, she’s not been herself since she got engaged."

"To Mark Fleming, right?" Angel thought he remembered the name.

"Yes," Joe agreed. "At first, I thought it was just nerves. She was marrying somebody that wasn’t Duncan MacLeod and I’ll be up front with you in saying I believe that was a mistake from the beginning. To make matters worse she got engaged without telling him everything about her."

"About her Immortality," Angel interrupted, sensing Joe’s reluctance to bring up the subject. He could understand that reticence. Immortals were notoriously shy about letting vampires know of their existence. Any creature that could be drained, then revive to be drained again would be regarded as the Holy Grail to his kind – and the kind of power that was in their blood could lead to a very messy war between the two supernatural peoples.

"Yes," Joe nodded. "We all tried to tell her she was making a big mistake. Mark was not the kind of guy that would understand a lie of omission. She still held off though until she had no choice in the matter. He saw her fighting another Immortal and win."

"Ouch," Angel winced. No, he suspected that seeing a Quickening did not go over well with this mortal man. He recalled the description he’d had of Mark from Mahleah and knew this had to have been disastrous.

"Ouch is putting it mildly," Joe snorted. "The guy exploded in righteous fury -- ended up breaking off the engagement and moving away."

"Poor Mahleah," Angel said wistfully.

"Oh, the story’s not over yet. Do you know about her father’s problems?"

Angel nodded, "Her mother died in a car accident when Mahleah was young and her father became an alcoholic out of guilt. It took him most of her childhood to recover."

Once again Joe nodded, "Well, when she went off to college David decided to console himself in a completely different way – he remarried."

Angel dimly recalled this fact, but didn’t remember the details so Joe refreshed his memory.

"Her name is Belinda and when they married she was the same age as Catriona when she died."

"Lovely," Angel muttered.

"To top it all off, Belinda is barely older than Mahleah herself. The two of them can’t stand each other. After the fiasco with Mark, they enjoyed several screaming matches and ultimately Mahleah caught David with a whisky bottle in his hand. In disgust, she flew out here to LA to visit an old friend from school. That reunion lasted about two hours… just long enough for Mahleah to beat the snot out of Diana’s current boyfriend. Diana got upset and Mahleah left. That’s when the story gets ugly."

"Go on," Angel dreaded hearing the rest. He had a sinking feeling that his friend had hit the lowest spot of her young life.

"Since that time, Mahleah has traveled up and down California looking for men like Diana’s boyfriend…who get off on hurting women. When she finds one, she provokes him into attacking her and then puts him in the hospital."

"She’s gone from fighting the predators of the night to becoming one," Angel realized.

"Yes," Joe said with relief. "I’m glad you got it. Many people would say that these guys were only getting what they deserve. Actually, I’m not arguing with that it’s just…"

"She’s losing more of herself each day," Angel finished.

"Exactly," Joe replied with a washed-out smile. "I can see now why Mac sent me to you."

"MacLeod sent you to me?" Angel was surprised.

"Yeah, he said that he knew you’d want to do what was best for her," Joe said wearily. "I still can’t quite wrap my mind around the fact that he wouldn’t come himself."

"He wouldn’t?" That startled Angel, "Why not?"

Joe sighed. "He went to her a while back to ask for forgiveness for deserting her after Richie’s death. She accepted the apology but told him that she’d moved on and needed to live her own life for a while. He was given strict instructions to stick to sending her Christmas cards until he heard otherwise from her. Hard-headed Scot that he is, I couldn’t get him to budge from that promise."

The rest of the story came flooding back to Angel’s mind. She was supposed to marry Mark, who died of cancer at a relatively young age. Mac comforted her after her husband’s death but they didn’t get back together until centuries in the future. It was odd that she never mentioned Angel himself having any part in her present life, but then again she would have wanted to prevent changing the past.

"I’ll do whatever I can," he promised Joe. I owe her that much, he said to himself, silently.

 

Chapter Four

 

 

Joe had wasted no time in contacting Vernon, Mahleah’s Watcher, who had informed them that Mahleah was currently celebrating in a club downtown. Angel had listened, given a nod, and grabbed his car keys.

As Joe walked into the club, he winced at the ear-splitting decibels of the raucous tune the house DJ was spinning. He thought he recognized it as being something from the movie The Matrix but it wasn’t exactly his cup of tea. To this owner of two blues clubs, industrial techno-dance wasn’t music. On the crowded dance floor though, he spotted a familiar face and figure that seemed to be enjoying it.

Mahleah was leather clad: from knee-high boots to ankle length skirt with thigh-high splits up each side. She also wore more make-up than he’d ever seen on her before: usually she by-passed the stuff, unless she was on stage. Tonight her dark eyes were kohl-rimmed and heavily mascaraed and her lips were blood red.

He nudged his companion who had already frozen in shock at the sight.

"She’s got plenty of volunteers to be tonight’s victim," he said in Angel’s ear. The vampire nodded in response.

On the floor, Mahleah was dancing with at least three men and possibly more. The aggressive nature of the music was the perfect accompaniment to her cat and mouse antics as she played with each man in turn. She would rub up against the nearest man, grab his lapels, and back them both into the guy behind her, so she could grind into him as well. Seemingly bored then, she would push one or both of them away and work on a different guy.

"God, she’s gonna start a brawl," Joe muttered angrily. With a sinking heart, the Watcher saw her use all of her years of dance experience to manipulate the emotions – and the hormones – of all the men on the floor. When she began using belly shakes and hip thrusts she’d learned from Amanda and her Oriental dance teacher, he shook his head in disgust. She was perverting the moves that before had been performed with passion and joy and made herself into a whore – if a very dangerous one.

He started to say this to Angel, but he was gone. Scanning the room, the Watcher saw his new companion approaching Mahleah from the side.

*****

Mahleah had worked her likeliest target to the side, and was about to suggest they leave for some place cooler and more private, when a new man approaching them caught her eyes.

She gave him a classic once-over in approval. He was nice, very nice. He swept through the crowd lithely like a panther on the prowl. Just the way she liked them – dark and dangerous. She smiled in anticipation and licked her lips before recalling that she wasn’t here for that kind of pleasure.

Her current target eyed the newcomer with hostility. "She’s with me now, pal," he stated emphatically.

The stranger didn’t seem perturbed. "Well, she and I are old friends," he stated lightly.

Her "date" shrugged, "I don’t care if you’re her long-lost fiancé. She’s coming with me tonight."

Mahleah’s gaze hardened at the mention of a long-lost fiancé. Oh, yes, she was going to enjoy teaching this one some manners.

The newcomer stepped in closer than Mahleah’s escort liked and he took a swing. In a flash, the dark-eyed panther man caught the fist hurtling toward him and pulled the man forward. Bending, he used his attacker’s momentum to send him soaring over his back and into another dancer, who was not amused.

Mahleah watched with interest as the two got into a scuffle that was ended by the club’s bouncer, who scowled at her on his way to deposit the troublemakers outside. She smiled again at this intriguing new partner.

"Care to dance," she suggested.

The dark stranger looked apologetic, "I don’t think I can dance to this song," he told her.

Almost as if in response to his words, the music changed to "Life in Mono."

"Come on," Mahleah invited, holding out a hand. "This one’s slower."

******

Angel took her hand although he suspected he’d regret it. Dancing was not his thing. Correction, modern dancing was not his thing. It was all wild and flailing with no discernible pattern to it. Still, he was here to help Mahleah and if that meant he had to make a fool of himself, so be it.

He was still shocked when he looked at her. It wasn’t so much the clothes as it was the makeup. He’d seen her older self wearing heavy make-up before but she had donned it with much more subtlety than her younger counterpart. Her dancing had been sexy in a hedonistic way until he saw her eyes, which were completely devoid of emotion despite the show she was putting on.

Oddly, she wasn’t trying the same act on him that she had the others. Did she recognize him? He swallowed. It was very different to dance with a woman, who in her heels was just as tall as he was. In her bare feet, Mahleah was maybe two inches shorter than he, but in her boots their eyes were absolutely level.

"I haven’t seen you here before," she commented.

"No," he admitted. "I’m not much for crowds."

"Then why come here?" she sounded curious.

"I was looking for someone," he said honestly.

"Really?" she smiled at him, and for a second it almost seemed genuine before she slipped back into her femme fatale personality, "Anyone in particular?"

*******

The stranger replied to her coy question with one word, "You."

Mahleah repressed a shiver. Tall, dark, and too damn gorgeous was looking for her? What did he mean by that? It had to be a line.

"Well, you found me," she told him huskily. "Now what do you want to do with me?"

"What do you want to do?" he asked her in return.

"Mmm, I can think of something," she purred and stepping into him brushed her lips against his.

He acted startled at first, but then stayed motionless and permitted her to explore his mouth for a minute. Cool and delicious, she thought in a haze...with eyes I could die in. Something about that made her brain pause for a second. His flesh, despite the crowd, was cool although it was gradually warming from her touch.

Damn, she thought with disgust as her fingers reached into the pocket of her skirt. What’s that old saying all the truly beautiful ones are either married, gay or --- she lightly traced his hand with herr Celtic cross and heard his hiss of shock as it burned him – vampires.

She shoved him away from her, and darted to the table where she had left her coat. As she turned she nearly walked into him, and snarled.

"Get away from me. I know what you are, and I know how to deal with you. I’m warning you now; if you follow me outside I’ll send you back to the hell you came from."

Rushing past him, she headed toward the exit. Behind her, she felt rather than heard his pursuit.

"Would you really stake your guardian angel?" he called after her.

She froze in place. It couldn’t be, could it? It would explain the tingling sense of familiarity she’d had with him, but still… It had been years.

Turning, she whispered, "Angel?"

He nodded, "It’s good to see you again, Mahleah, although I hate to see you doing this to yourself."

She stiffened. "What do you know about it?" she snapped.

"What I told him," a voice behind her said.

Turning, she saw Joe, and groaned.

"I should have known. Look, Joe, leave me alone, okay? I don’t need your help. I don’t need anybody’s help."

"Are you sure about that, Mahleah?" the Watcher pleaded. "Look at yourself. I barely recognize you."

"Maybe that’s because you think of me as a little girl," she said angrily. "Open your eyes. I’m not Little Miss Sweet and Innocent anymore."

"That’s not entirely true," Angel said as quietly as he could over the music. "That part of you is still there."

"Oh please, not you too," she said with scorn. "Look guys, you care, I’m flattered. Despite what the song says though, I’m not ‘holding out for a hero till the end of the night.’ I can take care of myself, so just go back to your own lives. Or in your case, Joe, I guess I should say MacLeod’s. Is he here too?"

"No." Joe answered, simply.

She stifled the pain that answer brought, and kept her tone steady, "Good. At least I can count on someone I know minding his own business. Goodbye fellows."

Angel grabbed her arm, and she glared at him, but he pressed a card into her hand then let her go.

"If you change your mind and decide you’d like to talk to someone, you can find me here," he told her.

"Sure, fine, whatever," she said, tucking it in coat pocket, and left thinking she hadn’t been more angry in a long time but wasn’t sure exactly why.

After walking for fifteen minutes she realized that common sense dictated that she find a cab. Five hundred feet in front of her, though, she spotted her old pal, the pimp. Strange, she’d learned so much about him but could never remember his name. Oh well, it wasn’t important. What was much more intriguing was the fact that he was working over one of his employees and his bodyguards were nowhere to be seen. Perfect.

Strolling up to the struggling couple, she commented icily, "You really like hitting women, don’t you?"

"Why do you care?" the creep demanded.

"How about trying that crap with me?" Mahleah invited.

The jerk had the nerve to look amused, "How about you come back to my place and we’ll discuss this further."

Too late, she realized that she’d been so focused on the main sleazoid that she’d let one of his guards sneak up on her. Oh well, that would just make the fight more interesting, wouldn’t it?

As she maneuvered herself into a better fighting position, she never noticed the small white card falling to the pavement.

*******

Down the street, far enough away that Mahleah couldn’t sense him Lewis Weir watched the fight carefully. Oh, this one was definitely a student of Duncan MacLeod’s. Every move she made screamed of the Highlander’s training. That would make her an interesting challenge -- if she lived up to his expectations. There was still the matter of the vampire trailing after her every night. She had yet to spot him, which was disappointing. Eventually, though, they would meet. If she was able to overcome the creature as easily as she was able to thrash the bullies she’d been whetting her appetite on, he looked forward to facing her.

*****

"I can’t believe you just let her walk away," Joe said angrily, as Angel drove him back to his hotel room.

"Mahleah said it herself, Joe. She doesn’t want a hero. She’s not happy with her actions, but until she decides that she wants to change, nothing can make her. Believe me, I learned that the hard way," Angel explained. "I gave her the card. I’m betting that when she calms down a little she’ll look me up. Either way, the ball’s in her court now."

 

Chapter Five

The next day Angel was startled by the appearance of Kate in the doorway to his office. Stone-faced, she walked up to his desk and flipped a square shape onto its surface. As he picked it up, he noticed it was one of his business cards.

"Like to tell me what you’re working on?" she asked him frostily.

"At the moment I’m having a chat with you," he said politely.

"Tell me about the card," she demanded.

He examined it closely – there were no distinguishing marks and he said as much.

"Why don’t you get to the point and tell me where you found it?" he added.

She was silent for a while, and then answered, "At a crime scene."

"I assure you Kate, I wasn’t involved in anything illegal last night," he replied steadily.

"Are you sure, because the guy that I found this next to? I could see you handing him the beating he took," she told him.

"Someone was assaulted?"

She finally relented enough to expound, "Jerry Wallen and his two bodyguards were attacked last night."

"Are they dead?" he asked, metaphorically holding his breath.

"No," she admitted, "but all three ended up in intensive care. We weren’t sure at first that Wallen was going to make it."

"Aside from the card what makes you think I had anything to do with it?" Angel asked.

"Wallen isn’t a very lovable guy. He has a nasty temper and loves to throw his weight around."

"Sounds like he finally met his match," he commented.

"You know more than you’re saying," Kate snapped. "I should take you to the station for further questioning."

"I would say the same thing there that I’m telling you here," he said patiently. "I never laid a finger on this guy and I wasn’t around when someone else did."

"You’d better not be lying to me," Kate threatened, but backed off.

As soon as she left, Angel went down to his apartment below the office. He wanted to talk to Joe again but it wasn’t quite sunset yet. He stepped out of the elevator but hadn’t walked very far when he heard a voice behind him.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to drop by."

"Mahleah," he said, slowly turning around. "How did you find me?"

This evening she had bypassed the leather for a deceptively simple silk sheath. Its spaghetti straps were loose on her shoulders. It actually left something to the imagination and was more sensuous for that fact. He swallowed hard. It was also the color of fresh blood, which he doubted was an accident. Her braid was coiled neatly at the nape of her neck and emphasized the bareness of her throat.

"You gave me your card, remember?" she responded.

"Do you still have it?" he asked hopefully.

"Nope, I lost it somewhere last night, so I looked you up in the phone book," she said nonchalantly

"How did you get in here?"

She shrugged, walking forward, "Trade secret – a dear friend of mine has been a thief forever."

"I heard you beat a few guys up last night," he threw out.

Again, she shrugged. "They had it coming to them."

"Maybe," he conceded. He certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep over the injuries of men that loved to beat women; however, the hardness in her face was something that disturbed him. "Have you ever thought about getting them arrested?"

"Oh yeah," she replied sardonically, "Because we know that the law takes care of creeps like that."

"It’s an awfully big burden," he countered, "meting out justice on such a wide scale. Are you sure you want to be doing this?"

She smiled at him, then.

He’s just a hero in a long line of heroes
Looking for something attractive to save.

She quoted in a sing-song voice.

They say he sprung from the skull of Athena.
Think about your own head and the headache he gave.

"You don’t want a savior," he told her. "I can respect that. So, why are you here? What do you want?"

She moved closer to him, close enough in fact to run a finger down his jaw. Alarm bells sounded in his head. They had played a scene similar to this before when her counterpart from the future tested him by offering her blood willingly. Was this her younger self’s version of that seductive offer?

"You saved my life," she said huskily. "Maybe I wanted to say thank you properly."

"You were quite grateful all those years ago," he said softly. "That’s quite enough."

"Oh, but there are so many more benefits to thanking you now," she purred. Her body had moved again, to press up against his. Fingers started running through the back of his hair and tickled his neck.

"That’s not necessary," he said, his voice becoming slightly strained.

"But we barely got acquainted," she protested. In another singsong tone she chanted:

Every time I see your face I get all wet between my legs.
Every time you pass me by, I heave a sigh of pain.

Odd, how her words and her actions could say one thing and her eyes deny it completely he mused. One of her hands started getting friendly with his thigh.

Angel said casually, "You might not be aware of this but vampires have a very keen sense of smell."

"Really?" she murmured, continuing her efforts.

He grabbed her hand before it could advance to forbidden territory and whispered in her ear, "Really, and the strange thing is despite your seeming willingness to seduce me you smell as cold as Siberia." She froze in place, as he continued, "And as dry as the Sahara. Not very appealing, I’m afraid."

She pulled away from him with a pale face and trembling hands.

He took another obvious sniff, "You don’t even smell of sweat. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a cleaner person in my life – you reek of soap…and Clorox? Now why would any young woman want to take a bath in bleach water?"

"Why would a vampire deny his very nature?" she shot back. "You’re a predator, Angel, why would you willingly act like prey?"

"Is that what this is?" he questioned softly. "A hunt? It’s very sad that you’ve turned your beauty into a weapon."

Her scent changed subtly as anger rolled through her eyes.

"You hypocrite," she practically spat at him. "You stand there and presume to judge me? That’s a laugh. Look at you: a Victorian woman’s darkest fantasy brought to life. Are you trying to tell me that you never used your sensuality to your advantage?"

"I was evil then, without a soul," he objected. "I did whatever it took to secure my next meal."

Rolling her eyes, she continued, "Oh, and I suppose you never enjoyed the power that your looks gave you over women before you were turned?" His silence was answer enough. She gave a cruel smile of victory and pursued him with a lower tone, "And are you lying to yourself so much that you believe that you’re beyond that kind of behavior now? Be honest with yourself if not me."

Angel bowed his head for a moment of shame. He couldn’t protest her words too vehemently. As Liam, he had seduced half the town of Galway, as Angelus his looks had always provided him with as much blood or entertainment as he desired, as Angel? He suddenly recalled the month after he’d returned from Hell. Buffy had been hesitant toward him, telling him that she had a new human boyfriend. How had he retaliated? She had found him many times in a state of partial undress with his shirt either unbuttoned or missing altogether. He hadn’t missed her responses: the increase in her pulse and breathing, the way her eyes dilated. Seeing his body affected her in a visceral way and he’d used that to gradually wear away her resistance. The evening she’d visited while he was practicing tai chi made it very plain to him that it was only a matter of time before she was unable to control her reactions…and a short amount of time at that.

That was different, part of him argued. He had been fighting for the woman he loved in the best way he knew how. It was manipulation, his conscience told him. You were attempting to bend her will to yours in the same way that Mahleah is now. She’s right; you are being a bit of a hypocrite.

"See," she whispered triumphantly. "You know I’m right."

Something inside him snapped and he began slowly stalking toward her thinking that if she wanted a predator, he’d give her one. "You don’t know how right you are," he said in a husky tone.

She held her ground, but a muscle in her jaw twitched once minutely. His movements were slow and deliberate to give her every chance to escape but he knew that her pride would prevent it. His eyes never left hers and the demon inside him rejoiced at the defiance darkly sparkling in their depths. She was a tall woman, not easily intimidated but he was also a big man and he allowed his body language to emphasize this fact.

Standing in front of her a breath away from her body, he teasingly traced the outlines of her face with the back of his knuckles. Her scent now carried a tantalizing bouquet of anger spiked with a frisson of fear…she’d finally started to sweat a little.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, but her voice didn’t carry the same authority it had previously.

"Ssh," he said soothingly. "Nothing you won’t enjoy."

His fingers gently caressed the edge of an ear. Her skin was irresistibly warm and he recalled back in Sunnydale the Mahleah he had known explaining that she had always been a hot-natured person until MacLeod was taken away from her. Now he was discovering the truth of that statement. Her heat warmed the tips of his fingers.

"Angel," she said in a warning tone of voice.

When her arms reached out to strike he was ready for her and used his vampiric speed and strength to quickly grab both of her wrists and hold them in one hand over her head. He could feel the tension in her body and the terror that rushed through her at being pinned by a creature that she greatly feared. His demon was trying to growl with satisfaction, but the man in him was sympathetic to her misery.

"Mahleah, look at me," he said as gently as he could. "I would never hurt you. I just want to show you something."

The thumb of his free hand brushed lightly across her forehead and the rest of his fingers stroked through the hair running into her braid. She shivered, and he had a flashback from his human past, which caused him to focus more attention on this area.

"What?" she whispered.

His hand moved down to the heavy mass of hair anchored at her neck. Ever so slowly he caressed the skin that memory told him was one of her most sensitive erogenous zones and watched as chill bumps cascaded across her body and her eyes closed involuntarily.

"From long years of experience I’ve discovered that seduction doesn’t have to be about power," he said huskily, "or control."

From her neck, his hand drifted lazily down her back and stroked her spine through the thin silk of her dress. Finding the small of her back, his index finger began a pattern of small circles in the indentation he found there.

"What is it about?" she asked. Her body was still a little rigid, but was gradually relaxing into his touch.

He slid his hand around to rub her lower belly insinuatingly. Bending his head, he took a deliberate breath and blew cool air softly across her breasts before replying, "Pleasure."

"Of course," she scoffed, but her voice was not as forceful.

His wandering hand slid down the long length of her leg, following its contours. Glancing up, he could see her strained breathing. Her mouth was still closed but she had unconsciously pulled part of her full lower lip into her mouth and was sucking on it.

Sliding his hand under her dress, he ran the tips of his fingernails delicately up her inner thigh, then drew spirals, arabesques, and flower petal designs…each one increasingly higher up.

"Not taking pleasure," he explained, "but giving it."

He kept his glance warm and compassionate, showing her that he cared about what she was feeling. As his hand reached the apex of her thighs, he finally heard a small sound come involuntarily from the back of her throat. Her lips were parted and her scent had gained a layer of enticing and spicy musk. Pliant and trembling, she waited silently for his next move. Of course for him, there could be no next move.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her leg and released her wrists. Her dark eyes blinked at him in confusion. Once again, he caressed her cheek before stepping back away from her.

"I’m afraid that’s as far as I can go," he said regretfully. He never should have let things go so far, but perhaps he had succeeded in breaking though the hard, brittle defenses she had erected against the world.

Shaking her head as if clearing it of a haze, she stared at him – her eyes were naked and vulnerable. He felt guilty suddenly. Yes, it was good that she had a taste of what she had been doing to others but that had not been his true intention.

"Mahleah, I’m so-" he began, but in a blur of action she had grabbed her coat from his leather chair and dashed up the stairs and out of his apartment.

Stunned, he watched her go before sighing and saying regretfully, "Damn."

 

Chapter Six

 

Mahleah woke from troubled dreams with a groan. She had fallen asleep in the most uncomfortable armchair in LA. Stretching the kinks out of her body, she was actually surprised that she had slept any. All night she had pondered the recent encounter with Angel, struggling to make sense of any part of it. She didn’t understand his behavior and more importantly, she didn’t understand her own.

He had apologized for leaving her so unsatisfied but was that sincere or just part of his own twisted game of one-upmanship? He hadn’t seemed that interested in her attempt at seduction at first and then, suddenly the tables had flipped over completely and she was the one backing away from him.

Last night she’d finally realized that her motives for going to Angel in the first place were in part a sort of test: she had wanted to see if the vampire would respond like all the other males she’d met recently when placed in a similar situation. When and how had she lost control of the game?

Beyond all of these considerations, however, the one thing that nagged at her repeatedly was her strange behavior. Why did she allow him to take charge? He was a vampire – a creature that had haunted her nights since she was a child. After her encounters with his brethren, who had attacked her, drained her, and killed one of her friends, she had little reason to trust his kind. So, why oh why, had she not struggled more to free herself? How could she have borne to have him so close and touch her so intimately? Why hadn’t she pulled away?

She paced the floor of her rented apartment, feeling her anger toward herself and that damned bloodsucker mounting again. It was true he had saved her life all of those years ago, but just because the fiend had scruples about snacking on children didn’t mean that he also resisted the temptation to sink his fangs in grown women. In that case, though, why hadn’t he taken advantage of her relative passivity and bit her? He had claimed to have a soul – could that be true?

If he was truly one of the good guys, what must he think of her behavior? She was no longer the innocent five-year-old and she’d ensured that he noticed that fact. She remembered his soft words scolding her in her pursuit of power games and sensuously illustrating that giving pleasure was a pleasure all unto itself. Did he mean it? If so, why had he pulled away from her?

Crossing her arms in front of her, she hoped that his retreat hadn’t been because of his disgust with her. She had no idea how old Angel was, but lifelong experience at judging these things made her guess he was over a century, if not two. Although his face would never age, his eyes reflected his years. If so, surely he wouldn’t form any quick judgments about her?

For the first time in longer than she could recall, Mahleah found herself humming. What was this tune going through her head? It was familiar. Slowly, she put words to it and tried them out on her tongue.

Your love is better than ice cream
Better than anything else that I’ve tried.

Her voice creaked and the last note was completely off. Biting back the melody, her pacing increased its tempo. Why should she care what Angel thought about her? As a vampire, he would have seen much worse atrocities in the world than she could ever commit. Besides, wasn’t she doing the world a favor by taking out such misogynistic creeps?

She shouldn’t waste her time fretting over the good opinion of any man: be he two hundred or four hundred.

*****

Wesley uneasily considered his current assignment while following Joe Dawson’s directions carefully. This morning Angel had narrated his nocturnal encounter with Mahleah. While he and the Watcher were taking in this adventure and debating whether it was a good sign or a bad one, Angel had shut his office door and in a low voice sworn them to secrecy. Receiving an oath that satisfied him, he had related the incredible tale of his previous meeting with a future incarnation of their runaway Immortal.

Dawson had been skeptical at first, but Angel’s details continued to mesh with not only long-standing mysteries of the Watcher Chronicles but a conundrum he had been wrestling with since: how his friend could have been in two places at once – Sunnydale and Virginia.

Of course, Dawson had many questions about Mahleah’s visit to the past, but Angel resolutely stuck to what he saw as the ‘need-to-know’ facts. It was obvious he wanted to prevent any temporal anomalies but equally evident that he felt it important that they understand his knowledge of Mahleah Brennan – both how broad and how restricted at the same time.

"I got to know Mahleah MacLeod very well," the vampire had said, "but Mahleah Brennan is practically a stranger to me."

That had lead to their current journey, which was to locate the one person who knew young twenty-year-old Mahleah better than anyone other than Duncan MacLeod: her friend, Diana.

That part of Angel’s requests Wesley understood. It was paramount to ascertain what exactly was going on inside their quarry’s mind. How far was she likely to take her vigilante activities? What was the best way to help her? Although Mahleah and Diana had recently quarreled, it was safe to say that the young woman was still their best hope to find some of those answers.

What Wesley was a little unsure of was Angel’s other query: to find out the significance of some song lyrics that Mahleah had quoted at him the previous night. Fortunately, Dawson was more informed about popular music than he, and recognized the lines. His assessment had been that Mahleah was merely using them to taunt Angel, but the vampire insisted that if they were able to talk to Diana they should ask her about them.

Oh well, Wesley assumed they were as good a clue as any other to the mysteries of Mahleah’s soul. He raised an eyebrow remembering the rather libidinous suggestions of the second song, which his employer had managed to recall without a blush (no credit to him though, as vampires couldn’t blush). What exactly had gone on between the two? Angel had been sketchy on the details. Normally he wouldn’t consider such matters any of his business, but when it came to Angel and sexual situations the staff of Angel Investigations tended to get jumpy. Cordelia, who had been present for that story but not the time-travel explanation, had immediately jumped on the offensive and warned her boss that she would be carrying stakes and holy water with her until the whole problem was resolved.

While they were pursuing this angle of investigation, Angel had evasively mentioned that after getting some sleep he would be pursuing an alternative channel of information. Wesley wasn’t sure what this could be, but supposed he would find out when they all reconvened at the office this evening.

Dawson indicated a house on their right side. "This is the place."

Wesley pulled up into the driveway of a small, but quaint house in a quiet residential neighborhood. Cutting off the engine, he turned to his companion and reluctantly said, "Perhaps you should go alone. The lady is already familiar with you, and with her history she might not be so open with me."

Dawson smiled, "That’s quite considerate, but I think it’s best to have two inquiring minds here. You might think of something to ask her that I would have assumed an answer to."

Reluctantly, Wesley got out of his seat belt and followed the older man to the front door, where the Watcher knocked. There was no answer. Dawson tried again.

"Perhaps no one’s home," Wesley suggested.

"Maybe she’s avoiding unpleasant company," Dawson muttered, then knocked again while calling out, "Diana honey, are you home? It’s Joe, Joe Dawson. Can I come in?"

This time there were sounds of movement beyond the door, which swung open a few minutes later. A petite brunette with startling blue eyes looked at them warily.

"Joe," she said flatly, with a subtle accent coloring her words. "She’s dead, isn’t she?" Motioning them inside, her voice rose. "Damn her! Why did she have to leave things like this? Just when I could have actually used her help…."

Rounding on Dawson, she demanded, "Why didn’t Duncan come to tell me personally?"

Astonished, Dawson attempted to placate her, "No, no Diana, Mahleah is very much alive. In fact, I saw her just a couple of days ago."

Frowning, Diana ushered them to a living room where they all sat down. Scrutinizing their faces, she declared, "But this still has something to do with her, doesn’t it? I mean, I like you Joe, but you’ve always been her friend more than mine."

Gravely, Joe nodded his head, "Yes, I’m afraid that it does concern Mahleah. This is Wesley Wyndham-Price. He works for a detective agency called Angel Investigations. I’ve hired his firm to help Mahleah."

"Help her? How? Why? If there was one person in the world I would have thought completely capable of taking care of herself it was Mahleah Brennan," Diana retorted. "Her trademark has always been to kick ass and take names. What kind of evil thing is out there that she can’t handle?"

"Herself," Wesley replied softly.

Diana sank back into her chair and contemplated them both for several minutes. "I can buy that," she finally admitted. "What kind of trouble is she in? I don’t know how I can help – we didn’t part on good terms. I have absolutely no idea where she is."

Joe nodded again, "We know about the fight, but we’re not completely clear on the details."

Diana raised an eyebrow, "Mahleah didn’t tell you?"

"No," Joe replied calmly.

"Then how do you know about the fight?" The blue eyes narrowed as she realized the answer, "You damned Watchers have to be everywhere, don’t you?"

Wesley was startled. Apparently, this young lady knew about Watchers, which would imply that she knew all about her friend’s Immortality. Mahleah obviously trusted her very much since this was not only her life on the line but many, many others as well.

"Well," Diana continued. "It wasn’t pretty, I’m afraid. She interrupted my ex-boyfriend beating the hell out of me and proceeded to put him in the hospital. I happened to object to this course of action and things got rather heated from then on."

"Why?" Wesley was intrigued.

"Why what?" she asked, confused.

"Why did you object to her confronting your abusive boyfriend? You refer to him as your ex, so obviously it wasn’t a question of affection. Why would you fight with your best friend when she might have saved your life?"

She let out a long breath, "Look, Mister Wyndham-Price, I’m not sure that’s any of your business."

"Perhaps not," he conceded, "but it might also have relevance to the situation in which Ms. Brennan now finds herself."

Diana licked her lips and then tried to explain, "It wasn’t Mahleah’s place to interfere like that. She just came in and took over. She could have restrained him easily. The girl’s had martial arts training her whole life. Instead, she beat him up." She shook her head, stubbornly. "She didn’t have a right to do that."

"She took the decision out of your hands," Wesley realized. "It should have been you that ended the incident and not her."

She rewarded him with a sardonic smile, "Very good, Mr. Wyndham-Price."

"Please call me Wesley," he said automatically.

"Wesley," she acknowledged. "It’s my life…not hers. Even if she disapproves of it, I’m the one that should take care of things. Of course, that would never occur to Little-Miss-I-Have-To-Be-The-Hero-At-All-Times."

Wesley’s lips quirked upwards into a half-smile. "That can be very irritating," he agreed. "My boss is like that in many ways."

Sighing, Diana said ruefully, "I guess she can’t exactly help it, considering the influence Duncan has had on her over the years. They want to be honorable, not heroic but sometimes the results can seem rather egocentric. Of course, Mac’s had plenty of time to learn to restrain his impulses occasionally but Mahleah’s still processing that lesson. He knows there are times to think before acting while she…."

"Is very much a woman of action," Joe finished affectionately.

"Yeah," the brunette nodded. "Don’t get me wrong, she can be as broody as hell and she comes by that through her former lover too, but when she decides that something needs to be done, she usually doesn’t hesitate about it. The thing is, that’s often a good instinct to have and I know her heart’s usually in the right place. She can just be…overprotective."

Wesley and Joe shot each other a glance, which Diana noticed. "What?" she inquired. "What is it? What has Mahleah done?"

Wesley indicated that Joe should take the lead in telling her and after a sigh he did, "Have you read in the paper about a strange woman who’s been beating up men across town?"

"Yeah," she nodded immediately, and then put the facts together. "Oh my God, that’s Mahleah? What the hell has gotten into her?"

"You mentioned that she tends to be overprotective," Wesley pointed out. "The men in question all have checkered pasts, particularly when it comes to women."

"They’re abusers," she realized. "Oh Lord, girlfriend, please say you’re not doing this because of me."

"It’s more than that," Joe reassured her. "I’m not sure about everything that’s going on in her mind right now, but I know that one fight with her best friend would not have triggered the violent spree she’s been on for months."

"She mentioned that she’d broken up with her fiancé," Diana recalled. "She was a little bitter about it, but I don’t know the details."

"He saw her fighting another Immortal and couldn’t handle it," Joe said bluntly.

"Oh," Diana said settling back into her chair again. "Well, it’s no great loss, really. I wish she had seen it that way. I guess to realize that though, she would have to admit that she’s still in love with Duncan and always will be. She’s never fully recovered from him leaving her, you know."

"She had a chance to reconcile, but she turned him down," Joe informed her.

"Oh, she has some idea in her head that she needs to make her way on her own and be the ‘star of her own drama rather than the supporting player.’ "

"You sound like you disapprove," Wesley observed.

She snorted in an unladylike way, "Mahleah Brennan is as obstinate as they come and as independent a modern woman as NOW could desire for a poster. Besides, starring in your own drama is a good way to keep your bed empty at night for the stupidest of reasons: pride. She’s never going to find any man better than Duncan is, she’ll never find one who’ll love her more, and most importantly, she’ll never find one that she loves more. The two of them are freaking soul mates, for God’s sake!" She looked at them, and added, "If you believe in that kind of thing. By the way, hasn’t he been able to talk any sense into her?"

Joe carefully said, "Duncan is obeying Mahleah’s last request that she be allowed to handle her own problems."

Diana groaned, "See what I mean --- two peas in a pod. One is as stubborn as the other."

"There’s more," Joe hesitated before continuing, "She’s not just hunting these men: she’s taunting them…provoking them into violence before retaliating."

The young woman blanched, "Oh God. I’ve seen her do it. Well, not to that extreme, but in college. We’d all go to clubs and meet jerks that wouldn’t leave us alone. She’d come on to them, tease them, and then humiliate them as publicly as possible. Every now and then we had to get her away quickly before a fight broke out."

"She’s now made this act her raison d’être," Wesley said apologetically.

"All of this because of me, Duncan, and Mark," Diana said in disbelief.

This time Joe and Wesley successfully avoided sharing a glance. Angel had offered them a theory that the reason that Mahleah was dealing with all of these mini-crises so unsuccessfully was that she could no longer unconsciously tap into the strength of her future counterpart. Mahleah Brennan had first started falling apart and acting in an uncharacteristic fashion after Mahleah MacLeod had returned to her own time.

"We’re attempting to predict her next move," Wesley told the comely brunette. "Anything you can tell us would be immensely helpful."

"What was the last thing she did?" Diana inquired.

"Well, she attempted to seduce his boss," Joe nodded at Wesley.

"Your boss, why," Diana was curious. "How does she know him?"

"Did Mahleah ever tell you about her trip to New York when she was five?" Joe asked.

"Yes," Diana frowned. "Do you mean about the tourist things or the part where she was attacked by a vampire?"

"You know about vampires as well as Immortals?" Wesley couldn’t help asking.

She gave a mirthless chuckle, "When you find your roommate lying on your living room floor drenched in blood and there are huge bite marks all over her body, you start asking questions. She answered them because she felt I needed to know about the monsters that go bump in the night for my own safety."

"Wesley’s boss is Angel," Joe explained, "The vampire that rescued little Mahleah all those years ago."

"A vampire detective?" she was startled. "Mahleah did say that he was the only good vamp in existence as far as she was concerned. You say she tried to seduce him. She didn’t succeed? That’s odd. I would have given money to see that. I’ve never seen a man turn down Mahleah’s advances before."

"Well, there are extenuating circumstances with Angel," Wesley said cautiously.

"I got the impression that he turned the tables on her," Joe interrupted.

Diana tilted her head to the side, "Turned the tables?" When she got his meaning, she gave her first natural laugh of the conversation. "Are you saying what I think you’re saying? He teased her and then left her hanging?"

"We were not given specific details," Wesley hastened to point out. "However, that does appear to be a natural conjecture from what we’ve ascertained."

"Angel wanted us to ask you the significance of some song lyrics she threw at him," Joe added. "You know as well as I do that music is vital to Mahleah."

"Sure," she agreed. "What were they?"

" ‘Soap Star Joe’ and ‘Flower’," Joe said immediately.

"Liz Phair, huh," Diana laughed. "What lines did she use? Do you know?"

"The part about being a hero ‘looking for something attractive to save’ and springing ‘from the skull of Athena’”, he told her.

"Ah, she’s laughing at him and the image he’s putting off," Diana said and then encouraged him, "What else?"

Joe cleared his throat, "The opening lines from the other one."

Diana frowned and then grinned, "You mean, ‘Every time I see your face I get all wet between my legs’ etc.?"

"That’s it," Joe confirmed.

"Did she get past the opening to the rest of the song?" Diana was laughing at them both.

"I don’t believe so. That was all Angel mentioned." Wesley mumbled. Good heavens with an opening like that, he shuddered to think what the rest of the song would be like.

"Hmmm, I’ve got to meet your boss," she teased. "If Mahleah picked those lines to torment him with he must have the face that broke a thousand hearts."

"He was known in the past as ‘Angelus’, the one with the angelic face," Wesley admitted.

"Uh huh," she chuckled again. "Well, that combined with their past history together leads me to believe that she’s both asking for his help and rejecting it at the same time. By any chance would he happen to be tall, dark, and brooding?"

"Yes," Wesley said taken aback.

"Ah," she nodded sagely, "Just Mahleah’s type. It was a test. She’s drawn to him and wanted to see if he would react like all the others."

"Instead, of violence, he took control of the situation," Joe surmised.

"She’s pissed," Diana declared. "Our girl is a bit of a control freak – a natural reaction to being drained by your date. If he actually managed to get past her initial response and turn her on, well…" she whistled. "That’s some serious moves."

"How will she respond?" Wesley asked with concern.

"She’ll hesitate at first," the woman decided. "Her first instincts didn’t turn out the way she suspected. She probably brooded on it all night."

"And tonight," Joe asked grimly.

"She’ll follow up. If she doesn’t like what she finds, someone will pay the price," Diana said grimly.

"We need to warn Angel," Wesley said, rising quickly.

"Agreed," Joe grabbed his cane and followed him. At the door, he turned and looked at their hostess. "Diana, when we arrived, you said that you needed Mahleah’s help now? Is there something we can do?"

She licked her lips uncertainly. "You mean you haven’t heard yet? I figured your spies would be all over this by now."

"No," Joe shook his head in confusion. "Vernon left when Mahleah did. I have no idea what happened later."

"I told you that I broke up with Jordan. What I didn’t tell you was how we broke up," she looked away from them. "After he got out of the hospital, he was good to me for a while. Well, long enough for his bones to mend, that is. When he got the cast off his arm, he proceeded to teach me exactly what he thought about ‘allowing’ my friend to interfere with his business."

"Oh God," Wesley softly said almost afraid to hear her answer. "What did he do to you?"

Looking him in the eye, she swallowed then said calmly, "He killed me."

"What?" Joe exclaimed.

"You’re Immortal," Wesley realized. This was why Mahleah had been so free with her secrets to this woman. It would someday be a matter of survival to her friend and that day had now arrived.

"Yes," Diana nodded. "When he didn’t see anything in the paper about my unfortunate demise, Jordan came back. I told him through the door that if he didn’t leave I’d call the cops and let them see what he’d done to me. Since I was hiding in the house, he couldn’t tell that all my wounds were gone. He left and hasn’t been back since."

"Mac and Mahleah taught you some defense techniques years ago," Joe remembered. "Didn’t that include sword work?"

"A little," she nodded. "I was never really interested. Why would I ever need to know how to fence or duel?" The last word came out with a bit of a sob.

"Do you even have a sword yet?" Wesley asked.

She shook her head, and he made up his mind. "You’re coming with us."

 

Chapter Seven

 

Cordelia was frustrated and bored. Everyone else had gone off on their little missions, trying to figure out Mahleah’s next move. Had she been invited along? Oh no, she had been ordered to stay behind in case the Immortal decided to contact Angel again. Well, it wasn’t like she really wanted to go with Angel anyway…if she never saw that psycho-Slayer Faith again, it would be too soon. She could have helped Wesley and Joe question Diana, though. She had more than a little practice interrogating people lately and surely her record stood for itself.

 

She was still reeling from the bizarre warning Angel had given her before he left. According to him the Mahleah she had seen in her recent visions was not the Mahleah she had known back in Sunnydale. He had described Sunnydale Mahleah as being from an alternate dimension. Alternate dimension, Cordelia snorted with amusement. Oh well, it couldn’t be any stranger than working for the only vampire with a soul. According to her visions their world’s version of Mahleah was obviously not as stable as her doppelganger.

 

She shivered remembering the rage and disgust she had felt in the other woman. Sadly though, most of that disgust was inwardly directed. Well, Angel should be able to help Mahleah out there. He was the king of brooding self-reflection. She just hoped that he found Mahleah soon because she sensed that the Immortal was about to explode…or was that implode? Anyway, it was going to be messy and Cordelia preferred not to be at ground zero unless it was absolutely necessary.

 

Hearing a noise she glanced up and her mouth dropped open. The subject of her reflections had just walked through the door but where on earth was she going looking like a fashion victim from a street corner?

 

The alternate Mahleah that Cordelia had once known had dressed scantily for a time to act as bait for a serial killer but she had always managed to pull it off with style and dignity. Cordelia admired that. The woman standing in front of her now had bypassed any sense of subtlety. When a six-foot woman decided to wear a tight micro-mini-skirt there just wasn’t much left to reveal. The black leather barely covered her rear. Tall black boots ran up those long legs to above the knee but didn’t conceal the garters Mahleah was wearing. A very low-cut bustier was laced up the front but not as tightly as Cordelia might have expected. Even Immortals need to breathe, she supposed, especially if they were hunting. The result, though, was that Mahleah’s breasts were about a breath and a half from tumbling out of their skimpy cover. On top of this stunning ensemble, the Immortal was wearing the requisite long coat, also leather, to hide her weapons, no doubt. Her long hair was tightly braided away from her face to keep it out of the action. Incongruously, a Celtic cross dangled just above her cleavage.

 

It might have worked, Cordelia decided. It could have if the skirt were just a little longer, the boots a little shorter and the bustier a little tighter. It was the other things that were even more disturbing to Sunnydale’s former Queen of Fashion. The body glitter, for instance, that Mahleah had sprayed all over herself was incredibly tacky and her makeup…well that was just icky and disturbing. Cordelia had seen lighter rings around the eyes on raccoons. And was that a cheesy-looking fake tattoo over her right breast? Yuck.

 

Reminding herself that this Mahleah didn’t know her from any Jane Doe off the street, Cordelia pasted on a wide grin and greeted her guest, “Hi, I’m Cordelia. Can I help you?”

 

The Immortal looked her over and seemingly dismissed her. “Where’s Angel?”

 

“I’m sorry, he’s not here at the moment,” Cordelia answered. “If you’d like to wait for him I have magazines you could look at.”  She gestured toward the copies of Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Cosmo and Glamour that littered her desk. “You know, in case, you’d like to rethink the look a little.”

 

Mahleah raised an eyebrow.

 

Cordelia could feel herself beginning to stammer a little, “I mean, not that you don’t look interesting, but maybe you’d like to go around a little more Rodeo Drive and a little less Hollywood Boulevard.”

 

The other eyebrow raised, “Do you go around insulting all the strangers you meet, or am I just special?”

 

 “Hey, I’m just looking out for you here,” Cordelia laughed nervously. “We girls need to stick together…woman power and all that. It’s just that, you know, people take you much more seriously if you’re dressed for the part, and right now your clothes are screaming ‘take me back to the alley and ravish me against a wall’. I mean is this really the message you want to be sending?”

 

Cordelia stopped. A knife with a blade that was at least four inches long was now imbedded in the desk in front of her. She blinked rapidly. Yep, it was still there. Raising her eyes, she saw Mahleah leaning in to meet her gaze…suddenly only an inch away, which was entirely too close.

 

“Among other things,” the Immortal said grimly. She reached out, grabbed the knife and tucked it away in the top of her right boot. “Tell Angel I stopped by.”

 

She strode for the door, opened it, and then paused. “On second thought, don’t bother. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

 

Watching Mahleah stride away, Cordelia thought wanly, “Well, that could have gone better.”

 

* * * * *

 

 

While waiting to see Faith, Angel worried about the fact that he had actually told Joe and Wesley the truth about Mahleah. He felt certain that part of Mahleah’s dilemma had to do with the disappearance of her double the year before.

 

The Watchers had been startled by his information, but it made sense to them…Joe, in particular, for whom the story cleared up many questions. He had long wondered how Mahleah could have been singing in a club in Sunnydale and getting engaged to Mark in Virginia at the same time. Wesley, on the other hand, was thrilled to solve the mystery of the identity of ‘The Actor.’

 

Both agreed that there could have been a psychic connection of sorts between the two women. When the link was broken, it created emotional stress for their time’s Mahleah because she was unaware of what had happened.

 

Angel was relieved that they agreed with his theory and that someone else understood the predicament he had found himself placed in by knowing both women. He worried about the possible consequences to the time line but believed they would not be significant. Both men had been trained as Watchers and knew the meaning of the word discretion; which, certainly could not be said for Cordelia, who posed a problem of her own. It was bad enough that his young assistant tended to speak first and think later; however, Cordelia had actually met Mahleah MacLeod in Sunnydale. She had even heard parts of her life story. It was essential that he let her know that this was not the same person she had dealt with before. Younger Mahleah did not seem to possess the patience and amused tolerance that were the earmarks of her older counterpart’s attitude toward Cordy. If Cordelia treated her the same way she had before it could lead to confusion and possibly even danger for her.

 

As much as he liked his young Girl Friday, he didn’t trust her enough to reveal a secret of such magnitude and so he’d told her a farfetched tale about alternate universes. She had raised a skeptical eyebrow but finally accepted his sincere statement that the two women were not the same person.

 

As a guard passed him, Angel was reminded of where he was and whom he was going to visit. A lot had happened to Faith since the last time she had seen Mahleah MacLeod. The dark-haired Slayer had lost her way for a time and her doubts and low self-esteem had driven her away from her sister-slayer and into the camp of Buffy’s enemies. Richard Wilkins, the Mayor of Sunnydale, had practically adopted the girl. Unfortunately, Mayor Wilkins also had plans to become a full-fledged demon and eat Buffy’s entire senior class on Graduation Day.

 

In an attempt to distract Buffy from his plans, Wilkins had Faith shoot Angel with a poisoned arrow – the only cure found in the blood of a Slayer. Buffy fought Faith and managed to put the other girl in a coma, leaving only one way to save Angel’s life. When he resisted her soft pleas to drink her and be cured, she took action and punched him repeatedly until his demon came out to play. Before he could regain control of himself, she’d swiftly brought his head to her throat and waited for nature to take its course. In his most vivid dreams, he could still taste the sweetness of her blood as it ran across his tongue. Luckily, she had survived, although he’d had to take her to the hospital for a transfusion. The bittersweet knowledge of what his love would willingly sacrifice for his sake only reinforced his previous decision that he needed to leave Sunnydale, and Buffy, before he ruined her life or killed her.

 

Months later when Faith awoke from her coma, the world was a different place. Angel had moved to Los Angeles and Buffy was dating Riley Finn, who she had met at UC Sunnydale. Using a spell left for her by the late Mayor Wilkins, Faith had switched identities with Buffy. While in the blonde Slayer’s body, she had enjoyed having a mother, friends and a boyfriend…a little too much. Eventually the spell was broken and Faith escaped. After she came to L. A. she was approached by Wolfram and Hart who wished her to kill Angel. Ultimately their plan backfired however, as Faith broke down and begged Angel to kill her instead.

 

Angel’s attempts to deal with a guilt-ridden Faith were interrupted by Buffy’s search for vengeance. When his former girlfriend had refused to back down, things had gotten ugly between them and led to the exchange of blows, which he still regretted. He would carry the memory of her shocked, tear-filled eyes to his dying day.

 

Faith had made him proud by turning herself in to the police rather than see he and Buffy put in any more trouble. The damage had been done, though. Buffy was a Slayer and when she fought she pulled no punches. She had informed Angel that she had a new guy in her life that she loved and whom she trusted more than she ever would him. She might as well have doused him with holy water. He’d lost his temper, yelled at her and ordered her to leave.

 

Regretting the way things had ended, he had gone to Sunnydale and had the great satisfaction of pounding Riley Finn’s face into the dirt (the younger man had started it) and seeing Buffy ignore Riley’s attempts at being Alpha Male in order to speak privately with her ex. Things had gone a bit more smoothly this time, but they had formed an unspoken pact: for a time they would restrict their communications to life or death events like an Apocalypse on the horizon. Anything else hurt too much.

 

Since asking Buffy about Mahleah was thus ruled out, Angel had instinctively turned to the other Slayer as an alternate source of information. He didn’t know if Faith had held much contact with Mahleah MacLeod but she might possess some unique insights into his predicament. Besides it was time for him to visit his friend.

 

Finally, he was waved into the receiving area where he saw the dark-haired girl already waiting for him behind the plexi-glass restrainer separating them. He sat down and picked up the phone in time to hear her greet him.

 

“Hey, what’s up, big guy?”

 

“Hi Faith,” he responded warmly, “Anything new with you?”

 

She shrugged wryly. “My court appointed shrink says that I have anger management issues. Who knew?”

 

He winced, “I know that brand of therapy must seem silly to you, but just because it seems stupid doesn’t mean it can’t be beneficial.”

 

“I know, I know,” she retorted. “Instead of mentally picturing beating her to a pulp, I try to see how many quotes I can identify from all those books you give me. She’s always pulling out some great authority to make herself sound deep and intellectual. It impresses the hell out of her when I get one right. I think you’re about the only person who ever met me and thought I might read something…without pictures even.”

 

“You’re welcome,” he responded.

 

“So, how are things going at A. I. -- any interesting cases?”

 

“Actually, I’m working on a very tough one right now,” he told her. “Do you remember Mahleah?”

 

“Hell yeah,” she exclaimed.

 

He blinked, a bit startled by her vehemence.

 

“It’s not often you forget people who vanish into thin air,” she explained. “Besides Mahleah was the first person to care enough to try to help me. She gave me some good advice at the time.”

 

“Too bad you didn’t listen to it,” he gave her a small grin.

 

“Really,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t be in here, that’s for sure. You know what they say about hindsight being 20/20. Anyway, she was a cool lady.”

 

“How so?” he asked, curiously.

 

“She wasn’t afraid to admit that everybody had a dark side, even her.” Faith shrugged. “I liked that. She didn’t just say it like it was supposed to make us buds, or something…she actually told me about a time when she was younger that was pretty rough. She said she hit rock bottom.”

 

“What happened?” he tried to mask his rising excitement.

 

She frowned in response, “I don’t know that I should get into specifics here, Angel. I mean this stuff is pretty personal.”

 

“I appreciate that,” he told her gravely. “I would never ask out of simple curiosity.”

 

Her dark eyes narrowed at him. “That’s true, you wouldn’t. So, you want to tell me exactly what the hell’s going on? You’re fishing here…just tell me what’s the what and maybe I can help.”

 

He swallowed, knowing she was right. “An old friend of Mahleah’s has asked me to help her. She’s been through a lot of nasty shocks in the past few months and it’s made her take a path that her friends are worried about.”

 

“What kind of path?” she demanded. “Are you trying to tell me Mahleah’s gone bad?”

 

“Not exactly,” he hesitated, “although I don’t think most people would consider her actions of the good, either.”

 

She snorted derisively, “I don’t really care what most people would think…what do you think? What has she done?”

“She’s found an outlet for her anger in baiting overly aggressive men with a yen for hurting women. When they make the first move she beats them within an inch of their lives.”

 

Faith was frowning, seemingly deep in thought, but she gestured to him to continue.

 

“That’s pretty much it,” he confessed. “Every attack gets more vicious. It’s only a matter of time before she kills someone…deliberately or by accident.”

 

“Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “Mahleah’s meeting these jerks, teasing them a little and when they can’t stand it when she says no they get violent and she defends herself. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

 

“Essentially, yes,” he agreed.

 

She remained pensive, chewing on her bottom lip. “What did you say set this off?”

 

“I didn’t,” he pointed out, but decided to clarify a little, “She had a fight with several people that she cares about: her boyfriend, her father, and her best friend. I think she feels they all let her down…subconsciously maybe even that she’s let them down.”

 

“Her boyfriend? You’re not talking about MacLeod, are you?” Faith raised her head. “He’s some dude called Mark? He dumped her because he saw her whack some Immortal’s head off?”

 

“Yes,” Angel replied. He was worried about the amount of details she was putting together. Had Mahleah really told her about the whole incident? It would be good since he would find out how events were supposed to end, but if she figured out everything what would he say?

 

Faith’s dark eyes glittered. “Something’s screwy here, Angel. Mahleah told me all about this last year…said it happened when she was younger. Mind explaining to me how it’s occurring again?”

 

He opened his mouth but paused not sure what to say. She wasn’t finished, though.

 

“Unless, somehow she was talking about her past but our future…”her voice trailed off. “Oh my God, that’s it…isn’t it? That’s why she always had a freaking answer for everything…she was from the future. When she disappeared after the big light show she was going back to her time.”

 

Anyone who underestimated Faith’s intelligence was in for a rude shock, Angel thought, not without amusement. She had put events together with few clues from him. Now, she was looking for an answer.

 

“Yes,” he said wearily. “The Mahleah you met in Sunnydale was extremely old and much more at peace with herself than the woman I’ve met recently. That Mahleah was confused, angry and in a lot of pain.”

 

“Still, she’s only targeting scumbags, right? It’s not like she’s beating up Xander or something,” she gave him a wry grin and he knew she was remembering her own dark days when he had stopped her from choking Xander Harris to death.

 

“True,” he conceded, then let out a sigh, a sure sign he was frustrated. “You could argue that what she’s doing is not that different from what I do myself. If a woman comes into my office looking for protection from some man who has been beating her up, chances are that when I get done with him he’ll look like a piece of Swiss cheese.”

 

“You wouldn’t kill him, though,” Faith said matter-of-factly. “Not unless you had to…not if he were human. A vampire or other go-bump-in-the-night-type monster would be fair game but you don’t like to kill humans.”

 

“She hasn’t either,” he remarked, “still it’s different.”

 

“Because she’s a woman,” Faith asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

“No,” he denied, shaking his head. “Not because she’s a woman. I may have been born in the 18^th century but I learned to appreciate powerful women a long time ago. I was turned by one. It’s not that she’s female that bothers me; it’s the fact that she seems to be losing control of herself. She’s not really trying to help anyone – she’s just found an outlet for her aggressions that she finds acceptable. It’s not very different from her victims’ rationalizing their reasons for hitting women. Plus, like you said these are human men, not literal monsters…I try to take care of the dangers that human justice isn’t equipped to handle. The system may not always be perfect but the scum she’s attacking are better dealt with by the police.”

 

She smiled, “That’s what Mahleah said.”

 

“What?”

 

“That ultimately she realized that she wasn’t performing the public service she had originally thought when she was hunting. They were mortals, committing crimes against mortals and so mortal justice should deal with them.”

 

He leaned forward quickly, “What changed her mind?”

 

Faith’s face fell, “She went too far one night.”

 

His heart sank, “She killed one of them?”

 

She nodded sadly, “Yeah.”

 

He licked his lips, “Well, like we said she wasn’t targeting innocents. She was probably defending herself.”

 

Faith looked troubled and suddenly older. She was holding something back from him, he realized.

 

“Tell me,” he said calmly. “Tell me the rest of it.”

 

“You’re right, the guy was hurting her…pretty bad I think. He pretty much deserved to die…”

 

“But…” he prompted, knowing what came next.

 

“He didn’t go easy,” she said hoarsely.  “She wouldn’t tell me all that she’d done to him, but she made it clear that it was ugly. She tortured him, Angel, and then she killed him.”

 

He closed his eyes in sorrow.

 

*****

 

Mahleah glanced around the noisy bar, absently pulling on the chain of her necklace. So many prospects and so little time, she thought sardonically. Who would it be tonight? She had a lot of energy to burn off and a lot of thoughts she didn’t want to think about, so she was looking for a certain type -- someone big and brutal, crude and animalistic…without any of an animal’s positive qualities.

 

“Hey baby, you look like you could use some company,” she heard to her left, and swiveled in her seat. 

 

He was big, six feet four if he was an inch, and easily three hundred pounds. All of that meant nothing. Most big guys she had met were, at heart, kittens that would rather protect a woman than hit her. Whenever you found one who was mean, though, he was usually cruel to the bone. Now all she had to do was find out which side her guy was playing for: the home team or the dregs of the universe she was looking for.

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

Diana followed Joe and his friend, Wesley, down a hallway and through a door that read Angel Investigations. As soon as the door closed behind them, an agitated brunette accosted them.

 

“Oh my God, where have you guys been? You should have been here earlier because your girl came calling.”

 

“Mahleah’s been here?” Joe rushed forward, anxiously.

 

“Yeah, about two hours ago,” the brunette answered.

 

“Why did she leave? Why didn’t you keep her here?” Joe demanded.

 

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, “I guess she couldn’t take a little constructive criticism. Hey, if someone mistakes her for a bargain basement hooker it won’t be my fault.”

 

“Cordelia, for God’s sake this was no time to be playing Richard Blackwell,” Wesley snapped. “This woman needs our help not fashion advice.”

 

Cordelia sniffed huffily, “I know that. It wasn’t like I didn’t try. She stayed long enough to ventilate my desk and then stormed out.”

 

“Ventilate your desk?” Diana asked, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer.

 

“She threw a big old knife at me,” the brunette said hotly. “It was just lucky that she didn’t get my fingers…or something else more vital.”

 

“It wasn’t luck,” a voice from behind them said.

 

Diana turned and appraised the newcomer. He was tall and well-built, dark with intense eyes. Gorgeous in a dangerous way that cut to the bone and made Diana hurt all over. This had to be Angel. God, Mahleah never strayed far from type, did she?

 

“It wasn’t luck,” he repeated. “It was skill. If she had wanted to hurt you, Cordelia, she would have. It’s probably best that you let her go, though. She’s dangerous right now.”

 

Joe didn’t like this, Diana saw, and protested, “Yeah, she’s dangerous but she’d never hurt someone as defenseless as Cordelia.”

 

“Hey,” Cordelia exclaimed. “I am not defenseless. Just because I don’t go around with swords in my coat and knives stuck in my boots, doesn’t mean that I can’t protect myself.”

 

“I hardly think a cross and a bottle of holy water would do the trick,” Wesley commented dryly.

 

Diana stifled a grin, and then noticed that Angel was looking at her curiously.

 

“This is Diana Adams,” Joe introduced her. “Diana, this is Angel.”

 

He offered his hand to her and she hesitated a moment and then took it. His flesh felt slightly cool, but not cold. He squeezed her hand gently and then let go.

 

“Nice to meet you,” he said politely.

 

“Same here,” she responded. “Nice to put a face to a name…though I’m gathering that you’ve cleaned up a bit since the time you saved Mahleah in that alley.”

 

He regarded her with interest, “She told you about that?”

 

She nodded, “Oh yeah. You’re one of her heroes…or at least you used to be. I’m gathering she’s found you to be a bit of a nuisance of late.”

 

He shot an inquisitive look at Wesley as if wondering what his colleague had been saying about him.

 

“It’s the songs,” she explained. “Joe told me what she’s been singing to you.”

 

He nodded, and then gestured to the other two men. “I think we need to talk.”

 

They walked into Angel’s office and shut the door behind them, ignoring Cordelia’s little indignant huff at being left out of the proceedings. She turned around and smiled brightly at Diana.

 

“So, you and Mahleah are like best friends, right?”

 

“Not this week,” Diana said grimly.

 

“Well I can understand that…what with that nasty temper of hers and everything. Has she always had such problems handling criticism?”

 

As Diana replied she was unable to hide the hint of bitterness that crept into her tone, “Mahleah is not accustomed to receiving criticism like the rest of us. When one is practically perfect in every way one does not make mistakes.”

 

“Jeeze, envious much?” Cordelia retorted.

 

“Always have been,” Diana admitted with a thin, tight smile.

 

“Besides, how can you say she’s never made a mistake? Look at what she’s doing now,” Cordelia pointed out.

 

“I have to admit I would never have seen this coming,” Diana commented. “I should have I guess, but it still shocks me.  Mahleah committing acts that could land her cute ass in jail…the mind rebels.”

 

“You sound like you’d like to see her get caught,” the younger woman observed.

 

Diana sighed. Did she really want to see Mahleah go to jail? No. No matter how irritated she got with her friend at times she would never honestly want anything bad to happen to her. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t like to see someone put the fear of God in her for once.

 

****

The big brute’s name was Lee. She hadn’t bothered to get around to a last name. It had taken her less than five minutes to decide this was her guy for the night and only about ten more to get him to leave with her.

 

He’d brought her to a generic, rent-me-by-the-hour motel room with standard grungy carpet, stained bedspread and stale atmosphere reeking of smoke and sex. She’d allowed him to push her coat to the floor and paw her over her skimpy clothes. Once he started trying to push his thick fingers under those clothes, though, she took the initiative and pushed him back down on the bed.

 

“I was wondering when you were going to tell me how much,” he laughed.

 

“Oh honey, I’m not a hooker,” she smiled sweetly. “I do this ‘cause I like it, not ‘cause I want to get paid.”

 

“God, you’re a tall one,” he said admiringly. “Those legs run on forever.”

 

Still in her boots, she stood over him with the mattress swaying dangerously from their combined weight. He peered up her nearly non-existent skirt and then grabbed her legs and pulled her down on him. Her hand slid slowly up his crotch and undid the buttons on his fly. Skillfully her fingers slid up and down his length until he was gasping for air, begging her to go faster.

 

Adrenaline rushing through her veins, she stood up. Looking at his puzzled face she said, “Is that all you got, sugar? Hmmm, doesn’t look like it would have been much of a ride for me.”

 

She straightened her clothes and started to walk towards her coat.

 

“What…where are you going?” he asked, starting to get angry.

 

“Back to the bar, I guess…or maybe I’ll just go home and get a good night’s sleep. Doesn’t seem to be anything worth staying up for tonight,” she said casually.

 

“Get back here, bitch and finish what you started,” he demanded.

 

“I don’t think so…I’m too bored,” she smirked. Any second now he was going to let go. She could feel it in the air.

 

Before the smug expression could leave her face a beefy fist crashed into her jaw. “On your knees, whore and get what’s coming to you,” he snarled. “I don’t care how sore your jaw is.”

 

She raised her head and looked at him defiantly, “I don’t think so. You know those legs that go on forever…they make it easier for me to reach your face.”

 

She kicked him, hard. He stumbled across the room but was back up almost immediately.

 

“Oh, that’s better,” she purred. “I like my men to have stamina.”

 

“I’ll show you stamina, you crazy bitch.”

 

He came after her, his eyes red with fury.

 

She was enjoying herself thoroughly. This was the best fight she’d gotten from a mortal in quite some time. Unfortunately her zeal made her sloppy and she wasn’t expecting it when he swung a wooden chair through the air and hit her squarely in the side of the head with it.

 

“Damn,” she thought fuzzily. “Who knew this cheap motel would actually spring for a good chair?” Everything went black after that.

 

****

After the door was closed firmly behind them, Joe whirled on Angel.

 

“What do you mean Mahleah’s dangerous? What did you find out?”

 

Frowning, Angel sat behind his desk and slowly recounted the story he had heard from Faith earlier.

 

“Torture,” Joe shook his head firmly. “No, Mahleah wouldn’t do that. I don’t care what this Faith person said; she’s just not capable of it.”

 

“Joe, you’ve seen how much she’s losing control of her rage,” Angel said bleakly. “Can you honestly say that if she were angry enough she wouldn’t deliberately hurt someone? She’s been trained to fight since she was three…she knows how to inflict pain. Until now she’s never wanted to let that side of herself out.”

 

“No,” Joe insisted. “Self-defense I’ll buy or even beating a guy up because he’s hurt someone else but to mutilate someone in cold blood, no way.”

 

“That’s the point,” Angel told him. “It’s not going to be in cold blood and she won’t be thinking rationally. I doubt she’ll be thinking at all.”

 

“You’re acting like it’s already happened…like she’s already killed somebody,” Joe’s eyes were flashing with anger. “Until it does, I refuse to believe it.”

 

“Joe, it will happen,” Wesley said quietly. “If Faith’s guess about the timing is correct and I see no reason to think otherwise we must proceed on the assumption that Mahleah will go too far and kill someone in the heat of the moment. The question we must ask ourselves is what will we do then?”

 

“We help her,” Angel said firmly.

 

“Yes, but how? We don’t know when this final attack will occur or where. It could be tonight or it could be next month,” Wesley pointed out.

 

“Or it could be never,” Joe insisted. “Look, I know you guys think I’m just avoiding reality here, but I’m telling you something’s wrong with this picture. I’ve known this woman most of her life and my guts are telling me that she’s not going to torture and kill a mortal. Maybe the woman you met in Sunnydale did, but that’s not to say that things have to happen the same way this time.”

 

“Are you proposing we change history?” Wesley’s eyebrow rose.

 

“I’m saying that maybe it’s already been changed,” Joe challenged. “Granted it’s hard to know for sure but Angel think about this for a minute. Do you remember Mahleah MacLeod ever mentioning knowing you beyond New York in the ‘70s? Didn’t she say that in helping Buffy she was paying back a debt of honor that she owed you for saving her life?”

 

“Yes,” Angel admitted. He cast his mind back but could recall no other instances where Mahleah had mentioned meeting him; still, there was a flaw in that logic. “I did meet her, though, before I was turned.”

 

“When?” Wesley asked, startled. “You’ve never mentioned it before.”

 

“I forgot about it for a long time. I knew she seemed familiar but I just thought it was because I’d seen her as a child. It was probably six months after she disappeared that the memory came back to me. I met her when I was human, not long before Darla turned me.”

 

“Did she say anything then that would lead you to believe that she would know you at any other time than New York?” Joe pressed.

 

Angel thought back to that chance encounter. “She said I reminded her of someone,” he said heavily, “Someone who had saved her life. She said he was a good man who thought the worst of himself. She also tried to warn me. She said that the path I was on would have consequences I’d never dream of.”

 

“She knew you,” Wesley observed.

 

“Yes, but was that all she said?” Joe insisted.

 

Angel laughed. “She said I had a bonny face, but I don’t think that’s relevant.”

 

“All of that could apply to meeting you then and in New York,” Joe concluded triumphantly.

 

“What’s your point, Joe?” Angel frowned again.

 

“Don’t you see? You’ve encountered her twice since she started this little rampage. She even tested you…tried to seduce you. If this didn’t happen in Mahleah MacLeod’s timeline then things have changed. Things can still change. It’s not written in stone that Mahleah will kill.”

 

Angel bit his lip in consternation. Joe was starting to make sense. Was it possible that history didn’t have to repeat itself? They needed to find Mahleah quickly.

 

As he made this decision, his office door was flung open and a pale-looking Diana rushed in.

 

“I think your friend is having some kind of fit,” she said hurriedly.

 

Angel and Wesley looked at each other and quickly ran out to find Cordelia stretched out on the floor moaning in pain.

 

“Cordelia,” Angel said softly. He brushed the hair from her face and lifted her head to give her the paper cup of water and painkillers that Wesley had hurriedly found.  “What did you see?”

 

The young woman swallowed the painkillers before answering, “Mahleah…it was so bad.” She tried to stand up but Angel gently pushed her back down. “You have to find her, Angel. He was hurting her.”

 

“Who, who was hurting her?” Joe asked quickly.

 

She shook her head, “I don’t know. Some guy…he was big.” She looked at her boss with wide, wet eyes, “Angel, he was trying to rape her.”

 

******

As Mahleah’s mind starting taking in her surroundings once again she struggled to make sense of them. She was lying on something hard and there was something big on top of her, crushing her with its weight. Cool air was assaulting her breasts, something was tugging at her thigh and she heard a faint snap like elastic giving way.

 

Suddenly she felt a vicious, stinging pain on her left nipple and simultaneously gasped as hard, calloused fingers roughly tunneled between her thighs and invaded her sex. Lee, she remembered swiftly. He had brained her with a chair and now apparently he was taking advantage of her temporary vulnerability. His teeth ground down viciously on her sensitive flesh and she stifled a scream into a whimper. She would not give him the satisfaction.

 

Hearing the small noise, he guessed she was conscious and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She bit down as hard as she could and felt blood coat her tongue.

 

“Ah,” he yelled, and used his free arm to backhand her across the face. She spat at him, the saliva mixing with a combination of his and her blood.

 

“Now, listen up good, bitch,” he growled at her. His right hand grabbed a large pocketknife lying nearby that he had apparently used to cut off her underwear. “I’m going to take what you promised me and then we’ll never have to see each other again. So just lay there like a good girl and I won’t have to cut you.”

 

He pulled his fingers out of her body and awkwardly fumbled at his crotch, trying to get free from his clothes. Immediately her left hand grabbed for his knife and they rocked, each desperately trying to take control. She pulled her spread legs up around him in a grotesque parody of passion while her right hand fumbled for her true goal: the sharp knife hidden in the top of her boot. He was stronger, though, and she couldn’t force his knife hand away from her.

 

“Stop it!” he screamed. “I’ll kill you and screw your corpse before it gets cold.”

 

“I’ll be damned first,” she snarled and pulled his knife towards her instead. As its blade embedded itself in the flesh of her right side, she groaned. She kept their hands pinned on top of the knife and as he tried to jerk free it pushed the blade in a jagged arc through her skin.

 

“Ahhhh,” she screamed as she twisted so that her right hand could finally reach its destination. As she drew out her prize, she used his unsteady position to roll him over and viciously pin his palm to the floor.

 

“Christ!” he howled, but she had control now. Pinning his other side to the floor with her knee she quickly reached for the knife in her other boot and did the same thing to his right hand.

 

Rolling away, she kicked him hard in the stomach.  As she realized how close he came to finishing, she gagged and kicked him again…this time in the testicles.

 

She spotted her coat lying about a foot away and stood up. His eyes widened as she withdrew Tora from her hiding place. The two-and-a-half-foot long blade glowed dully in the faint light of the motel lamps.

 

She stalked toward him angrily, raising the katana above her head. “You’ll never be able to rape another woman again, you sick bastard. Not without a dick…” pausing she remembered his earlier actions and scowled, “or fingers…”

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

Something twinkled at Mahleah in her peripheral vision…something lower than the sword in her hand. Its flash penetrated the red haze clouding her mind and her head turned. On the wall facing the bed was a mirror that had caught the gleaming reflection of the Celtic cross lying over her heart. She saw it briefly before her gaze was drawn upward and she froze in place.

 

A stranger looked out of the glass. Mascara and eyeliner were smeared across her face but the eyes were even darker and full of hate. Her lips were pulled up in an animalistic snarl and her nostrils were flared. She looked dangerous and menacing. She looked like…a vice closed around her heart as she realized…she looked like him. There was no difference in the face glaring at her now from the mirror than the one that had been scowling above her earlier.

 

The cross continued to sparkle in the dim light. For a brief moment a whisper trickled across her mind, “M’annsachd.”

 

“Mac,” her lips said, though they made no sound.

 

Trembling, she looked away from the mirror and down at the man in front of her, mounted to the floor like a butterfly in a collection. He had…he had…and she was going to…she was going to…the sword fell from her hands.

 

“Oh God,” she moaned. She had been going to mutilate him, cut parts of him off, and then she had intended to kill him. Bile rose swiftly up her throat and she was on her knees throwing up until she thought she’d pass out.

 

She had been him. When had she become the thing she hated? No, she wasn’t him…she wasn’t. She was trying to help people. She couldn’t look back at him, though -- couldn’t let her mind go back to that still, quiet, rage filled place that had possessed her soul only moments earlier.

 

She stumbled out the door, not conscious of her bare torso covered only in blood. The only thing she could think was that she wanted away from him and away from the sickness that had taken hold of her.

 

Tora lay unnoticed on the floor.

 

*****

Fortunately Cordelia’s vision had given them the name of a motel but it hadn’t given them any timeframe. She had no idea if the events she saw were happening now or would happen in the future. Past visions tended to give Angel a very slim margin of time to get to his destination before they took place; however, Cordelia had been experiencing visions about Mahleah for months now and rarely had they given him anything to work with other than a vague warning of trouble ahead.

 

His fingers clinched tighter around the steering wheel. Beside him Joe was quiet and pale. He knew Cordelia’s words had hit the other man hard. Mahleah was one of his closest friends. Hell, her words had shaken him pretty hard too.

 

He had genuinely liked Mahleah MacLeod. She possessed many qualities he valued in a person: courage, loyalty, compassion and a killer sense of humor. He had long marveled over the strength it had taken her to complete her quest to correct the wrongs that Phillip Johnson, her old student, had created. She wasn’t perfect, though. He recalled how thrown she had been when Duncan MacLeod walked back into her life. She’d been unable to say no to the love of her life when he coaxed her into bed. She had confessed to Angel that at that moment although she desperately wanted to preserve the timeline there was no way she could have pushed him away – she’d wanted him too badly, a feeling Angel could relate to painfully well.

 

Yes, he had genuinely liked Mahleah MacLeod and when he met her younger self one of his first thoughts was that he wanted to ensure that she be allowed to grow into the calm, thoughtful woman he had known. His second had been that although he could relate to Mahleah MacLeod’s desire to be with her soul mate, he understood Mahleah Brennan better. The older woman, while not being perfect, had grown wise and experienced. She saw things that younger people weren’t even aware of yet. Young Mahleah was a far cry from that paragon of mischievous harmony. She still felt things with the full-force of her young years without the calluses that are the shield of age. She fought and inwardly bled because she felt so much and had found no other outlet for that passion. Oh yes, he understood this Mahleah very well.

 

It was no guarantee that tonight’s possible rapist was the one scumbag too many that tipped Mahleah’s scales. He hoped that Joe was right and they were able to help her. At the moment though, his ears were still ringing with the words, “He’s trying to rape her.” Holding on to the word ‘trying’ as tightly as he could, Angel prayed that they would get there in time. There was no doubt in his mind that Mahleah Brennan could take care of herself, but the truth was no one was invincible. Anyone could lose a fight at any time…all it took was a little bad luck.

 

If luck had been with her attacker and not with her earlier, it was about to slide the other way. Angel’s jaw tightened. Mahleah was Immortal. She would heal from any physical wounds quickly, but the emotional scars from a sexual assault would not magically disappear. He was aware that the violent impulses flooding his body made him a bit of a hypocrite. After all, he had been telling Faith that his job was to handle the supernatural bad guys that the cops weren’t equipped to deal with. Mortal trash like this guy, he was supposed to leave to Kate and her colleagues of the LAPD. All of that was true, yet he knew in his heart that if he walked into that motel room and found Mahleah’s raped body what he would do to that man would be ugly and irreversible. He suppressed a bitter chuckle. So, he was a hypocrite…. He was a hypocrite with a vicious demon inside him screaming for blood at the best of times. Days like this made his control precarious at the best. Someone could just hire Wolfram and Hart and sue him. His foot stomped even harder on the gas pedal.

 

*****

Mahleah tripped down an alley, oblivious to her surroundings. Her mind had frozen unable to deal with the trauma of the last half-hour. If she thought about those events she would have to accept what had happened to her and what she had done…what she had been about to do. Instead she focused on putting one foot in front of the other without bothering to worry about her destination. Thus, she was surprised when she realized that she had entered a cul-de-sac…there was no way forward.

 

Turning around, she discovered an even nastier shock. A man was walking steadily towards her. No, not a man she recognized in horror…a vampire.

 

“Had some fun tonight, haven’t you?” he said with a smirk. “Look at you, all unwrapped and dipped in my favorite sauce.”

 

Startled she glanced down to see her bare blood-smeared chest for the first time. Instinctively, she raised her arms to cover herself.

 

“A little late for modesty, isn’t it?” he laughed, and started forward again. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the desire for anything but a meal but you…well, now you’d be a hell of a lot of fun to share eternity with.”

 

Mahleah turned pale as she realized his intentions and the fact that she had no more weapons left.

 

*****

 

Angel steered Wesley and Joe easily to the motel room in question. He could smell the blood and fear from the car. When they walked into the room, he winced at the assault on his nose. The place reeked of rage, desperation, guilt and disgust.

 

Wesley rushed over to the prostrate man on the floor and put fingers to his throat. They all held their breaths (some metaphorically) until he announced grimly, “He’s still alive, barely.”

 

Joe was already calling 911, as the Englishman stiffened his resolve and pulled the knives out of the man’s hands. Angel winced again at the sound of the ripping flesh but the sight of a sword lying on the carpet distracted him. He walked over and examined it, closely.

 

“Tora,” Joe said in dismay. “She’s left her sword behind. Why the hell couldn’t she remember to take it with her?”

 

“Why?” Angel’s brow furrowed. “Is something going on we don’t know about?” The other man was silent for a moment, so he prodded, “Joe?”

 

“Mahleah’s being hunted by an Immortal named Lewis Weir,” the Watcher told him heavily. “He’s been stalking her for months.”

 

Angel’s mouth ran dry. “Is he any good?” he asked.

 

Joe looked him in the eye as he answered, “He only hunts the best.”

 

Angel cursed, and gripping the katana firmly, ran out of the door.

 

*****

Mahleah struggled to get away from her attacker’s grip. She raked her nails down his face in an attempt to keep his fangs from her throat then in a sudden desperate rush of adrenaline brought her leg up to kick him hard.

 

Unfortunately, a blow that would have sent a human sprawling had much less effect on the vampire and in two steps he had grabbed her again. She caught his legs with her boot and pulled them from beneath him. As she ran by, he grabbed her foot and yanked her down to the ground with him.

 

As she was dragged backwards roughly, she scrambled to grab something…anything to use and found a sharp rock. She drove it into the top of his hand and tried to run once again. Before she’d gone two feet she felt his arms grab her from behind and pin her limbs in an unbreakable hold.

 

Sharp fangs scraped across her neck, breaking the epidermis. A rough tongue licked off the resultant blood flow and tears leaked from her eyes as she felt him come in for the final bite.

 

“No!” she heard a scream but to her stunned senses it seemed to be coming from far, far away.

 

Suddenly all of the air left her lungs in an explosive hiss as something big collided with her body. The vampire’s arms let go of her as they tumbled to the ground. Dazed, she sat up and discovered that Angel was battling with her attacker. Past the two combatants she could see the miraculous sight of her sword.

 

Slowly, she attempted to inch her way to the weapon. As she got nearer to the fray, Angel glanced in her direction.

 

“Run!” he urged her.

 

His distraction cost him dearly. His opponent threw Angel into the wall of the building opposite them so roughly that bricks were loosened. With an evil chuckle the vamp grabbed the nearby katana.

 

“Say goodbye,” he told the fallen hero.

 

“Oh God,” Mahleah said, more than a little hysterical. “I’ve gotten him killed.”

 

Once again her mind shut down and she fled as fast as she could away from the scene of her savior’s imminent death.  As she darted up the dark streets the only thing on her mind was to run until she could move no further.

 

She had made it about three blocks away when she felt the warning tingle and froze in disbelief. Part of her almost expected to see someone she knew…someone who would rescue her, take care of her. The other part knew that she was neither lucky enough nor worthy enough to deserve rescuing tonight.

 

Empty-handed, she looked up at the stranger approaching, his sword already drawn.

 

“I am Lewis Weir,” he announced.

 

“I am Mahleah Brennan,” she responded automatically.

 

“I know,” he said with a frown. “I must say Mahleah, I’m very disappointed. I was expecting a much better challenge from a pupil of Duncan MacLeod’s. I admit at first I thought you were going to be interesting…this little game you’ve been playing with the men of this town and all. All of these months, though, and you’ve never realized that I was tracking you. Worse still, you didn’t even spot that freakish vampire and he was a much more obvious tail. It looks like he found you tonight.”

 

Mahleah’s throat closed up. What could she say? He was right. She had been so wrapped up in her stint as a vigilante that she had been oblivious to the important things right under her nose. Her katana was in the hands of her worst enemy who had just killed the first person that had seemed to care about her in a long time.

 

Slowly, she fell to her knees. All of her fight was gone. The best she could do was die with dignity. There would be no pleas for her life, not that she thought he would listen.

 

“Just get it over with,” she said wearily.

 

He stared at her with disgust. “That’s it, huh? You’re not even going to try to fight me? Look at you, you’re pathetic.”

 

His sword swung down and sliced cleanly across her abdomen. She gasped in pain, clasping her hands across the gaping wound. She raised her eyes calmly to her executioner.

 

“Mo gràdh ort, mo saighdear-bàrd,” she murmured. “Forgive me.”

 

Weir shook his head in disgust, “Honestly, you’re not worthy of the steel of my blade.”

 

******

Angel kicked the sword out of his opponent’s hand and then blocked the punch coming toward him with one arm and swung out with his other. The vamp went stumbling backward.

 

Following up with a volley of blows, Angel poured his frustration and worry into the other vampire’s face. Sensing weakness, he grabbed Tora and swung it experimentally a few times as a warm-up.

 

“This is for Mahleah,” he said grimly and let his arm flow through with the final blow. As his enemy exploded into dust, Angel sank to his knees for a minute to collect himself.

 

Looking around he saw that Mahleah had vanished once again. Well, he had told her to after all. Standing, he drew in a deep, deliberate breath of the night air and picked up her scent. He hurried in that direction, hoping she hadn’t gotten too far ahead of him.

 

After he had gone about two blocks, he heard a gun shot, followed by another and another in rapid succession. It sounded like someone had emptied a clip into something…or someone. Heart lurching, he ran faster but wasn’t prepared for the sight before him.

 

Mahleah was on her knees, even bloodier than the last time he’d seen her. Before her was a man’s body that she was gazing at in astonishment. Behind her stood Joe Dawson, gun still in hand. In fact, he was hastily popping another clip into the semi-automatic as if readying himself for another round.

 

The battle-weary Immortal woman turned her head and Angel saw the tears in her eyes. “Oh, Joe,” she said feebly and fell forward.

 

Angel rushed over to them and pulled her into his lap. Joe stood guard in case the man, obviously Lewis Weir, happened to revive before they had made their escape.

 

“Angel,” she breathed into his face.

 

“Ssh,” he said soothingly, trying not to wince at the large, gaping wound across her stomach. It was still bleeding, which was not a good sign. After everything she had gone through tonight, her Immortal healing was being overworked.

 

She feebly stretched a hand up to his face, and caressed his cheek with her bloody fingers.

 

“You’re still alive,” she whispered. “I’m glad.”

 

He tried to smile at her, but the best he could do was a wry grimace. Her slippery fingers fell away, her eyes rolled back in her head and her breath stopped.

 

Tenderly, he wrapped her in his leather duster and stood up cradling her in his arms.

 

“Come on, Joe,” he said to the tense Watcher. “Let’s go home.”

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

Diana sat numbly listening to the argument raging around her. The Watcher and the ex-Watcher were having an obvious difference of opinions.

 

"I'm just pointing out that by the standards of your superiors your actions today were in direct violation of the non-interference directive," Wesley told the older man. "I won't even go into the ramifications of shooting Lewis Weir, but telling Angel that Weir was hunting Mahleah is against the Watcher's code."

 

"I told Angel…he's not Immortal," Joe averred.

 

"It doesn't matter," Wesley said. "He went out trying to save her life…if he had met Weir first he would certainly have intervened."

 

"That would have been on him," Joe retorted.

 

"That may well be," Wesley shot back, "but Angel wasn't the one emptying guns into Immortals. What were you thinking, Joe?"

 

"I was thinking," Joe said furiously, "that I was preventing a girl that I've known since she was a child from being killed in an unfair fight. She'd already been in two fights tonight -- one with a vampire-- and she was unarmed."

 

"This is the very reason they fired Rupert Giles," Wesley muttered. "He was too emotionally connected to his Slayer. It's even worse when it's one of your lot…a Slayer's Watcher is expected to protect her if he can, but you're intended to be completely neutral."

 

"So you're telling me that if that hadn't been Mahleah out there…if it had been Buffy or even Faith that you would have been able to stand by and see her get killed?" Joe asked incredulously.

 

"No," Wesley admitted with a sigh. "I couldn't. If you've noticed I was fired from the Watcher's Council as well -- although I doubt they even thought about my emotional attachment to my charges. Still, it isn't my opinion that counts. The last time they disagreed with you, Joe, they shot you!"

 

Joe softened as he realized that the other man's vehemence stemmed not from a blind adherence to the rules, as he'd believed, but out of genuine concern for Joe himself.

 

Diana tuned out of the rest of the conversation. She was still in shock from the night's events and was barely aware when Cordelia stepped out of the elevator and approached her. She started when she felt someone touch her arm.

 

"Angel needs you downstairs," the younger girl told her softly.

 

Nodding, she made her way into the elevator and down to the apartment below the office of Angel Investigations. There she found Angel sitting in a chair drawn up near the bed where Mahleah lay quiet and still.

 

Diana shivered. It was still creepy and unnatural to her to wait for someone to return from the dead.

 

He glanced up at her as she walked toward them.

 

"Hi," he said gently.

 

"Hey," she responded in an equally hushed tone. "How is she?"

 

"Her body took a lot of damage tonight. I think when she left the motel she was in a state of shock and it's delayed her complete recovery. Her external injuries appear to be nearly gone, though." He informed her.

 

"Good," she cleared her throat nervously. "Cordelia said you needed me?"

 

"Yeah," he nodded. "I thought it might be less jarring to Mahleah if she were clean when she woke up. That way there wouldn't be any immediate physical reminders of what happened. Think you're up to giving her a sponge bath?"

 

"Me?" she asked numbly.

 

"I thought she'd prefer someone she knew to do it -- which leaves me, you and Joe," he explained. "Considering all of tonight's events I think it would be best if a woman were to bathe her, in case she revived in the middle of it. Even if she didn't it might make her feel more comfortable later to know that it was you."

 

She recognized the logic in this, despite her unease. Glancing over at her friend's prone body she noticed Mahleah's long braid had been loosened and now spread across her pillow.

 

"Who let her hair down?" she asked curiously.

 

"I did," Angel replied. "Was that wrong?"

 

Staring at him intently, a corner of her mouth involuntarily quirked upwards and she replied, "No, I'd say that was probably appropriate."

 

His eyebrows rose at the private joke but she refrained from explaining. Letting it go, he showed her the bathroom and where to find everything she would need. Returning to the bedroom he laid out one of his long-sleeved silk shirts and a light pair of sweats. When Diana opened her mouth, he answered her question before she could ask.

 

"It would take too long to get some of Cordelia's clothes. Besides, I think mine will fit better anyway." Diana certainly couldn't argue with that. There was no way that Mahleah would fit into anything in her own closet.

 

"I'll be in the kitchen, if you need me," he added. "I'll make us some tea."

 

"Okay," she swallowed hard, and then turned her attention to the task at hand.

 

Angel had lain Mahleah down on the bed and covered her with an extra blanket. Pulling the coverlet aside she gazed at the bloody body before her. Honestly, it could have been worse. The last time she had seen Mahleah unconscious and bloody had been after Kenneth's attack and her friend had been completely drenched in blood. At least this time her wounds were mostly healed.

 

Gently, she ran a warm soapy washcloth across the dirty flesh, dipped it back in the bowl, wrung it out a little and started again. The movements were calming and allowed her to regain some of the composure that this day had drained from her.

 

She gently wiped off the necklace Mahleah was wearing. It seemed odd and somehow significant that her friend was wearing it tonight of all nights. She remembered that when they were girls Mahleah rarely took off the cross. Duncan had given it to her as protection against any vampires she might cross paths with, and also as emotional support to help her feel safe again. It was a symbol that she was both under his protection and precious to him.

 

Mahleah had worn it almost religiously until she turned sixteen. After that birthday, Duncan had declared her training to be complete and moved to the West Coast. It had taken her best friend a long time to forgive him for this seeming abandonment and while working through the anger she felt towards him and her father, who was attempting to retake his proper place in her life, she had run away from home. For two months Diana had lived in anticipation of the letters and postcards that Mahleah would send her. It was a tense time as she had sworn to keep the correspondence secret from David Brennan, Duncan MacLeod and the school system.

 

When Mahleah finally returned, Diana noticed that she had taken the cross off as if putting away childish things. She still wore it from time-to-time, especially when feeling sentimental but it no longer held a permanent position over her heart. It was too bad, too, because wearing it more often might have kept her from being bitten by Kenneth…. or maybe not since she was wearing it tonight and had still been attacked. Diana sighed and continued with her cleaning efforts.

 

Ultimately she decided that Mahleah could wash her own hair. It would be awkward to attempt it by herself and she was hesitant to ask Angel for help. The woman had always been fussy about who she allowed to touch the long locks anyway.

 

She managed to get Mahleah dressed in Angel's borrowed clothes, and then took her bowl into the bathroom to dispose of its contents. She took the soiled blanket and folded it awkwardly unsure of what to do with it.

 

"You can just leave that on top of the clothes hamper," he said behind her.

 

She turned with a jerk and a gasp.

 

"I didn't mean to scare you," he apologized. "I heard you in the bathroom and figured you were done. You can leave the blanket in there and I'll get to it later. Cordelia found the greatest stuff to get blood stains out of your laundry."

 

Nodding, she followed his instructions and then padded softly into the kitchen.

 

"Are you okay?" he asked, handing her a cup of tea. "Joe told me about your situation on the way back. You're allowed to be upset, you know. I won't tell a soul."

 

She sipped at the hot liquid, appreciating the extra sugar he had added and wondering how to respond to his query.

 

"It didn't seem real," she finally said. "These kinds of things happen to Mahleah and her other friends all of the time, but me…I'm nobody. Why do I get to live forever?"

 

"Nobody lives forever," he said wanly. "Not even vampires."

 

Taking another gulp of tea, she hissed as it burned her tongue momentarily and then the pain disappeared.

 

"I think the other shoe dropped for me tonight," she admitted. "I'm in the Game now, and I'm probably going to die."

 

"That's true," he said calmly. "You will eventually. It's the fate of your kind -- doesn't mean it's going to happen tonight, or next week or even next year."

 

"I suppose," she said dubiously. "I mean Duncan's over four hundred now but that's Duncan. He's the Highlander; he's one of the favorites to be the last Immortal."

 

Angel's mouth crooked upwards slightly, "That's true, but even legends have to start somewhere. I'm sure when he first became Immortal he was just as confused as you are. Probably more since he wouldn't have had any idea what he was or why people were trying to kill him."

 

"I do know the deal," she agreed, "Doesn't mean I'll ever get the hang of it. For God's sake, Mahleah almost bought it tonight and she's the strongest person I've ever met."

 

"That terrifies you, doesn't it?" he observed. "You're used to judging yourself by her. She's always been the standard you've wanted to meet but never could and now you're scared to death that means you're going to die."

 

She snorted inelegantly. "I've known Mahleah since we were both six years old. In that time she's always been the perfect one -- smarter, tougher, prettier, more independent…you name it and she was the one. If she can be hurt this bad, what kind of chance could I ever have?"

 

"Why do you insist on calling her perfect in one breath and detailing her faults with the next?" he asked, taking a sip of his own tea. "Mahleah's just as imperfect as the next person."

 

"I know," she mumbled. "That's what makes it worse. She's not perfect and I still can't even compare."

 

"Why do you have to?"

 

"What?"

 

"Why do you have to compete with her? You're two different people. Why would you want to make yourself into a clone of her? That's boring."

 

"I don't want to be her clone," she was offended. "God, that would be ridiculous. Could you imagine me trying to dress like her or pull off that attitude? People would bust their guts laughing."

 

"So instead of copying her style, you'd rather beat yourself up because you can't match whatever you envy about her personality? What about Diana? Who is she?"

 

"She's the one that always loses," she said grimly.

 

Before he could answer they heard the telltale gasps for breath in the next room that indicated their friend had revived. Walking into the bedroom, Diana noticed that Mahleah's eyes were open but she wasn't moving.

 

"Hey," Angel said softly. Diana noticed that he was careful to sit in the chair and not actually on the bed next to her. "Welcome back."

 

Mahleah didn't respond. In fact, Diana wasn't even sure she blinked.

 

"Mahleah?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

 

Still no answer, Angel frowned. He waved a hand in front of Mahleah’s face but she didn’t move. Hesitating, and obviously nervous, he touched her shoulder gently.

 

“Mahleah, you’re safe now. How about if I bring you a nice, hot cup of tea?” he winced, apparently thinking he sounded more like Wesley than himself.

 

“Mahleah Maire Irene Brennan, get up from that bed, right now,” Diana said sternly, trying her best to sound like their old babysitter, Nettie.

 

There was no response and she looked at Angel, at a loss. She had expected many things but never for Mahleah to be catatonic.

 

*****

They had all had a turn at trying to talk to the comatose woman, entreating her to respond in some way. So far, no one had managed to rouse a single sound or motion from her.

 

Angel wasn’t sure what to do next. He thought given enough time she would eventually come out of her fugue state herself but what if he was wrong?

 

Cordelia had even suggested throwing a glass of water in her face, but Angel dismissed that idea unless things got really desperate. The point was to rouse Mahleah not bring her up swinging.

 

It was Diana who finally voiced the thought they were all contemplating: “We should call Duncan.”

 

They all stared at each other and Joe finally volunteered.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

As if there was another choice, Angel mused. Who else would have the Highlander’s phone number? On second thought, it was quite possible that Diana would know a number where MacLeod could be reached, but only his Watcher was likely to know precisely where he was at any given moment…even if they were in different cities.

 

They all pretended to be absorbed in other activities while Joe placed the call. He greeted the Scot by name in a grave fashion, which seemed to alarm the older man. Joe hastily explained that no, Mahleah was not dead but that she had problems. After giving a thorough summary of the situation, they were all caught off-guard when Joe started yelling.

 

“No, what do you mean no? I don’t get you some times, MacLeod. This is Mahleah we’re talking about. You remember her, don’t you? The little girl who used to worship the ground you walked on…the woman you spent six weeks making love to in Paris – oh, so you do remember her? She needs your help, you insufferable, stubborn son of a bitch.”

 

Angel ground his teeth together. This conversation was not going well. He was taken aback when Joe suddenly thrust the phone in his direction.

 

“He wants to talk to you.”

 

Why would MacLeod want to talk to him? Reaching for Joe’s cell, he cautiously raised it to his ear.

 

“Hello, this is Angel.”

 

“How bad are things, really?” he heard. “Joe has been upset with me for months and it’s hard for me to judge what’s happening.”

 

He moved away from the fuming Watcher as he answered, “He told you all of the facts. Right now, Mahleah’s lying comatose downstairs. She’s not responding to any of us. If she doesn’t snap out of it soon, I may resort to Cordelia’s suggestion of throwing water on her.”

 

MacLeod chuckled, but the laugh held little levity. “I’m hoping you’ll understand my situation,” he finally said. “I would do anything for Mahleah—Joe knows this when he’s actually thinking. The thing is that I gave Mahleah my word that I would stay out of her business for a while. She said she needed to do things on her own and I respect that. Now, while I want to help her, need to help her, I also have to respect her and keep my word. Does that make sense to you?”

 

“Yes,” Angel said reluctantly. “So, you can’t come.”

 

“Not if I want to keep my promise to her.” MacLeod’s voice deepened, “If she were truly in danger that would be a different story. So far all I’ve heard are things that she needs to deal with herself. She might need help, but I would be the last person that should actually step in. She’d hate me for it, but if you tell me that she honestly needs me, I’ll take that chance.”

 

Swallowing hard, Angel told the other man, “No, I don’t think it’s literally life-threatening. She’s going to hurt like hell for a long time, though.”

 

MacLeod sighed, “There’s nothing I’d like more than to fly down there, pull her into my lap and promise her that everything was going to be okay. Unfortunately, after the story Joe just told me my guess is that I’m the one person that Mahleah wants to see the least. She’d be too ashamed, too frightened that I’d judge her for what she’s done. When she’s worked it all out, then maybe we can sit down and talk about it rationally, but until then I’m afraid that you’re the best help she could have.”

 

“Me?” Angel repeated in bewilderment. “She barely knows me. Won’t she be looking to Joe and Diana for comfort?”

 

“Joe and Diana have known her longer,” MacLeod said patiently, “but you can understand her better. Joe’s more like a father than an advisor and Diana has her own issues to deal with. Neither one of them has any idea what it’s like to have explored your dark side and wake up sick to your soul.”

 

“I understand,” Angel said softly. “I really think if we leave her alone she’ll snap out of it by herself sooner or later but in the meantime she’s beating herself up dwelling on things that can’t be fixed.”

 

“Exactly,” MacLeod agreed. “I know you all have talked to her and everything. You’ve tried music, right?”

 

“Music?” Angel asked.

 

Joe groaned.

 

“Nothing gets to the heart and soul of Mahleah quicker than music,” MacLeod explained. “I’m surprised Joe didn’t think of it.”

 

“I think he’s kicking himself now,” Angel said, almost grinning.

 

*****

 

Joe and Diana collaborated on scrounging to find the songs they wanted while Angel talked Cordelia into going to retrieve her portable CD player from her apartment. When they were all ready to set up, Mahleah still had not budged an inch. Angel hoped this brand of therapy would work.

 

“Here goes nothing,” Joe muttered under his breath and hit play. Raucous guitars burst from the speakers.

 

I went down to the crossroads

Fell down on my knees

I went down to the crossroads

Fell down on my knees

Asked the Lord above for mercy

Save me if you please.

 

Angel watched Mahleah intently, disappointed that she didn’t seem to hear the music. He wasn’t sure how she could, considering the way Joe had cranked the volume up…wait, was that a blink. He wasn’t sure, and she didn’t move again to confirm it.

 

Oh let the sun beat down upon my face

With stars to fill my dreams.

I am a traveler of both time and space

To be where I have been.

To sit with elders of a gentle race

This world has seldom seen.

With talk of days for which they sit and wait

When all will be revealed.

 

This time Angel was certain he saw her fingers twitch. She was listening. Now, if they could only hit upon the right song…

 

You need coolin’ baby I’m not foolin’

I’m gonna send ya, back to schoolin’

A-way down inside, a-honey you need it

I’m gonna give you my love

I’m gonna give you my love.

 

Mahleah blinked again but her stare was still vacant and inwardly focused. Her mouth subtly turned down as if she wasn’t pleased to hear this song. Not that he blamed her. What was Joe thinking of playing such blatantly carnal music to a woman facing as much sexual trauma as she was?

 

Purple haze all in my brain

Lately things just don’t seem the same

Actin’ funny but I don’t know why

‘Scuse me while I kiss the sky

 

Suddenly Mahleah’s right hand started scratching at the leg it was resting on. It seemed to be instinctive as if she were trying to rid herself of some itch beneath the skin.

 

“Mahleah,” Angel called to her over the music. She still ignored him.

 

There’s a lady who’s sure

All that glitters is gold

And she’s buying a stairway to heaven

When she gets there she knows

If the stores are all closed

With a word she can get what she came for.

 

The scratching grew faster and deeper. Mahleah started slowly shaking her head as if in protest.

 

“Joe, change the music,” Angel urged, rushing to the bed. He grabbed Mahleah’s hand to keep it from digging into the skin beneath the thin pants she wore.

 

The Watcher nodded and quickly slid another CD into place.

 

Is it getting better

Or do you feel the same?

Will it make it easier on you now

You’ve got someone to blame?

You say one love, one life

When it’s one need

In the night.

One love

We get to share it

Leaves you baby

If you don’t care for it.

 

With a shriek Mahleah shot from the bed, clasping her hands over her ears and mumbling over and over, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

 

That was obviously not the right memory, Angel thought grimly as he pulled her toward him, trying to comfort her.

 

“Try again, Joe,” he advised again.

 

Joe started to put another disk in, but Diana was blocking his way.

 

“No,” she protested. “Not that one…don’t you see you’re bringing up the wrong memories.”

 

“What do you suggest?” the desperate man asked her.

 

“If I’m right,” Diana said under her breath. She dug through the pile of circular disks and pulled one out triumphantly. “Here, try this.”

 

Joe looked at it blankly for a moment, then nodded and slid it in.

 

If you ever change your mind

About leaving, leaving me behind

Bring it to me, bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me.

 

The body clinging to Angel started rocking and he heard a tiny whimper come involuntarily from the back of her throat. Still, she wasn’t screaming or trying to rip her own flesh off the bone so that was an improvement.

 

“I think you’re on the right path, but you haven’t quite got there yet,” he advised the others.

 

Diana seemed to add that to the theory she’d been formulating and then smiled suddenly.

 

“This one,” she informed Joe. “I think this will do the trick. Just let it play through.”

 

He glanced at the title, raised an eyebrow, but made no comment.

 

There will be peace in the valley for me one day

There will be peace in the valley for me I pray

Oh no sadness, no sorrow, no more trouble there’ll be

There will peace in the valley for me

 

Oh you know the bear will be gentle

Oh yes, I know the wolf’s going to be so tame

Mighty lion, he will lie down with the lamb

You know the hosts of the wild

Will be lain by a little child

And I’ll be changed from this creature that I am

 

Oh great, Angel thought, hymns. Let’s just brand her a great big sinner and make her feel really great about herself. Surprisingly, though, the whimpering died down. He glanced down at his charge and found that she was still rocking but calmly, even rhythmically.

 

Okay, he never would have guessed that she would find this comforting. Diana looked slightly smug. Well, who could blame her?

 

“We had to find a happy memory,” she explained softly, “Something that had nothing to do with any of the men in her life.” She shrugged, “Sam Cooke always reminds Mahleah of her mom, but these gospel songs with the Soul Stirrers would also remind her of the Sunday mornings the two of us would go to church with her next door neighbor, Nettie. She sang in the choir…it was all peaceful and innocent.”

 

Nice job, he thought, pleased with the young woman’s deductions.

 

Come and go

Come and go now

Come and go now

Where I’m bound

 

Find peace, find peace

Where I’m bound

Find peace find peace now

Find peace now

Where I’m bound

 

He had to admit he was not in the habit of listening to religious music. It was hard to enjoy something that you were excluded from by your intrinsic nature – though, it wasn’t like he had been a pious youth, either. Still, there was something that called to him in the old spiritual. As one of the voices called out something about finding joy “in that land where I’m bound,” he found himself for a breathtaking moment believing it was possible.

 

Well, you know I’m so glad

I know that trouble don’t last always

I’m so glad I know trouble don’t last always

I’m so glad I know that trouble don’t last always

Oh my Lord, oh my Lord, I want to know what should I do.

 

You better run, run old sinner run

You better find you a hiding place

You better run, run sinner run

You better find you a hiding place

You better run, run old sinner run

You better find you a hiding place

Oh my Lord, what should I do?

 

That tears it, he though ruefully, crashing back to reality. He doubted vampires were included in the blanket of God’s mercy. Anytime he thought differently all he had to do was touch a cross…speaking of which, if Mahleah wasn’t careful she was going to pull a Buffy and leave him with a nice, smoking scar on his chest.

 

He pulled back a little to put some distance between his polluted flesh and the holy object. Glancing up he noticed that Mahleah’s lips were moving. As he narrowed his focus on her, he realized that she was mouthing the words of the song, but she wasn’t singing. It was almost as though she felt irresistibly drawn to the music but felt unworthy of it…a feeling he knew a lot about.

 

There was a woman in the Bible days

She had been sick, sick so very long

When she heard that Jesus was passing by

So she joined the gathering throng

And while she was pushing her way through

Someone asked her what are you trying to do?

She said if I could just touch the hem of his garment

I know that I’ll be made whole soon.

 

Mahleah’s mouth had stopped moving. Instead, she had tipped her head to the side and appeared to just been listening…and thinking.

 

She cried Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord

She said if I could just touch the hem of his garment

I know I’ll be made whole soon

 

There was a noise so faint that if he hadn’t possessed vampiric senses he doubted he would have heard it. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly. It was sort of a cross between hmmmph, and hmmm.

 

She spent her money here and there

Until she had no, had no more to spare

The doctors they’d done all they could

But their medicine could do no good

When she touched him the savior didn’t see

But still he turned around and cried

Somebody touched me

She said it was I who just wanna touch the hem of your garment

I know I’ll be made whole right now.

 

Angel felt the breath of a deeply felt sigh slide across his skin and then Mahleah pulled completely away from him. One hand smoothed her hair back out of her face and the other tugged the antique Celtic cross out of her borrowed shirt. Gazing at him with eyes that were more than slightly wet but now calm she met his eyes steadily.

 

“Did I hear something about tea?” she asked.

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

 

Now that the immediate crisis had been averted everyone had left Angel’s apartment except Mahleah, and Diana who exhausted beyond belief was asleep in his bed. Angel, having fixed a new pot of tea, poured he and Mahleah a cup, then beckoned her into the living area so that their conversation would not disturb the sleeping woman.

 

Mahleah fidgeted with the mug, took a sip cautiously, and then fidgeted some more before looking up at him.

 

“Thank you for saving me,” she said huskily, and then cleared her throat.

 

“You’re welcome,” he replied easily, “although I didn’t really do that much. Joe was the one that actually saved your life. That vamp couldn’t have killed you.”

 

“No,” she agreed, “but being drained again is not an experience I’d care to repeat.”

 

He nodded, but was surprised by her next words.

 

“I’m grateful to you beyond belief for preventing that but it isn’t what I meant actually. I’m thanking you for saving me, for preventing me from losing myself in the rage. If I’d actually cut him…” she shivered. “I don’t know if I could ever have come back from that.”

 

“You stopped yourself,” he said gently. “I had nothing to do with it.”

 

She gripped her mug fiercely and rose to pace about the room. “Do you know why I stopped?” she finally asked rhetorically. “I saw myself in the mirror and it was such an ugly image…full of hate…and evil. It shocked me… terrified me… disgusted me. Where did I get so much rage?”

 

“It’s something that builds up for a long time if we don’t allow ourselves to release it,” he told her. “Still it’s a good sign that you didn’t like what you saw. I sometimes wonder if I would still be able to stomach looking at myself if I had a reflection.”

 

She smiled a little at that…a very small smile but it was a start. “You have no worries on that score, Angel. Me, on the other hand,” Her head dipped down to her chest. “I’m ashamed to see what I’ve become.”

 

“Hey,” he set his tea aside and pulled her down to sit beside him on the couch. He noticed that she was careful not to let their bodies get too close. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last hundred years it’s that if you don’t like whom you’ve become you can always change. You just have to keep working at it.” His mouth quirked upwards slightly, “I learned that from an incredible person who inspired me to turn my life around.”

 

She regarded him curiously, wondering who could provoke that kind of reaction in him. “Is this person the reason I find you running your own detective agency these days instead of living on the streets?”

 

“Yeah,” he said with a wry chuckle. “You could say that.”

 

“How is she going to feel about you having two women staying in your apartment tonight?” she asked.

 

His face froze and she mentally kicked herself as she saw the light in his eyes die away. “Uh, we’re not together any more.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she told him sincerely. “I know how much breakups hurt. What happened?”

 

It was obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it, so she quickly apologized, “I’m sorry that’s none of my business.”

 

He swallowed and then said, “It’s a long story and most of it’s pretty personal.” He picked up his tea again and took a drink before continuing, “but I guess you should know this much anyway. I think I told you before that I was cursed by gypsies. That’s how I got my soul back.”  When she nodded, he went on, “The thing is that there’s a loophole to my curse. I was supposed to suffer for my crimes. If I experience a moment of perfect happiness I lose my soul again.”

 

She studied him closely, “It happened, didn’t it? Something about this woman made you so happy that it broke the curse.”

 

Licking his dry lips and taking another sip of tea, he said, “Yeah. One night we made love and…” his voice trailed off, leaving her to connect the dots. He allowed himself a brief bittersweet moment, remembering that long ago night with Buffy and then brought himself back to the present. “That’s why I needed to tell you. The other day I wasn’t trying to play games with you…I just couldn’t…”

 

“Finish what you started,” she concluded.

 

“Yeah,” deciding his tea had gotten too cool for his taste, he sat it back down again. “I really didn’t mean for things to go that far. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” she told him. “It may have saved my soul.”

 

His brow furrowed, “I’m sorry? What? How?”

 

“After I left, I was so confused,” she explained. “I couldn’t figure out why I had let you get so close to me. I was really conflicted about it and eventually I put on my cross in case I encountered you again.”

 

He still didn’t get it. “What does that have to do with—”?

 

“That’s what caught my attention in the mirror…the cross was gleaming and it distracted me. When I turned my head to see what was shining at me, I saw myself. So, you see if you hadn’t turned the tables on me the other day I wouldn’t have been wearing it.” Although it was the truth, she almost expected him to deny it and was intrigued to discover that he didn’t.

 

He was stunned. Had he unknowingly changed history? According to Faith’s report Mahleah had killed the man who tried to rape her the first time around and now instead she had walked away. What impact would this have on the future?

 

Beside him, Mahleah sighed. “Putting my mess aside, Diana needs help now, and I don’t know if she’ll even want me around her.”

 

This focused his attention back to her and the present. “What’s going on between you two, anyway?”

 

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” she admitted. “We’ve been close friends it seems like forever. All I can figure is that she’s been swallowing little things for a long time that irritated her about me and they finally exploded. I kept her boyfriend from beating her up but apparently he went back and finished the job later – am I right?”

 

He nodded somberly.

 

Shaking her head, Mahleah said, “I don’t know what to do. She needs training and a sword. God, she’s got to have a sword immediately.”

 

“I can give her one,” he suggested.

 

She smiled at him – a real smile this time. “Thanks. Would you mind helping her with some training, too? I don’t know if she’d want me doing it and to be honest I don’t know if I can even look at Tora for a while. Seeing her makes my stomach heave.”

 

“Your sword is female?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Hell, yes,” she exclaimed softly, trying to keep her voice down before it carried into the bedroom. “Trust me, if you knew her history the way I did, you’d know she’s definitely female.”

 

“I’d be glad to help Diana,” he replied. “You might ask Wesley to help, too. Watchers are trained extensively in many different kinds of weapons and also in how to teach others to use those weapons. Even though the Council fired him, I’m sure he’d love a chance to delve back into that part of his former life.”

 

“Council?” she frowned. “You mean the bunch of jerks that tried to kill Joe?”

 

“A different branch, I believe,” his frown echoed hers. “I think. I’m not exactly sure how they’re divided up. Wesley was a different kind of Watcher from Joe. He was a Slayer’s Watcher.”

 

“What’s a Slayer?” she asked curiously.

 

“You don’t know?” he was surprised.

 

“No.”

 

“The Slayer…vampire Slayer,” he elaborated, “The one girl in the entire world with the strength and speed to kill vampires. The Council sends a Watcher to train her, help her with research…that kind of thing.”

 

“Oh,” she said, sort of impressed. “I didn’t know there was such a position available. Maybe I should apply. I’m not exactly a big fan of most vamps…present company excluded.”

 

“It’s not a job,” he told her. “You can’t be hired. When one Slayer dies, another is called. It’s sort of genetic.”

 

“Like Immortality,” she reasoned.

 

“I think so,” he agreed, “Your sort of Immortality any way…definitely not mine. It must be nice not to have the blood thirst that comes with my brand of living forever.”

 

She wasn’t so sure of that, “There are different kinds of blood thirst, Angel. I think I demonstrated that well enough tonight.”

 

“True,” he conceded, “but still you’re not dependent on drinking the life force of another in order to survive.”

 

She sat back, careful to keep distance between them. “I sometimes wonder if we’re not more akin than we’d like to think. I mean what is a Quickening if it’s not someone’s life force? It’s usually described as power, strength and knowledge but isn’t that the essence of someone’s being?”

 

“Yet, you don’t have to kill to live,” he pointed out. “I don’t have to kill humans but I still need blood to survive. You don’t need a Quickening.”

 

“Sometimes you have no choice but to fight,” she retorted. “When you’re in The Game you fight or you die. The only other choice is Holy Ground. Plus, there are some Immortals who, I swear, are addicted to the feeling of a Quickening. How is that different from your blood thirst?”

 

“You’re not addicted,” he told her. “It’s true you have to kill sometimes to keep from being killed but that’s not the same thing as having blood lust. You’re just obeying the natural instinct to survive.”

 

“And you’ve given up human blood, right?” at his nod, she continued. “So, you are just obeying that natural instinct as well but suppressing the other urges. I guess that means we are kinda alike.” She yawned.

 

“I guess we are. Look, it’s been a really long night. Why don’t you join Diana?”

 

“Where are you going to sleep?” she asked. “It’s not been a short night for you either.”

 

“I’ll manage here on the couch,” he said. “Please, Mahleah, try to get some rest.” He reached out to touch her hand, but she pulled it away quickly. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m sure being touched by a vampire is the last thing you’d want right now. I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“It’s not that,” she hastily denied. “It’s not you, Angel. It’s just…touching in general, right now. It’s not high on my list of priorities at the moment, you know? Especially by men…no offense.”

 

“None taken,” he said, worried about her. How far had the attacks gone tonight? What had finally provoked her into almost killing her victim? He would have to observe her behavior closely to see what it told him.

 

“Good night, or I guess I should say good morning, considering the time,” she joked feebly.

 

“Good morning,” he repeated. “Now go…get some sleep.”

 

*****

 

After a few hours of fitful tossing and turning Joe gave up on sleep. He had risked a lot the night before, and not only with his superiors. He had removed any evidence he’d been able to find that Mahleah had ever been in that motel room, including her torn bustier and underwear, the bloody knives removed from Lee’s hands, and Tora. Of course, there were no guarantees that a forensic team wouldn’t be able to find something to link her to the crime. After all, he had been in a hurry to leave before the paramedics arrived and to find Mahleah before Weir did. He was now guilty of removing evidence from a crime scene amongst other things, and he would do it again in a heartbeat.

 

After so many years of watching Mahleah as a young girl growing up to become the remarkable woman he’d gotten to know so well, he felt quite protective of her. It was almost as though she were a second daughter to him or perhaps a sister-in-law considering his close relationship with MacLeod. Although she was encountering some major Immortal growing pains, he knew deep in his heart that she’d find her way out again. He was determined that she have the opportunity to do so….even if a certain Highland Scot was too stubborn to help.

 

Oh, he understood in his head that Mac was only obeying Mahleah’s own wishes but his heart was furious with the man. How could he refuse to help? Didn’t his sense of honor tell him that he was obligated to help her in any way he could for so many reasons? She was his former student and family even before they became lovers. Joe had seen him risk his neck so many times for others with fewer claims on him than Mahleah had. Still, maybe Mac was right. Maybe he wasn’t the right person for this job. Did that mean that the vampire was?

 

He had left Mahleah in Angel’s care and felt reassured that the same sense of honor would ensure that she was safe and protected. On the other hand, she could use some of her own clothes, he was sure, so before heading back to Angel Investigations, he stopped by the small place Mahleah had been staying at while in Los Angeles.

 

Knowing Amanda was rather handy at times, he reflected with a chuckle after letting himself in the door. Once on a rainy night a few years ago she had taught him the rudiments of lock picking.

 

Closing the door behind him, he was taken aback to hear an unpleasant but familiar voice say, “Ah, I was looking for the chit, but I found the man who shot me. That’s even better. Now, I get to kill two birds with one stone.”

 

 

****

 

Wesley had been more than characteristically nervous ever since Angel had requested his help in training Diana Adams. He understood that with tensions the way they were between Diana and Mahleah that the other Immortal was not the best choice at the moment, but still to ask him? A Watcher training an Immortal -- it was unheard of. True, he had never been an Immortal Watcher and he wasn’t a Slayer’s Watcher any more so that rather took care of the moral quandary. That left his own misgivings about his abilities to train anything.

 

His first assignment as a Watcher had been a catastrophic failure on all fronts. Brought in to replace the recently fired Rupert Giles, he had been so confident that he would be able to bring the rebellious Buffy to heel. On top of that he was being bestowed with the honor of being Watcher to not only one, but two Slayers. It was the sort of distinction he had longed for all of his life…a way to prove to his father that he was worthy of the Wyndham-Pryce name.

 

Instead of finally making his father proud he had seen all of his hard work vanish before his eyes. Buffy was repelled by his patronizing attitude – not that she would have accepted anyone but her beloved Giles, who really was the girl’s surrogate father. Faith had slipped farther and farther away from them all until she finally chose to side with their enemies and ended up in a coma. The final straw came when Buffy asked the Council to find a cure for the dying Angel. Despite his initial abhorrence of the relationship between Slayer and Vampire, he had grown to understand that the bond between them was one that could not be easily broken. He realized that he had no desire to drive them apart. Love was rare enough in the world. Why should they try to stamp out something so pure and heart-felt?

 

Unfortunately, the Council had not felt the same way and Wesley had been forced to bear the unwelcome news to Buffy that his superiors would do nothing to save Angel from an excruciatingly painful death. As he had expected, the tidings did not go over well. What he had not foreseen was that Buffy would declare her independence from the Council. No Slayer had ever had the audacity to rebel in such a way – not according to Council records, anyway.

 

His respect for Buffy had mounted considerably. He knew, of course, that her stance had a large part in the Council’s refusal to help her vampire lover, but in his heart he suspected that the result would have been the same had the ailing person been anyone else. Buffy believed in helping people and to her it was immoral to deny aid to anyone. Her hero’s heart would not allow her to take orders from an organization that she found morally repugnant.

 

Her hero’s heart? He laughed at himself inwardly. Obviously his time in Los Angeles had released his more Romantic urges…the ones his father had done his best to suppress, as they were not attributes that contributed to a successful Watcher. Pragmatism, efficiency, and research were the founding principals of his father’s philosophy. Honor, loyalty, even morality were ideas that would have been dismissed as weak. Slayers fought because it was their duty. There were no such things as heroes.

 

In Sunnydale and now in Los Angeles, he had seen differently. Buffy had destroyed the Mayor and thus done her duty. She had also armed the student body of Sunnydale High and made sure that they would have some way of defending themselves, which was not part of her job description. She had taught him that loyalty and integrity were more important than following rules created by men an ocean away.

 

Later after meeting Angel again in Los Angeles he had discovered so much more about life and heroism. Angel was a vampire. One with a soul, of course, but he had no obligation to fight evil. That he did fight it, that he chose to ally himself against his own kind was inspiring on its own. Yet, it wasn’t until Faith had re-entered their lives that he fully appreciated Angel. Despite the fact that she was actively trying to kill him, Angel never gave up on the renegade Slayer. She had a soul, and he was convinced that because of that fact, she could be saved.

 

Wesley wanted him to be right…needed him to be right. If Faith were to be redeemed it would go a long way to remitting his own sins as a Watcher. Still, he had doubts. Her actions seemed far from repentant to him. When she took him prisoner, and gleefully tortured him his belief in her was broken. As she fought Angel in the alley below him, Wesley had given up on her and armed himself. He had been completely prepared to destroy her as one would a rabid animal. To his shock, he had found her on her knees begging Angel to kill her.

 

Angel’s determination to help Faith had taken an even harder blow the next day. Buffy stormed into town seeking vengeance for the chaos Faith had caused in her own life. Wesley’s respect for Angel soared as the vampire refused to back down even to the love of his life because he knew he was doing the right thing. He had witnessed the ex-lovers’ final bitter quarrel in the police station and had winced at the barbs Buffy had thrown Angel’s way. She had viciously informed Angel of her wonderful new boyfriend that she trusted so much more than she ever had the vampire.

 

The look on Angel’s face had nearly broken Wesley’s heart, especially as he recalled something that Cordelia had told him about months earlier. At Thanksgiving Angel had been human for 24 hours. Twenty-four hours that he had spent with Buffy until he gave them back when he found out that she would die if he stayed human. She couldn’t remember that day, but Angel did and the pain that poured from him in the police station was proof of it.

So, his father was wrong. There were heroes in this world and they were defined by their willingness to do what was right despite the personal costs. How could he possibly live up to their example?

 

He sighed. Apparently, the first step would be to disregard his past full of failure and try to help this frightened woman take back control of her life.

 

So far Angel had been doing all of the work this afternoon. Diana had been very hesitant around him at first, which made sense considering her recent history with men. It had taken some time but eventually she relaxed around the vampire, even smiling at him occasionally. It helped that Angel had over two centuries worth of experience with women and according to his files had been notoriously charming even before he was turned. Now, he used that knowledge to soothe instead of to seduce.

 

Wesley had been amused when Angel encouraged Diana to choose a sword to practice with. She had looked them all over closely and then announced, “I know, I know, a katana is supposed to be the greatest sword of all time. It’s strong, sharp, light and a good length even for someone as short as I am. A true Japanese katana possesses perfect balance and if I make it part of myself is damn near impossible to break. Do I have to use one?”

 

That witticism had actually coaxed a rare full-fledged smile out of Angel, who had quickly reassured Diana that she would not be forced to use any sword she didn’t want. In fact, if she wanted to create that bond she’d mentioned with her blade, it needed to be one she liked.

 

Although there was little space for their practice in the office Mahleah was still sleeping below and they all felt that she should sleep as long as she could. They had managed to progress to some simple katas with Angel being sure to invade her personal space as little as possible when the phone rang. Cordelia answered it, and then frowned.

 

“Angel, someone is looking for Mahleah,” she called to him.

 

Angel froze. “It’s not Joe or MacLeod?” he asked.

 

She shook her head, “Nope, it’s an English accent and the voice is not as deep as MacLeod’s.”

 

He slowly walked over and took the receiver from her.

 

“Hello, Mahleah is not available at this time. If you’d like to leave a message I’ll give it to her if I see her.”

 

Wesley watched Angel’s eyes narrow and his mouth tighten.

 

“I see, and what proof do you have that you’re telling me the truth?” There was a pause and then he spoke more urgently, “Joe, is that really you?”

 

Now it was Wesley’s turn to freeze. He and Diana exchanged glances and her blue eyes were huge and nervous.

 

“What do you want?” Angel was demanding into the phone. He started scrawling something on a pad of paper. “Yes, I’ve got it. Listen to me, you smug son of a…” Apparently the man on the other end had hung up. Angel did likewise and tore the sheet of paper off the tablet and stuck it in his pocket.

 

Walking back over to his discarded sword, he grabbed it and his leather duster heading downstairs to his daytime exit that lead to the city’s sewer tunnels.

 

“Angel, what’s happened?” Diana hastily asked him. “Who has Joe and what do they want?”

 

One look at Angel’s face, and Wesley knew.

 

“Weir?” he asked and Angel nodded.

 

“He’s holding Joe as a hostage to provoke Mahleah into fighting with him.”

 

“So, shouldn’t we go down and tell her,” Cordelia inquired, raising an eyebrow.

 

“No,” Angel shook his head. “She’s in no shape to face him right now. For God’s sake, she was catatonic last night. I’ll take care of it.”

 

Wesley stepped forward, “Angel, I know that you’re an excellent swordsman, but Lewis Weir is over five hundred years old. He’s taken the heads of a number of formidable opponents. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

 

Angel held his gaze steadily. “What I have to, Wes. If Mahleah wakes up, don’t tell her anything. Hopefully, I’ll be back soon with Joe.”

 

With a swirl of his duster, he was gone.

 

“Good luck,” Wesley said softly, not adding the thought that was running through his head, you’re going to need it.

 

*****

 

As Angel quickly made his way through the tunnels that protected him from the daylight he thought about his decision. He knew he was no slouch when it came to handling a sword but was he up to fighting an Immortal older than he was? Most of the combat he’d been involved in lately involved less subtlety and more hack and slash work. The demons and monsters he’d faced had usually been armed with natural weapons like talons, fangs or tentacles.

 

He was also unsure of how Mahleah would feel when she found out that he’d taken her place. She struck him as someone with justifiable pride in her abilities and his cutting her out of the loop would most likely bruise her already fragile ego. If she’d been in the kind of shape that the woman he’d known in Sunnydale had been in, he would have let her handle things on her own, but she was not that woman. Right now Mahleah Brennan was an emotional wreck and he was afraid that it would get her killed.

 

The deciding factor for him had been the events of several hours ago. He had woken when Diana rose and went upstairs to talk to Wesley and Cordelia who he could hear in the office above them. He had lain there on his uncomfortable couch about to doze off again when he heard the sounds of someone in distress.

 

Going into the bedroom, he had found Mahleah thrashing in the bed, wringing wet with sweat and pleading with every breath, “No, no…please stop…”

 

He’d hurried to her side and gently shaken her, hoping to ease her out of the nightmare. Her eyes had popped open and she’d shot up and into his arms, clinging to him tightly and shaking in fear. He’d gently rubbed her back and her hair and murmured softly in Irish until he felt her muscles gradually relax. It wasn’t until she had hastily pulled away from him and scooted herself up against the headboard that he had realized that her terror had temporarily pushed her out of her conscious mind. When she had regained control of herself, she once again preferred some distance between them.

 

Almost shyly, she’d glanced up at him and asked, “Did you mean it?”

 

“Mean what?”

 

“That I could stay here for a while.”

 

He’d realized that had been one of the things that he’d whispered in her ear while attempting to comfort her. He should have remembered that she spoke Irish, but he wasn’t going to back out of his offer now. “Yeah,” he had told her gently. “Stay as long as you like.”

 

No, Mahleah Brennan was in no condition to fight a five hundred year old Immortal, he now decided grimly.

 

*****

 

The second time Mahleah woke up in a much less dramatic fashion than the first. She gradually grew aware of her surroundings, which was a far cry from her normal sleeping patterns. As an Immortal she had trained herself to wake quickly and fully as leftover sleepiness could be the difference between life and death. Now, however, she lay still and let her mind lazily piece together bits of information at its own pace.

 

She remembered having a nightmare earlier and Angel comforting her. It had felt so good to be held close and she had let the liquid music of soft murmurs wash away the cold remnants of her terror. It had been years since someone had spoken to her in Irish and the welcome sound of its long-ago familiarity had warmed forgotten places in her heart. Suddenly she had been young again, leaning into strong arms that promised to take care of her. God, she wanted to wrap herself in that security and be little and innocent, safe and protected once more.

 

She blinked her eyes open and stretched. Surely, it would do no harm to retreat into that comfortable environment…just for a day or two. She rose and found Angel had left her some more of his clothes to change into. She smiled wistfully at the sweet gesture and decided to go up and thank him before showering. It would give her a chance to check on Diana, who was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

 

She strode over to the elevator and rode up to the office above, little suspecting that the bottom was about to drop out of her safe little fantasy once again.

 

*****

 

Wesley had tried to pick up where Angel had left off in Diana’s training, but she was distracted now, as was he, by worry over their friends’ safety. They both turned when they heard the elevator doors open. Mahleah emerged looking rumpled but in much better spirits than the last time he had seen her.

 

“Hi,” she said to the room at large, almost shyly.

 

“Hello,” he answered her. “How are you feeling?”

 

She licked her lips before saying, “Better than last night.” She glanced around the room and through the glass leading to Angel’s private office. “Where’s Angel?”

 

Cordelia started to say something, but Wesley interrupted her, “He’s stepped out for a while. He had an appointment he needed to keep.”

 

Mahleah’s eyebrow went up a little, “In the daytime? Is he wearing asbestos or something?”

 

“There’s a series of sewer tunnels running beneath the city that can take him nearly anywhere he needs to go,” Wesley explained.

 

“Oh,” she said, obviously a little disappointed he had not waited to take care of his business after she got up. She looked over at Diana and smiled, “How’s the training coming?”

 

“Fine,” Diana said curtly.

 

“Would you like some help?” Mahleah asked Wesley.

 

“No,” Diana answered for him.

 

Wesley was a little startled by the change in his student. She had been mostly pleasant all morning. He knew there were some unsettled issues between her and Mahleah but he hadn’t expected this sort of coldness between them.

 

Mahleah licked her lips again, “Okay. Hey, has anyone heard from Joe today?”

 

They all looked at each other before Cordelia replied, “Angel heard from him earlier.”

 

Frowning, Mahleah examined them each in turn, “What’s going on here? You guys aren’t telling me something.”

 

Wesley and Cordelia held their peace, obeying Angel’s instructions but Diana startled them all by stating in a flat, emotionless voice, “The Immortal that Joe shot last night has taken him hostage and Angel’s gone to get him back.”

 

“What?” Mahleah’s voice cracked across the room like the echo of a gunshot. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that first thing? Why didn’t he come get me?”

 

“Angel felt he was the best one to handle the situation,” Wesley said in as soothing a tone as he could manage.

 

“He didn’t think you were capable of fighting your own battles considering how nutty you went last night,” Diana translated.

 

Mahleah’s face hardened, “Where are they?” she demanded.

 

“I’m afraid we don’t know,” Wesley confessed. “Angel’s the only person to have spoken with Weir and he didn’t share that information with the rest of us.”

 

“He wrote it down on this pad,” Cordelia announced, and started shading it with a pencil. “Let’s see if this Nancy Drew crap really works. Aha…” she held up the pad in triumph.

 

Quickly, Mahleah grabbed it out of her hand. “Does anyone have a car I can borrow?” she asked urgently.

 

“Do you promise not to wreck it?” Cordelia asked pointedly, “Because I’m still making payments on it.”

 

“You can take my bike,” Wesley interrupted. “It will probably get you there faster anyway. That is, if you can ride a motorcycle.”

 

She gave him a tight grin, “A couple of good friends of mine used to be obsessed with them.”

 

He tossed her the keys. She caught them, and then walked over to a chair where her coat from the night before lay along with her sword. Her hands hovered over the blade for a long moment as if she were afraid if she touched it she would be electrocuted. Finally, she let out a sigh, and murmured something under her breath. It had sounded like, “Forgive me, old girl.” Then, she threw on the coat and tucked the tiger-headed katana beneath it.

 

As she started out the door, Wesley called after her, “Mahleah, you don’t have to do this.”

 

Without looking back, she replied, “Yes, I do.”

 

After she left, Wesley and Cordelia stared at the other Immortal, who shifted uncomfortably.

 

“What?” she asked, defensively.

 

“Angel left strict instructions that Mahleah was not to be told what was going on,” Wesley responded. “Yet, you told her anyway. Why?”

 

“I like Angel,” she shot back. “I’d hate to see him get killed over something that wasn’t his responsibility.”

 

Wesley shook his head, remembering his earlier thoughts. Mahleah’s recent conduct had not been sterling of late, it was true, but when it came down to a crisis she sat aside her personal burdens and did what needed to be done…just as a hero should. Diana, on the other hand, struck out offensively as the best defense against the outside world. She was hurt, scared, and he suspected, very lonely – all hallmarks of a normal human being. Not everyone was made of the same mettle as the Angels, Buffys, Mahleahs, and MacLeods of the world.

 

He was surprised therefore, when Diana added in a warmer tone, “Besides, if Angel gets himself killed fighting Mahleah’s fight, she’ll never forgive herself.”

 

Wesley smiled cordially at the small woman. Human beings could also be empathetic and compassionate. He was glad to see that Diana was one of them.

 

*****

 

As his arm caught on fire, Angel thought this was not the brightest plan he’d ever had in his life. Weir had been very displeased to find a proxy standing in for Mahleah and had threatened to walk away while promising dire consequences to Joe. Angel had stood his ground and informed the Immortal that he knew how to kill him…that made Weir reconsider.

 

Despite the fact that Weir was, as expected, a better swordsman than he, Angel had managed to hold his own for a respectable amount of time. It helped that unlike his opponent, he didn’t have to breathe. Everything was going better than he could have hoped for until Weir maneuvered him into a patch of sunlight coming in through a window.

 

Angel quickly darted back into the shadows and smothered the smoldering burn. Weir had temporarily backed off in surprise, but now he laughed loudly.

 

“So that’s why my cuts aren’t slowing you down. Well, well vampire I know how to kill you, too. Beheading works just as well on your kind as mine, not to mention…” He started backing Angel toward the warehouse’s open main doors where light was pouring into the building.

 

Angel fought back as fiercely as he could, but the Immortal had seemingly gained a second wind. Slowly, but inexorably Angel was being forced into a fiery death. Just as Angel was beginning to regret all the things that he had never had the chance to do – like kiss Buffy one last time – Weir stiffened and looked around them.

 

“Sorry I’m late, guys,” a jaunty voice came from behind Angel. “I see you went ahead and started without me.”

 

“Challenge has already been accepted,” Weir said coldly. “You can’t interfere.”

 

“He’s not one of us,” Mahleah pointed out, confidently. “He doesn’t play by our rules.”

 

“Mahleah, get out of here,” Angel groaned. This was all for nothing if she got herself killed anyway.

 

“No can do, Angel,” she said, warmth in her voice. “This isn’t your fight, it’s mine. So, how about it, Weir? What good does it do you, to kill him? It’s my Quickening you want.”

 

“Very well, girl,” Weir said with a sneer. “It’s your head.”

 

Tossing her coat aside and revealing Tora, Mahleah said lightly, “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m a bit more prepared this time around.”

 

“Don’t go far, vampire,” Weir warned. “After I’m done with her, I’ll be coming for you and the old man.”

 

“Go,” Mahleah told him urgently. “Find Joe, and get the hell out of here.”

 

Their eyes locked for a split-second and he saw gratitude in hers for what he’d tried to do. The moment over, she beckoned him with her head to rescue Joe while she took care of Weir. Reluctantly, he did so. Behind him he could hear the clashing sound of metal on metal.

 

Weir was still taunting Mahleah about what an easy mark she’d been the night before.

 

“And I suppose you’ve never had a bad night?” she shot back in response.

 

“You’re unworthy of that sword,” he declared. “I’ve heard of Tora. After I take your head, it’ll be mine.”

 

Mahleah laughed, “If you really knew anything about Tora, you’d know she’s a woman’s sword. Personally, I don’t think I’d trust her in the hands of a man who killed the woman she’s spent the last dozen years with. She’d slip right through your fingers when you needed her most.”

 

She bantered much like Buffy did in her fights, Angel thought. Aside from the back and forth verbal abuse and clatter of swords he could also hear a faint thumping noise above him so he headed in that direction. After climbing a long set of stairs, he ultimately found Joe, bound and gagged, on this upper level.

 

Quickly he loosened the man’s bonds.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, with concern.

 

“Just a sprain to my pride,” Joe snorted. “I should’ve expected Weir to show up again.”

 

“I should go down and help Mahleah,” Angel said, starting to move away.

 

Joe grabbed his arm, “I’m sorry, Angel but a challenge between Immortals isn’t a tag-team sport…not if you’re following the rules.”

 

“He’s good, Joe,” Angel said desperately. “We can’t just let him kill her.”

 

He walked over to the edge of the walkway and peered down, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t heard the swords clashing in the last few minutes. The two Immortals were gone.

 

“Where did they go?” he exclaimed, starting to panic.

 

“Outside,” Joe said, coming up beside him. “She’s trying to get him as far away from us as possible.”

 

“I’m not leaving,” Angel said, stubbornly.

 

“No,” Joe shook his head. “I didn’t think you would. You realize that if he kills her, he’ll come back in here for us?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That will be our chance,” Joe told him. “After a Quickening, an Immortal is weak. You can take him then.”

 

Angel stared at him. “How can you stand there and cold-bloodedly talk about ambush tactics which assume that Mahleah is dead? You cursed at MacLeod just last night for not helping her.”

 

“That’s different,” Joe told him calmly. “We’ve done all we could, but now it’s up to her. You have to understand something, Angel. When I shot Weir last night it wasn’t to prevent Mahleah from facing him…it was to stop an unfair fight. There was no way she could have handled him in her condition.”

 

“And you think she can now?” Angel was baffled. This was the same woman who had been unresponsive for so long last night and just this morning had crawled into his arms looking for comfort like a little girl.

 

The Watcher gave him a grim smile, “Welcome to the club.”

 

“What club?”

 

“The club full of friends and family who actually give a damn if an Immortal loses his or her head,” Joe told him. “It’s one of the hardest things in the world to be friends with an Immortal. Anytime they leave, you’re never sure if that’s the last time you’ll ever see them. It’s not unlike falling in love with a vampire slayer.”

 

Angel nearly choked. “Is there at least a support group?” he asked with a bit of gallows humor.

 

At that moment, both men nearly jumped out of their skins as all of the windows in the building suddenly blow out one by one. Outside they could see flashes of lightning in the sky.

 

“Oh Jesus,” Joe said in a quivering voice.

 

“It’s over then,” Angel said flatly.

 

“After long years of watching Immortals battle there’s two things I know for certain,” Joe said hoarsely. “One is when two Immortals go out to face each other…”

 

“There can be only one,” Angel finished for him.

 

“Actually what I was going to say,” Joe glared at him, “is that sometimes they both live to fight another day. The second thing is that ultimately it’s almost irrelevant who the best fighter is…it’s who has the most to lose.”

 

“Huh?” Angel looked at him. “Isn’t that a paradox?”

 

Just then, a familiar figure stumbled through the doors. Angel jumped over the railing to the ground floor in a graceful swoop and wrapped an arm around her.

 

“Wow,” she said, laughing slightly. “That’s a nifty trick…wish I could do that. I guess you missed me then?”

 

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said sternly.

 

“I’m sorry,” she replied, “but it was something I had to do.”

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

She sighed and her eyes dropped to the ground for a minute, then she looked at him and sadly answered, “because I can never be five-years-old again.” Looking past him, she broke into a big grin, “Joe! Are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, making his way across to them both. “Except for the ten years I lost when I saw that Quickening. It’s good to see you, girl.”

 

“It’s good to be seen,” she told him, and slipping away from Angel she walked over to the Watcher and gave him a big hug.

 

Joe looked across at Angel and told him, “It may sound like a paradox, but it’s obviously the truth.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

This was the damnedest case, Kate thought to herself. So far, her investigation had yielded very few results. Most of the men she questioned refused to admit that their attacker had been a woman. Apparently it was a substantial blow to their pride that a mere woman had managed to hand them their ass. There were a couple that gave an account of their attacker, but she was a little dubious as to their details.

 

They insisted that the woman was at least six feet tall and as limber as an Olympic gymnast. The more reports she heard the taller the tale seemed to stretch. After a while she started wondering perhaps these cretins were right: maybe their attacker wasn’t a woman. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe that a woman could have inflicted their wounds it would just fit the facts of the case.

 

Fact One: All of the victims who gave a statement swore that the assailant was incredibly tall. Fact Two: The assailant’s mo was to tease the men then provoke them into violence by stopping and taunting them. Fact Three: According to all the statements, the victims had never managed to get their hands very far beneath the assailant’s clothes.  Fact Four: The statements also agreed that the ‘woman’ in question was large-boned and very strong. Fact Five: They also all agreed that the ‘woman’ was breathtakingly gorgeous, despite her heavy makeup.

 

Taking all of these facts together, Kate was starting to wonder if the assailant wasn’t actually a transvestite. She decided to canvass a few drag shows and question some make-up artists.

 

There was one thing her gut was telling her, though: Angel knew more than he was telling about this case. Idly, she wondered if he might even be the assailant. He was certainly tall and well built. His face was quite handsome but she wasn’t sure how that would translate into drag. Nah, she ultimately decided. While she couldn’t deny that he would have probably loved tearing into a few of these scumbags, he had never struck her as the game-playing type. If he were the attacker, he wouldn’t have resorted to a disguise.

 

She rose from her desk intent on doing two things before the day was out: talk to a man in the hospital that sounded suspiciously like the latest victim and lay out the facts of the case to a profiler friend of hers. If Angel were involved somehow, she’d find out eventually.

 

*****

 

Angel sat quietly in his office watching Wesley and Diana quietly conversing after a sparring session. He suspected that being allowed to train someone again had started healing wounds that had been broken since the Council fired Wesley. No doubt his good manners and English reserve were also a balm to Diana as well who seemed to be slowly lowering her guard.

 

Personally, he was more concerned about Mahleah’s mental health. It had been three days since the attack and she still had not told anyone what had happened that night. She had confessed to him what she had almost done and why she had stopped, but there had been no word on what Lee had done to her.

 

Once the adrenaline rush from the fight and the Quickening had dissipated she had retreated mentally. Not that she had been catatonic again or that she appeared to be avoiding reality. On the contrary, she seemed to be contemplating recent events a bit too much and not sharing any of her thoughts. She’d also begun shunning physical contact again, especially with men. Angel didn’t like the conclusions he was arriving at.

 

He knew that Wesley had invited her to join them in their training practices, but Mahleah had quietly refused. When Angel had questioned her decision she told him that she was afraid her presence would make Diana more nervous and he could see the logic in that. He had left her below in his apartment earlier, browsing through his library. It was time to check up on her and see if persistence wouldn’t finally break through the thick walls she had constructed around her.

 

Before he could rise from his chair, Diana walked in and shut the door.

 

“Can I talk to you a minute?” she asked.

 

“Of course,” he replied. “Have a seat.”

 

She sat down in his client chair and chewed on her lip nervously before speaking. “I’m worried about Mahleah,” she finally said.

 

Angel raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected her to say that.

 

She saw his surprised look and flushed a little. “I know you might not believe this, but I do care about her. We might not be on speaking terms right now but that doesn’t mean I like seeing her in pain. I think that I’m making her more uncomfortable by staying here with you. I should leave…go back to my place.”

 

This was even more unexpected. “I don’t think it’s safe,” he said evenly. “You’ve not finished your training. What would you do if a headhunter found you?”

 

She sighed. “I know I’m not ready yet, but I really don’t think I can stay here. Besides, don’t you want your bed back? I’d think you’d be tired of sleeping on the couch.”

 

“Mahleah would still be there,” he pointed out.

 

“Yeah, well I think that might be a good thing,” she said deliberately.

 

He frowned, “Look, Diana…I can’t…”

 

“I know about the curse,” she interrupted. “I’m not suggesting that you start screwing her, just maybe sleeping with her. We both know she’s having nightmares every night and although she won’t let you touch her when she’s awake you do help her when she’s half-asleep.”

 

“Like you said, when she’s awake she won’t let anyone touch her,” he countered. “How do you propose I suggest to her that we be bunkmates?”

 

“If I’m not there, it would happen,” she said matter-of-factly. “Not overnight, but eventually. She trusts you. I don’t think even she knows why, but the fact is that you’ve got the best shot of getting through to her.”

 

“Do you think the two of you will ever address your own issues?” he inquired.

 

Diana chewed on her lip some more before answering. “I think we both have some healing to do first,” she replied. “Some day we’ll sit down and have a long chat, but if we tried it right now we’d only end up in another screaming match. We’re not ready.”

 

“I hope some day you both will be,” he said gently.

 

“Me too,” she gave a brittle smile. Then her mood turned serious again. “Help her, Angel, please. I don’t know what that bastard did to her but I recognize the signs. He had to have hurt her pretty badly, and on top of that she’s blaming herself.” Her lips twisted bitterly, “I recognize that, too. If she doesn’t talk to someone pretty soon, it’s going to eat away at her like cancer cells.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

 

“Good,” she rose from the chair, “Because this is driving me crazy. I can deal with a brooding Mahleah, but a Mahleah who never touches anyone? That’s too bizarre. You have no way of knowing this but she’s really one of the most tactile people you’ll ever meet. She’s very touchy-feely. Seeing her pull away from all physical contact is creeping me out.”

 

“Any last words of advice,” he asked, before she could go.

 

“Get her singing,” Diana replied. “I haven’t heard her sing anything, not even hum for over a year now. That’s something else that’s just not natural.” She opened the door and then paused to look back at him. “Thanks, Angel,” she said softly, “for everything.”

 

“You’re welcome,” he told her. He rose as well. Diana was right. Mahleah needed someone to intervene in her self-imposed isolation and there was no time like the present. He walked out of the office and took the elevator down to the bottom floor. He might as well warn her he was coming.

 

When he pulled the elevator gate open, he could see Mahleah sitting in the floor with her back against the wall, a book in her lap. She had Cordelia’s CD player beside her and was obviously paying more attention to the music than the book.

 

He hoped this was a good sign. Diana had said the best thing he could do was encourage her to sing and from what he’d known of Mahleah MacLeod that struck him as sound advice. He walked across the room and settled beside her, and noticed her body tense as it tried to put distance between them. For once, he ignored her flinch and asked her quietly, “What are you reading?”

 

“The Divine Comedy,” she replied.

 

Ouch, he winced inwardly. Reading the Inferno would not be the most comforting, therapeutic material right now. Still, as he’d noted previously her attention was directed more towards the rock music pouring out of the CD speakers.

 

“What are you listening to?” he inquired. He certainly didn’t know this song, but then it wasn’t likely that he would. Other than what he used to hear at the Bronze or that Buffy would play he hadn’t paid much attention to modern music in a long time.

 

“Liz Phair,” she answered.

 

“Oh,” he said.

 

She looked at him, curiously. “What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Why did you say ‘oh,’ then – like it was some kind of revelation?” she didn’t sound upset, merely inquisitive.

 

“Joe told me that she was one of your favorites,” he explained.

 

“Yeah,” she said listlessly, losing interest once more.

 

Angel sat back and listened to the lyrics for a minute.

 

I woke up alarmed

I didn’t know where I was at first

Just that I woke up in your arms

And almost immediately I felt sorry

‘Cause I didn’t think this would happen again

No matter what I could do or say

Just that I didn’t think this would happen again

With or without my best intentions

 

Hmmm, he thought to himself. This could very well be the way she feels about her nightmares. She’s determined not to have them, and feels shame whenever she wakes up fully to find that I’m holding her again and she’s clinging to me in terror.

 

And whatever happened to a boyfriend

The kind of guy who tries to win you over?

And whatever happened to a boyfriend

The kind of guy who makes love ‘cause he’s in it?

 

I want a boyfriend

I want a boyfriend

I want all that stupid old shit

Like letters and sodas

Letters and sodas

 

Well, considering the kind of guy she was seeing every night it was no wonder she’d started to doubt there were decent men left in the world. It wasn’t strange that she’d be craving a little TLC. He would bet she hadn’t had a man do anything sweet or romantic for her since her breakup with her fiancé. Her fiancé, hmmm, maybe that was a way into the turmoil she was going through.

 

You got up out of bed

You said you had a lot of work to do

But I heard the rest in your head

And almost immediately I felt sorry

‘Cause I didn’t think this would happen again

No matter what I could do or say

Just that I didn’t think this would happen again

With or without my best intentions

 

And I want a boyfriend

I want a boyfriend

I want all that stupid old shit

Like letters and sodas

Letters and sodas

 

How must she have felt when the man she had replaced Duncan MacLeod with, had dumped her?  Diana had said that Mahleah had never really healed from the break-up with the Highlander. Had she really loved Mark or had he just been the rebound guy?

 

I can feel it in my bones

I’m gonna spend another year alone

It’s fuck and run, fuck and run

Even when I was seventeen

Fuck and run, fuck and run

Even when I was twelve

 

He felt his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. What the hell? Music had certainly gotten a lot blunter in recent years. Was this how she really felt?

 

“Do you miss him?” he ventured.

 

She looked startled, “Who?”

 

“Your fiancé.”

 

She took a minute to think about that before answering, “Yes, but it’s my own fault that things got so messed up between us.”

 

“How was it your fault?” he prodded.

 

“I should have told him I was Immortal,” she said wearily. “He had a right to know.”

 

“Somehow I don’t think you’re the first one to make the decision not to tell their lover about their real life,” he told her.

 

You almost felt bad

You said that I should call you up

But I knew much better than that

And almost immediately I felt sorry

‘Cause I didn’t think this would happen again

No matter what I could do or say

Just that I didn’t think this would happen again

With or without my best intentions

 

And I can feel it in my bones

I’m gonna spend my whole life alone

It’s fuck and run, fuck and run

Even when I was seventeen

Fuck and run, fuck and run

Even when I was twelve

 

“No,” she agreed, “but that doesn’t make it right. I should have told him or let him go.”

 

“Maybe,” he conceded. “It’s not always easy to do the right thing.”

 

She looked at him intently, “You sound like you know from personal experience.”

 

“I do,” he nodded.

 

“What happened?”

 

This was starting to delve into very personal issues for Angel. Issues that he never spoke of to anyone, but perhaps that was the only way to get her to reveal the source of her own pain.

 

“You remember I told you about someone who changed my life?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she looked him in the eye. “You said you’d broken up.”

 

“That’s right. Her name’s Buffy and she’s a Slayer.”

 

“A Slayer? You were in love with a vampire slayer?” she whistled. “Man, you must love to live dangerously.”

 

“It wasn’t easy,” he agreed. “Also it was complicated by the fact that when I met her, she was sixteen years old.”

 

She wasn’t shocked by this admission, and he reflected that her life had certainly given her an unusual perspective on matters that would have rattled other people. Although, he reflected, perhaps she would have considered herself a hypocrite to condemn him for falling in love with someone so much younger than himself. The age gap between her and MacLeod was even greater. Vampires traditionally counted their age after they were turned so by that measurement he was roughly over two hundred and twenty years older than Buffy, but MacLeod was over three hundred and seventy five years older than Mahleah. Still she and MacLeod had not been romantically involved in her teen years, either.

 

Still, she replied by saying, “That makes things hard.”

 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I tried to do the right thing so many times and stay away from her, but it was like trying to pull iron from a magnet. The night we made love was her seventeenth birthday.”

 

“And you lost your soul,” she finished for him.

 

“Yeah,” he said again. “For months I terrorized her and her friends…even killed some of them. She tried to stop me but it was difficult for her. Every time she saw me, all she could think about was how much we’d loved each other and she couldn’t kill me…not until I went too far and tried to destroy the world.”

 

“What happened?” she was drawn into the story now.

 

“One of her friends managed to re-curse me at the last minute, but it was too late,” he said heavily. “She kissed me, told me she loved me and then she put a sword through me because my blood was the only thing that could close the vortex to hell that I had opened.”

 

“Ouch,” she scowled at him in sympathy. “That’s definitely a bad breakup.”

 

“When you tell your ex to go to hell, usually you don’t personally send ‘em there,” he acknowledged.

 

“She sent you to hell, literally?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Obviously, you managed to escape some how,” she observed, “Unless this world is in even more trouble than I’d imagined.”

 

“I was sent back,” he said. “I’m still not sure why or how.”

 

“Buffy managed to do the right thing, though,” she mused, “In the end.”

 

In the background, the CD had been repeating the same song over and over. Frankly, it was getting on Angel’s nerves and it couldn’t possibly be good for Mahleah’s mental health. Was this how she saw herself and her relationships: as a series of one-night stands that were mutually unfulfilling? Surely there had to have been more to her life than that?

 

“Yes, she did,” he repeated, “Just like you.”

 

“Huh?” she looked at him, bewildered. “When did I do the right thing?”

 

“You stopped yourself from losing all control,” he explained. “Despite how badly you wanted to see Lee hurt for what he did to you, you stopped yourself before it went too far.”

 

*****

 Mahleah shivered, remembering why she had wanted to hurt Lee. After her horrifying experience with Kenneth she had sworn to herself that no one would ever hurt her that badly again—physically anyway.

 

Angel reached over her, and flipped the switch on the boom box from CD to radio. Obviously he was tired of listening to the same song. She was tired of it too, but it had expressed her mood perfectly. In the last few months all she had done was go from one man to the next, exchanging small, meaningless sexual favors and abuse.

 

Despite the fact that her previous relationships hadn’t been a part of this pattern, she felt like they had one of their own. Most of the men before her rampage had treated her much better than this except in one way – they’d all left her. When they were with her things were wonderful and they had been so good, so giving to her. Yet, there always seemed to come a time when she no longer fit into their lives for whatever reason. Kevin had died. MacLeod had refused to allow her to interfere in his private grief. Mark had been unable to deal with the realities of her true life. It all came down to the same thing in the end. When they were through with her, they were through. Her opinion and her feelings meant nothing. They could all walk away and wash their hands of the whole affair as if she were nothing more substantial than lint they brushed off their trousers.

 

Cordelia had last had the radio tuned to an oldies station and the strains of Elton John’s piano playing replaced the harsh lyrics of Liz Phair.

 

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band

Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man

Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand

And now she’s in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my head.

 

Angel gave her a half-smile. “This seems a bit more cheerful,” he said.

 

She tilted her head to the side, regarding the radio. “I’ve always liked this song,” she admitted.

 

“Good,” his smile widened a little.

 

Jesus freaks out in the street

Handing tickets out for God

Turning back she just laughs

The boulevard is not that bad

 

God, she hadn’t heard “Tiny Dancer” in years, she mused. It was true that it was one of her favorite Elton John tunes. There was something that went along with it, though. She frowned, concentrating on the memory.

 

“What is it?” Angel asked, noticing her expression.

 

“Just trying to remember something,” she murmured. What was it about this song…and a bar? Oh God, she felt her face flush. How could she ever forget that night? This year hadn’t been the first time that she’d thought she could take on the world, and that night much like recent events, had proven that she was not invincible.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

1987

 

 

 

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band

Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man

Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand

And now she’s in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my head

 

“So, Patch, this is another wonderful place you’ve brought me to,” a hand came down on Patch’s shoulder before the owner of the voice sat down across from him. “When you invited me out for a drink for auld lang syne I had no idea we would be this fortunate in our dining environment. I should have worn my dinner jacket.”

 

Patch blew out cigar smoke and looked at the waitress standing by to take their order, “A Molson for me, darlin’. I don’t know what Pete here wants.” No doubt something expensive that demonstrates what good taste he has, he snorted inwardly.

 

Peter Manning regarded the waitress dubiously. “I’ll take a Covossier.” When her pen hesitated over the pad, he sighed. “Forget it and bring me a single-malt Scotch, preferably Glenlivet.”

 

Jesus freaks out in the street

Handing tickets out for God

Turning back she just laughs

The boulevard is not that bad

 

“I’ll say again, however do you manage to find such places, Patch?” Manning said glancing disdainfully around them and scowling at the house band.

 

“We can’t all live on the first floor of The Russian Tea Room,” Patch remarked, unruffled.

 

“That, however unfortunate, is readily apparent,” Manning replied. “It’s been what – five years now since Madripoor? I suppose this charming edifice is slightly more polished than the Princess Bar, if less exotic.”

 

Frankly, Patch reflected, he preferred The Princess Bar. Nothing against this place, it was just a bit tame for his money. Of course, that was why he’d become a silent partner in The Princess. While Japan had always felt like a second home to him, Madripoor was where he went to blow off steam. He had many friends there and one in particular who was counting on him tonight.

 

Piano man, he makes his stand

In the auditorium

Looking on, she sings the songs

The words she knows, the tune she hums

 

The waitress came back over with their drinks. “Scotch,” she said coldly, plunking the glass down in front of Manning. “And a Molson,” she added, considerably more warmth in her voice. “Will there be anything else, Patch?”

 

“Not right now, darlin’. You can come back in about ten minutes with a refill, if you’d like,” he winked.

 

She smiled at him and left.

 

“You’ve always had a way with women,” Manning observed with amusement.

 

“What can I say,” Patch observed. “I’m the best in the world at what I do, but what I do isn’t very nice.”

 

 “True,” Manning conceded, “I must say, though, you can do better than that.”

 

“I suppose Molly’s not your type,” Patch said, sipping on his beer.

 

“Hardly, I prefer something a bit younger,” Manning said dryly.

 

Yeah, I remember, bub, Patch thought to himself. I remember all about your taste in women…and what you like to do to them.

 

Manning scanned the crowded room and nodded toward a woman sitting at the bar, enjoying the music.

 

“That’s more to my liking,” he said appreciatively.

 

But oh how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you and you can’t hear me

When I say softly, slowly

 

Hold me closer, tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today

 

Patch ran his eyes across Manning’s choice. He had to admit that despite his disgust with the man, the bastard always had the finest taste in everything, including women. This one had a pair of the longest legs he’d ever seen stretched out in a pair of faded Levis. Long shiny locks cascaded down her back like a river of amber silk. She looked a bit older than Manning’s usual type, but there was something soft and innocent in the way she was smiling at the band who was competing to get her attention.

 

She seemed to feel the heat of their gazes on her and turned her head to look them over. A pair of lush brown eyes locked onto Patch’s for a long moment and twinkled as if they were laughing at him. He smiled at her invitingly and she glanced down for a moment, then back up at him. There was heat in that look and curiosity too, if he was reading her correctly. He was too far away to tell otherwise.

 

Blue jean baby, LA lady, seamstress for the band

Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man

Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand

And now she’s in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my head

 

She licked her lips, more as a nervous reaction than a proposition, and then turned abruptly away. Hmm, maybe she’d changed her mind, he thought with a bit of disappointment. It didn’t matter, he had plans for the night and while they didn’t involve getting laid they did see him gutting Peter Manning like a fish.

 

“It seems that once again the lady prefers you, Patch,” Manning laughed. “Some day you’ll have to tell me the secret to your tremendous appeal.”

 

“Animal magnetism,” Patch muttered against the mug of beer.

 

“Perhaps you would prefer to postpone this little reunion until a later date,” Manning suggested. “I think with a bit of persuasion you might be in there.”

 

“Nah, that would be rude,” Patch told him. “Besides, I think she’s leaving.”

 

Indeed, she was. Laughing and shaking her head at the obvious invitations the lead singer and guitarist of the band were making, she donned a long leather coat and headed for the door.

 

“Ah, too bad -- I would have enjoyed getting to know that one better,” Manning said smoothly.

 

I’ll just bet you would, Patch thought grimly. The sight of little Tina’s face flashed before him in all its gory splendor. It had taken him five years to track down this son of a bitch, and he’d be damned if he let the sadistic pervert slip back into hiding once again. Manning had the connections and resources to disappear for a long time. Patch intended to ensure that he never re-appeared again.

 

His ‘accidental’ meeting of Manning this evening had been the culmination of a craftily concealed hunt. He didn’t care if the other man was a valuable source of information for both American and Canadian intelligence about various terrorists and drug dealers throughout the world. Sometimes a line had to be drawn, and he had drawn it the night he’d seen what had happened to Tina. His sometime boss and good friend James would be very disappointed to lose such a wonderful fount of knowledge but when he gave him all the facts, he figured James would give him a nod of approval.

 

The plans for the evening were all set, everything was in place and vengeance was going to taste mighty sweet. Patch hid a smirk in his beer glass, but then made the mistake of looking up as the tall woman strode out and his carefully drawn plans went straight to hell.

 

 Three rough-looking, obviously drunk bikers were closely following her out of the bar. Patch cursed under his breath. Now he had a choice: stick with the plan and dispose of Manning or go rescue an apparent damsel in distress. Part of him felt sick at the idea of letting Manning slip through his fingers again. A little voice inside nagged at him, though. Could he choose to avenge a dead girl, if the price was the sacrifice of another?

 

He sighed and threw money on the table to cover his drinks.

 

Manning looked at him with amusement, “Going out to be the knight in shining armor?”

 

“Those guys are trouble,” he mumbled.

 

“Indeed, well I suspect the evening’s just been cut short for them, hasn’t it, my friend?” Manning laughed. “I suppose we’ll just have to reminisce some other time.”

 

“Yeah,” Patch replied, trying to keep his rage under control. Save it for the drunks, he told himself. That’ll be a good way to vent some anger. “I’ll see ya soon, Pete.” That was a promise he intended to keep.

 

When he stepped outside, his skin was itching from the need to hit something. He rubbed his knuckles in anticipation but found himself freezing in his tracks. What the hell?

 

As expected the three drunks had evidently been harassing the tall pretty female who looked younger than he’d thought in this light. He estimated her to be about twenty, give or take a year -- a bit on the young side for him, actually.

 

It wasn’t her age, though that had startled him. It was the fact that she was calmly and methodically beating the crap out of the bikers. He watched as her long legs kicked one man under his chin and sent him reeling. Another got too close and she slammed him with the lid of a trashcan. The third one evidently decided she was more trouble than he was looking for and went running home to mama.

 

He started laughing -- so much for his chance to be Sir Lancelot. Oh well, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen a woman kicking ass and it wouldn’t be the last either, he was sure. She heard his rumbling chuckles and looked up warily. He saw her body tense up into an attack posture.

 

“Whoa,” he said soothingly. “I’m not one of the bad guys. Just came out to help…thought those guys looked like trouble.”

 

She snorted derisively, “Thanks for the offer, but the day I can’t handle two or three drunks is the day I give up.”

 

“Do you need a ride home?” he asked.

 

“No, thank you,” she said politely. “I prefer to walk.”

 

“It’s dangerous to walk alone, darlin’. Sure you wouldn’t like some company to keep you safe?”

 

She rolled her eyes at him. “I think I would be safer by myself. I don’t have far to go, so don’t worry about it.”

 

Fine, if that was the way she wanted it, no problem. He would admit he’d had lascivious thoughts about her earlier but now he’d just wanted to be a gentleman and see her home safely. Humph, him be a gentleman? That was his first mistake right there. Oh well, the kid looked like she could take care of herself. He watched her disappear into the night.

 

“Oh my,” said a voice behind him. “I do believe that was the first time I’ve ever seen you get shot down, Patch. Too bad! She was magnificent, wasn’t she? All of that fiery passion and spirit wrapped up in a beautiful package. She looks younger in the moonlight, too, doesn’t she? Yes, definitely a shame you let that one get away.”

 

Oh God, Patch thought, feeling the gorge rise in his throat. What have I done? She was fine taking care of trouble herself and here I go drawing this sicko’s attention to her. Damn, does nothing ever work out right? That’s it. He has to die tonight.

 

Just as he was working out the most efficient means of killing his prey, a taxi pulled up in front of them.

 

“Sorry, Patch, I’m afraid I find I have plans elsewhere this evening,” Manning said smoothly, opening the door of the cab. “I’d offer you a ride, but as I recall you seem to prefer a less civilized mode of transportation.”  With that parting shot, he was gone.

 

“Damn,” Patch growled. He quickly stalked over to his “less civilized transportation” and threw his legs over his Harley. With a little bit of luck he would be able to catch up to the young woman before Manning did.

 

Five minutes later, he spotted her walking leisurely down the street ahead of him. He quickly caught up and pulled over just ahead of her. She was frowning at him.

 

“Apparently you have problems with rejection, Mister,” she said hotly. “Either that or you’re hard of hearing. I told you before I’m not interested in any company tonight.”

 

“This isn’t like that, Princess,” he told her, calmly letting her anger wash over him. “I just wanted to warn you.”

 

“Warn me about what?” her scowl deepened.

 

“You attracted some attention tonight and not all of it was the right sort.”

 

“I told you before, I can take care of myself,” she started to move away.

 

He blocked her path and forced her to look up at him. She didn’t seem to care too much for that. He repressed his inner amusement. No doubt she wasn’t used to it, just as he wasn’t used to a woman only being about three inches shorter than him.

 

“I’m not trying to insult you. You did a real bang-up job on those bikers but the guy I’m talking about is a hell of a lot more dangerous than they ever dreamed of being on their best day.”

 

Her anger faded into confusion. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I know you saw me in the bar, but did you see the guy I was sitting with?” he asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“His name is Peter Manning and I’ve been tracking him for almost five years now.”

 

“Tracking? What are you, some kind of cop?”

 

“Nah, this is personal,” he nearly growled. “Back when I knew him before, he kidnapped the daughter of a friend of mine. She was only twelve years old…by the time we got her back she was…broken inside. She lasted about a week and then she killed herself.”

 

“Oh God,” her face turned white. “Why didn’t the police catch him?”

 

“Lots of reasons, darlin’,” Patch said bitterly. “We were in Madripoor and the cops there were as corrupt as they come. Manning has lots of money and lots of connections. There was never any evidence that tied him to it, and Tina was half-Chinese. Flamin’ cops didn’t care.”

 

“If there was no evidence, how do you know it was him?” she asked, not unreasonably.

 

“I have my ways,” he said evasively. He couldn’t exactly tell her that Tina had reeked of Manning. From the minute they’d found her to the minute they buried her, all he’d been able to smell was the other man. It was as if he’d managed to crawl underneath her skin. “Tonight he got a look at you fighting in the parking lot and his eyes lit up like a freaking Christmas tree. You’re a little old for him but you’re beautiful and you’re strong. That’s what he likes the most…breaking a young girl’s spirit.”

 

“Well, thank you for telling me this,” she started to edge past him. “I’ll be on my guard now and I’m just passing through town anyway. Good night.”

 

“Where are you going?” he asked incredulously.

 

She blinked. “Back to my motel, obviously.”

 

“By yourself – after what I just told you?”

 

“Look Mister…” she started.

 

“You can call me Patch,” he interrupted.

 

She laughed. “Patch? Oh my God, what are you…some kind of pirate?”

 

He flushed angrily, “Look it’s what they call me around here…take it or leave it…Miss?”

 

“Mary,” she supplied, after a pause.

 

“Uh huh, Mary? Right?” he snorted derisively.

 

She arched a defensive eyebrow, “That’s what they call me around here, Mr. Pirate Wannabe.”

 

When she got angry her accent changed, he noticed…softened up like caramel in the sun.

 

“Whatever you say, Miss Southern Belle,” he responded. “How about I give you a ride there? I promise that’s all I’m after here. C’mon now, don’t make me beg. I just hate the thought of something bad happening to you, kid.”

 

Her lips pinched up when he called her a kid, but he couldn’t help that. Hell, she was a kid compared to him for God’s sake. It didn’t mean she wasn’t as luscious as a sweet Georgia peach. Behind the sass, though, he sensed an innocence that just seemed to bring out his protective side.

 

“I already have a dad, and I’m not interested in a big, tough man to protect me,” she said a little petulantly.

 

“Fine, just let me give you a ride and if Manning jumps us, I’ll sit back and enjoy watching you kick Pete’s ass,” he smirked.

 

She looked him over from head to toe and her indecision was readily apparent. He could sense it in her body language, the expression in her eyes, and her scent.

 

“I know I look like the big bad wolf here but you can trust me, Red Riding Hood,” he held up his hand. “Scouts honor.”

 

Her eyebrow rose again, this time skeptically. “I suppose you were a boy scout?” she asked dryly.

 

“Hell no, darlin’,”  he grinned at her. “That’s why you can trust me.”

 

She laughed involuntarily and then raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, fine, you can take me home.”

 

They walked back to the bike and he noticed her regarding it warily.  He mounted quickly and gestured for her to do the same. As she hesitated, he threw his head back and sang, “So Mary climb in. It’s a town full of losers and I’m pulling out of here to win.” It was corny, but he couldn’t resist. Her dark eyes grew wide and without another word she sat behind him, loosely putting her hands at his waist.

 

“Hey, you’ll have to hold on tighter than that,” he said over his shoulder. “Don’t want you to fall off and break your pretty neck. Don’t be scared kid, I won’t bite ya.”

 

“I’m not scared of you,” she shot back indignantly. “I’ve just never ridden a motorcycle before.”

 

He started the bike and chuckled, “Well, that’s great, darlin’. I just love being a woman’s first ride.”

 

He braced himself for the hit that was certain to come. Sure enough her fist impacted with his ribs. She moaned a little and shook her hand.

 

“Ouch, what do you do eat rocks for breakfast?”

 

“Something like that,” he laughed again. “Hold on now.”

 

She was quiet on the ride, only opening her mouth to yell a direction in his ear. He drove her straight to the parking space in front of her door. As they dismounted, he winked at her.

 

“So how was your first ride, Mary? Smooth and powerful?”

 

Rolling her eyes, she responded, “Truthfully I thought it was short and rather rushed…doesn’t quite live up to the Harley reputation.”

 

Damn, he could banter with her for hours. “Well, you’ll have to try again. I’m sure on a better surface you could ride all night.”

 

Unlocking her door, she turned back around. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check on that. Oops, I’m sorry that won’t be possible as I’m leaving town tomorrow. Too bad.”

 

“I can see you’re all broken-hearted,” he chuckled. On a serious note, he added, “You’d better let me check out your room...make sure nothing nasty has stowed away while you’ve been gone.”

 

“Oh no,” she shook her head. “The deal was you’d see me to the door remember, scout?”

 

“Fine,” he grumbled, “but do me a favor, huh? Check out the closet and everything before you go to bed.”

 

“I’ll do that,” she promised. “Good night, Patch. Thanks for the ride and the warning.”

 

“Good night, darlin’,” he echoed, and then turned away as she went inside. He stood there until he heard her turn the deadbolt in her door. Turning to his bike, he headed to the motel office. He’d rent a room of his own here and go back for his truck and trailer. He wanted to stick around to see that she made it out of town safely like she planned.

 

****

 Mary, otherwise known as Mahleah, laughed lightly as she got ready to take a shower. She would certainly have plenty to tell Diana in her next letter. One thing was for sure she’d definitely gotten to polish her flirting skills on this little adventure. In fact she’d learned more than she’d ever wanted to know about pick-up lines – some good, some pathetic.

 

It had been quite a pleasant surprise to discover that men found her more attractive than the boys she was accustomed to meeting. If the last six weeks had proven anything to her, other than the fact that she could definitely take care of herself, it was that the attributes that had gotten her labeled freaky in school were assets in the real world.

 

She frowned suddenly. Perhaps not always assets, if Patch was telling her the truth about this Peter Manning guy. Now she almost wished she hadn’t sold her car to finance this little getaway. Shivering, she told herself that she was catching the nine o’clock bus in the morning and besides she didn’t know if Patch had been telling her the truth. The look in his eyes though, when he told her about the little girl’s death had been heart wrenching. It had been that look more than anything that had persuaded her to take a chance and trust him. Well, that and the fact that he’d started singing “Thunder Road.” How far wrong could you go with a guy that liked The Boss?

 

 As she took her toiletries and pajamas into the bathroom she remembered a different look he’d given her when he’d first seen her in the bar. She shivered again, but in a much more pleasant way. While she’d been hit on quite a lot lately she’d never had someone gaze at her like that before. Normally she hated to be stared at since it brought back memories of people whispering to each other behind her back. When she’d met Patch’s eyes though she’d felt an electric shock run through her. Those hazel eyes were hot and carnal. She’d felt her pulse race in her throat. God, many men lately had sworn to show her a good time. Patch’s gaze guaranteed many things but “good” had little to do with it…more like deliciously wicked.

 

She stepped into the hot water and gave a contented moan. Thank God this place had a decent shower. She ran the bar of soap across her skin still remembering how primal, nearly feral Patch had looked in the bar with his wild, dark hair, his stubble-covered face, and his smoky eyes. Smoke, that reminded her that he was also puffing on a large cigar. Yuck. Seeing the cigar in his hand had made her turn away. Well, that and the fact that she was nowhere near ready for the kind of experience he was silently promising her.

 

Reluctantly, she had avoided temptation and left, only to find that the three drunks had followed her outside. While part of her thought it was sweet that Patch had come to her rescue, most of her had been annoyed. No less a personage than the Highlander himself had tested her and declared her ready to be on her own. Wasn’t that the whole point of his move to Seacouver?

 

Patch’s whole manner had changed outside. While he still flirted with her, his body language didn’t radiate that highly charged sexual vibe she had felt before. Damn, she sighed. Oh well, it was for the best.

 

Stepping out of the shower, she dried off, wrapping a towel around her wet hair, and donned her pajamas grudgingly. Lately she had been curious about sleeping in the nude but so far she hadn’t had the nerve. After all it was only March and it was much colder in the north than it was back in her native Virginia. Plus, she was staying in cheap motels…what if some idiot fell asleep in bed smoking? She preferred not to run outside in the winter weather stark naked if the building caught on fire.

 

Opening the bathroom door to escape the oppressive steam in the air, she was taken aback to see a man standing in the middle of the room. It was the same man Patch had been talking to in the bar. How the hell had he gotten in here? Easy enough, she could hear Amanda scolding her. A cheap motel room is a breeze to break into and it’s not like you put a chair under the door or anything.

 

“What do you want?” she demanded, backing away until she hit the sink behind her. Her feet touched the duffle bag she’d carelessly thrown there earlier.

 

“I would have thought my intentions were fairly obvious, my dear young lady,” he laughed. “I want the two of us to get to know each other better.”

 

“And if I’d rather not?”

 

He pulled a sword out from under his coat. “Then, I’m afraid I’ll have to persuade you otherwise. Please don’t make me use this, as I’m rather good with it.”

 

Oh my God, she thought, trying not to scream. He must be Immortal. What does he want with me? Patch’s voice rang in her ear, “That’s what he likes the most…breaking a young girl’s spirit.”

 

In a quick tug, she pulled the towel out of her hair and threw it over his face then quickly bent for the duffel bag. Due to her haphazard method of unpacking, her Birthday present was lying on top and she grabbed it with relief.

 

When he tossed the towel aside, she was ready for him. “I think you need to leave now,” she announced firmly. “I don’t know you, and I don’t care to know you. If you’re not out of here in the next thirty seconds you will get to know Tora here, a lot more intimately than you’d like.”

 

He frowned for a moment, “Why do you have a sword?” 

 

“That’s my business,” she said coldly, “but to paraphrase your warning I know a tsuba from a seppa.”

 

His face cleared, “Tora, did you say? The last I heard it was in the hands of Duncan MacLeod. Well, well, he must regard you very highly to present you with such a treasure.”

 

“If you know Duncan MacLeod, then you should also know that he taught me everything I know which includes how to kill you,” she tightened her grip on the katana.

 

“We’ll see, little girl,” he laughed and icicles ran down Mahleah’s back. “We’ll see.”

 

That seemed to be his only warning as he brought his blade hurtling toward her. She met him with Tora and the fight was on.

 

*****

 

Patch had barely had time to load his bike into its trailer and walk through his door, when he heard a thunderous crash coming from the direction of Mary’s room. Swearing a blue streak he followed the sounds to stop dead in his tracks for the second time tonight. Mary and Manning were having some kind of duel right here in the parking lot. Glancing in the direction of the motel he saw that the window to her room was smashed.

 

Not really caring if she set the place on fire as long as she escaped Manning’s clutches, Patch quickly looked back at the two fighting. Mary was swinging a Japanese katana, he realized and she was holding her own with the other man. He had spent five years studying under a sensei in Japan and was able to recognize someone who had trained with a master. He had to admit he was impressed. In order to obtain the level of proficiency she showed with a blade, she would have had to start studying as a child. It implied layers of discipline he wouldn’t have ascribed to her before. No wonder she had declined his help earlier. In a fair fight she had a damn good shot at winning. Problem was, it was rare that he had ever seen a fair fight.

 

Confirming his worst fears, Manning slipped a hand into his coat pocket. Mary was struggling to push their crossed blades away from her and so didn’t see this little maneuver. A cold sweat broke out over Patch’s face and he started running as he realized that Manning had pulled out a .22-caliber pistol.

 

*****

 

“Stop,” Mahleah heard someone scream, and then time seemed to go into slow motion. A loud crack echoed through the air and she felt a burning pain in her right shoulder. Her hand opened and Tora fell to the ground. Dazedly she saw Patch come up behind Manning wielding a large knife of some sort. Her vision was blurring, though, so she wasn’t sure if it was one knife or two…it could even be three.

 

Hey doc, how many fingers are you holding up, she thought fuzzily and then things went black.

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

“Is she going to be okay?”

 

“Oh yeah, bullet went through clean…didn’t hit any bones. She’ll live, Patch. Be in a lot of pain for the next few days, though. She lost quite a bit of blood, so she’ll be rather tired for a while.”

 

Mahleah struggled through the haze, but couldn’t summon the strength to open her eyes. Patch’s voice, deep and rumbley but very pleasant, managed to penetrate the fog. She didn’t recognize the other person speaking.

 

“Mary, can you hear me?” Fingers were softly pushing her hair away from her face. “Don’t worry about anything. I’m going to take you someplace safe.”

 

“I doubt she can hear you, right now,” the stranger told him. “Why didn’t you just take her to a hospital?”

 

“With a bullet wound? Too many questions. Besides, while you were fixing her up, I went back for her stuff and the bastard that did this to her was gone. Something screwy is going on around here, and until I get some answers I’m keeping this girl in my sights.”

 

“Well I don’t want to know anymore than I have to, but be careful Patch. They’re calling for about six inches of snow tonight, maybe more in higher elevations.”

 

“Good,” Patch grunted. “Makes it harder to find us.”

 

She pushed against the fog in her mind again and this time must have made a movement that they could see because someone was touching her hand.

 

“Mary?”

 

This was irritating. Why couldn’t he call her by the right name?

 

“Not Mary,” she mumbled groggily. “Mahleah.”

 

“What darlin’?”

 

“Mahleah,” she insisted again, before the fog carried her away.

 

*****

Patch gently laid the sleeping young woman across the truck seat. Someday they needed to invent a pickup with a back seat, but until they did she would have to share the front with him. Jack had warned him that she needed to stretch out as much as possible. He snorted in amusement. How the hell did Jack expect him to stretch a six-foot woman across the truck cab?

 

 He lifted her head and shoulders and slid into the driver’s side, closing the door after him. Carefully, he lowered her head to his thigh and started the truck. Luckily it was an automatic so he wouldn’t need to shift gears often, which left his right hand free to anchor her head so that it wouldn’t bust open on the steering wheel if he hit a bump.

 

Cautiously, he slipped out onto the open road. Mary or Mahleah or whatever the hell her name was seemed to be resting peacefully, at least for now. He was troubled by the lack of a body back at the motel. He’d lost control over his temper with Manning and stabbed the man viciously. He’d been sure that he’d killed him, yet when he went back to tidy up the mess and grab the girl’s things there’d been no sign of the man except some footprints leading to an empty parking spot.  His gut was telling him that there was more to Manning than met the eye.

 

If so, then good ole Pete was going to be gunning for them both. Patch had decided that the best place for them to hide was a cabin that he owned in the mountains. If there really was a snowstorm coming it would make them even harder to track and by the time it had blown over he hoped that the girl would be healed enough to make it back to wherever she came from.

 

Her mouth started moving and he cocked an ear to hear her whisper something he didn’t recognize. It had sounded something like my dear bond, whatever that meant. Jack had warned him that while she was under the influence of the pain medication he had given her she might be a little loopy.

 

He shook his head, looking down at her, “Why couldn’t you go to Florida for Spring Break like a normal college kid?”

 

*****

 

Something smelled divine and it was drawing her hungrily through the fog and its pleasant numbness into a harsher, more disagreeable pain-filled world.

 

“Oh,” she moaned loudly. “God, what happened to me?”

 

“You got shot,” a familiar voice said, coming closer to her.

 

Opening her eyes, she saw Patch sitting down in a chair next to her holding a tray that held some sort of stew. Ah, that was where the wonderful smell was coming from. The problem was the way her right side was aching she didn’t think she’d be able to eat any of it.

 

“Where are we?” she asked.

 

“In the mountains,” he answered. “What’s the last thing you remember, toraneko?”

 

“I’d just finished taking a shower and when I came out of the bathroom your friend was waiting for me,” she winced as her shoulder throbbed. “I asked him to leave and he pulled a sword on me. I threw a towel in his face and grabbed my sword. I ended up knocking him through the window and we were fighting outside in the parking lot. I remember hearing someone scream and a loud noise, but that’s about it.” She frowned.

 

“I took you to a friend of mine to get patched up,” he told her. “He gave me some pills for that ache in your side, but you need to take them with some food. Here, try this,” he helped her sit up and adjusted her pillows so she could lean on them.

 

“It smells wonderful, but I don’t think I could eat it,” she said tiredly.

 

“You lost a lot of blood and the meat in this broth will give you some strength back,” he told her firmly. “Come on, toraneko,” he put the tray in her lap. “Open up.” He fed her a spoonful of stew.

 

She obediently ate it, and then looked at him curiously, “Why are you calling me a tiger cat?”

 

“You speak Japanese,” he noticed. “I suppose that’s not too surprising seeing the way you handle a katana…a tiger-handled katana. Considering the claws you’ve shown tonight, toraneko seems like a good thing to call you, especially considering we’re having some difficulty sorting out what your real name is.”

 

She almost choked on her stew, “What do you mean? You know my name.”

 

“Well, you said before your name was Mary and that’s the name on your driver’s license, but while you were out of it before you instructed me to call you Mahleah, which is also inscribed in a couple of the books you’re carrying around. So, which is it: Mary or Mahleah?”

 

Swallowing another bite of stew, she thought about it but thought why not tell him her real name. Apparently he’d saved her life.

 

“My name is Maire,” she told him. “M-a-i-r-e, not m-a-r-y, and it’s one of my middle names.”

 

“Should have known,” he chuckled in amusement. “Plain old Mary was not going to be good enough for them to name you.”

 

She stiffened indignantly. “What do you mean?”

 

“Parents these days,” he said laconically. “They’re always trying to come up with fancier names for their precious heirs.”

 

He tried to feed her another spoonful of stew and she used her left hand to push it away.

 

“Where do you get off making judgments about me or my parents?” she demanded. “Other than the fact that my first name is Mahleah, my second name is Maire and I speak Japanese what do you really know about me?”

 

“I know that you’re apparently carrying a fake i.d. and that if your accent is anything to judge by you’re a long way from home, Mahleah,” he said, stressing the last word. “You like music, particularly Bruce Springsteen and you know how to take out drunks who refuse to take no for an answer. Someone has been training you for a long time in how to fight and you own an antique Japanese katana, which you’re very damned good at using. Why is that by the way? Oh, and you think my voice is incredibly sexy.”

 

“What?” her cheeks were burning scarlet. She could feel them.

 

“Something else you mumbled while loopy,” he grinned at her. “You said that my voice was so rich that it had layers – the top layer was smooth as honey and the bottom was deep and husky. You weren’t real sure which part you liked best.”

 

“You’re making this up,” she accused, feeling acutely embarrassed.

 

“Nah, tiger,” he said smiling at her. “I could never make something like that up.”

 

“Be that as it may,” she pulled her remaining dignity together and lifted her chin. “You know nothing about my parents or my home life. You’re very perceptive in your observations but your assumptions are pretty off-base.”

 

“So, what’s the truth, then?” he smirked. “You were born with a platinum spoon in your mouth instead of silver?”

 

Her mouth tightened, “My father is Irish-American. My mother was a Scot, not Scottish-American…a Scot, as in from the Old Country. My name is spelled in the traditional way and I happen to be named after my mother’s best friend’s mother. My second middle name is Irene, which is my grandmother’s name.”

 

“Okay, I was wrong about the name thing, but I’m betting you were spoiled rotten as a kid,” his eyes twinkled at her.

 

“My mother died when I was a toddler,” she said flatly. “My father never truly recovered from the shock of her death and became an alcoholic. If it hadn’t been for friends and family I probably wouldn’t have survived childhood because Dad stayed drunk, passed-out or hung-over most of the time.”

 

He closed his eyes briefly and apologized, “I’m sorry, darlin’.  I didn’t mean to offend you.”

 

“My mother had some money, it’s true,” she continued, ignoring the interruption. “It’s in a trust fund that I can’t touch until I finish college. I was taken care of…never lacked for anything but I didn’t get everything I ever wanted wrapped in a big old bow, either. I got an allowance like most kids. If I wanted extra money I had to earn it. Sorry to ruin your delusion, Patch, but I’m not a spoiled little rich kid. I had it better than some and worse than others which can be said about most people, I think.”

 

“You’re right,” he responded. “I’m sorry that I misjudged you. Here, take your pill. It’ll make the pain ease up.”

 

She took the proffered tablet and swallowed it with a drink of water. How odd, she mused. I barely know this man and just spent the last five minutes yelling at him, yet I trust him to give me medication.

 

“What happened to Manning?” she asked, after a minute.

 

He held out another spoon of stew and she took it.

 

“That’s a good question, tiger. Honestly, I thought I killed him, but when I went back for your stuff he was gone. The only tracks were footprints, so it wasn’t like someone dragged him away.” He frowned. “Don’t worry about him. If he comes looking for us, I’ll take care of him.”

 

He didn’t know about Immortals, Mahleah guessed. This was bad. She trusted him with her life, but could she trust him with a secret like this? She’d have to get to know him better first.

 

“What?” he asked, studying her face.

 

“Nothing,” she said quickly, and then blinked in surprise as a yawn overtook her.

 

He chuckled. “Get some rest, darlin’. It’s been a long day for you.”

 

“Yeah, it has,” she murmured, snuggling back down into her pillows. Her eyes started closing automatically, but she struggled to stay awake another minute.

 

“Hey, Patch,” she said drowsily. “Thanks for saving my life.”

 

Blankets were being tucked snugly around her and she felt him brush her hair away from her face. Something soft and warm brushed her forehead, then she heard him answer, “You’re welcome, now go back to sleep, toraneko.”

 

****

 

For the next two days, events followed this pattern. Mahleah slept most of the time, ate, took her antibiotics and pain pills and talked to Patch a little before going back to sleep. He kept a sharp eye out for any sign of intruders around the cabin, but so far the only tracks he’d seen in the fresh snow were made by animals not humans.

 

On the third day, Mahleah became restless. Her pain medication didn’t seem to be lasting as long and she was cranky and bored. Despite his half-hearted threats she refused to stay in bed any longer and wandered the cabin looking for amusement. She found the meager stash of books he’d thrown on a shelf and started thumbing through them.

 

“Moby Dick, All Quiet on the Western Front, A Farewell to Arms, Lord Jim…Absalom, Absalom?” her eyebrows raised in surprise.

 

“Something surprising about that, darlin’?” he asked, a little stiffly.

 

“Just impressed,” she said honestly. “Absalom is one hard read.”

 

She looked like she was reevaluating him. Humph, he thought irritably. So he hadn’t gone to college like one of the rich, pretty boys who no doubt usually fluttered around her like butterflies. It didn’t mean he was ignorant.

 

Her fingers lingered on the last volume. “The Tale of Genji,” she said in amusement, “In the original Japanese, of course.”

 

“Of course,” he replied stoically. “Let’s see what you’re toting around.” He rummaged through the duffle bag he’d found books in previously.

 

“Hey,” she protested.

 

“Fair’s fair, tiger. Aha, what do we have here…a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets, The Age of Innocence, The Handmaid’s Tale…you like Margaret Atwood?”

 

“Yeah,” she crossed her arms defensively. “So?”

 

“I like her too,” he said lightly. “Plus she’s Canadian.”

 

She studied him, puzzled by that observation until she concluded, “And so are you.”

 

“Yep,” he smiled at her, “Got to say though I prefer The Edible Woman to this one.”

 

She groaned and rolled her eyes, “You would.”

 

He chuckled and refrained from pointing out that despite his double entendre both novels were feminist works. “Children of Dune, I don’t know this one.”

 

“It’s the third one in the Dune series,” she said expecting him to understand.

 

He blinked. The reference was escaping him.

 

“Dune: the book by Frank Herbert? It’s probably the most famous sci-fi novel of all time,” this time she was laughing. “You know Margaret Atwood but you don’t know Dune?”

 

“I guess he’s not Canadian,” he retorted.

 

“You should read them some time. They’re all pretty good books. The first one’s the best, but that one has my favorite scene in it,” she told him.

 

“Oh, what’s that,” he asked, curious as to what she would say.

 

She frowned, “It’s kind of sad. There’s this husband and wife and, due to a long story I’m not going to get into, he gets himself killed trying to help her – only to her it seems like a betrayal. She’s been kind of possessed…she has all these voices in her head and she struck a deal with one of them to keep the rest quiet. When she finds out her husband’s dead, she’s furious with him and goes stomping into their bedroom cussing him out. Her bare foot comes down on something sharp and she’s standing there pitching a fit about it when she realizes that it was his belt buckle. That’s when it really hits her that’s he’s really gone and she starts crying. All the voices inside her head wake up and start saying, ‘Who’s that? Who’s crying?’  It gives me chills just thinking about it.”

 

“Sounds pretty powerful,” he said thoughtfully. “All of that rage and sorrow mixed together. Sometimes we get so furious with people we forget how much we love ‘em until they’re not there anymore.”

 

“Yeah,” she agreed in a quiet voice.

 

He picked up the last two paperbacks. “The Virgin in the Garden,” he read, and raised an eyebrow. To his surprise she blushed.

 

“That’s a perfectly respectable novel,” she said quickly. “It’s about a family in England and a love of Sixteenth century literature.”

 

“I didn’t say a word, toraneko,” he said in amusement. “I’m not likely to make fun of the reading habits of someone who’d tackled this…” he pointed to the last book in the pile, James Joyce’s Ulysses. “Don’t tell me…it’s just a little light reading.”

 

“You’re lucky I’ve got a hurt arm, or I’d hit you,” she said, trying not to laugh. “I’m reading it for myself, yeah, but I’m not going to claim it’s a simple book.”

 

“Whew,” he wiped imaginary sweat off his brow. “I was about to think I was in the company of a genius or something.” He started putting the books bag in the back, when he uncovered a traveling chess set. Pulling it out, he inquired, “You like chess?”

 

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you play?”

 

“On occasion,” he replied. “Wanna have a go? It might ease your cabin fever a little.”

 

Her face lightened, and he would swear she was stifling a laugh. “Sure, that’d be great. I was beginning to feel a bit squirrelly.”

 

A couple of moves into the game he figured out why she’d been laughing…she was good…better than good…she was the best chess player he’d ever seen. He was no slouch, but he settled in knowing that he was going to have quite a fight on his hands if he expected to win this match.

 

Trying to distract her he asked, “So, what’s up with the sword fighting and the Japanese?” He turned on a radio.

 

“I told you my dad was barely present, mentally speaking, when I was a kid?” when he nodded she continued. “Well, my mom’s best friend kind of took over and made sure I was okay. His idea of an education is a little eccentric. Between him and his friends I learned all kinds of things that are rather weird.”

 

“Why are you traveling with a katana, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 

“As you pointed out, I’m kind of good with it. Considering I’m traveling by myself it makes sense to bring a weapon along that I’m comfortable with, right?” she inquired.

 

“Makes sense,” he admitted. Her story was distracting, though. Jesus, he’d just screwed up, but hopefully she wouldn’t notice and checkmate him in two moves. “So, an odd education, huh? I’m guessing chess was a part of it, but did you ever learn how to play strip chess?”

 

“Huh?” her mouth dropped open, and he was pleased to see her blushing again.

 

“Strip chess...you know like strip poker,” he grinned at her. “Certain pieces equal certain articles of clothing. Lose one of them, lose the clothes.”

 

“Umm, no,” she said, her face still red. “I’m afraid that I never learned that variation, but then my best teacher was a priest.”

 

He laughed, “Oh, I see. Yeah, I can see how he’d be lacking in a few maneuvers.”

 

Her face hardened, and she retorted, “Oh really. I guess that’s why I’m winning this game. Check and mate.”

 

He groaned, “You got me, tiger. Damn, you play a vicious game.”

 

“Chess is a serious business,” she said primly.

 

“Well, let’s turn to something I’ve got a better shot at,” he reached beside them for a deck of cards. “Ever play poker?”

 

She froze, “I’m sorry, Patch, but I’m not going to play strip poker with you.”

 

“Well now darlin’ that wasn’t what I asked,” he responded. “I asked if you wanted to play regular old poker.” His eyebrows waggled for effect. “We can wait to try the strip kind when you’re really squirrelly.”

 

She groaned but allowed him to deal her a hand of cards. Considering her finesse at chess, he expected her to be quite the whiz at poker as well. He still expected to beat her most hands because he’d been playing it longer and was damn good at it. Surprisingly, he won nearly every game.

 

“It’s too bad we’re not playing for clothes,” he announced with considerable amusement, tapping his fingers to the sounds of Springsteen’s “Candy’s Room” playing on the beat-up old radio perched haphazardly beside them on the table. “You’d be naked already, darlin’. You must have the worst poker face I’ve ever seen.”

 

He noted that she acted alternately pleased and embarrassed when he flirted with her. It was a rather odd response, he thought. A girl with her looks should be accustomed to having male attention. She was young, but she wasn’t that young. He would have expected her to have to knock the boys away with a stick when she was in school. Not that he was complaining. He found her blend of sauciness and innocence quite refreshing.

 

She looked down at her almost non-existent pile of matchsticks. “I’ll raise you all I have left,” she said, “and I’ll…if I lose I’ll recite a poem.”

 

He laughed, “Interesting stakes there, tiger. Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

They both laid their cards down and she groaned, “Not again.”

 

“I’ll give you some time to think on that poem, huh?” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Make it a good one.”

 

She tried to stretch and winced a little.

 

“Still sore?” he asked with concern.

 

“Yeah,” she admitted. “What I wouldn’t give for a nice hot, bath. I don’t know how you can stand to be around me.”

 

He swallowed hard. “I have a tub that I use to bathe in,” he told her. “We can heat some water and you can soak for a little while.”

 

Her eyes grew round and excited. “Really? That would be wonderful.” Then she looked around and realized the problem. “Oh, where would...I mean could you…” she stopped, flustered. It was adorable, he thought.

 

“I’ll rig you a curtain so you can have some privacy, toraneko,” he said gently.

 

“Thanks, Patch,” she said gratefully.

 

*****

 

Mahleah sighed blissfully in the steam coming from the hot water. It felt so good to be clean. Well, as clean as she could get considering her wounded shoulder. Patch had been very considerate, even volunteering to go outside while she was bathing. While, it was a sweet gesture she saw no reason for him to freeze to death in the snow to preserve her modesty. Besides, he had rigged up a curtain as promised.

 

The only thing bugging her now was that she couldn’t quite get to all of her hair. She was right-handed and it had been awkward enough trying to wash her body with her left arm. The maneuvering she had attempted to get at her scalp was nothing less than contortions and they were aggravating the pain coming from her other side. She realized that there was only one way that she’d be able to get clean hair tonight. Was she ready for the consequences?

 

Licking her lips, she called out, “Patch, I could use some help.”

 

She heard him move in front of the curtain.

 

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked.

 

Taking a deep breath, she replied, “I can’t reach my hair. Could you help me, please?”

 

He stood still for a long moment before asking, “Are you sure, toraneko? I’m only asking ‘cause you seem to get embarrassed if I just flirt with you.”

 

“I’d rather be embarrassed and have clean hair,” she told him firmly.

 

She met his eyes as he came around to her side of the curtain. She had crossed her arms over her breasts and bent her legs up in front of her chest. While she needed his help, she wasn’t trying to blatantly seduce him and she wanted him to know it.

 

He crossed behind her and said huskily, “Scoot forward and lean your head back.”

 

Following his instructions, she was rewarded by a gush of warm water pouring over her head. His long fingers ran through the strands of hair dunking the longest parts in the tub, before pouring more over her again. She could smell her peach shampoo when he opened it and then his hands were back in her hair again, gently massaging her scalp. Her breath caught in her chest. She hadn’t had a man wash her hair since she was a little girl and this certainly felt different.

 

The slow, circular patterns his fingers drew across the nape of her neck made her shiver. He paused for a moment.

 

“Are you cold?” he asked.

 

“No,” she said, and was surprised to hear how low her voice had gotten. “I’m fine.”

 

He kept going, thoroughly and methodically, making sure to get every inch of every strand. Mahleah felt herself melting into the tub. Her head was tingling from the roots of her hair on down and she barely noticed when her arms began to slide away from her chest.

 

Patch obviously noticed. “Would this be a good time to ask for that poem?” he asked, and she noticed that his voice had gotten huskier as well. She bit her lip.

 

“Why not?” she murmured. Without thinking very hard, she recited:

 

“We come now to the space which is boy-shaped.

It has always been there, filled or unfilled.

Come ride with me on my motor-cycle, we’ll do

the whole mile-square by moonlight and we rode,

I clinging to that boy shape with all the girl

shape I was, and the moon made shadows of us

on the corn rows, and we scared ourselves on

the corners, and laughed as loud as we dared

and swung on home before the night could get us.

In the wane of that same moon, he raced the mile alone

and struck an old car parked without its lights

and the night got him, and the moon had to shine

a great many nights before I was sure it wouldn’t

get me too. We had been little kids together,

sitting flat out in my sand box, making pies.

We practiced kissing in the alley behind his house

and mine. I can still hear the little lights

in his voice that made my nipples stand out straight.”

 

Behind her, his breath was coming faster, as was hers. He poured water over her hair, rinsing it of its frothy layer of suds, and worked his strong fingers through it ensuring the soap was gone.

 

“A little sadder than I expected,” he finally said, “but beautiful. I especially liked the last part.”

 

“That’s what made me think of it,” she whispered, not sure he could even hear her. “There are little lights in your voice…”

 

He cupped her face and turned it to the side and she realized that her hands had slipped away from her body and into the water.

 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed and then his lips were brushing hers ever so lightly.

 

She made a small needy sound and the pressure grew harder, hotter. His tongue slid into her mouth and danced along the edge of her own. The kiss grew deeper, wetter as their heads dipped to get more access. She raised her arms to run her fingers through his hair when she felt a stab of pain.

 

“Ow,” she cried, and he quickly let her go.

 

“What happened?” he asked.

 

“I think it’s this angle,” she said sheepishly. “My side doesn’t like it too much.”

 

He pulled back to sit on the floor and smiled, but the mood was broken.

 

“Well, c’mon, darlin’,” he finally said. “Let’s get you out of there and give you some pills.”

 

He darted back behind the curtain while she stepped out of the tub and dried herself off. Shivering, she quickly donned some clothes she had laid out beforehand. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself. God, she’d been tempted to pull him into the tub with her. She was treading on uncharted territory and the dangerous path was quickly crumbling under her feet.

 

Finally, she left the safety of the curtain. Patch was waiting for her with her pills.

 

“Time to go back to bed,” he announced and when she blushed again, he added, “Don’t worry, tiger…I’m in no hurry. Much as I might be tempted, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she mumbled low enough that she doubted he could hear her.

 

He grinned, “Here’s your pills.”

 

She took them, and then studied him for a long time. “Considering you’ve seen me naked, don’t you think you could trust me with your real name,” she ventured.

 

His hazel eyes gleamed and he took her free hand and kissed it. “My name’s Logan, toraneko.”

 

*****

 

Hold me closer, tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today

 

As Angel watched her, Mahleah’s face eased into a small, secretive Mona Lisa smile. Her eyes were dreamy and far away. He wondered what she was remembering.

 

He nudged her shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts,” he offered.

 

She blinked and then turned to him, still smiling gently. “A woman has to keep a few secrets or she loses her mystery,” she said lightly.

 

“As long as they’re pleasant memories,” he replied.

 

Her smile grew dazzling for a split-second, “The best.”

 

Reaching over he closed the book in her lap. “Then you won’t need to punish yourself with Dante anymore.”

 

The dark eyes lost their glow as they came crashing back to reality. Swallowing, he decided to finally ask, “Mahleah, what happened that night?”

 

She stared at him wordlessly, refusing to speak.

 

It’s too soon, he guessed. “If you decide you need to talk to someone, I’m here. Trust me, I’m the last person in the world who would ever feel the right to judge you, but I think it goes beyond that, doesn’t it? He did something to you.”

 

Again, his reply was silence. He reached out to take her hand, and she instinctively pulled away again.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears of frustration in her eyes. She rose, and clutching The Divine Comedy to her chest, paced the room. He sat back and watched her, waiting to see what would happen.

 

“He hit me with a chair,” she finally said, with her back to him. “It knocked me out and when I came to, he was on top of me with a knife. He was so big…I couldn’t push him away.” Her body was shaking with the effort to get the words out. “Finally, I pulled him toward me and stuck the knife in my side so I could get to my own knife down in my boot. It got him off-balance, so I could roll him over and pin his hands. The rest you know.”

 

He suspected that there was still more that she wasn’t telling him, but at least it was a start. He got up and walked carefully behind her, lightly putting a hand on her shoulders. She stiffened, but kept her place and let him touch her.

 

“Feel any better?” he asked.

 

She turned and looked at him. “Yeah, I do,” she said, mild surprise in her voice. Her right hand rose hesitantly and after several attempts made it to his cheek, which she cupped gently.

 

“Thank you for everything, Angel,” she told him. Looking down at the book tucked in her left arm, she handed it back to him.

 

“You’re right, I don’t need it anymore,” she said as a light caught in her eyes. “I nearly forgot I have a new novel to read.”

 

Quizzically, he watched as she walked over to her bags and pulled out a hardback novel. Coming closer, he read the title, The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. Obviously it held some significance for her because her lips curled upward and her other hand tugged at her cross.

 

“Sometimes a girl needs a little tender loving care and sometimes she needs a firm kick in the ass,” she looked him in the eye. “It’s good when you find someone that’s capable of both.”

 

“All part of the job description, ma’am,” he joked. “I believe someone once proclaimed me her guardian angel.”

 

“That’s right, I did,” she agreed. “It’s the damnedest thing…I seem to have been blessed with several.”

 

With that parting remark, she settled into the couch with her book. Angel sat in a chair next to her.

 

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he protested.

 

“What?” she asked in bewilderment.

 

“You have to share,” he explained.

 

She chuckled and said, “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

 

From his vantage point, he saw that on the otherwise pristine white page facing the cover was some sort of inscription. He couldn’t make out anything but the signature, which consisted of a large letter ‘L.’

 

“Part one,” Mahleah read. “The Bridge. ‘Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge…’”

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

Despite the relief Mahleah seemed to have taken in telling Angel about what had happened she still suffered from nightmares nearly every night. In fact, with Diana gone the ferocity of the dreams seemed to have increased. Angel found himself staying awake so that he would hear her earliest sounds of distress. As she fought an invisible attacker, he would attempt to either wake or comfort her. There were times when, despite his best efforts, he could not rouse her. On those occasions, he discovered that the fastest way to alleviate her terror was to curl around her and stroke her back and hair while making low, comforting noises in her ear.

While he tried to leave the bed before she woke up, he wasn’t always successful. A steady progression of near sleepless nights sapped his strength and a couple of times she rose before him. He would find her quietly sipping a cup of tea in the kitchen, and she would be unable to meet his eyes.

She still tended to pull away or stiffen if he touched her, but he persisted. In little ways, every day, he made sure to come into contact with her. Unless she were to act genuinely afraid of him or request him to stop he planned to continue to remind her that not only was all touch not bad but that it was one of the great joys of life.

It was a nicely ironic twist, he ruminated, that Mahleah had commented on his perceived ability to charm and seduce. In the past he had used that gift for selfish purposes but now he intended to use all of the charisma he possessed, any skill or talent that his sordid history had provided to reawaken the sensuality that she had managed to bury so completely. While his curse precluded him from ever experiencing perfect happiness again, he shuddered to think that Mahleah might cut herself off from the physical pleasures that her earthy nature delighted in from misplaced shame or guilt…or fear.

Now, he sat in his office watching Cordelia ignore the files on her desk and Wesley and Diana softly conversing. He smiled. The new Immortal and the ex-Watcher were good for each other. He suspected that Wesley identified with Diana’s wretched childhood and turbulent relationship with her father. Like Mahleah, Diana was not eager to have people, especially men, in her personal space. Wesley hadn’t broken that barrier but she visibly relaxed in his presence.

Cordelia was watching them too. When their eyes met, she smirked cheekily at him, then rose and strode into his office.

“One of our girls is doing much better on the letting-people-in front,” she commented, “How are you faring with the other?”

“It’s slow going,” he confessed. “She’s opened up a little, but I can feel that she still has things she’s repressing.”

Cordelia snorted, “You mean like her fashion sense? She went from Dominatrix Queen in black leather to sweet and innocent frump in Laura Ashley.”

“I don’t care what kind of clothes she wears, Cordy,” he muttered.

“Well, there’s your first mistake,” she said cheerfully. “There’s nothing that’ll tell you more about what’s going on inside a woman’s head than what she’s wearing.”

He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow challengingly, “So, what’s her wardrobe saying these days?”

“She wants to be someone she’s not,” Cordelia told him bluntly. “From what I can gather she’s usually extroverted…the life of the party. Right now, she’s trying to be the wallflower. She doesn’t want to be noticed. She’s wearing these flowered prints and long skirts because she wants to feel girlish, pure…untouched by recent events.”

“In other words, she’s repressing,” he concluded, “Just like I said five minutes ago. I didn’t have to look at her clothes to know that, Cordelia. My question is how do I get her to face what’s happened so that she can finally move beyond it?”

She shrugged. “You’re the expert brooder, you tell me. Where is she now, by the way?”

“Out with Joe,” he replied.

“That’s good,” she nodded. “She needs to get out more.”

“True,” he said musingly. “Maybe that would help her. I could take her out somewhere fun, hopefully get her to lower her guard and then ask her about that night.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, then frowned. “Wait a minute; you said take her somewhere fun. Do you even know what that word means?”

He glowered at her. “I think I have a passing acquaintance with the word.”

“Oh, I don’t mean whatever passed for entertainment back in 1776,” she scoffed. Grabbing a newspaper she thumbed through it quickly. “I think I saw something earlier….yeah, here it is…this is perfect.” She held the paper up to him.

“A double feature at the movies,” he looked at her dubiously. The last time he had taken a woman to the movies had been a rather hair-raising experience.

“Not just any two movies, you big dope,” she said in exasperation. “They’re part of the Shakespeare festival: Shakespeare in Love and Ten Things I Hate About You. Isn’t Mahleah nuts about Shakespeare? She’d love it.”

He re-examined the paper with interest. Cordelia was right. Mahleah did have a passion for the Bard. Plus, the movies would be an activity held at night, which was a bonus for him.

“This is great, Cordy. Thanks, I owe you one,” he said gratefully.

She raised her eyebrows, “Well, you could always give me a raise.”

*****

Mahleah looked down at her dress, wishing that Angel had a full-length mirror so that she could see how it looked. It was very difficult to do anything with one’s hair other than pull it back without a reflection. She absently wondered how on earth Angel managed to spike his hair every day.

It had been a pleasant surprise when he asked her to go to the movies with him. She’d stared at him closely and then inquired if he was asking her for a date.

He’d looked a bit startled by the question, and then gave her his trademark half-smile. “Yes, I guess I am,” he replied.

Her hands fluttered nervously over her hair. God, she was going on a date with a man she knew was a vampire. Part of her thought she was completely out of her mind. After all, she was having nightmares every night that usually featured the other vampire she’d dated, Kenneth. She knew that Angel was nothing like her former attacker. If he’d wanted to drain her, he’d had plenty of opportunities. A few times she’d woken to find herself entangled in his arms and she suspected that when she woke up alone it was merely because he’d already risen. Still, she couldn’t help the tremor in her hands.

In the living area, she could hear the sounds of a very old record player softly humming a waltz. She smiled. Leave it to a man from the eighteenth century to prefer such a traditional way of playing music. The melody was infectious and she found herself trying to hum it under her breath.

Walking out, she was surprised to see Wesley and not Angel sorting through the stack of phonograph records.

“Oh,” she said. “Where’s Angel?”

“Upstairs, leaving some last minute instructions with Cordelia,” Wesley replied. He smiled at her. “You look lovely this evening, Mahleah.”

“Thank you,” she said. “What’s that you’re playing…something by Strauss?”

“Yes,” he told her. “Angel has a strange sense of humor. It’s the ‘Vienna Blood Waltz.’”

She laughed, “How appropriate.”

“It’s quite a bubbly melody,” he commented, “Almost effervescent for something with such a morbid title.”

She realized she was swaying a bit to the rhythm. He was watching her with interest as she stopped. Walking up to her, he made an elaborate bow and asked, “Might I have the pleasure of a dance, my lady?”

Biting her lip, uncertainly, Mahleah looked him in the eye. He was relaxed, even a little playful in his own way. Oh hell, she decided, Diana seems to trust him.

“Of course, my kind sir,” she flashed him a bit of a smile, along with a curtsy. He took her hand, wrapped an arm around her waist and away they went around the room. It had been a very long time since she had waltzed with anyone. 1-2-3, 1-2-3 the steps came back to her easily. Wesley was a good partner. He led firmly but didn’t hold her too closely.

“Oops,” she laughed, as they bumped a chair.

1-2-3, 1-2-3 around and around they sailed. Mahleah’s eyes gleamed until she looked up at the stairs and saw Diana standing there. There was a small look of hurt in those blue eyes that no one but her best friend would have recognized. She likes him, Mahleah realized, more than she knows.

As they danced by the stairs, Mahleah pulled away and grabbed Diana. “Your turn,” she said firmly.

“I can’t do that,” the dark-haired woman panicked.

 

“Yes, you can. It’s easy. Just follow his lead.”

Wesley smiled gently at Diana, who hesitantly took his proffered hand. They started dancing together.

“They look good together,” a voice behind her remarked.

Mahleah turned to see Angel.

“Yeah, they do,” she agreed.

“Sorry, I wasn’t down here earlier, but there was something I had to do,” he apologized.

“That’s okay, Wesley told me you had to talk to Cordelia,” she shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“I did,” he nodded, “but that wasn’t all. In my time it was always customary to present a lady with a small token of your esteem before escorting her for the evening. I had to make sure my token arrived in time.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” she protested.

“I know you modern women of the twentieth century say that, but I hope you’ll like this anyway,” he presented her with a large worn leather case.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “This can’t be what I think it is.” Quickly unzipping the case, she uncovered an acoustic guitar. She ran her fingers reverently across the strings and down to the faded signature on the body.

 

“Angel, where did you find this?” she asked in shock.

“It wasn’t easy, but I have my ways,” he chuckled. “You like it then?”

“Like it? Angel, do you have any idea what this guitar means to me?” her eyes were wet.

He reached out and gently brushed the dampness off her wet lashes. “I’ve an idea,” he said softly. “Why don’t you try it out?”

“I can’t,” she stammered. “I haven’t played this since…”

“Since Kevin died,” he finished. “This is the guitar your father gave you when he started teaching you to play and you gave it to your boyfriend because he loved Jimmy Page.” He pointed to the autograph. “Kevin’s parents gave it back to you after his funeral. Don’t you think he would want you to enjoy it? He was a musician. He would never want such a fine instrument to become an unused monument to his death, would he?”

“No,” she agreed, as her fingers still caressed the guitar longingly. She closed her eyes, “I still can’t. Not yet.” Her eyes opened and she leaned forward to kiss Angel very lightly on the cheek, “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he replied. Perhaps this evening was getting off to a good start.

 

****

 

“I really believe you should rethink your accommodations, Diana,” Wesley told the new Immortal with all sincerity. “You’re making excellent progress in your training but I fear what might happen if you should encounter a head hunter before you’re ready.”

 

“I know,” she replied with a wisp of a smile. “Believe me, I appreciate your concern, Wes, but this is something I have to do.”

 

“Why?” he asked bluntly. “Is it because of Mahleah?”

 

“Yes…no…sort of,” she stammered. “You remember when I said that Mahleah had decided she couldn’t get back together with Mac because she needed to learn to be the star of her own drama? Well, that’s sort of what I need to do.”

 

He raised an eyebrow, “As I recall, you were very skeptical about the benefits of her course of action.”

 

Her voice grew sharp as she replied, “Duncan MacLeod is the best man I’ve ever met in my life. He’s also smart, well-off and gorgeous. On top of it all he absolutely adores Mahleah – always has and always will. What the hell more does she want? If she lives to be as old as Methuselah she’ll never find a better deal, so you tell me why she’s kicking him out of bed.”

 

Choosing his words carefully he gently said, “Perhaps she’s just not as ready to settle down as you are. You both have long lives ahead of you, something you’re only now realizing.”

 

“True,” she agreed with a sigh. “That’s what I was getting at before…I’ve got a chance to start all over again and I want to make the most of it. Like you said, she’s ahead of me once again.”

 

“Why is there such a fierce competition between the two of you?” he asked curiously.

 

She laughed in surprise, “There’s not.”

 

“But…” he began to protest.

 

“Wes, Mahleah has never tried to compete with me in anything. It would never even occur to her.” Diana frowned in thought. “The closest we ever truly came to competing against each other was our senior year, over who would be valedictorian. Our grade point averages were very close but Mahleah had a slight edge over me. Our principal hated her though, especially after she humiliated him in the talent show a few years before, and he refused to make her valedictorian.”

 

“How could he get by with that?” Wesley was intrigued.

 

“Like I said, our grades were really close but Mahleah had gotten in trouble several times through the years. They even tried to expel her once and he argued that it would be a disgrace to reward a juvenile delinquent.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“David, Mahleah’s father, was livid and so was Mac. They hired a lawyer who was fighting the school system over the whole thing when Mahleah asked them to drop it.”

 

“Why?” he was startled. It seemed completely out of character for Mahleah to just give up.

 

Large blue eyes stared at him solemnly. “She decided that being valedictorian didn’t mean that much to her, but she knew it would mean everything to me. She had a trust fund waiting to pay her college tuition but I needed the best scholarship that I could get.”

 

“That was very generous,” he said admiringly.

 

“Yes,” she said with her voice laced with bitterness. “It was completely noble, honorable, unselfish and self-sacrificing…totally in character, and I’ve never forgiven her for it.”

 

His face must have reflected his confusion because she hesitantly explained, “How would you feel about receiving an honor not because you had earned it but because someone else decided it was beneath her?”

 

“Surely not beneath her?” he queried. “Beneath her,” seemed to indicate an elitism that he had never detected in Mahleah.

 

“Not in a snobby kind of way, but yeah, it was beneath her…not important in her scope of things. I know I really shouldn’t resent her for it because in her mind it was the least she could do for one of the people she loved. Mahleah was different that last year of high school. She’d always acted older than the rest of us but she could have been twenty five instead of seventeen.” She shrugged. “She was quieter than usual because she was still grieving over Kevin, but the truth is I don’t think she’d been a girl for a long time. She grew up pretty fast after Duncan moved to Seacouver.”

 

“Not surprising considering all of the havoc she created,” he observed, remembering hiding in the shadows, listening to the gossip floating out of his father’s office during that time. His father was adamant about Wesley following family tradition and becoming a Watcher but he didn’t consider him good enough for the Immortal side of the council. Just another way he had failed to live up to paternal expectations. “As I recall there was some discussion about whether the Watchers should inform MacLeod where she was, anonymously of course. What exactly did happen to her during her little road trip? I don’t think my father ever completely found out.” A state of affairs which had enraged the older man -- before the dust had settled four Watcchers had quit or been fired over the incident.

 

“I don’t know,” Diana said flatly.

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

“No,” she answered. “When she first left she sent me postcards and letters telling me all about the places she was passing through and all the fun she was having, but those last two weeks….nothing.”

 

“Surely when she returned…”

 

“Nothing,” Diana repeated. “She wouldn’t tell anyone what happened. Duncan was the one that found her so he knew a little more than the rest of us, but I don’t think even he knew the full story. I caught him giving her strange looks several times when they got back.”

 

“Why do you think she wouldn’t tell you? I mean, you’re her best friend,” he pondered.

 

She smiled a little sadly, “Technically, yeah I am. Personally, I find it stranger that she didn’t tell Duncan. He really is her best friend, amongst other things. I’ve always thought she must have made a promise to someone.”

 

Belatedly Wesley realized that once again a conversation that had started out centering on Diana had turned to Mahleah’s history. Considering Diana’s feelings on the matter he regretted getting sidetracked.

 

“So, you were saying earlier that you need to be alone out of a need to prove yourself in some way?” he deliberately rerouted their conversation back to its original purpose.

 

“I know I can’t be an Immortal like Mahleah or Duncan,” Diana said quietly. “I have to figure out how to do this my way for once, instead of competing and comparing myself to other people. It’s time to grow up and take the chance to find out who I am.”

 

He took her hand in his, “While I look forward to meeting that person, I would thoroughly enjoy it if you allowed me to share the journey with you.”

 

Her eyes grew large and her breath caught.

 

“I don’t know, Wesley,” she said doubtfully. “I’ve got so much emotional baggage I have to sort through.”

 

“You do,” he agreed pleasantly, “but you’re not the only one. I don’t expect either of us to solve things overnight, but it might be good if we work through it together.”

 

“I don’t know how to trust anymore,” she warned him.

 

“Then we’ll take it a step at a time,” he replied. Slowly enough that she could have stopped him if she wanted, he pulled her into his arms and rested his chin upon her head.  Ignoring the tension thrumming through her body, he kept his hands lightly rubbing her back until finally with a shudder she relaxed and returned his hug.

 

*****

 

After watching the first movie, Ten Things I Hate About You, Mahleah was in a very good mood. They talked easily and even laughed a few times while walking around the area surrounding the theatre waiting for the second movie to start. Angel was relieved to discover that despite the intimate atmosphere she was more open and lighthearted than he’d ever seen her in this incarnation. The outdoor setting helped, he thought, glad to have her out of the claustrophobic confines of his apartment. Mahleah was even relaxed enough to take his arm as they were walking and hadn’t flinched when he placed a hand on her back to guide her through the doorway earlier. He was seriously considering what kind of present he could give Cordelia, in lieu of a raise, for all of her help.

 

Shakespeare in Love changed things. While, like the first film, it was romantic and even comic in places – Angel particularly enjoyed the jokes that only a person literate in the history and literature of the Renaissance would understand, such as the barbs thrown at young John Webster who wanted plays to be bloody and dramatic – overall, the tone was much more serious than the frothy fun of the previous movie. Like him, Mahleah seemed to enjoy herself, laughing at the proper places and appearing to be appropriately dewy-eyed at the sadder scenes.

 

As they left the theatre once again, the street lights caught her face and he was puzzled by the expression there. Dreamy or contemplative, he couldn’t tell. Deciding that travel by car would not be conducive to encouraging her to talk, he steered them away from the parking lot and continued down the sidewalk. About a block and a half away was a piazza with a small fountain which was an ideal spot for serious conversation under the stars.

 

“So,” he ventured, breaking the silence between them. “Did you like it – the last movie, I mean.”

 

“Very much,” she said softly.

 

“You’ve been so quiet that I wondered.”

 

She smiled slightly. “I was just thinking about things.”

 

“What things?” he encouraged.

 

“I guess you’d say the themes of the movie,” she said. “Do you think it’s right: passion lasts but a stolen season and then gets tucked away among our fond remembrances…the stuff that fuels our dreams and inspires our highest aspirations but is as ephemeral as the mist?”

 

That was quite poetic and rather depressing. He quickly countered, “Do you mean passion or love?”

 

She shrugged. “There’s a difference?”

 

He stopped in his tracks, and turned her to face him. “I hope you’re kidding,” he told her.

 

“No,” she responded. “I don’t know that I’ve ever felt a difference between the two.”

 

He considered that for a moment before replying, “Maybe you’ve been lucky enough to have loved everyone you’ve been passionate with, but I haven’t.”

 

“Maybe I’ve never been in love at all,” she suggested. “Maybe I don’t know what it feels like so I can’t distinguish between it and anything else.”

 

“I find that hard to believe,” he said softly. “Are you saying that you never loved Kevin?”

 

“I was seventeen. How can you know what love is at seventeen?” she asked mildly.

 

He flinched.

 

“Oh, Angel, I’m sorry,” she exclaimed, suddenly remembering how significant the love of a seventeen-year-old girl had been in his life.

 

Swallowing, he said, “There’s your answer. Passion is a strong emotion but not that rare. Love is perfect happiness but it can cost you your soul.”

 

“And when you find the two of them together?” she asked him.

 

He looked into her dark eyes and said, “You suddenly discover that life, even a thrice-damned eternal life, is suddenly worth living. Wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“Hadn’t realized I was thrice-damned,” she feebly joked. When he stood still, patiently waiting for her reply she sighed. They both knew he was talking about Duncan MacLeod. “Okay, yes I admit it was complete and utter bliss but it never lasts, does it?”

 

She walked away rapidly towards the piazza. He followed, catching up when she sat down on a bench. Gingerly he settled beside her, shooting her a sideways glance.

 

“Are you saying that love doesn’t last?”

 

She gestured around them. “I think that’s pretty self-evident, isn’t it?”

 

“No,” he disagreed.

 

“Angel, if love lasted then why’d my fiancé dump me? Why did Mac leave me? Why are you and Buffy not together?” she challenged.

 

“Your fiancé wasn’t offered a chance to know the real you,” he pointed out. “I wouldn’t describe that as true love.” His throat tightened as he added, “Buffy and I…it has nothing to do with how much I love her. If circumstances were different…” he cut off the hint of longing in his voice. “But they aren’t and she’s moved on.”

 

“Which just goes to prove my point,” she said bitterly. “Love doesn’t last, how could it? The deck is stacked against it from the beginning. Like the Bard says it’s crossed by enemies, fate, war, death, misunderstandings, or cosmic disasters. Why do we bother?”

 

Turning to look at her, he took her chin in his hand, “Because it’s what makes us the most human, helps us feel alive. I don’t think you have to be a vampire to appreciate that experience.”

 

“No,” she agreed quietly. “It just hurts so much sometimes.”

 

“I know,” he answered sincerely. “But I honestly believe that sometimes love wins…after you overcome all of those obstacles.”

 

She looked at him searchingly. “How can you be so sure?”

 

He smiled a little. “I met a woman once, an Immortal, actually and she had spent well over a thousand years without her lover. She’d started to doubt that she’d ever feel the same way about him if they were ever reunited.”

 

“What happened?” she asked, seemingly intrigued.

 

“She fell in love with him all over again,” he smirked, remembering Mahleah MacLeod’s volatile reconciliation with Duncan. Returning his attention to the young woman in front of him he concluded, “So you see, love does last. You just have to be patient and have hope.”

 

She pulled away, “What if you don’t deserve hope or love?”

 

“Hey,” he said a bit more sharply than he intended. “Look at me. Look at me, Mahleah.” He was tempted to grab her forcefully and shake some sense into her, but that would only frighten her. “You deserve love…don’t you ever think you don’t. The stunts you’ve pulled recently weren’t nice, but damn it they were nothing compared to the things I did in the past.”

 

She was shaking her head. “No, Angel, you’re not to blame for the things that happened when you didn’t have a soul. I don’t have that excuse. I’m dirty, ugly…used…”

 

Not about to argue the finer shades of his conscience at the moment, he softened his tone, “I was pretty much useless before I became a vampire but leaving that aside….Mahleah why do you feel ugly? You’re so beautiful.”

 

She pulled away from him with a cry of outrage, “God, no I’m not. Beautiful, what the hell does that mean anyway? As far as I can tell, it just means I’m some kind of genetic freak. How is that anything worthwhile? Beauty is as beauty does, I’ve always heard. By that standard I’m lacking.”

 

“Not from where I’m standing,” he said firmly. “I wasn’t referring to your appearance, appealing as it may be. I meant your soul and it’s not lacking anything as far as I’m concerned. Battered and weary as it is, your soul is beautiful.”

 

“No, it isn’t,” she cried in distress. Her whole body was trembling. “It can’t be. I hurt people…deliberately. I wanted them to hurt me so I could strike back. I longed for physical pain because what I was feeling inside hurt so much worse. God, I practically begged for abuse and I found it.”

 

Straddling the bench, he gently pulled her closer to him. “What happened that night? I know you haven’t told me everything, Mahleah. What did he do to you?”

 

She bit her lip, shaking her head violently. One fat tear leaked from the corner of her eye and rolled forlornly down her cheek. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t…I can’t….”

 

“Ssh,” he pulled her close to his chest and rocked her. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. It’s okay, you can tell me.”

 

She started stuttering, “He bit me…hard…like, like Kenneth.” One of her hands cupped protectively over her breast.

 

His arms tightened a little around her and he instinctively pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “What else?”

 

“He…he had his fingers inside me,” this came out in a sob. “God, it hurt so much. No one’s ever touched me like that before…so rough…so full of hate. He nearly raped me, Angel, and I asked for it.”

 

“No,” he said adamantly, “you didn’t.”

 

She raised her wet face up to look him in the eyes. “But I did. I made the choice to go hunting. I chose to provoke him. How can it be his fault if I made him do it?”

 

He hesitated, wanting to make sure he chose his words carefully. “I agree that those were not the best decisions to make and you’ll have to live with that, but that doesn’t absolve him from his actions. He chose to hurt you, to violate you and by doing that he made you hurt him back. Listen to yourself and your choice of words. ‘He nearly raped me.’ If you’d asked for it, you would have wanted rough consensual sex. You didn’t ask for it, you didn’t want him touching you and he chose to do so anyway.”

 

Something he said triggered a flood of tears as she finally lowered the last of her defenses. “It’s okay to feel hurt,” he said tenderly. “Let it all out and let it go.” One hand slowly stroked through her long hair as the other rubbed comforting circles across her back. Her grief was like a quick, violent storm that burst explosively but soon fell away as her energy dwindled.

 

When her sobs diminished into small hiccupping noises, he told her, “You are beautiful because you’re strong and brave, because you are funny and charming, because you’re compassionate and honorable. You’re beautiful because you fight so hard to do the right thing even when the one you’re fighting is yourself. Most of all you’re beautiful because although your soul is tired and bruised it still feels so intensely. There’s so much potential in you, Mahleah. I never want you to doubt that.”

 

Sniffing she raised her head from his chest. “Where do I go from here?” she asked.

 

“You remember how to live,” he said, pushing her hair back off her face. “You remember how to feel and you remember how to be happy.”

 

Hesitantly, he leaned in and brushed his lips lightly over hers. When she leaned into his caress, he applied a little more pressure enjoying the way her lips tasted like strawberry Chap Stick. As her heart rate increased and her breath caught in her throat he pulled away and smiled at her.

 

Her eyes were wide as she said, “I’d almost forgotten.”

 

“What?”

 

“How nice that can be.” She smiled at him and his heart lifted. He’d been out of the dating loop for a really long time but he was reasonably sure that the evening wasn’t supposed to end with his date sobbing uncontrollably all over his shirt. That didn’t change the fact that he wouldn’t have had it go any other way.

 

****

Mahleah lay dazedly across Angel’s bed. Her head was swirling with the cacophony of thoughts rioting through her mind. Emotions that she hadn’t felt in months, if not years, were awakening within her and the unaccustomed feel of them was confusing, and painful. After Duncan had left her, she had closed down and built a thick defensive wall between the world and her heart.  If she were honest she would have to admit that Mark had barely managed to put a dent in that bulwark, but Angel had chipped away at it until now she lay here vulnerable, bleeding inwardly from the wounds that had never properly healed.

 

Anger seared through her belly. She had always hated feeling weak and this was no exception…yet, hadn’t she brought this on herself? She had been on a constant flight from pain for so long now that she had forgotten how to be strong. How could she have let herself fall so far? It was irony at its most splendid that she had been halted in her soul-destroying rampage by a vampire – a monster had saved her from its own doom. Yet, at the memory of Angel’s gentle dark brown eyes she felt ashamed for thinking of him in such derogatory terms.

 

Shame, anger, fear, and oddly, hope clashed within roiling madly through her soul. The two that were colliding the most violently, though, were fear and hope. There were so many things terrifying her: knowledge of her past, trepidation that she might revert back to that savage state of vengeance seeking, the tingle in her lips that she could still feel hours after Angel had kissed her. The last also fanned the flickers of hope that were stirring to life --which was, perhaps, the scariest thing of all. Right now, Angel was just past the dark doorway, sleeping on his couch as usual.

 

She flipped over in the bed agitatedly, her mind in turmoil. Kali used to tell her there were three cures for what ailed her now…what the other Immortal referred to as “The Three F’s”: fleeing, fighting or fu….her mind shied away from the third choice; she didn’t need a lecture on the many reasons why it was not an option. Fleeing seemed like a cowardly way to repay Angel for all of his care and the thought of fighting literally made her queasy. Surely there was another way of releasing the pent-up energy making her restless and miserable?

 

Opening her eyes, she sighed and glanced around the room. One of Angel’s many thoughtful gestures had included having a night-light of sorts for her in case she was troubled by a nightmare. In its dim reflected glow she saw her gift from earlier in the evening and pushed herself up in bed.

 

If “The Three F’s” were all ruled out, that still left her with music. Or, did it? Her muse had seemed to desert her long ago in Paris. Mark had been unable to rekindle it and when she attempted to sing a few notes weeks ago they had been flat and discordant. If she tried again with the same result it would be devastating. Maybe it would be less painful not to try; she could go on pretending in her mind that nothing had happened to her voice.

 

Her gaze unconsciously turned toward the open doorway and the couch beyond once again. It would be nice if she could somehow thank her host for all of his generosity. Would he be able to understand how important a gesture this was for her?

 

She rose quietly from the bed and walked over to the guitar gazing at it longingly. There was so much history wrapped up in its frame. Bending down she traced the strings lovingly and the autograph Kevin had prized so highly. Her father had always said that although she would never be a great musician, he’d be damned if she wasn’t a competent one.  Right now, she’d cling gratefully to that competence.

 

Picking the instrument up carefully, she walked as silently as possible into the next room and settled in the floor beside the sleeping vampire. Her fingers paused over the strings for a full minute before descending to pluck the first chord. As Angel’s eyes fluttered open, she opened her mouth and started to sing determined to follow through regardless of how horrible she sounded.

 

The runway rushed up at him as he felt the wheels touch down

He stood out on the blacktop, and took a taxi into town

He got off down at Main Street and went into a local bar

Bought a drink and found a seat in a corner in the dark

She called up her mama to make sure the kids were outta the house

She checked herself out in the dining room mirror,

And undid an extra button on her blouse

He felt her lyin’ next to him and the clock said 4 am

He was starin’ at the ceilin’…he couldn’t move his hands.

 

Her voice creaked a bit at first, rough and a little harsh from the late hour and the lack of practice. Resolutely she pushed on, intent in gaining the only release left to her and wanting to share it with Angel. His eyes were wide and deep in the dim light, encouragement and wonder sketched across his face as she reached the chorus.

 

Oh mama, mama, mama come quick.

I’ve got the shakes and I’m gonna be sick.

Throw your arms around me in the cold dark night.

Hey now mama, don’t shut out the light.

 

With the second verse she started gaining a little more confidence and her tones felt less doubtful. Losing herself in his unblinking gaze her fingers grew surer until she no longer had to think about chords or fingering or lyrics…they were all pouring out of her like water from a faucet.

 

Well deep in a dark forest, a forest filled with rain
Beyond a stretch of Maryland pines there's a river without a name
In the cold black water, Johnson Linnier stands
He stares across the lights of the city and dreams of where he's been.

 

By the time she reached the last chorus she had closed her eyes aware only of the weight of his attention and the music spilling so refreshingly from the depths of her soul. Tonight certainly didn’t mark an end to her problems, but for the first time in months she felt like she could take a clear breath. Tears again fell from her closed lids, but instead of feeling weighed down by them she felt incongruously lighter with every drop, every note.  Holding on to the last chord as long as she could, she gradually opened her eyes when she felt Angel’s fingers softly wiping her wet cheeks. It was odd that for such a normally verbose person she could find no words to say, but luckily she was dealing with a man who was accustomed to silence.

 

“Thank you,” he said simply, somehow recognizing the importance of the moment.

 

With a smothered laugh, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Thank you seemed totally inadequate to tell this man who had performed such miracles for her. Yet when you owed some one so much – not the least of which was the saving of your soul and the return of your inspiration, what more could you say?

 

“Thank you,” she echoed. Oh, thank you.

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

 

 

“I never get tired of hearing that,” Joe said, walking into Angel’s office and nodding to the apartment beneath them. Through a connecting air vent faint sounds of humming and snatches of song came floating up to them like bubbles in an aquarium.

 

Angel nodded in complete agreement. After the night they went to the movies Mahleah had been unable to suppress her musical instincts, which had burst through the floodgates of her depression and caused her to be constantly singing. He suspected she didn’t even realize she was doing it most of the time. His lips curled up as he appreciated the release Mahleah had found for her angst, which was much healthier for her mentally than picking fights or seducing strangers. It did make his life much noisier than he was used to, but he was adjusting.

 

“Honestly, I was afraid she’d never sing again,” Joe told him. “I mean, it’s been two years. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to know she’s rediscovered the joy of music again.”

 

Angel’s half-smile disappeared. With his sharper sense of hearing he could make out the words to the song Mahleah was currently singing and it didn’t seem particularly joyful.

 

We live on a mountain, right at the top

There’s a beautiful view from the top of the mountain.

Every morning I walk towards the edge and throw little things off

Like: car parts, bottles and cutlery or whatever I find lying around.

It’s become a habit – a way to start the day.

I go through all this before you wake up,

So I can feel happier to be safe up here with you.

 

“She’s still working through some things,” he said cautiously.

 

Joe shrugged. “She probably will be for a while since she’s been bottling stuff up for a long time now. That’s the great thing about music; it allows you to play around with all of the emotions you don’t want to deal with in real life.”

 

It’s real early morning. No one is awake.

I’m back at my cliff still throwing things off.

I listen to the sounds they make on the way down.

I follow them with my eyes ‘til they crash and

Imagine what my body would sound like slamming against those rocks.

When it lands will my eyes be closed or open?

I go through all this before you wake up,

So I can feel happier to be safe up here with you.

 

“I think she needs more than just singing a little around my office,” Angel speculated. He looked up at Joe. “You have connections, right? Could you get her an audition somewhere?”

 

Joe smiled, “That’s a great idea. I could ask around…see who needs a singer right now. In fact, there’s this new group in town – I know one of the kids in it. His Dad and I go way back. I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Angel leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

 

Joe settled down in one of Angel’s client chairs and hesitated before saying, “There’s something else, Angel. Mahleah’s singing is wonderful. I’m forever grateful to you that you’ve managed to have a breakthrough like that with her, but it also frightens me.”

 

“Why?” Angel asked, his brow furrowing in puzzlement.

 

The Watcher seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I’m a little worried about why she’s singing.”

 

At first Angel had no idea what the man was trying to say, and then he saw the serious look on Joe’s face and the way he seemed to fidget in embarrassment. Light dawned. “Are you asking me whether my intentions are honorable?” he asked with a small chuckle.

 

Joe flushed. “I know you probably think I have no right to pry, but damn it I love that kid like she was my own. I watched her make a huge mistake by getting engaged to Mark and look how that exploded in her face. I don’t know what she ever saw in the guy in the first place – other than the fact that he was nice. He wasn’t her type at all.”

 

“And I am?” Angel asked softly.

 

Scowling, Joe replied, “Tall, dark, handsome, old, Celtic and immortal with serious brooding skills? You could have been poured from a mold. Okay, I grant you being a vampire is a serious defect in her book, but that she’s willing to overlook her misgivings about it says volumes. I just don’t want to see her hurt.”

 

“Neither do I,” Angel said heavily.

 

He was surprised by the warm smile the Watcher gave him. “I know that too, but face it the two of you don’t have the greatest track records in the world.” His face grew more serious. “Let’s not forget the reasons you left Sunnydale.”

 

“I’m not,” Angel stood and began pacing around the office. “I promise Joe, I’m not going to put my soul in jeopardy.”

 

Joe sighed, “It’s not that simple, Angel, and you know it. The boundaries of your curse are very vague: perfect happiness, pure happiness, complete happiness…no one knows for sure. Frankly, I doubt it was just sex that broke the loophole.”

 

“It wasn’t,” Angel agreed in a husky voice. “Everything about that night Buffy and I were together was perfect, not just that we made love. I finally understood how much she loved me, and accepted me despite all my failings. Falling asleep in her arms afterwards -- that was just…”

 

“Yeah,” Joe stood and put a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “I understand. Maybe you can never experience a moment like that again knowing what you do now?”

 

“That wasn’t the only reason I left Sunnydale,” Angel continued. “I couldn’t give Buffy any kind of normal life: children, sunlight, growing old together. She deserved more, and now she’s found that with Riley.”

 

“Mahleah can’t have children either or grow old,” Joe pointed out.

 

“I’m aware of that,” Angel said.

 

“Good,” Joe replied, “Because I’m beginning to think that you’re the best thing that’s happened to her in a long time. My question is how do you feel about her?”

 

“I want to help her,” Angel said firmly. “Any other feelings are irrelevant.”

 

“Feelings are never irrelevant,” Joe scolded, “ask the gypsies.”

 

“Joe, I don’t know, okay?” Angel whirled on him. “I’ve only loved one woman in my entire life. I don’t even know if I’m capable of loving anyone else.”

 

Joe started to go but paused at the doorway before saying, “You’re nearly two hundred years older than me but I’ve learned a number of things in my years as a Watcher. I read about Duncan falling in love many times. I’ve seen him with Amanda and Anne and mourning Tessa. I watched him gradually fall in love with Mahleah. Do you know what it taught me? Every time you open your heart to someone else you increase the amount of love you have to give. No one could ever take Buffy’s place, Angel – not in the world and not in your soul; that kind of love is forever. But there are different kinds, you know. Maybe it’s not soul-defying, doesn’t mean it’s empty. Just think about it, huh? You’ve got a long hard life ahead of you. How lonely it’s going to be if your heart is so narrow that it could only love one person.”

 

Leaving a confused and brooding vampire behind him, he left.

 

****

 

I’m only happy when it rains

I’m only happy when it’s complicated

And though I know you can’t appreciate it

I’m only happy when it rains

 

Dressed in a white t-shirt, worn blue jeans and boots with her hair in a long pony-tail Mahleah was regaining a little of her edge and shocking the hell out of her potential band mates. Joe hadn’t warned her where they were going at lunch today and when he introduced her to the guys she shared the stage with now she was wearing another long, floral-print dress. They’d taken one look at her and told Joe that they weren’t interested.

 

Joe had ignored their protests and told them that if they didn’t give her a chance they were the biggest bunch of idiots he’d ever met.

 

Mahleah hadn’t been sure she was ready for public performances, but her pride had been stung by their off-hand disregard. She’d discarded the frilly dress for some simple, getting-down-to-basics clothes.

 

The guys had also assumed that she would only want to sing sweet “girly” music like Sarah McLachlan. “What’s wrong with Sarah?” she’d demanded before demonstrating her diversity by requesting the Garbage song they were now cranking out.

 

I only smile in the dark

My only comfort is the night gone black

I didn’t accidentally tell you that

I’m only happy when it rains.

 

Despite the depressing lyrics she discovered that she was having the most fun she’d had in a long time. She played up to the small audience containing Angel, Joe, Wesley, Cordelia and Diana as well as an assortment of waitresses, cooks, and bartenders who were popping in and out while preparing for the night’s opening.

 

It figured that Joe and Angel had cooked up this scheme as a way of giving her some sort of musical therapy, but she found she couldn’t hold it against them. Her nerves were tingling from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair, she was beginning to sweat under the lights and her boots were starting to pinch. She loved it.

 

As she growled, “Pour your misery down on me,” and prowled across the small stage, she could feel the band catch fire behind her and grinned in victory. Looking out into her small audience she studied them closely.

 

Joe was smiling widely in appreciation. Angel was wincing a little from the volume but his gaze was warm and supportive. Wesley was whispering in Diana’s ear and both of them seemed much more interested in each other than anything else around them. Cordelia was tapping her foot to the beat and gazing around her with interest. The only way it could be better would be if Mac was there. She quickly squelched that thought.

 

After they wound up the first number, Mahleah suggested a softer song next and the band agreed. They began playing and as she started singing Mahleah mused about how adaptable the lyrics were. They could be referring to her, to Diana, even to Angel.

 

Green light, seven eleven

You stop in for a pack of cigarettes

You don’t smoke, don’t even want to

Hey now check your change

Dressed up like a car crash

Your wheels are turning but you’re upside down

You say when he hits you, you don’t mind

Because when he hurts you, you feel alive

Hey now, is that what it is?

 

She saw Diana’s head jerk up and stare at her. God, this was cutting close to the bone for all of them but sometimes you had to expose the wound to fresh air before it could heal.

 

Red light, gray morning

You stumble out of a hole in the ground

A vampire or a victim

It depends on who’s around

You used to stay in to watch the adverts

You could lip-synch to the talk shows

 

She saw that Cordelia’s attention had been drawn away towards the door. Following the younger woman’s stare she saw a man quietly watching her performance. Giving him a once over she thought he appeared worthy of Cordy’s attention. Tall and handsome, his well-built frame was clothed in an expensive custom-made suit. Despite his stylishness he didn’t really fit in the atmosphere of the club, which was much more casual. Whoever he was, Cordelia could barely take her eyes off him.

 

And if you look, you look through me

And when you talk, you talk at me

And when I touch you, you don’t feel a thing

If I could stay, then the night would give you up

Stay and the day would keep its trust

Stay and the night would be enough

 

She saw Cordelia nudge Angel and gesture toward the door. When he saw the new arrival he scowled and rose. Mahleah wondered who the stranger was. It was evident Angel didn’t like him. The two of them exchanged words and she could tell from his body language that Angel was getting angry. What the hell was going on? Who was this guy? He was obviously more than just eye candy that Cordelia wanted to meet.

 

Faraway, so close

Up with the static and the radio

With satellite television you can go anywhere

Miami, New Orleans, London, Belfast and Berlin

And if you listen I can’t call

And if you jump, you just might fall

And if you shout, I’ll only hear you

 

Angel gripped the stranger’s arm tightly and escorted him outside. Uh oh, Mahleah thought. This is not good. She looked back at Joe and Wesley, her eyes questioning them. Wesley took the hint and followed Angel’s path. Well, at least he’d be there to back Angel up, or maybe calm him down if it was needed.

 

Three o’clock in the morning

It’s quiet and there’s no one around

Just the bang and the clatter

As an angel runs to ground.

Just the bang and the clatter

As an angel hits the ground.

 

To her relief she saw the two of them returning without the mysterious third man. Both Angel and Wesley appeared to be okay. She couldn’t see any blood and their clothes weren’t disheveled so she supposed there hadn’t been any violence. They were discussing something rather intensely, though. Just then, Angel looked up and caught her wondering gaze. He smiled at her and she heaved an inward sigh of relief.

 

Still, the little tête-à-tête had disrupted the mood that had settled between her best friend and the ex-Watcher and she found that unacceptable. She was hoping that Diana might get another dance this evening.

 

‘Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood

When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud

I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

 

This time, Mahleah picked a favorite Dylan song. With each attempt, she seemed to gel a little more with the musicians at her back. They didn’t even dispute performing two slow numbers in a row.

 

She saw Wesley sit down once again beside Diana. “That’s it,” she inwardly urged. “Now, go ahead and ask her to dance.”

 

And if I pass this way again you can rest assured

I’ll always do my best for her, on that I give my word

In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

 

Angel sat down as well and refocused his attention on her. Her heart sped up a little at the appreciation in his glance. It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel as special as he did. In fact, she realized, she had subconsciously chosen this song because she was reminded of the first man who hadn’t made her feel like a freaky, bizarre kid but instead treated her like a uniquely beautiful woman.

 

Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved

Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.

Try imagining a place where it’s always safe and warm.

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

 

1987

 

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail

Poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail

Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

 

 

God, if it didn’t quit snowing soon she was going to go crazy and jump Logan before he knew what had hit him. There was only so much a girl could take, and days on end being trapped in a cabin with a gorgeous older man were definitely pushing her limit. Knowing it was mostly a combination of nerves and hormones helped her to understand intellectually why such action would probably be a huge mistake, but it didn’t help her ever-growing sexual frustration.

 

Even worse, after the one steamy kiss they had shared during her bath he had kept his promise about keeping his distance. Despite his joking and occasionally flirtatious behavior he acted very properly around her. She had caught him glancing her way a time or two in a very contemplative manner, but she suspected that he knew there was more to her story than she had admitted. No doubt that was all his searching looks meant.

 

Suddenly I turned around and she was standing there

With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair

She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

 

Her guilt ratcheted up a notch. There were so many things she hadn’t told him. On several occasions she had opened her mouth to correct his assumption that she was a college student, but couldn’t bear the thought that he would start treating her like a kid if he knew her true age. Even that paled though to the doubt she felt over withholding information about Immortals. It was fairly obvious to her that Peter Manning was Immortal, and it was also apparent that Logan was unaware of that fact. She could tell that the missing body had raised his suspicions that something was wrong, but he didn’t suspect that Pete was still alive.

 

Every time she started to tell him what she knew, she found herself changing the subject. It had been drilled into her so often to keep Immortality a secret that by now it was engraved on her bones. She was torn in two by the compulsion to help her rescuer and yet somehow to keep Duncan’s confidence. The thought that one of the men could be hurt either by her action or her inaction kept her paralyzed.

 

Now there’s a wall between us, something there’s been lost

I took too much for granted, I got my signals crossed

Just to think that it all began on a non-eventful morn

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

 

She hummed absently along with the radio as she brushed out her long hair while warming by the fire. Raising her gaze, she saw Logan was watching her again, his face impassive. She shivered as she remembered the feel of his hands as they gently washed her hair. What she wouldn’t give to know what he was thinking, but she couldn’t read him. Damn him anyway and his ability to strip her of her newborn self-confidence.

 

During her road trip she had learned to flirt and banter with ease, to gain a heady rush when she realized that men wanted her. She had no intention of giving in to any of them, and so was careless of what they thought of her. All of her life she had always been the funny-looking girl. Most males preferred the soft, feminine charms of her best friend, Diana, who was so much more petite than Mahleah had ever been in her life. People were drawn to Diana’s fragility and delicate features. She inspired them to protect her, especially when they saw the bruises her father used to leave on her porcelain skin.

 

Mahleah had never been petite, fragile or delicate in anything. She tended to protect rather than inspire protective instincts in other people. Folks always felt sorry for Diana and her family situation, but they expected Mahleah to be strong and take care of her father. It wasn’t that Mahleah wanted to be more like Diana – she didn’t. It went against her grain to be passive and she had no desire to starve herself in some misguided attempt to look smaller. It just hurt to know that all of the people staring at her were so appalled by her behavior and repulsed by her appearance.

 

I’ve heard newborn babies wailing like a mourning dove

And old men with broken teeth stranded without love

Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn?

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

 

At least on this trip she had been fairly sure that the stares were for other reasons as most of the men quickly came up to introduce themselves and invite her for a drink and other more questionable activities. Even Logan had lust in his eyes when he first saw her. It was after he got to know her that his attitude altered. What had made him change his mind, she wondered?

 

Had he seen through her charade of worldliness to see the nervous sixteen-year-old girl underneath? A girl who had read the Kama Sutra but never actually gone any farther than a few stolen kisses in real life? Between watching Duncan and Tessa surreptitiously for years and the research she had done in the Immortal’s library she was well versed in the mechanics but sadly lacking in experience.

 

It had never really bothered her before, but now she quailed with the burden of her ignorance. If she were really as desirable as the men on her travels had implied, why was she having so much trouble attracting the one decent, fascinating man she had met on this trip?

 

In a little hilltop village, they gambled for my clothes

I bargained for salvation and she gave me a lethal dose

I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

 

She let her hair fall over her face, to hide her burning cheeks. God, what was wrong with her? Diana would say she was crazy to think about losing her virginity in a one-room mountain cabin to a man she barely knew…a man who was considerably older than her. The smart thing to do would be to go back home and meet some nice boy her age.

 

Still, no boy her age had ever looked at her the way that Logan did or touched her the way he had. His kiss was intense but sure; unlike past embraces he had shown an easy familiarity with a woman’s body that preferred to linger and draw out pleasure rather than skip ahead to the next “base”. Yeah, and like a boy her age would have known how to handle Peter Manning, she scoffed. Maybe Logan didn’t know about Immortals but he seemed pretty handy in a fight.

 

She also loved how comfortable Logan was in his own body. No teenage boy could display the unconscious grace and confident swagger that experience brings. Then of course there was that toned frame, so large and firmly muscled. She sighed thinking she was going to have to move away from the fire as she was getting way too flushed.

 

Well I’m living in a foreign country but I’m bound to cross the line

Beauty walks a razor’s edge; someday I’ll make it mine

If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

 

****

 

Logan contemplated the young woman sitting in front of the fire, humming to the strains of his old radio. They had quickly agreed on the rock station it was tuned to and he was pleased that she was enjoying it so much. The tune shifted from Bob Dylan to Johnny Cash’s “A Boy Named Sue” and her humming didn’t diminish.

 

My daddy left home when I was three

And he didn’t leave much to ma and me

Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze

Now, I don’t blame him ‘cause he run and hid

But the meanest thing that he ever did

Was before he left he went and named me “Sue.”

 

He allowed himself a small smile. It was nice that she enjoyed the song that much but he doubted she ever felt the same sense of isolation Johnny was singing about – the powerful feeling of alienation that came from being different and unsettling to other people’s notion of normality. It was a feeling he’d understood as far back as he could remember.

 

Well, he must o’ thought that it was quite a joke

And it got a lot of laughs from a lots of folk

It seems I had to fight my whole life through

Some gal would giggle and I’d get red

And some guy’d laugh and I’d bust his head

I tell ya, life ain’t easy for a boy named Sue.

 

No, Mahleah was vibrant and beautiful…strong and sassy, smart and stubborn. She had to be the favorite nighttime fantasy of most of those college boys she went to school with. Looking at her, that was the only thing that made sense to him, but his other senses were telling him something completely different.

 

Her scent was a complex miasma of confusion, anxiety and desire. She wanted him; he didn’t need his nose to tell him that. It was her other scents that worried him and beneath it all there was a freshness to her, a purity that screamed that she’d never been touched. It radiated from the wide brown eyes to the modest way she kept herself covered despite the fact that he’d seen her naked in her bath. Her pheromones were working overtime on his nervous system but her innocent blushes made him hesitate.

 

He sighed inwardly. Damn this weather. Usually being stuck in a cabin with a beautiful woman during a weeklong blizzard would be fun but under the circumstances he’d feel like a cretin if he took advantage of their situation to seduce her. She couldn’t be over twenty since she had used fake i.d. at the bar and he was far too old and jaded to get involved with anyone so young and untainted.

 

The firelight glowed over her skin and reflected off the antique cross she wore around her neck. Her humming escalated into soft singing and he sat back, enjoying the sounds, watching her braid her hair. She had a very nice voice.

 

“Got a soft spot for Johnny?” he teased.

 

She looked up at him and her cheeks turned a little pinker. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t realize I was singing out loud. I just really like that song.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” he said chuckling a little, “I liked listening to you. So, what is it you enjoy so much?”

 

She shrugged, “I guess it’s because it makes me feel like someone else understands what it’s like to be different.”

 

He laughed louder and she glared at him, asking quickly, “What’s so funny?”

 

“What do you know about being different?” he responded curiously. “I can’t see people making fun of you because you’re too beautiful or something, tiger.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. She looked as if she weren’t sure if she was pleased or pissed.

 

“Oh no?” she replied scathingly. “All of my life people have made fun of me. I was always too tall, too smart, and too strange. I was the funny looking girl that people liked to stare at and talk about. They would point at me as I was going down the street. I’ve always been the tallest girl around and for a long time I was the tallest person in my school until the boys started hitting their growth spurts. I was the first girl to have boobs, the first to start her period. Boy, did I get a lot of sniggers over that.”

 

“Ah,” he waved a hand dismissively, “they were just jealous because you’re so damned gorgeous.”

 

“What did you say?” she asked, her voice a low whisper.

 

He frowned, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”

 

“No,” she shook her head. “Well, there were a few guys in the bars recently, but I just thought they…” she ducked her head and blushed again.

 

“Were hitting on you because they were horny,” he finished. “They were, but they were also telling you the truth. I can’t believe you haven’t realized that yet.”

 

She raised her troubled gaze to his, “No, it was always, ‘Mahleah, how’s it feel to have an ostrich neck?’ or ‘Mahleah, do they even make shoes big enough to fit your feet?’ It didn’t help matters any that my mom was dead and my dad was a drunk. Throw in the fact that I can speak far too many damned languages and know how to kick ass in way too many different martial arts and they all took great pleasure in telling me how big a freak I am.”

 

He snorted, “Darlin’, there’s nothing freaky about you.”

 

“It’s easier to believe otherwise, when it’s all you’ve ever heard,” she said with resignation.

 

He hated the weariness in her voice. Hell, anyone who had made her feel this way deserved to be shot. The world was screwed up beyond belief. He was used to people calling him a freak – but ostracizing a girl because she was smart, beautiful, and strong was a crime against nature. Despite his former reservations he found himself reaching out to her. It might be wrong for him to touch her, but it felt even more wrong to allow her to think so horribly about herself. If she had any lasting legacy from this spring break, he wanted it to be a new self-image and not memories of getting shot. He would show her what a wonder she really was, and how she should be treasured not feared.

 

His fingers ran across her long, soft hair and cupped her cheek gently.

 

“Don’t believe the crap some asshole has said because he’s so insecure he’s intimidated by you,” he said firmly.

 

“What should I believe,” she asked.

 

“Believe this,” he said and swooped down to capture her mouth.

 

*****

 

Fat man sitting on a little stool

Takes the money from my hands while his eyes take a walk all over you

Hands me two tickets, smiles and whispers good luck

Cuddle up angel cuddle up my little dove

We’ll ride down baby into this tunnel of love

 

One minute she and Logan had been arguing about whether or not she was a freak and the next minute he was kissing her. Mahleah heard herself give a little moan and felt embarrassed.

 

He raised his lips a fraction from hers and winked, “Don’t hold back on my account, toraneko. Make all the noise you want, it’s a turn on.”

 

His mouth was teasing hers, nipping at her bottom lip and skating his tongue across it lightly. She moaned again, this time in frustration and he took her invitation. The kiss grew firmer, wetter.

 

She tangled her hands in his thick hair and guided his head closer to hers. He pulled away for a second and grabbed the end of her hair. Strand by strand he gradually unwound it from its braid and let fistfuls of the waves flow through his fingers.

 

I can feel the soft silk of your blouse

And them soft thrills in our little fun house

Then the lights go out and it’s just the three of us

You, me and all that stuff we’re so scared of

Gotta ride down baby into this tunnel of love

 

“I’m no poet, tiger,” he said hoarsely, “I wish I was, but I can’t give you the pretty words you deserve. The only thing I can give you is the truth. I love your hair. Most women are cutting it off these days and even the ones that let it grow out never let it get this long.” His hands kept running through the tresses. “I admit I’m a little old-fashioned, but I find hair like yours erotic. When it’s up, I want to touch it. I keep wondering what it would feel like to have it fall all over my skin.”

 

She shuddered at the image he was creating in her head. His fingers crept to the base of her skull and cradled it while bringing her face close to his again. His mouth slanted across hers giving his tongue deeper access. As the kiss grew fiercer, his fingers rubbed across the nape of her neck and a whimper crept out of her throat only to be swallowed up by his lush explorations. She heard a small clink and glanced down to see that her cross had fallen to the floor. Logan started to reach for it, to return it to her neck and she shook her head.

 

“Leave it,” she instructed huskily.

 

Her insides shifted, twisted up in knots as if making room for some unknown sensation yet to come. Fire burned low in her belly. As if he could sense that fire, Logan growled deep in his chest and started laying a series of stinging kisses across her throat.

 

“You don’t have a throat like an ostrich,” he rumbled. “Your neck is long and graceful.” He gave it a long, slow lick that ended with a small nip to her chin.

 

His kisses were growing wilder but his hands, which were beginning to run down her body, were light in their touch, confident but gentle. He pulled away to ask with concern, “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

 

She shook her head dazedly, and took the initiative to start some exploring of her own. Her fingers could feel the contours of muscles beneath them, and she grew frustrated with the cloth barrier separating her from his flesh. She began tugging at his shirts.

 

He laughed again, then took her hint and quickly shed the flannel and cotton layers before returning the favor and carefully sliding her shirt off her shoulders. Sitting on the floor in her bra, she shyly looked away but he caught her chin and turned her face back towards him.

 

There’s a crazy mirror showing us both in 5-D

I’m laughing at you, you’re laughing at me

There’s a room full of shadows that gets so dark brother

It’s easy for two people to lose each other in this tunnel of love

 

“Toraneko, you have no reason to be embarrassed. I keep telling you that you’re gorgeous…sooner or later it’ll hopefully sink in. If you don’t want this, though, just tell me to stop. It’ll be okay.”

 

His eyes were intense, the hazel a deep smoky color. She smiled at him and ran her hands across his chest, enjoying the feel of his warm skin.

 

“Don’t stop,” she said hoarsely. “Please, don’t stop.” Leaning in, she bit him at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, then licked the impression her teeth had made.

 

He shuddered and then scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Setting her on top, he smoothly unfastened her bra and pushed her back down onto the mattress. When she felt the friction of his bare chest meeting hers, she hissed.

 

She felt his smile against her skin, as he began a slow, tormenting path down from her collarbone. His hands beat him to his destination as they gently cupped her breasts.

 

“Anyone who makes fun of these is in serious need of some therapy,” he growled, “or glasses.”

 

Mahleah closed her eyes in wonder as the part of her body that had caused her the most torment, aside from her long legs, was brought to life. Years of teasing and discomfort were exorcised as Logan’s talented mouth ran circles around everyplace except where she ached for him. What the hell was the man waiting on, an engraved invitation?

 

“Logan…” she pleaded.

 

In silent response, his lips shifted and with no warning his teeth tugged sharply on her nipple. She gasped wordlessly beneath him, her back arching in an instinctive attempt to get closer. The wet heat of his tongue soothed the sting away and she felt the flames begin to move across her body, prickling her skin and making her thrash restlessly.

 

“Ssh,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you, tiger.”

 

He kissed her stomach and laid his cheek there for a moment, lazily rubbing his face against her abdomen. The soft rasp of his beard was an unfamiliar but surprisingly welcome feeling.

 

It ought to be easy, ought to be simple enough

Man meets a woman and they fall in love

But the house is haunted and the ride gets rough

And you’ve got to learn to live with what you can’t rise above

If you want to ride on down in through this tunnel of love

 

Hands slowly pulled the remainder of her clothes away and once again she closed her eyes in embarrassment. Long fingers drifted loosely up her limbs, tracing the curves and finding the secret ticklish spots as they gently slid her legs open. Lips skated up her thigh, climbing higher and higher. She tensed.

 

“Relax,” a voice said below her, “this is going to be so good.”

 

That’s easy for you to say, she thought a little panicked. This just doesn’t feel like a natural position for two human beings to be in, no matter what the books say.

 

“Easy,” the voice came again, “relax, I won’t hurt you.” She opened her eyes cautiously and peered down her body to see him lying between her legs. Oh Jesus, how weird was that? His eyes were warm and deep and made her start aching again all over.

 

“You promise,” she asked faintly, feeling slightly silly.

 

He smiled sweetly at her and her heart turned over. “I promise,” he repeated. “Now, just close your eyes and relax. Concentrate on what you’re feeling.”

 

Oh she may be weary

Them young girls they do get weary

Wearing that same old shaggy dress

But when they get weary

Try a little tenderness

 

Concentrate on what she was feeling…what was she feeling? He still hadn’t made any sudden moves north, but his head was lightly brushing the inside of her thigh. God, the light caress of his hair was the most sensual thing she had ever experienced.

 

She had just tried to catch her breath when he moved and her resistance shattered. His tongue gently slid between her lips and opened her for the rest of his mouth to explore. Loud groans came from the back of her throat encouraging him to continue. Whoa, she thought woozily that felt damn strange, is he really supposed to put it there…oh God, oh hell…he had gone higher in search of her most sensitive flesh and nothing had ever felt that damn good ever….

 

Suddenly a finger pressed into her and she keened a little at the strange sensation. Slowly it slid forward, stroking her slick folds. As she started adjusting to the feeling, Logan raised his head. What? Why was he stopping? She kicked a little in protest.

 

“Easy there, tiger,” he laughed. “Open your eyes for me.”

 

She tried, but she was drowning in new sensations and her eyes fluttered close again.

 

“Mahleah,” he called, “look at me, darlin’. I want to see you come for me.”

 

Lord, surely she was past the blushing stage at this point? She opened her eyes again and he smiled encouragingly.

 

“Just let go, darlin’, let it all go,” he told her.

 

You know she’s waiting

Just anticipating

The thing that she’ll never, never possess no, no

But while she’s without it

Go to her and try just a little tenderness

 

She felt his finger move again, but this time he crooked it and rubbed as if beckoning her forward. Simultaneously he lowered his head again to envelop her swollen bud with his mouth. He made a noise somewhere between a growl and a hum. Mahleah screamed as the world disintegrated into nothing but the flames enveloping her body and the weight of his gaze.

 

Eventually it was his eyes that lead her back to her body, as he patiently waited for her to come down, softly nuzzling against her thighs again…the soft weight of his hair a pleasant counterpoint to the aftershocks running through her nervous system.

 

“See, that didn’t hurt a bit,” he teased.

 

She started laughing, and he joined her but she soon noticed that while he was smiling his body was tense. Frowning she started to ask him what was wrong when she looked down. Oh. Well, turnabout was only fair play, wasn’t it?

 

He gave her a quizzical look when she sat up and pushed him down on the bed.

 

“What are you up to, tiger?” he asked.

 

“Getting rid of some extraneous accessories,” she grinned as she speedily made away with his pants. Apparently he didn’t bother with underwear.

 

“Extraneous accessories, huh?” he smirked. “So what’s next?”

 

She leaned down and let her hair fall in front of her across his chest. “I believe you made a request a little while ago,” she said softly, listening to his hiss with satisfaction. Slowly she slid the soft, thick locks down his body, kissing as she went.

 

Oh, but it’s one thing

It might be sentimental yeah, yeah

She has her grieves and cares

But the soft words they are spoken so gentle yeah

But, oh, that makes it easier, easier to bear, yeah

 

When she reached his lower abdomen, he stopped her.

 

“Much as I love this,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t have anything to prove here. You don’t owe me a damn thing.”

 

She peeked through the strands in front of her eyes and said simply, “It’s not debt; it’s desire.”

 

He groaned, and she continued to lick a path down his belly. Reaching her destination, she took a deep breath. Desire was one thing, but once again her inexperience was showing. She hoped she could make him feel half as good as he had just made her feel.

 

She took a first tentative lick and upon hearing his moan, decided he liked it and continued. Surrounding him with her hair and her lips and her fingers, she committed herself to slowly driving him out of his ever-loving mind. As she listened to his moans, groans, curses, imprecations and other small noises that might be whimpers she understood what he’d meant earlier by sounds being a big turn-on.

 

You won’t regret it

No, no

Them young girls they don’t forget it

Love is their whole, whole happiness, yes, yes, yeah

 

He’d wrapped his hands in her hair, seemingly unable to refrain from touching her. Other than that touch he lay mostly passive in her grasp, accepting what she was willing to give. That made her more determined than ever to blow the top of his head off, and she used the noises he made as a guide to what pleased him most. Remembering how he had sent her over the edge before, she starting humming around him and he growled then pushed her head away from him.

 

“Did I do something wrong,” she asked in concern.

 

“Hell no,” he exclaimed, “It was a little too right.”

 

“How could it be too right?” That didn’t make any sense.

 

“I didn’t want to…I wanted to…” he looked into her perplexed face and sighed. “I wanted to come with you, in you.”

 

“Oh,” she said, swallowing.

 

He sensed her hesitation and touched her face, “It’s okay, toraneko. We don’t have to go that far.”

 

She looked at his beautiful face, full of concern for her. Oh yeah, she was sure that a boy her age would be this considerate, this skillful a lover…in a pig’s eye.

 

And it’s all so easy

Come on and try

Try a little tenderness

Yeah try

Just keep on trying

 

Leaning forward, she kissed him again, momentarily surprised by the different taste in his mouth. She reddened when she realized she tasted herself. Pulling away, she said, “I want to, Logan.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” she smiled at him. This felt right and she would trust her instincts.

 

He reached into the floor beside him and pulled a condom out of his wallet, then pulled her over him. “It’ll probably be easier on you, if you stay on top,” he said. “You know with your shoulder and everything, plus this way you’re in control. If you need to slow down, or stop or something…”

 

She shut him up with another kiss, this one longer and growing more frantic. Gasping for air, she pulled away and then slowly lowered herself on top of him.

 

As he pushed through her barrier, she winced and stopped for a moment. She could feel him tense as he kept himself from moving until she was ready. Giving him a half-smile she kept going until he was settled completely to the root. They both took a deep breath. She leaned in to catch his lips again. As she moved back, he moved forward, their tongues sliding wetly in the same rhythm as their lower bodies.

 

She moved as it felt best, but in her excitement and inexperience she started losing the rhythm. He put a hand on her hips to stop her and then set a new pace, guiding her to move in harmony with each other.

 

You’ve got to love her

Squeeze her

Don’t tease her, make love

Hold her tight

Just, just try a little tenderness

That’s all you gotta do

You gotta hold her tight

 

She could feel her release creeping up on her again, but she wanted to bring him with her. Suddenly a vague memory from her reading floated hazily across her brain and she started squeezing him with her inner muscles.

 

“Oh God,” he groaned, and started thrusting up harder. She met his intensity and kept flexing around him.

 

“Unh, Mahleah,” he called. His eyes were nearly green as they burned into hers and she followed him over.

 

Collapsing beside him, she laughed shakily; “Logan, that was…” she couldn’t think of any words.

 

He got rid of the condom and pulled her onto his chest as he lay back down against the pillows.

 

 “Yeah,” he agreed contentedly, “it was.”

 

In the distance

She saw me coming round

I was calling out

I was calling out

 

Still shaking

Still in pain

You put me back together again

I was cold and you clothed me honey

I was down and you lifted me honey

 

Looking down at her with a frown, he asked, “How’s the shoulder?”

 

“Feeling no pain at the moment,” she reassured him.

 

He relaxed, “Good.”

 

God, she felt so full and content. The only thing nagging her was that she hadn’t told him the truth. The truth about Peter could get him killed. She shivered. He noticed and pulled a blanket up over them.

 

Raising her head, she met his gaze. At the same moment, they both said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

 

 

Angel

Angel or devil

I was thirsty

And you wet my lips

 

You, I’m waiting for you

You, you set my desire

I trip through your wires

 

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

 

 

1987

 

“You go first,” they both said, then laughed.

 

“Ladies first, darlin’” Logan told her with amusement that sobered when he remembered what he wanted to tell her.

 

“No, you…you go ahead,” she replied with more than a little nervousness.

 

He sighed. Maybe she was picking up on his trepidation. She had given him an incredible gift that an animal like him was completely unworthy of. Her eyes, her body language all sang out that she trusted him implicitly. He shifted and kissed her lightly, feeling her melt into the embrace. He lingered over her lips wanting to savor his last taste of them. After she found out what she’d bedded down with he doubted her sweet mouth would ever be close to his again, but his conscience demanded the sacrifice. She had a right to know.

 

“Before you start getting too sentimental on me, toraneko, I have to tell you…I’m really more of an animal than a man.”

 

Her eyes narrowed, but her scent held no fear, only curiosity.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I’ve got animal senses – sight, hearing, smell – everything’s heightened, more powerful. I heal from almost anything.”

 

Her eyes brightened and she smiled at him.

 

“Are you Immortal?”

 

He frowned, unsure of what to make of her response. “Don’t know about that, tiger. I can’t exactly recall when I was born, but I don’t seem to age much if that’s what you mean.”

 

She frowned now, “I’ve never heard of an Immortal having amnesia.”

 

“What are you talking about?” she was suddenly speaking in riddles.

 

She pinned him with a stare that seemed to cut through him like the sharpest knife before she decided to continue.

 

“There are other people out there, Logan. People who heal from anything, who don’t age…they’re called Immortals.”

 

She was telling the truth, but there was doubt in her voice. He didn’t blame her.

 

“Nah, I’m nothin’ special -- just a run-of-the-mill mutant with a couple of enhancements.”

 

“Enhancements?”

 

The moment of truth was at hand, so to speak. Silently he held his arms away from her and popped his claws on both hands.

 

Staring at the six, nine-inch adamantium claws, her dark eyes grew round, startled. Then another perplexed look troubled her face as if she couldn’t make sense of them. He could relate, having dealt with them for years and still unable to make sense of them either.

 

“I don’t understand,” she finally said. “Where did these come from?”

 

He slid the claws back in and avoided her eyes.

 

“Some kind of lab,” he said tersely. “Lord knows what else they would’ve done to me if I’d stuck around…so I left.”

 

She seemed to hear all he left unsaid and fat tears began rolling down her cheeks.

 

“Logan, that’s the awfullest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

 

She threw her arms around him, ignoring her wounded shoulder, and hugged him tightly as if protecting him from some invisible foe. Logan closed his eyes, speechless. No one had ever cried for his pain before, and he felt more than a little overwhelmed.

 

He sensed her mood shift as she softly feathered her lips above his heart…so carefully, as if he were a precious, fragile ornament that would break from rough handling. Gently, but insistently he tugged her head up to reach his. All questions about Immortals and whatever else she had wanted to tell him earlier flew from his brain leaving only one thought: to make this incredible woman know that she was a treasure prized far above rubies.

 

 

****

I have climbed highest mountain

I have run through the fields

Only to be with you

Only to be with you

 

I have run

I have crawled

I have scaled

These city walls only to be with you

 

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

 

Duncan MacLeod scowled at the radio, busily blaring out the latest hit from Mahleah’s favorite band.

 

“You don’t have to rub it in,” he told it, before sighing and turning his attention back to the treacherous road conditions.

 

He was glad he’d left David Brennan back in town. Although the other man had insisted on accompanying him, one look at his friend’s pale clammy skin had convinced Duncan that bringing David out onto such icy, nearly impassible roads would be a recipe for disaster. Since the death of Catriona, almost fifteen years ago, David had been afflicted with an extreme fear of traveling in wintry conditions. It was a mark of how concerned he was about his daughter that he’d managed to make it as far as he had. If Mahleah would only realize how much her father truly loved her, she might never have scared them to death by running away from home.

 

It had taken them weeks longer to track her down than anticipated because when she disappeared they had all expected her to show up in Seacouver. After a week had passed and she hadn’t pulled up outside the antique shop, Duncan’s fear hit hyperdrive. They had absolutely no idea where she might have gone. Diana obviously knew more than she was telling, but she refused to divulge any of her best friend’s secrets. Not wanting to treat the girl too harshly as her father would have, Duncan and David had started the painstaking business of tracking their missing quarry.

 

Their first big break came when they discovered that she had sold her car along her route. It was much more difficult to follow her trail when she had a vehicle of her own, but now that she was relying on public transit -- mostly buses and trains – they had more people that could identify her picture and give them a general idea where she was going, which so far had been straight north.

 

I have kissed honey lips

Felt the healing in her fingertips

It burned like fire

This burning desire

                             

I have spoke with the tongue of angels

I have held the hand of a devil

It was warm in the night

I was cold as a stone

 

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

 

Duncan’s first instinct was that when he found Mahleah, he was going to turn her over his knee and spank her for the unnecessary terror she had put everyone through. Tessa had managed to talk him out of that plan during one of their daily calls. She was visiting a friend in Paris or she would have joined them in their chase.

 

While Duncan fumed to his lover about the irresponsible nature of Mahleah’s little stunt and how he couldn’t understand what the hell she’d been thinking of, Tessa calmly pointed out that Mahleah was acting true to her nature. Whenever she had issues with someone, especially with Duncan, she tended to run. This time she had taken a longer trip than usual, which indicated just how distressed she really was with her situation.

 

Plus, Tessa had continued, before moving away Duncan had essentially tested Mahleah’s fighting abilities and declared her skilled enough to take care of herself. When Duncan tried to protest that he hadn’t been thinking of independent road trips Tessa laughed at him and said that he also wasn’t a teenage girl. Mahleah had been bored in school for ages, and had obviously decided to create her own excitement.

 

These sentiments had distressed David, who had visions of partying, drugs and orgies dancing through his head. Duncan had less worries about those kinds of dangers. Mahleah had a fairly level head on her shoulders and he trusted her enough to believe that those kinds of thrills would hold little enticement for his wayward student. He believed that she was merely enjoying traveling cross-country, meeting new people and seeing new places. If, during her journey, her path led her through a few unsavory spots, he suspected live music and dancing would hold far greater appeal to her than alcohol. Even if David didn’t like it, he had no further than himself to place the blame since in his wilder, drunken years he had taken her to far too many similar dives.

 

No, the dangers that Duncan feared were more life threatening. It was true that Mahleah was a superb fighter but she had no real-life experience to back up her training. She was also young, impetuous and frequently hotheaded. At her age, she had not learned one of the most important lessons in life: just because you can fight doesn’t mean you should. If someone started something with her, she would likely end it but at what cost? She could end up in jail over a barroom brawl, which would not endear her to her principal, who already held a grudge against her.

 

Those were Duncan’s mundane fears for Mahleah, but his nightmares included scenes where she was found by an Immortal who took her head. When they discovered that she had taken Tora with her, he had been weak-kneed with relief but it didn’t make his nightmares go away.

 

I believe in the kingdom come

Then all the colors will bleed into one

Bleed into one

Well yes I’m still running

 

You broke the bonds and you

Loosed the chains

Carried the cross

Of my shame

Of my shame

You know I believed it

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for….

 

When they’d finally traced her to this small town in New England, both David and Duncan heaved a sigh of relief thinking they’d finally found her. To their dismay, when they located her motel the clerk recognized her as “that woman who broke her window then took off.” When they bribed him, he let them examine the room, which proceeded to make every hair on their bodies stand straight on end. Luckily, the room had not been cleaned and so they were able to easily spot the signs of a struggle. A chair was turned over and a lamp had been knocked off the table. The glass in the window had been knocked out from the inside and there were traces of blood on the window frame. All of Mahleah’s things were gone.

 

Unfortunately it had snowed several inches every day since she had disappeared and there was no way for them to search the parking lot for any more clues. Troubled, they made their way to the local hospital and police station with no result. From there, they began plastering Mahleah’s picture all over town – David’s idea and one that Duncan prayed didn’t attract attention of the dangerous sort.

 

Just when they were beginning to despair of hearing any news, a kid came forward to say that he had seen a woman resembling Mahleah being carried into a pick-up truck that took off into the mountains. When questioned further, he had said that the woman in question appeared to be unconscious.

 

And you know it’s time to go

Through the sleet and driving snow

Across the fields of mourning

Lights in the distance

 

And you hunger for the time

Time to heal, desire time

And your earth moves beneath

Your own dream landscape

 

With trembling hands and queasy stomachs they had followed the boy to the house in question, and then paid him a handsome reward. They were about to knock on the door, when the boy’s final words sank in. Someone else had been looking for Mahleah and had also followed the boy to this house.

 

When there was no answer at the door Duncan had kicked it in and rapidly made his way inside. There they found a man of about thirty, badly beaten and semi-coherent. They tried to call for medical assistance but he refused, saying he had friends who would take care of him.

 

After they explained their errand and showed him pictures of Mahleah, bright and happy, in all stages of growth he believed their story and told them of his own.

 

Now Duncan was in a race against time and the elements. He would try desperately to make it to this “Patch’s” cabin before the gentleman with the sword, who was willing to torture someone to find her.

 

And your heart beats so slow

Through the rain and fallen snow

Across the fields of mourning

Lights in the distance

 

Oh don’t sorrow, no don’t weep

For tonight, at last

I am coming home

I am coming home.

 

“Hold on, mhuirnin,” he thought grimly. “I’m coming and heaven help anyone who’s hurt you.”

 

****

“Stop, please stop!” Mahleah begged, as tears ran down her face. “Logan, cut it out.” She could barely catch her breath she was laughing so hard as her tormenter continued to tickle her.

 

Logan was constantly surprising her. One second they were recovering from a bout of sweet but quite intense lovemaking and the next he had pinned her to the bed and proceeded to discover every ticklish spot on her body. Frankly she’d always imagined sex as a serious business, which had made her rather nervous. Instead she found herself constantly laughing in bed from either his goofing around or his ribald jokes. It was too bad everyone’s first time couldn’t be like this, she thought, giggling.

 

As the thought struck her, her mood instantly sobered as she recalled Diana’s first sexual experience, which was as far from the tender, playful scene she was engaged in as possible.

 

“What’s wrong?” Logan inquired, as her laughter died away.

 

“I was just thinking about my best friend,” she told him, running her fingers through his wild, dark hair as he propped himself up next to her. “Thinking what I wouldn’t give if she’d had this much fun her first time.”

 

“It was bad?” he guessed.

 

“She was raped,” Mahleah said flatly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Logan told her sincerely, and kissed her forehead.

 

“It’s not fair,” she said fiercely. “Diana’s never caught a break in her life. Her father’s an abusive asshole that used to beat on her and her mom and the first time she has sex she’s coerced by her date. Yeah, my life hasn’t been easy but compared to her it’s been a cakewalk.”

 

“It’s not fair,” he concurred, “but I’m afraid that’s life, tiger. It doesn’t mean that she’s any better or worse than you, just that she hasn’t been as lucky. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

 

“Nothing?” her shoulder slumped.

 

He pushed away the clumps of hair sticking to her face, “Just be there for her when she needs a friend. Sometimes that can be everything.”

 

“That sounds like something Duncan would say,” she said with resignation. “So, I suppose you’re probably right.”

 

“Who’s this Duncan when he’s not giving out advice?” Logan asked.

 

“He’s my teacher,” she frowned. “Well, I guess he’s not really that anymore. He used to be my sensei.”

 

“He’s the man that taught you to fight?”

 

“Yeah, among other things including how to play chess,” she winked at him.

 

“Oh, he’s the priest,” he concluded.

 

She laughed, “Duncan, a priest? God no. That was another friend, Darius.”

 

This line of thought made her remember her earlier questions to Logan about his healing abilities. She still hadn’t satisfied herself whether or not Logan was Immortal.

 

“Logan, whenever you meet Pete, do you get a buzz?”

 

“Not like I do when I’m around you,” he chuckled and started kissing her neck. “Pete’s not my type.”

 

“Not that kind of buzz,” she laughed with him but continued, despite his distractions. “I mean do you get a weird feeling…I don’t know a headache maybe or a ringing in the ears? Can you sense him somehow? I don’t mean smell him or hear him, but something else.”

 

“’Fraid not, tiger,” Logan frowned. “I can pick up on his scent pretty quickly but that’s it.”

 

“Have you ever had a neck wound?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, sure,” his frown deepened. “What’s this about?”

 

“It healed too, right? I mean, it must have, there’s no scar,” she ran her fingers across his throat.

 

“Yeah, I was slashed in the throat once…hurt like hell but it healed up like everything else.”

 

“You’re not Immortal then,” she concluded. “Immortals can’t heal from a slash to the throat. It’s the only place they’re vulnerable.” She turned a serious gaze to Logan. “Look, I’m nearly positive that Peter Manning is Immortal. He recognized my sword because it used to belong to another Immortal. That’s why his body wasn’t in the parking lot when you went back for it. He’d already healed and left. If you find him again, you’ll have to cut his head off.”

 

“How do you know so much about this stuff, Mahleah?” he asked. “Are you Immortal?”

 

“No,” she shook her head, “but I’ve known a lot of them. I grew up around them.” Stiffening her backbone, she slowly added, “That reminds me of something else I need to tell you. Logan, I’m not a college student.”

 

“You’re not?” he was startled. “You’re not old enough to be out of school.”

 

She swallowed, “No, I’m not.”

 

“But if you’re not out of school,” the bewilderment in his eyes cleared up as he figured it out. “Oh God, please tell me you’re not in high school.”

 

“I could, but that would be lying to you and I haven’t so far.” She saw him glare at her and hastily interrupted him, “You assumed and I let you keep your assumptions.”

 

Logan hastily slid out of bed and pulled on his jeans as if donning armor. Back still turned away from her, he clenched his fists but calmly demanded, “How old are you really?”

 

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she answered honestly, “Sixteen.”

 

She watched as a strong man crumpled to his knees and hung his head in his hands.

 

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I should have told you before….”

 

“You think?” he mumbled and then started laughing hysterically. “God, when I break the law I usually know it. I should have known, my nose kept telling me something wasn’t right but I didn’t pay any attention.”

 

“Break the law,” she repeated numbly. “No, I wouldn’t let them put you in jail.”

 

“If they catch me, there’s nothin’ you can do about it darlin’,” he said darkly. “That’s why they call it statutory rape. It doesn’t matter whether you consent or not.”

 

“No,” she cried, crawling out of bed and kneeling beside him, mindless of her nudity. “They’ll never know. No one will ever know, I swear it to you, Logan. You’re not going to jail because of me.”

 

“Jesus, tiger,” he said wearily, “I’m not worried about that. The cops would have to catch me first, which isn’t so easy. I’m just trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I’ve spent the night debauching a child.”

 

“I’m not a child,” she said, stung.

 

“You’re not a woman, either,” he retorted.

 

“So what am I?” she angrily asked. “If I’m not a woman and not a child, what am I? Teenager just seems so inadequate. All of my life I’ve been too mature for my age, not just with the physical stuff but mentally too. I’ve known things…understood things that so-called adults had trouble with. What am I?”

 

“The hell if I know,” his shoulder slumped. “I guess I was right the first time when I said you were a genius. I still never should’ve touched you. You weren’t ready.”

 

Now her anger boiled over into something much more dangerous and she started pulling on her own clothes.

 

 “Who the hell are you to decide if I’m ready? Isn’t that supposed to be my choice? I’m sixteen and I had sex…big damn deal. It’s better than being fifteen and having the choice made for you like Diana. I’m sorry that I didn’t allow you to make an informed decision based upon all of the freaking facts, but the truth is I wouldn’t change one thing about tonight…for the first time in my life I felt like someone didn’t just see me as a freaky girl but as something special…something precious.”

 

Angry tears rolled down her face, and she batted them away refusing to give way to the sorrow welling up within her, “Until just now, when I saw the shame on your face.”

 

“Oh tiger,” he groaned. Standing, he enveloped her in a tight hug. “I’m not ashamed of you, I’m ashamed of me. I felt like I’d tarnished the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. Now, I see those tears and I feel shame because I promised I wouldn’t hurt you and I’ve made you cry.”

 

“No, you haven’t,” she denied.

 

“Uh huh,” he chuckled and wiped her face dry. “Listen to me, toraneko. You *are* a special person, you *are* a treasure and you most certainly are *not* a freak. I don’t know why anyone as precious as you would want an old, grumpy Canucklehead like me in the first place but thank you for bringing some sunshine into my life.”

 

“It’s snowed for the past week,” she sniffed.

 

“Work with me here,” he tweaked her hair softly. “Mahleah, would you do something for me?”

 

“Yes,” she sniffed again, inwardly cursing her runny nose.

 

“I can’t remember much about my childhood and what I do remember isn’t very good. When you get back home, I want you to promise to have some fun for me, okay? I know you’re not a kid, but don’t be in such a hurry to take on grown-up problems, huh? Try to enjoy being a teenager a little. Read all the James Joyce you want, but make sure you go out and dance and shop and go to the movies…all that stuff girls your age are doing. I know it might seem frivolous sometimes, but just look at it as a vacation from real life.”

 

“Yeah, right, being a teenager is a real vacation,” she snorted.

 

“No, being a teenager is hell,” he laughed, “but for you it’ll be a part like in a play…something you can lay aside when the situation calls for a mature head. I can tell you now that you’re going to be one hell of a woman because you already make my head spin. By the time you’re actually legal the world had better look out.”

 

“Oh you,” she playfully slapped him on the arm.

 

Suddenly, Logan stiffened and smelled the air.

 

“Logan?”

 

In a low whisper he told her, “Grab your shoes and Tora and get out through the window.”

 

“What about you?”

 

His only answer was to kiss her fiercely then shove her towards the window. Hastily donning her shoes and pushing the frame up, she eased Tora out first before following. Hesitating, she looked back at Logan and heard the distinctive snikt of his claws.

 

He looked back in her direction and nodded, telling her to go. It went against her instincts but she was still wounded and not much good in a fight. If he had to protect her and defend himself as well, it could get him hurt or worse. She gathered herself and took off towards the woods, trying as hard as possible to obliterate her tracks as she went.

 

****

Duncan could make out the glow long before he arrived. With a sinking heart he saw the blazing remnants of a small hunting cabin. He got out of his vehicle and ran towards the fire.

 

“Mahleah!” he called frantically.

 

He felt a tingle across his nerves, but when he identified it his stomach clenched…it was a full-fledged Immortal he was sensing not the pre-Immortal he was looking for. He pulled out his katana and carefully went into the woods and closer to the source of the buzz.

 

He could hear sounds of a fierce fight ahead of him, but before he could reach his destination lightning split the sky and headed straight for him.

 

“God,” he had no time to prepare before the Quickening was upon him.

 

As he finally managed to stop shaking, he stumbled through the woods and spotted the decapitated corpse. The snow had finally stopped and through the faint moonlight and the slight illumination of the flames behind him he could barely see the head.

 

“Peter Manning,” he thought, with a shudder. Thank God, he hadn’t hurt Mahleah, but who had killed him? He saw a blood trail leading away from the body and traced it towards the edge of the mountain where it disappeared.

 

A new buzz jangled his nerves and as he turned around he saw his runaway student appear behind him.

 

“Mac, is that you?”

 

“It’s me, a leannan,” he said, gratefully pulling her into a hug. “Thank God you’re okay.”

 

“I’m fine,” she answered distractedly, returning his embrace for just a second before pulling away. “Where’s Logan? Is he okay?”

 

Mac swallowed, hard. “Was he the man that helped you after Manning shot you?”

 

She drew back, startled. “How did you know about that?”

 

“I have my ways,” he joked feebly.

 

“Yeah, Logan rescued me when Pete tried to ambush me in my motel room. Where is he?  I don’t see him anywhere.”

 

“Mahleah, I hate to tell you this but I think he’s dead.”

 

“What? No,” she protested. “He can’t be.”

 

“Mhuirnin, I traced him to the edge of this cliff…the blood ends here. He must have been wounded in the fight and stumbled over the mountain in the dark.”

 

“No,” she insisted, but he noticed her shivering and wrapped her in his coat.

 

“You’re freezing, Mahleah. Come on, we have to get you warm. This cold and shock is not going to help your bullet wound.”

 

“But Logan’s out there and he needs our help,” she protested.

 

“Mahleah,” he sighed and looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry about your friend but there’s no way we’d be able to find him like this. If you’d like I’ll come back in the morning but right now I’m getting you safe to your dad.”

 

“My dad?” her voice was incredulous.

 

“Yeah, David’s waiting for us down in town. You’ve just about killed him with worrying, you know.”

 

“Yeah right, I bet he enjoyed the excuse to hit the bottle again,” she scoffed.

 

“He’s been sober the whole time we’ve searched for you,” he told her.

 

“Really?” her voice was suddenly that of a little girl, too scared to hope.

 

He hugged her again, “Really.”

 

This time she went with him without demur, though she did look behind them, more than once.

 

As they rode down off the mountain, she turned the radio on.

 

Love is a burning thing

And it makes a fiery ring

Bound by wild desire

I fell into a ring of fire

 

“That figures,” Duncan chuckled.

 

“What?” Mahleah looked at him, startled from deep thought.

 

“I was swearing at this thing earlier because all they wanted to play was U2 and it just reminded me how worried I was. Now that you’re here, safe, they decide to switch to Johnny Cash. You can turn it to something more cheerful, if you’d like.”

 

The taste of love is sweet

When hearts like ours meet

I fell for you like a child

Oh, but the fire went wild

 

I fell into a burning ring of fire

I went down, down, down

And the flames went higher

And it burns, burns, burns

The ring of fire

The ring of fire

 

“Somehow it seems appropriate,” she murmured, and he could see her look back at the fire glow behind them in her side-view mirror.

 

****

It was amazing the difference a hot shower and eight hours of sleep could make, Mahleah reflected wryly while stretching gingerly, still careful with her wounded shoulder. It could even make you feel better about two hours of lecturing from two different authority figures.

 

She vaguely remembered hearing her father and Duncan talking earlier. Duncan, true to his word, was going back to look for any signs of Logan. Her father, she suspected, had gone out to get her breakfast.

 

Rolling over, she came face to face with an envelope. Blinking, she carefully opened it to find her cross necklace, recently cleaned and gleaming in the late morning light, and a short note.

 

Sorry about your books, Toraneko, but they’re gone forever.

I figured this was something you wouldn’t want to lose.

--L

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

 

Back to the present

 

 

Logan remained a presence in her life, although she didn’t see him very often. Upon discovering her true age, he’d seemed to declare himself her private protector and events had proved that he tended to keep a sharp eye upon her life no matter how far away he roamed. She’d kept her word to him and never told a soul what had passed between them. At first it had been fear that she would get him in trouble, despite his carelessness over the matter. Even if the law didn’t exact retribution she was fearful what Mac might do if he found out. The thought of two nearly indestructible men fighting each other out of loyalty to her was a terrifying notion. As she grew older she remained silent because their time together seemed too short and too precious to be shared with an outsider.

 

She found out later that in the scuffle between him and Pete the bed had turned over and the bedcovers had ended up landing too near the fireplace. She’d expressed sorrow that his cabin had burned down and he’d laughed and said that the most precious things there had gotten out safely: her and his memories of their time together.

 

The Christmas after she returned home, she was wandering in the woods and ventured by Duncan’s old cabin only to be surprised by a package waiting for her. When she opened it, she found that Logan had replaced all of the books she’d lost in the fire. Touched, she found replacements for his missing volumes and left them in the same place. From then on it became tradition that they would send each other books. She always looked forward to Christmas and her birthdays when she usually got some brief contact with her lost lover, either in gift or note form with the occasional rare, secret, albeit chaste, visit. He had even managed to track her down in L.A. and leave the volume of Atwood she’d been reading lately with Angel. The inscription inside had been, like the man, both stern and playful and warned her to get her act together before he was forced to kidnap her and drag her off to a mountain cabin in the middle of a blizzard. She almost wished it had been necessary.

 

Turning her thoughts away from her past, she watched with barely concealed glee as Diana got another dance with Wesley. She loved the fact that such a decent man was taking an interest in her friend. Even if nothing else worked out between them, he could demonstrate to Diana that all men were not the worthless jerks she was used to dealing with.

 

Sorrowfully she wrapped up her final number, wishing she could provide more quality time for the two to spend together. Walking over to her friends’ table she heard Wesley telling Angel he was taking Diana home and she suppressed a grin.

 

Joe bade them goodnight as well, which left Angel and Mahleah alone. Cordelia was busy chatting up the guys in the band and waved them off when Angel asked if she needed a ride home.

 

“I guess that just leaves us,” he told Mahleah and she followed him out to the car.

 

After they got on the road she had to ask, “Who was that guy you were talking to earlier? You and Wes were looking tense there for a moment.”

 

Angel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “His name is Lindsey MacDonald and he works for an evil law firm called Wolfram and Hart. If something bad is going down in this town you can bet Wolfram and Hart knows about it and probably has a hand in it.”

 

“Sort of your own personal arch nemesis, huh?” she said lightly. “I get that, but with Lindsey it seemed a little more personal.”

 

“A little while back Lindsey came to me for help,” Angel said tightly. “He wanted to stop Wolfram and Hart from killing some kids. He made all the right noises about doing the right thing but in the end he stayed with the company. They even promoted him.”

 

“So what did he want tonight?”

 

Angel snorted in disbelief, “He claimed he just wanted to listen to the music, even insisted on shaking my hand. God, he makes my skin crawl. I mean, my hand is literally itching since he touched it.” He wiped his right hand on his pant leg, as if trying to obliterate the feeling of the other man’s hand. “I really wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but I can’t eviscerate a man for being a music lover…damn it.” He glanced over at her with a deadpan expression.

 

She laughed, “I’m sure it’s difficult to restrain yourself when both the man and the demon agree on something.”

 

He glanced in her direction, “That’s truer than you know.”

 

“Maybe that’s the difference between the two, the man *can* restrain himself,” she suggested.

 

“Maybe,” he replied.

 

The rest of the short trip passed in companionable silence. As Angel unlocked the door to his apartment and beckoned her to enter, though, she suddenly felt awkward. She’d been staying with him for a while now; surely he was getting tired of having a roommate.

 

When she mentioned it, he asked, “Why would you think that?”

 

“You strike me as a man who enjoys his solitude,” she told him.

 

“I do,” he agreed, “but I’ve been alone for a long time. It’s nice to have another person around for a change.”

 

“I’m so grateful that you’ve let me stay,” she smiled. “I’ve been alone for a while too and staying here has made a big difference to me. Just promise you’ll let me know when I’ve worn out my welcome.”

 

“Okay,” he teased, “the very instant I’m tired of you, out the door you’ll go.”

 

“Glad we’ve got that straight,” she yawned.

 

“Why don’t you go on to bed? It’s been a big day,” he suggested.

 

“I’d love to, but I’m too wired. Isn’t it strange how you can be exhausted but full of nervous energy at the same time?”

 

“Try taking a hot shower, sometimes that helps,” he replied.

 

“Sounds like a good idea.”

 

****

When Mahleah came out of the shower, Angel was prepared. Candle light provided a soft, relaxing illumination and the sounds of Beethoven drifted soothingly through the apartment.

 

“What’s this?” she asked in surprise, clutching the edges of the dressing gown she had borrowed from him.

 

“To help you wind down,” he explained. “Lie down on your stomach.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

 

“I’m going to give you a backrub,” he said calmly.

 

After giving him a scrutinizing look, she did as he said and stretched out on her stomach across the bed.

 

He approached her slowly, the way he would a wild animal, making no sudden moves. Sitting gingerly beside her, he regarded her tense form.

 

“Relax; I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

Quickly, almost involuntarily, she asked, “You promise?”

 

“Yeah, I promise,” he gave her an encouraging look and was encouraged to see the vibrant smile he got in return. Then she blinked as if startled and seemed to blush a little, turning her head back to the pillow.

 

“I wonder what that was about,” he thought in amusement.

 

When he first touched her shoulders, she automatically jumped but he ignored her hesitation and began softly kneading the muscles there. As his thumbs found a particularly tense spot he dug in more firmly. She gave a little squeak of protest but then settled as the knot released. Gradually he began moving further down.

 

The slick material under his hands was impeding his ability to effectively rub the mostly tightly wound muscles. He paused.

 

“Why’d you stop?” Mahleah’s voice was starting to get sluggish, her accent thickening as her brain started shutting down. “That feels good.”

 

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” the question woke her up out of her increasingly sleepy state. Despite her affirmative answer he could hear her doubts.

 

“Are you sure?” he persisted.

 

Her head swiveled to regard him and she said more firmly this time, “I trust you, Angel.”

 

He began tugging at the dressing gown, slipping it down her shoulders.

 

“Hey, what are you doing?” she inquired in alarm.

 

“I can’t get at your muscles properly with this thing in the way,” he explained calmly.

 

“Well, if you take it off you won’t be able to miss them,” she mumbled. “I’m not wearing anything under here.”

 

“Oh,” it was his turn to be surprised. Mahleah had been wearing cotton gowns or pajamas to sleep in.

 

She squirmed a little. “I just…I don’t rest as well wearing clothes to bed. I get too hot and since the nightmares are starting to go away I thought maybe I could get a good night’s sleep.”

 

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I don’t have any problems with it.” He started pulling at the robe again. As she stiffened he added reassuringly, “Don’t worry I’ve seen a woman’s back before.”

 

“I’m sure you have,” she retorted dryly.

 

He pooled the robe at her waist and then on impulse found the hollow at the small of her back with his thumbs, running them, as lightly as the sweep of an eyelash across a cheek, up her spine. The tiny hairs covering her skin stood up in the wake of his cool caress and the muscles under his hands quivered involuntarily. He heard her make an incoherent choking sound and chastised himself. His intentions were to soothe not arouse. While definitely wanting to reawaken her cravings for touch, he couldn’t risk the danger of going too far which would be dangerous for them both. It had been a long time since he’d had the luxury of caressing a woman’s bare flesh but he would have to suppress the act’s intoxicating nature.

 

Reasserting his control over his instincts, he once again started at Mahleah’s shoulders and gently worked his way down her back. After she became accustomed to the long-forgotten sensation of a man’s hands on her naked body, she let out a deeply-held sigh and relaxed completely into his grip. He could see that her eyelids were drooping more and more as she succumbed to the hypnotic spell of his massage and the piano music playing.

 

Finishing up once more on her lower back, he removed his hands. Her breathing had slowed, her heartbeat becoming somnolent. He bent and pressed a light butterfly kiss between her shoulder blades before pulling the sheet up over her.

 

Kneeling on the floor beside the bed, he regarded the eyes that were barely open.

 

“Good night, Mahleah,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

 

He brushed a delicate but lingering kiss over her soft mouth, half open and pliant.

 

“Night, Angel,” she responded and shut her eyes as she finally succumbed completely to the arms of Morpheus.

 

He pulled the butterfly clip out of her hair in case she rolled over in the night and stabbed the back of her head. Laying it aside on the dresser, he blew out the candles, turned off the record player and retired to his solitary couch.

 

A new production of Faust was opening soon. He should ask Mahleah if she’d like to attend.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty

 

 

What about the times you lied to me

What about the times you said no one would want me

What about all the shit you’ve done to me

What about that

What about that

What about the times you yelled at me

What about the times I cried

You wouldn’t even hold me

What about those things

What about that

What about that

 

The band was hot, Mahleah was hotter and Diana was hot under the collar. She didn’t appreciate Mahleah’s little lecture from onstage. Beating women was bad. Women didn’t have to put up with it. Message received. It was so easy for her friend. Mahleah’s first instinct was always to fight back no matter what the cost. Diana’s was to survive the best way she could. Sometimes that meant that she found herself slipping into her mother’s life and putting up with more than she should to prevent a man from getting so angry that he killed her.

 

That tactic hadn’t worked with Jordan. Her passivity hadn’t ensured her survival…her newfound Immortality had. If not for that fact, she would be very dead now at the hands of a man who professed to love her. She snorted. That was a much more effective teacher than any Janet Jackson song, no matter how catchy.

 

What about the times you hit my face

What about the times you kept on when I said no more please

What about those things

What about that

What about that oh

What about the times you shamed me

What about the times you said you didn’t fuck her

She only gave you head

What about that

What about that

 

To drive the lesson home, if she wanted to survive as an Immortal she couldn’t be passive. That was a one-way ticket to losing her head for certain. Her strides lengthened as she hurried down the street. She supposed the question was: could she kill in self-defense?

 

As if in answer to her question, she felt a tingling buzz and quickly glanced around her.

 

“Mahleah?” she called, knowing it wasn’t her friend who she could still hear singing in the distance.

 

A strange woman walked forward under the streetlamps.

 

“I am Kerry O’Brien,” she announced in the ritual challenge.

 

Before Diana could answer, a large black convertible hurtled up on the curb between the two of them and a vampire in full game face gracefully soared over the top to the concrete sidewalk.

 

“Well, Kerry,” the intruder snarled. “I’m guessing by that accent that you’re from Galway. In that case, maybe you’ve heard of me…Angelus.”

 

Kerry blanched, but recovered and quickly drew her sword.

 

“Get away from here, monster,” she warned. “Come near me and I’ll spread your dust all over Bantry Bay.”

 

“Fine,” he agreed pleasantly, “As long as you agree to be leaving my pet alone.”

 

“Your pet,” Kerry’s sword dipped for a second before she reaffirmed her grip and gazed with revulsion at Diana.

 

“Oh, aye, I know what you are and your kind are the sweetest honey ever to bless the mouth of a vampire,” he grinned at her, fangs gleaming cruelly. “If you insist on bothering my property I’ll have to add you to my flock.”

 

Kerry started backing up. “I don’t bloody think so.”

 

“Well, let’s say I give you a sporting chance,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that, if I catch up to you…”

 

She was already gone.

 

Diana stood dumbfounded as Angel’s face returned to normal when he turned around to look at her.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked with concern.

 

“I’m fine,” she spat back at him. “Just what the hell was that? I’m your property, your pet?”

 

He winced, “You know you’re none of those things. It just seemed like the quickest, cleanest way to get rid of her.”

 

She stared at him, “Who asked you to in the first place?”

 

He glanced away before replying, “Mahleah was worried that you might not make it home safely. She could tell you were upset…”

 

“Damn right I’m upset,” she exclaimed, “and right now I couldn’t tell you what’s pissing me off the most her interference or yours. You had no right, Angel…she had no right. That was my fight.”

 

“We were just worried,” he repeated. “I’d hate to see anything happen to you and it would kill Mahleah.”

 

“And me as well,” another voice joined in.

 

Turning, Diana was startled to see Wesley emerging from Angel’s car.

 

“Look, I appreciate the concern,” she told both of them, “but how the hell am I supposed to start making it on my own if everyone fights my battles for me? I’ll get used to it and the first time a headhunter catches me alone, I’m a sitting duck. Mahleah’s always tried to run interference and it has to stop.”

 

“At least let me take you home,” Wesley offered. “You can protect me from the perilous dangers on-route.”

 

She laughed involuntarily. “I don’t know, Wes…”

 

“Go on, you can watch out for each other,” Angel supplied eagerly. “Take my car. I’ll go back to the club and walk Mahleah home.”

 

“She’ll like that,” Diana admitted. “She loves to walk at night. Fine, but I meant what I said. I can’t survive as an Immortal if…”

 

“You can’t fight your own fights, got it,” Angel smiled at her.

 

Wesley, ever the gentleman, held the door open for her, then walked around to the driver’s side and settled himself behind the wheel. They waved at Angel who was leisurely walking back to Mahleah’s club.

 

Out of habit and nervousness, Diana fiddled with the radio. She wasn’t used to taking a journey in silence. The sounds of Hooverphonic filled the air.

 

Did you ever think of me,

As your best friend?

Did I ever think of you?

I’m not complaining.

 

“You know Angel would be perfect for Mahleah if it weren’t for one thing,” Diana mused. “Well, actually two things.”

 

“Such as,” Wesley prompted.

 

“Such as, he’s a vampire. I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to completely overlook that.”

 

“And the second thing?”

 

She looked at him steadily, “He’s not Duncan MacLeod.”

 

I never tried to feel

I never tried to feel this vibration

I never tried to reach

I never tried to reach your Eden

 

“You’re convinced Mahleah and MacLeod are meant for each other,” he commented.

 

She laughed, “Yeah, I am.”

 

“It’s funny because I would argue something similar. Mahleah is perfect for Angel except for one very important thing: she’s not Buffy Summers.”

 

Diana sighed, “Well, no doubt it’ll be good while it lasts. Mahleah’s lucky that way. She always seems to find the good men.”

 

Wesley was silent for a long moment and she realized how that sounded. Quietly she added, “Maybe her luck’s finally beginning to rub off on me.”

 

He smiled warmly at her, and then lapsed into deep thought for a moment.

 

“Diana,” he finally said, “I get the impression there’s some grave, unresolved issue between the two of you. I’m sure it runs much deeper than the fact that you competed for valedictory status. What is it? You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable,” he hastily added. “Just remember that I’m here to listen, if you need me.”

 

Did I ever think of you

As my enemy?

Did you ever think of me?

I’m complaining.

 

I never tried to feel

I never tried to feel this vibration

I never tried to reach

I never tried to reach your Eden.

 

She thought about it for several blocks before finally turning to him and saying, “When I was fifteen I was date raped.”

 

Wesley found a convenient spot to pull the car off the road and parked so he could focus his attention completely on her which she found both comforting and unnerving at the same time.

 

“There was a group of guys at our high school. They were so popular, so beautiful, so rich…well at least compared to the other kids. By the standards of L.A. they would seem like small fry,” she laughed bitterly. “They also competed fiercely against each other in everything…sports, grades, cars, girls. They all wanted the biggest, the best or the most. One of them seemed so different from the rest. His name was Keith and he was quieter, seemed almost shy. Of course I found out too late that shyness was a game he played.”

 

“A way to entice innocent girls,” Wesley noted grimly.

 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Turns out they were keeping score of how many girls they screwed – virgins gained them extra points. Mahleah would never have anything to do with them, and frankly she intimidated the crap out of them so they left her alone.”

 

“They targeted you instead,” he guessed.

 

“I couldn’t believe it,” she laughed shakily. “Keith Harrington wanted to go out on a date with me. I heard whispers about the other guys, but never a word about him. He seemed like such an old-fashioned Southern gentleman -- at least, until our one and only date.”

 

“Bastard,” Wesley ground out between his teeth.

 

“After that he didn’t want anything to do with me,” she continued. “I was good enough to force himself upon but I couldn’t possibly be girlfriend material. I believe the phrase he used was trailer trash, despite the fact that my family has never lived in a trailer. It didn’t matter; we weren’t his kind of people.”

 

“This explains a lot to me,” Wesley said slowly, “but what does this have to do with your relationship with Mahleah? Surely she didn’t encourage you to go out with this cretin?”

 

“No,” she shook her head sadly. “In fact, she warned me that she had a bad feeling about it, but I was hell bound to go. No, I don’t hold that against her. She tried to talk some sense into me. It’s not that, it’s what happened after the rape.”

 

“Which was?” Wesley prompted.

 

She licked her lips, “When Mahleah found out what Keith did to me, she started paying more attention to the rumors around the school and heard from other girls with similar stories. After that she paid Keith and his buddies a little visit, one that severely diminished their egos.” She laughed again, “In our neck of the woods, football players don’t get tossed around by fifteen year old girls. Their little collision with Mahleah got the authorities involved and Keith ended up in jail.”

 

“I’m still not seeing the problem here,” Wesley confessed. “Were you upset with her for beating up these boys?”

 

“Hell no,” she exclaimed, “I loved every second of it. Seeing them get their just desserts almost made getting up in court and admitting what happened worth it.”

 

Wesley waited patiently for further explanation. To delay it, she started fiddling with the dials of the radio and landed on an Eighties’ station.

 

And you can dance

For inspiration

Come on

I’m waiting

 

“I…I can’t deal with the guilt,” she finally said, her hands trembling.

 

“Guilt from what?” he frowned. “You were raped, that’s not your fault.”

 

“I got Kevin killed,” she whispered.

 

“What? Who was Kevin?” Wesley was confused. She couldn’t blame him.

 

Get into the groove

Boy you’ve got to prove

Your love to me, yeah

Get up on your feet, yeah

Step to the beat

Boy what will it be?

 

“Kevin was Mahleah’s first boyfriend,” she explained, every word burning her lips as it passed into the night air. “She was absolutely crazy about him. They met our junior year after Mahleah’s little road trip. When she came back, she was different. In some ways she was quieter, calmer; in others she was giddier, always wanting to get out and try things she’d never wanted to do before. Things she’d always dismissed as kid stuff. She got me to start attending the school dances with her and that’s where she met Kevin. They briefly talked one night about the suckiness of the band that was playing but at the next one they danced…to Madonna,” her hand gestured toward the radio.

 

Music can be such a revelation

Dancing around you feel the sweet sensation

We might be lovers if the rhythm’s right

I hope this feeling never ends tonight

 

“After that they were nearly inseparable. He was the first boy she ever knew who wasn’t afraid of her, even though he knew all about her beating up the football team. He even made jokes about it. They bonded over music and he encouraged her to sing for the first time in public, out of church. I could tell they’d started having sex before she told me. She was all dewy-eyed and glowing. They were the sweetest, most perfect example of two teenagers in love.”

 

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free

At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see

I’m tired of dancing here all by myself

Tonight I wanna dance with someone else

 

“And then,” he prompted when she stopped.

 

“It turns out Keith had a younger brother,” she said, meeting his eyes. “He was bitterly unhappy when his beloved big brother went to jail. He blamed Mahleah because she had encouraged all of us girls to testify against him. Then, of course, there was the fact that she had given him a black eye and a bloody nose. No girl should have been able to do that to the school’s biggest football hero. He fumed and stewed on it for a long time before plotting the perfect revenge: he murdered Kevin the night before our junior prom while he was on the way to pick up Mahleah for a date.”

 

“How terrible,” Wesley said. His eyes were glowing at her sympathetically. “But why do you say that you are responsible for Kevin’s death? You had nothing to do with it.”

 

“But I do,” she told him. “If I hadn’t been a silly little fool with her head in the clouds I would have listened to Mahleah when she told me not to go out with Keith. I wouldn’t have been raped, Mahleah wouldn’t have beaten him up, Keith wouldn’t have gone to jail and Kevin would never have been killed for something that he was never involved with in the first place.”

 

Gonna get to know you in a special way

This doesn’t happen to me every day

Don’t try to hide it love wears no disguise

I see the fire burning in your eyes

 

“No,” Wesley said firmly, “none of this is your fault.”

 

“It doesn’t matter, it feels like my fault,” she was sobbing now. “And the worst part about it is that Mahleah has never blamed me for any of it. God, she has a right to. Why does she have to be so nice about it? If just once she’d screamed at me, hit me, done something! Instead, she wandered around like a zombie for six months. My bad judgment not only punished me but my best friend too and killed the boy she loved.”

 

“So, you’ve tried to punish yourself,” he reasoned. “Mahleah wouldn’t blame you for something she knew you felt as bad about as she did so you’ve spent the rest of your life trying to atone in some karmic sense.”

 

“But I can’t do it,” her words were gushing nearly as fast as her tears. “I can’t bring him back and now I can’t make up for it in any way. If I do, I’ll die too, and I don’t want to die, Wesley…” she threw herself into his arms, trembling.

 

“I’m glad,” he said softly and rocked her gently as long as she needed it.

 

Live out your fantasy here with me

Just let the music set you free

Touch my body and move in time

Now I know you’re mine

 

 

Chapter Twenty One

 

 

Mahleah strode down the street clad in a faded pair of jeans, a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and one of Angel’s leather jackets. She was headed to the club for rehearsal which put her in automatic good spirits but now she was dreamily remembering how she woke up this morning to the feeling that someone was watching her.

 

Opening her eyes she found Angel sitting across the room with a sketchpad in his hand. Immediately self-conscious she looked down to realize that she was naked beneath the sheet, which wasn’t completely covering her. Luckily, she was lying on her stomach so he was mostly seeing her bare back – not new territory for them.

 

“Angel,” she protested, “what are you doing?”

 

Her hand flailed around behind her, trying to catch the end of the sheet so she could wrap it around herself.

 

“Stop,” he commanded in such an authoritative tone that she immediately paused. “I’m working here.”

 

“On my naked body?” she squealed, “hey, who said you could?”

 

His pencil paused in the air and she saw doubt enter his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Since you’ve decided to start sleeping naked, I thought you were comfortable around me. I just saw you and…couldn’t resist.”

 

Rising from his chair, he apologized again, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone. You can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

 

“Angel,” she stopped him. “I didn’t mean to get all bent out of shape; you just shocked me a little. The only other times in my life that I remember being an artist’s model I was fully clothed. You can…you can go ahead and finish your drawing if you want. I don’t mind.”

 

“Okay,” he flashed her one of his rare, breathtaking smiles.

 

“So,” she cleared her throat, “how do you want me?”

 

“Leave the sheet down at your waist,” he instructed. “Push your hair back so that it’s mostly falling over the pillow. Lay your head down on your arms the way it was and look at me.”

 

She followed his directions, unable to help the blush that was slowly creeping down her face and across the rest of her body. It was a strange feeling to having him stare at her so intently.

 

“So, who else did you pose for?” he asked, clearly intent on allaying her nervousness.

 

“Actually Diana used to draw. I think Mac still has some of the work that she did when we went on vacation together a long time ago.”

 

“Oh, was that your first trip to Paris?” he inquired, his pencil dancing across the page.

 

“How did you know about…oh you read the Watchers’ Chronicles about me, didn’t you,” she chided. “No, it was the year before that. It was my first trip to Europe but we didn’t go to France that summer. We stayed mostly in Great Britain and Italy.”

 

“Ah, the year you met Amanda and Fitzcairn,” he winked.

 

“Yeah, it was a great trip for lots of reasons.”

 

“Have you posed for anyone else?”

 

“Not deliberately,” she laughed. She was beginning to relax, maybe a little too much. As his hand moved across the paper in deliberate strokes she almost felt that she could feel the tip of the pencil skating up her spine and tracing her side. The tips of her breasts tingled as she realized that with her arms raised they were slightly exposed to Angel’s eyes. Heat pooled low in her belly and she shifted her legs restlessly.

 

“Careful,” he cautioned with amusement, “don’t spoil the pose, I’m almost done.”

 

She froze in place and spying the twinkle in his eye realized, “Oh damn, he can tell what this is doing to me. Why do I keep getting mixed up with men who have acute senses of smell?”

 

“There,” he signed the corner with a flourish. “All finished.”

 

Ooh, he was so cool, collected and completely unruffled it exasperated her. Well, she would see if she could rattle that façade a little. She rolled over, letting the sheet fall past her waist until all it was covering was part of one leg and her last remnants of modesty.

 

“Sure you wouldn’t like another?” she asked him huskily and was pleased on a purely visceral level to see the heat flame in his eyes.

 

She watched him draw in two very unnecessary breaths, and then nod a little shakily before setting to work again. It was erotic torture for them both and a very long time before he’d once again declared the picture to be finished. Rising from the bed, she’d bestowed a long, lusty kiss upon her favorite artist’s lips and then hastily excused herself for an extremely long shower.

 

Coming back to the present, she sighed deeply. She was very grateful to Angel for reawakening her sensual side but now the sexual tension between them was growing daily. She’d progressed from flinching away from his touch to craving it. In the long run it was a healthy development for her, but for the here and now it was causing them both to become extremely frustrated.

 

Her reverie was rudely broken by a van that pulled up to the curb beside her, while two huge men grabbed her by the arms and forced her into it. They weren’t Immortal and didn’t search her for weapons, just tied her hands and covered her eyes.

 

“Hmmm,” she thought, “let’s find out where they’re taking me before I start cracking heads.”

 

About twenty minutes later, she guessed, the van stopped. She was helped outside and into a building that smelled old and musty. After shoving her into a chair, they pulled her hood off and she blinked, adjusting to the light.

 

“You!” she exclaimed, recognizing the man standing in front of her as Lindsey MacDonald. “What do you want with me?”

 

“You used to dress like a lady,” he observed, “pretty dresses and sandals. Now it’s all leather, denim and t-shirts.”

 

“So, this is a fashion critique?” she said incredulously.

 

“No, this is a negotiation,” he said smoothly. “We would like Angel to perform a service for us and we know that he’ll refuse to listen to any requests we make unless we have an ace up our sleeve, or should I say Queen of Hearts?”

 

“You’re using me as a hostage to make Angel do something for you,” she translated.

 

“Brains and beauty,” he grinned at her. “I’m sure Angel will want your services back as quickly as possible.”

 

“Services?” she sputtered, “just what do you think I am some kind of high-priced courtesan?”

 

“Not high priced,” he laughed, “Angel’s not that rich; though he does tend to be territorial about anything he considers his property.” He brought a glass up to his lips, watching her with amusement as she sputtered indignantly.

 

“I mean, let’s face it what real woman would want him after she got a gander at his true face,” he smirked.

 

“I’ve seen his demon,” she retorted coldly, “I’d gladly let him screw me cross-eyed but there’s not enough money in the world to make me willingly walk across the street to save you from being hit by a bus.”

 

“Listen up, you vampire loving slut, I’m going to get your loverboy on the phone and you are going to tell him that if he doesn’t do exactly what we ask him to do, you’re terrified that we’re going to kill you. Let me assure you that if he doesn’t comply that you’ll be begging to die by the time we’re through with you.” Seemingly enraged, he threw his drink in her face.

 

Pulling out a cellphone, he punched in a number and then held it up to her mouth. On the other end, she heard a steady ringing and then, “Whoops, did I hit the right button? How the hell does this thing work?” followed by a cautious, “Hello.”

 

Suppressing a laugh, she answered, “Angel, this is Mahleah.”

 

“Mahleah,” she could hear relief in his voice that he’d used the phone correctly, then curiosity. “What’s going on? Is rehearsal over already? Do you need a ride home?”

 

“’Fraid I haven’t made it to the club yet. Could you call and let them know I’ve been delayed but not to worry I will be there for the gig tonight? I’d appreciate it. Oh yeah, before I forget, that little prick, emphasis on little, from Wolfram and Hart…what’s his name?”

 

“Lindsey?” she heard him growl and shivered in appreciation.

 

“That’s the one,” she said cheerfully. “Well, Lindsey’s standing here in front of me looking all puffed up and sure of himself. He’s under the mistaken impression that he’s in charge here. Is there anything important you’d like me to tell him before I kick his ass all over this moldy old building?”

 

“What?” She could hear him raging on the other end of the phone before it was hastily removed.

 

“Now Ms. Brennan, that wasn’t smart,” Lindsey scolded her.

 

“No, Mr. MacDonald I’ll tell you what isn’t smart,” she raised an eyebrow at him, “Leaving my feet free.”

 

Flinging herself from the chair she used her bound hands as a club against one gorilla’s head and subdued the other with a couple of kicks. Her bonds had worked their way loose, so she calmly removed the ropes and pulled out her sword. Advancing on her captor, she held out her hand for the phone which he wordlessly placed in her hand.

 

“You’re a dead man, MacDonald,” she could hear coming forcefully from the other end.

 

“Hey, hey, chill out, everything’s okay,” she soothed.

 

“Mahleah, what’s going on?” Angel demanded.

 

“I told you, I kicked a little ass and everything’s okay now. I’ll see you tonight at the club, huh?”

 

“If you’re not there in half an hour, I’ll be looking for you,” he promised.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll hang onto the cellphone and if I have any more problems you’re the first one I’ll call, I promise. Bye, Angel.” She disconnected and stuck the tiny phone in her pocket.

 

“Now, what to do with you,” she purred.

 

“If you’re half as smart as you think you are, you won’t do anything,” Lindsey retorted. “My employers know where I am and if anything should happen to me, they will be filing charges with the police.”

 

“And if I should decide to file charges of my own?” she inquired sweetly.

 

“That wouldn’t be advisable,” he gave her a cold smile. “If I’m not mistaken there’s some detective who really wants a chat with you. I believe her name is Kate Lockley. Besides, my employers will also be happy to tell the police that right now I’m attending a formal business dinner for our senior vice-president. I’m sure they’d be able to present at least twenty witnesses to that effect.”

 

Mahleah’s lips curled up in disgust, “Then Mr. MacDonald, I guess you loan me your cellphone for the night and we call it even.”

 

****

Two hours later, Lindsey MacDonald strolled into the small club that Mahleah was performing at. The band was in full swing, and the house was crowded. Stopping at the front, the bartended greeted him by name.

 

“Yeah, I’m Lindsey MacDonald,” he acknowledged.

 

The bar tender handed him a drink and his cellphone.

 

“Courtesy of the lady,” he gestured toward the stage.

 

Lindsey turned to get a better look. Mahleah blew him a kiss saucily and continued with her song.

 

I can do it to you gently

I can do it with an animal’s grace

I can do it with precision

I can do it with gourmet taste

But either way

Either way

I wanna kill you

I wanna blow you away

 

Bratty minx, he thought with amusement, chuckling. She was certainly sure of herself. He had to admit Angel had done wonders with the girl from the state she’d been in a few months ago. She wasn’t on the offensive anymore, instead fighting only in true self-defense. That didn’t downplay the danger he knew he’d been in hours ago. It had been a gamble, one that had paid off richly.

 

I can do it to your mind

I can do it to your face

I can do it with integrity

I can do it with disgrace

But either way

Either way

I wanna kill you

I wanna blow you away

 

She was looking better too. It was true she wasn’t wearing the pretty flowered dresses from a few weeks ago but she had never looked entirely comfortable in them. The t-shirt and jeans looked better to his eyes than the leather bustiers and mini-skirts she’d been sporting before. She wasn’t wearing make-up which meant that she no longer had rings of kohl hiding her eyes. Yes, she definitely looked a hundred percent healthier than the surveillance photos in his office. He chuckled again. She was also cute as she savored her victory.

 

I can do it in a church

I can do it any time or place

I can do it like an angel

To quiet down your rage

But either way

Either way

I wanna kill you

I wanna blow you away

 

Following her eyes, he saw Angel enter the club looking murderous. “Oops, time to hit the road,” he thought with amusement. No doubt, she’d only warned him to keep her favorite vampire from an appointment with Detective Lockley. He would make sure that he allowed Angel to cool off before he saw him again.

 

“Is there a back door?” he asked the bartender.

 

“Over there, next to the restrooms,” the man gestured.

 

“Thanks,” he left a generous tip and quickly exited the building.

 

Where did your pleasure go

When the pain came through you

Where did your happiness go?

This force is running you around now

Getting you down now

Where is your pleasure now Johnny?

Where has your pleasure gone now?

 

The attentive chauffeur held his door and then asked, “Back to the office, sir.”

 

“You’ve got it, Bobby, thank you,” Lindsey nodded.

 

Ten minutes later he was whisked inside Holland Manners’ office.

 

“Everything go smoothly?” Holland asked him.

 

“Perfectly,” Lindsey assured him. “She’s still congratulating herself on how easy it was for her to get away and how stupid we are.”

 

“Overconfidence catches a killer,” a laughing voice said behind him.

 

He turned to regard the beautiful brunette reclining on Holland’s couch.

 

“Just as you predicted,” he grinned.

 

“And she didn’t suspect anything when you threw the drink in her face?” Holland continued his interrogation.

 

“Just thought I was being a hotheaded asshole,” Lindsey told him.

 

“Angel’s was the first voice she heard after being doused with the potion?”

 

“Oh yeah, loud and clear,” he confirmed.

 

“Good work,” Holland relaxed.

 

“Oh, she’s caught, caught, caught, in her little trap,” the brunette crooned. “And every day she’s stuck more, more, more.”

 

He suppressed a smile, figuring the mercurial vampire might turn on him if she felt he was making fun of her.

 

“Every time he talks to her, every time he touches her the spell will tighten,” he said with grim satisfaction. “Until eventually they’ll both be ours, thanks to you, Drusilla.”

 

 

Chapter Twenty Two

 

 

 

Not many people knew it, but Diana kept a small garden in her backyard. She’d planted a few vegetables, a few flowers, and even a peach tree that she was nurturing along. There was something comforting about digging in the dirt, getting her hands in the soil. It brought back happy memories of helping her mom plant the family garden every spring and weed it in the summer.

 

She’d always enjoyed the cyclical nature of the plants. Everything had its season then passed along to make room for new things much as she had always seen her life. Now she needed to look to a different pattern to make sense of events. Like the perennial tulips and lilies she had died to be reborn in a new life…one that offered her the chance to start fresh, forget about the past. Could she truly put the past behind her, though? Was she ready to move on?

 

As she ruminated on these questions she felt an unexpected tingle. Jerking up, she rapidly began backing up to her porch where she had left her borrowed sword.

 

“Mahleah?” she called hopefully.

 

“Afraid not,” a different voice said. When the person stepped forward she recognized her.

 

“Kerry O’Brien,” she acknowledged.

 

“I never did catch your name the other day,” the Immortal pointed out.

 

“Diana…Diana Adams,” she told her, still backing toward the porch.

 

“So, Diana,” Kerry kept advancing. “Where’s your master?”

 

“My master,” Diana repeated bewildered. “Oh, you mean Angel. He’s not my master.”

 

“That’s not what he said the other night,” Kerry objected. “He was quite proud of keeping you as a pet.”

 

“Angel’s a friend of mine,” Diana wrapped her fingers around the cool hilt of her blade. “He was just trying to protect me.”

 

“Angelus is no one’s friend, and if your life is so miserable that you haven’t realized that yet, then you’ll be relieved when I put you out of your misery,” Kerry snarled, her own weapon making its appearance.

 

At that point events turned into a rush of blows, counterstrokes and strategy. The action went nearly faster than the eye could see but Diana’s brain was strangely calm and focused. It pointed out the sloppiness in Kerry’s technique and the fact that she tended to lean just a little to the right…very bad form as her left side (and thus, her heart) was vulnerable. It guided Diana’s hand as she exploited that weakness and drew first blood and then followed through with a rocking blow that sent the other Immortal’s sword flying out of her hand.

 

Time froze as Diana looked into the eyes of the woman she had just defeated.

 

“What are you waiting for,” Kerry taunted, her words full of bravado but her eyes full of fear.

 

“Why did you track me down?” Diana asked her. “I know Angel scared you pretty badly that night. Why would you risk the wrath of the most notorious vampire in history – one who knows our kind and the power in our blood?”

 

“If I were being held prisoner by a blood-sucking fiend I’d want someone to end it for me,” Kerry said fiercely. “You must be living in sheer hell.”

 

Diana let out a deep breath. “No, I’m not.” She lowered her blade.

 

“You’re not going to take my head?” Kerry was confused.

 

“No, I’m not,” Diana repeated. “You’re not evil, just misinformed. I’m grateful for what you tried to do, but like I said Angel’s a friend of mine. He’d never hurt me.”

 

She turned her back and started back toward her house when she felt another buzz and stopped short.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a calm, familiar voice said.

 

Diana whirled around to see Mahleah standing at the end of the garden, Tora wrapped in her arms. She looked back at Kerry who defiant and ashamed slowly put away the knife in her hand and reached for her sword.

 

Mahleah walked closer. “That woman just gave you a precious gift. I’d advise you to treasure it.”

 

“You won’t…you won’t tell Angelus,” the Irish woman looked from one of them to the other.

 

“No,” Diana said sadly, realizing they’d never be able to get her to believe the truth. “We won’t.”

 

After they watched Kerry rapidly disappear out of the garden and down the street, Diana turned to her friend.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. “I thought I made myself clear to Angel the other night, I don’t want your protection.”

 

“I wasn’t here to protect you,” Mahleah replied, unperturbed. “I’m here to ask you if you’d like to go out to lunch. I was just in time to see you turn away from her. I could scold you about how stupid that was, but I think you’ve already figured that out.” She tucked Tora away and looked at her friend with pride, “That was a good fight.”

 

Diana grimaced, “I can’t kill.”

 

“You didn’t have to,” Mahleah replied. “Like you said, she wasn’t evil. I doubt we’ll be seeing her anymore.”

 

“No,” Diana swallowed and repeated, “I can’t kill. I realized that when I had the sword at her throat. It didn’t matter that she was relatively harmless. She could have been Jack the Ripper and I still wouldn’t have been able to take the blade and cut her head off.” She looked at her childhood friend in all seriousness, “Mahleah, I can’t do this.”

 

Sighing, Mahleah told her, “Let’s go to lunch. We need to talk.”

 

****

Over salad and baked potatoes, Mahleah attempted to reason with Diana.

 

“I know it’s difficult the first time you have to…” she glanced around the restaurant, “finish a fight, but sometimes you have no choice.”

 

“I know that,” Diana agreed, “it’s not the necessity I’m incapable of seeing it’s me…striking the winning blow.”

 

“Instinct kicks in,” Mahleah argued. “When it’s a matter of survival, you’ll just act without thinking about it.”

 

“No, I won’t,” Diana told her sadly.

 

“How can you know that?” Mahleah demanded. “You’re still new at this.”

 

“The same way that you know that if you ever needed him that Duncan MacLeod would walk through fire to be there for you,” Diana smiled. “And the same way that you knew Gaelic when we were kids. You didn’t have to think about, you didn’t have to reason it out, you just knew. Some things go beyond basic instincts.”

 

Mahleah gulped her glass of water, feeling like her throat was closing off. “So, what are you going to do?” she finally asked.

 

“I don’t know yet,” Diana answered. “I don’t have to decide this minute, do I?”

 

“No,” Mahleah shook her head, “Of course not.”

 

“How about you,” Diana changed the subject. “You seem to be doing a lot better these days. Does it have anything to do with your new roommate?”

 

Mahleah rolled her eyes, but she was grinning, “Maybe, partly anyway. He’s been really good to me.”

 

“How was the opera?” Diana asked with a twinkle in her eye. “Remember I saw the dress Cordy helped you pick out so it had to be a special occasion.”

 

Mahleah could feel a faint heat in her cheeks. “It was the opening night,” she protested. “Everyone there was dressed to the nines.”

 

“Uh huh,” Diana laughed. “Well, I’m not worried about everyone else, just you. Did you have a good time?”

 

Mahleah softened, “The best time. It was a production of Faust and the music was divine.”

 

“Reminded you of your mom, huh?” Diana guessed.

 

“Yeah, I don’t know how Angel figured that out but he knew somehow. I guess it was in my Watcher file. The ending always leaves me a mess.”

 

Diana raised an eyebrow, “You actually let yourself cry in front of him? Hmm, must be more serious than I thought. You don’t let just any man see you vulnerable.”

 

“He picked me up out of an alley after I lost two fights,” Mahleah commented dryly. “Then he helped me when I was catatonic. I don’t think I get much more vulnerable than that.”

 

“That was involuntary,” Diana countered. “Allowing yourself to cry in front of someone indicates a certain amount of …shall we say trust?”

 

“I do trust him,” Mahleah found herself smiling goofily.

 

“Despite the fact that he’s still pining away over his lost sweetheart in Sunnydale,” Diana’s face was sympathetic but resolute. “According to reliable reports he’ll never be over Buffy, Mahleah.”

 

“I know,” Mahleah acknowledged in a soft voice. “I know that, but there’s something about him…something that just seems to heal parts of me. I’ve been shattered for so long that I didn’t know where to start putting the pieces back together. Angel’s helped me find the path again.”

 

“What about Mac?” Diana inquired, spearing her salad a little forcefully.

 

“What about him?” Mahleah asked, groaning. “I’m in pretty much the same situation as Angel. I love Mac and I’ll never be completely over him, but there’s something inside me that says I need to move on…at least for a while.”

 

Diana made a noise close to a growl.

 

Mahleah frowned, “Why are you always pushing me towards Mac? You’re his biggest champion.”

 

“Duncan MacLeod saved my life,” Diana said softly. “You know he did. He had a long talk with my Dad, and no one knows what he said but from that day on Dad left me and Mom alone. I owe him.”

 

“Why do you think pushing me towards him is repaying that debt?” Mahleah said, her brow wrinkling.

 

Diana dropped her fork, “Because I’ve seen the way the man looks at you and it makes me shiver. Don’t try to tell me he doesn’t make you just as happy because I saw you two in Paris. You’ve never looked happier in your life.”

 

“All good things must come to an end,” Mahleah sighed wearily. She looked down startled as Diana touched her hand.

 

“Mahleah, I know I’ve made fun of your decision to stay away from Mac, but I think I’m finally starting to understand.”

 

“Are you?” Mahleah was surprise. Diana had been openly scornful of her decision for a long time now.

 

“I’ve been trying to live in the world my mom believed in,” Diana said mournfully. “Where a woman finds a man, gets married and gets taken care of for the rest of her life. I don’t know why I bought into that dream; I saw how poorly it worked out for her. Now I have the chance to start over and I realize that I don’t have to repeat my past mistakes, but I need time to get my head together. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You have to try on different things, see how they fit…try on different men, and see if they work out, right?”

 

“Something like that,” Mahleah admitted. “Look, this conversation is making me lose my appetite. Are you in the mood for a walk?”

 

Twenty minutes later, they were strolling down a tree-lined street in a pleasant neighborhood. Mahleah started past a beautiful, but small, Catholic Church but Diana walked in the gate.

 

“You have to look at the rosebushes here,” she called after her friend. “They’re spectacular this time of the year.”

 

“Since when do you start hanging out at Catholic Churches?” Mahleah asked when she caught up with her.

 

Diana shrugged, “Not long after I moved to Los Angeles, I think. It’s not like I’m a foreigner to Catholicism. We’ve both attended mass with Duncan before.”

 

“Yeah, and your grandmother nearly had a fit,” Mahleah chuckled. “I don’t know which was worse in her eyes: attending a black Baptist church with Netty or mass with a Scottish papist friend of my mother’s. I’m afraid she didn’t think of me as a very respectable influence, girlfriend.”

 

“Then we’ll have to see what we can do about that,” a cheerful voice came from behind them.

 

Mahleah whirled to see the beaming countenance of an elderly priest smiling at them.

 

Diana smiled back, “I’m afraid this one is too much even for you Father Dudley.”

 

“Hey,” Mahleah protested. “You’d think I was a complete heathen to hear you talk.”

 

“This has to be your friend Mahleah,” Father Dudley said, offering her his hand.

 

“Yep, Mahleah Brennan meet Father Dudley. I met the good Father here not long after I arrived and it turned out we had a friend in common,” Diana told them.

 

“Oh, who’s that?” Mahleah asked, shaking the priest’s hand firmly.

 

“Darius,” Father Dudley replied, his jovial expression sobering.

 

Mahleah froze. “You knew Darius?”

 

“Very well,” Father Dudley told her, “let’s say I tell you all about it over tea. I even have some of Darius’ homemade mixtures that I save for special occasions. I think he’d like knowing that you got to share them with me.”

 

Her head in a daze, Mahleah found herself sitting in the good Father’s study sipping at a hot cup of tea that had to have come from Darius. No one else in the world could have made such a strange brew. With rapt fascination she listened to the tale of Father Dudley’s younger days and how he met Darius when he was in Paris during World War II.

 

“I’d just had a screaming match with the most spirited French girl,” Dudley chuckled. “She didn’t like the fact that I had been flirting with one of her friends, who turned out to also be her biggest rival. I was young and had no intentions of getting tied down to any woman. It just didn’t feel right. Now I know why,” he said with a smile. “Darius saw the whole thing and gave me shelter when her screams turned into blows. He very kindly took me in, gave me some of his tea and let me rant about the beastliness of French women. Then, he took me firmly in hand and proceeded to give me some good advice. Ah, he always gave the best advice. I miss him.”

 

“Me too,” Mahleah said in a small voice. “I needed his advice this year, but I’m afraid he would have been so ashamed of me.”

 

“Never,” Father Dudley sat his cup down and took her hands between his own. “Darius was always proud of you Mahleah. We used to write to each other every week and he frequently told me stories about you. I think it’s why Diana found a refuge here in spite of her heretical roots,” his eyes twinkled. “Darius would have wanted to know that his girls were being looked after.”

 

He turned to Diana, “Have you given my request any more thought?”

 

Diana licked her lips, “I have…I’ll…I’ll let you know soon, I promise Father Dudley.”

 

Sensing a sore topic, the priest turned the subject back to Darius and the three of them spent an enjoyable hour reminiscing over old times.

 

Later, as they walked out of the gate and down the street Mahleah studied her old friend carefully.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me about Father Dudley before?”

 

“I don’t know,” Diana admitted. “I guess I wasn’t ready to yet. Haven’t you ever experienced something that was so special you just can’t share it with anyone else?”

 

Recalling a snowy night in a cabin that no longer existed, Mahleah said, “Yeah, I have. So, what makes today so different that you’re ready to share? Does it have something to do with his request?”

 

“Yes,” Diana drew in a deep breath and stopped to look at her friend steadily. “Father Dudley’s church keeps a small shelter for abused women. He’s asked me if I would like to volunteer to help out. He’s promised to give me room and board in exchange for some artwork – a couple of murals maybe.”

 

“What?” Mahleah couldn’t believe her ears. “Basically you’re telling me that you’re thinking about retreating to Holy Ground? Is that your answer for this whole mess? Run away from it? Believe me: that never works.”

 

“If I were running away, I’d agree,” Diana said steadily. “I’m not. I just need some time to sort through some things; like I said, get my head straight.”

 

“You haven’t given him a final answer?” Mahleah asked.

 

“No.”

 

Looking down into those calm blue eyes Mahleah knew the answer to her question but asked anyway, “But you’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

 

Diana nodded, “This is something I need, Mahleah. Can’t you understand that?”

 

“Yeah, I can,” Mahleah agreed. “You may be right. It wouldn’t be my solution to the problem, but that’s probably a good thing. Have you told Wesley about any of this?”

 

“Not yet,” Diana’s gaze dropped. “I will tonight.”

 

Expelling a tense breath, Mahleah hugged her friend, “It’s going to be okay, you’ll see. Hey, we need to have fun tonight. Damn, I’ve got to sing. What about making tonight really special and joining me?”

 

“Sing? Me? Onstage in front of people,” Diana said in panic. “I couldn’t do that.”

 

“Sure you can,” Mahleah said confidently. “You’ll see. It’ll be easy.”

 

****

That night Cordelia, who had starting seeing the drummer in the band, sat amazed at Mahleah’s ability to talk people into things. Diana had claimed right up until the last minute that she couldn’t sing a note but now she stood in front of the mike stunning them with an a capella performance. Her voice was higher pitched than Mahleah’s and much less professional but the brutal honesty she brought to her subject matter had them all spellbound.

 

5am Friday morning Thursday night far from sleep

I’m still up and driving can’t go home obviously

So I’ll just change direction ‘cause they’ll soon know where I live

And I wanna live

Got a full tank and some chips

 

It was me and a gun and a man on my back

And I sang “Holy Holy” as he buttoned down his pants

 

On her right Wesley sat, his nerves strung so tight that if someone were to drop a dime on the floor Cordelia suspected he’d jump ten feet. She’d seen the way he and Diana had been cautiously drawn towards each other and figured that listening to her sing about being raped had to be about as fun for him as being burnt with hot pokers. Poor guy, she thought, but sometimes these things have to come out.

 

You can laugh

It’s kind of funny

Things you think

Times like these

Like I haven’t seen Barbados so I must get out of this

 

Yes I wore a slinky red thing

Does that mean I should spread for you, your friends

Your father, Mr. Ed

 

It was me and a gun and a man on my back

But I haven’t seen Barbados so I must get out of this

 

On her left, Angel was fairing only marginally better. It probably went against his old-fashioned grain to hear such a blunt performance in a public place. No doubt, it also hurt the romantic chivalry deeply embedded within his character to know that this was a wound he couldn’t bandage. The perpetrator was out of his reach and he couldn’t make this right.

 

And I know what this means

Me and Jesus a few years back used to hang

And he said, “It’s your choice babe just remember

I don’t think you’ll be back in three days time so you choose well.”

Tell me what’s right

Is it my right to be on my stomach of Fred’s Seville

 

It was me and a gun and a man on my back

But I haven’t seen Barbados so I must get out of this

 

On Angel’s left was Mahleah whose eyes glistened softly in the dim light. This was an old memory for her, but perhaps it was bringing up some unwanted nightmares of her own. Cordelia remembered her vision and knew that Mahleah had not survived her dance along the razor’s edge unscathed. If she seemed to recover more quickly than Diana, it probably had to do with the fact that she’d had a happier foundation than the other woman.

 

And do you know Carolina

Where the biscuits are soft and sweet

These things go through your head when there’s a man on your back

And you’re pushed flat on your stomach it’s not a classic Cadillac

 

It was me and a gun and a man on my back

But I haven’t seen Barbados so I must get out of this.

 

As Diana’s voice went silent, one could have heard a pin drop in the room. Then suddenly the audience exploded with applause, standing on their feet and whistling. Diana stood transfixed by this appreciation, seeming not to know what to do next.

 

Mahleah rescued her by gathering up the band and going back up onstage. She gave Diana a hug, and then suggested something in her ear. Diana shook her head, but Mahleah indicated the still cheering crowd. They obviously wanted to hear something else. Diana finally agreed, and the band kicked in.

 

I don’t wanna be no man’s woman

It don’t make me happy this mantrolling

Thing that you got for me so I become

No man’s woman

 

Cordelia was pleasantly surprised that Diana still kept the lead vocals with Mahleah chiming in with some backup harmonies. The crowd ate it up.

 

I don’t wanna be no man’s woman

I’ve other work I want to get done

I haven’t traveled this far to become

No man’s woman

No man’s woman

 

She could feel the confusion flowing around her from the men at her sides. Repressing a smile, she tried to remember that they might see this song as rejection not as emancipation.

 

Cuz I’m tired of it

And I’m not scared of it

That I’ll never trust again

Cuz a man could fake you

Take your soul and make you

Miserable in so much pain

 

“It helps if you remember her past,” she said compassionately to Wesley.

 

“I understand that, but this is condemning the future,” he said miserably.

 

My friends think I’m alone but I’ve got secrets

I don’t tell everything about the love I get

I got a lovin’ man but he’s a spirit

He never does me harm never treats me bad

He never takes away all the love he has

And I’m forgiven a million times

 

“I guess this is healthy,” Angel said, not as unhappy as Wesley but blatantly uncomfortable.

 

“It is,” Cordelia said approvingly. “Look guys, it’s a song not a life choice.”

 

I’m never tired of it

And I’m not scared of it

Cuz it doesn’t cause me pain

Like a man could fake you

Take your soul and make you

Never be yourself again

 

Both Diana and Mahleah were enjoying themselves immensely and belted out the final lines with gusto although Mahleah still restrained herself to only harmonize with Diana’s melody.

 

I never wanna be no man’s woman

I only wanna be my own woman

I haven’t traveled this far to become

No man’s woman

No man’s woman

No man’s woman

 

And that’s what it’s all about, Cordelia thought. It’s not rejecting men; it’s rejecting the thought of someone else controlling your life. Give it some thought boys, and you’ll see. This is all going to turn out well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Three

 

 

 

“So, how did Wesley take the news?” Mahleah asked Diana as they packed up what few belongings she was taking with her to Father Dudley’s church to the strains of the radio she was leaving behind her.

 

“He was a little upset,” Diana admitted. “But he tried to act like he wasn’t.”

 

“Of course he did,” Mahleah snorted, “He’s a British ex-Watcher…that’s got to be the epitome of ‘stiff upper lip’ training in controlling your emotions.”

 

“I know,” Diana laughed, “Poor guy. He said he understands though. He’s borrowing Angel’s car to drive me to my new home. I’d rather have taken his bike but…”

 

“No room for the baggage,” Mahleah completed. “Well, at least you’ll get to say goodbye for now. It is just for now, right?”

 

Diana turned away and stuffed some more things into a bag. “That’s what he said, that he’d wait on me until I was ready.”

 

“But,” Mahleah prompted.

 

“But that’s not fair to him, or realistic. I mean I have no idea how long this is going to take. It’s not the kind of thing you can put on a schedule, you know? It could take years and unlike us he’s not getting any younger. He could very well meet the woman of his dreams and Wesley’s so honorable he’d turn down a chance at happiness just to keep his word. That wouldn’t be right.”

 

Mahleah sighed, but she agreed with Diana.

 

“He is going to call or write or something, though? Make some effort to keep in touch?”

 

“Yeah,” Diana smiled. “I told him he’d have to keep me up-to-date on all of Angel Investigations’ big adventures.”

 

“You’d better keep in touch with me as well,” Mahleah warned, shaking her finger exaggeratedly.

 

“Easier said than done,” Diana retorted lightly, “you’re hard to keep up with. You’ll have to be in charge of keeping in touch with me.”

 

“Will do,” Mahleah promised.

 

Diana zipped up the last bag and toyed with the handle. “Do you think I can do it?” she asked. “Make a fresh start, get past all the crap and figure out who I am?”

 

Mahleah put a hand on her shoulder, “Hey, of course you can.”

 

“I don’t know,” Diana confessed. “I’ve never been as strong as you. You just bounce back from stuff.”

 

“I’d hardly call the last few months bouncing,” Mahleah disagreed.

 

“Maybe it wasn’t for you,” Diana acknowledged. “But other people take much longer to start getting their life back to normal after the trauma and drama you’ve gone through. I think that’s the thing I’ve envied the most about you through the years.”

 

“Don’t,” Mahleah said firmly. “Do you know all that separates the two of us?”

 

“Nine inches and a pretty face,” Diana joked weakly.

 

“Hey,” Mahleah turned Diana around to face the mirror. “You have a beautiful face. Diana, I’m not prettier than you are. We’re just different body types. Not everyone can be a giraffe and personally I don’t know why anyone would want to be in the first place. Other than the fact that it’s made my life easier on the fighting front I’d think it sucked. In fact, these,” she gestured towards her breasts. “These are just a nuisance that get in the way.”

 

“I’m sure men don’t agree,” Diana giggled, feeling suddenly light-hearted.

 

“Yeah, well they don’t have to compensate for the fact that they’re top-heavy and tend to lean forward when they’re fighting,” Mahleah retorted. “The point is small and petite is just as attractive as big and tall. The only things that truly separate us are good luck and self confidence and one of those tends to lead to the other.”

 

“You’re saying that you’ve just been luckier than me?” Diana asked, her brow furrowing.

 

“Yeah, I mean other than not having a mom and the messy relationship with Dad my childhood was so much more pleasant than yours. The end of it got a little rocky with losing Kevin and all but at the beginning I got a strong foundation and had people taking care of me that loved me and protected me. You didn’t. I was lucky. Something’s in the air, though, I can feel it. Our luck may be about to change.”

 

“You mean I’ll start having good luck and you’ll start having bad luck?”

 

“Yeah, I mean you’re definitely due and from what I can tell the wind’s already shifted in that direction,” she smiled, then sobered. “As for me, right now I’m still feeling lucky but I’m waiting for that other shoe to drop. I’ve been very blessed and life is about to present me with a bill, I’m sure. I hope I can afford to pay it.”

 

They heard a knock on the door, and Mahleah gave Diana another quick hug.

 

“I’ll go let your escort in and then take off so you two can have your private goodbyes.”

 

“You don’t have to leave,” Diana protested.

 

“Three’s a crowd,” Mahleah laughed, “besides Angel should be up by now.”

 

“Oh, I see,” Diana teased. “So I’m getting dropped for a gorgeous guy.”

 

“No, I’m leaving you with a gorgeous guy so I can go see another one,” Mahleah teased back. “Hope you’ll have as much fun as I’m going to.”

 

She started down the stairs.

 

“Mahleah,” Diana stopped her, “Be careful, huh? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

“Now, what kind of fun is that,” Mahleah replied with a twinkle in her eye and continued down the stairs.

 

****

“Hey handsome,” Angel looked up from his book of poetry to see Mahleah leaning against the wall.

 

“Hi yourself,” he responded. “Did Diana get settled?”

 

She shook her head, “Not yet. I helped her pack and Wesley’s going to take her over to the church.”

 

“It’s kind of sad,” he remarked. “I thought the two of them might get together. Wesley’s one of the loneliest people I know.”

 

She stepped over to her CD player and pressed play, then continued into the room as a hypnotic groove laden with a heavy bass line filled the air.

 

I’m so tired of playing

Playing with this bow and arrow

Gonna give my heart away,

Leave it to the other girls to play

For I’ve been a temptress too long

 

“Diana just needs some time,” she said, and slid into Angel’s lap. “I’m sure Wesley understands that.”

 

Angel cleared his throat as Mahleah nibbled on his ear.

 

“Did you miss me or something?” he asked hoarsely.

 

“You noticed,” she gave a deep throaty chuckle, punctuated by a delicate lick around the curve of his ear.

 

“Hard to overlook,” he murmured.

 

Hmm just

Give me a reason to love you

Give me a reason to be

A woman

I just wanna be a woman

 

Her fingers threaded through his hair as her lips descended along his jaw line.

 

“Mahleah,” he started to say before she covered his mouth with hers. The kiss was warm and pleasant but was quickly escalating into something else. He pulled away, puzzled by her uncharacteristic behavior. They had traded soft kisses before but were careful to avoid crossing any boundaries that would lead to an escalation of more dangerous passions.

 

“Mmm, Angel,” she was practically purring. “You taste so good…so cool.” She dove in again and this time there was no restraint in her embrace.

 

From this time, unchained

We’re all looking at a different picture

Through this new frame of mind

A thousand flowers could bloom

Move over, and give us some room

 

“Mahleah, stop,” he reluctantly broke off the kiss. “We have to be careful, remember?”

 

“It’s okay,” she told him, her eyes dark and hungry, “You can control yourself. I trust you, Angel.”

 

Those words ate away at that control and this time he kissed her. Their tongues slid against each other in a sensual dance and he allowed himself to forget nearly everything except the taste of her, the scalding heat of her mouth, and her fingers darting quickly up under the front of his shirt. The latter managed to catch his attention.

 

Yeah

Give me a reason to love you

Give me a reason to be

A woman

I just want to be a woman

 

“Mahleah,” he groaned, enjoying the feel of her hands against his chest a little too much. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

 

“I think it’s the best idea I’ve had all day,” she panted, “and it can only get better.”

 

One of her hands steered up and started running tantalizing circles around his left nipple. Her other hand dove straight down and slid under his waistband.

 

“Whoa!” he said startled. He stood up, pushing her off his lap.

 

So don’t you stop being a man

Just take a little look from outside when you can

Sow a little tenderness

No matter if you cry

 

“What’s wrong?” Mahleah asked him, seemingly unaware of why he’d stopped the proceedings.

 

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, incredulously. “Mahleah, do you remember my curse? Much as I might be tempted to make love to you, I can’t.”

 

“We don’t have to go that far,” she murmured, starting to kiss his neck.

 

“Umm, how far were you planning to go with your hand down my pants?” he inquired matter-of-factly.

 

“I’m sorry,” for a moment she did look as if she was regretting her actions but then her eyes darkened as if a cloud of desire had fogged her mind. She leaned in to kiss him again, and he resisted.

 

“I think we’d better stop now,” he said firmly. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

 

Give me a reason to love you

Give me a reason to be

A woman

It’s all I wanna be is all woman

 

He put her in the chair and placed himself as far across the room as he could go.

 

“This is ridiculous, Angel,” she complained. “It’s not like I’m going to tear all your clothes off and have my wicked way with you. You’re making me feel like the villain in a Victorian melodrama – only with the gender roles reversed.”

 

He relaxed a little. That sounded like the Mahleah he knew. He came a little closer.

 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to sound like the damsel in distress. I was just worried.”

 

“I know,” she smiled and started toward him. As she inched closer he could smell the musky scent of her desire become stronger with every step. When she reached him, her hands immediately ran up his arms caressing his biceps and crossing to his back. He stood stock still, not daring to move.

 

For this is the beginning of forever and ever

It’s time to move over

So I want to be

 

“You feel so good,” she told him. “It’s like I can’t get enough of your touch.” She leaned forward, kissing him. He allowed it, but refused to part his lips. She pulled away with a frown.

 

“Mahleah, concentrate for a minute,” he pleaded with her. “You know we can’t do this. We talked about it, remember? Why don’t you just sit down here and finish your novel. I’m going to go take a walk. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

 

Shaking herself as if trying to clear her head, Mahleah nodded and sat down in his chair. He quickly crossed the room and headed to the elevator when he heard a moan. He turned.

 

“Mahleah?”

 

“Angel,” she looked at him with frightened eyes. “I don’t feel so well.”

 

“What’s hurting you?” he cautiously made his way back into the room.

 

“My skin feels like it’s on fire,” she whispered. “I’m so hot and my clothes itch.” She began scratching frantically at her arms.

 

I’m so tired of playing

Playing with this bow and arrow

Gonna give my heart away

Leave it to the other girls to play

For I’ve been a temptress too long

 

He grabbed her hands and noted that her skin was hot to the touch not just pleasantly warm as usual.

 

“You’re running a high temperature,” he told her.

 

“I can’t be,” she told him, as sweat started to pop out on her brow. “I don’t get sick.”

 

“I know,” he said, starting to worry.

 

“Besides I feel fine now,” she smiled and once again her hands started wandering down his body.

 

“No,” he told her sternly. “Stay right here, I’m going to call Wesley. Something’s wrong here.”

 

Hmm just,

Give me a reason to love you

 

“Okay,” she agreed docilely, her face appearing momentarily lucid.

 

He snatched the phone and prayed that Wesley had his cellphone with him.

 

****

Wesley scanned Diana’s rather austere new quarters with discomfort. He really should be leaving but he found himself unable to say goodbye. He hoped that he would see her again but worried that once she ‘found’ herself she wouldn’t be interested in him anymore.

 

Just as he was about to start trying to say his farewells, the phone in his pocket buzzed impatiently. Frowning, he pulled it out of his jacket and flipped it open.

 

“Hello,” he answered.

 

“Wesley, thank God I caught you,” a familiar male voice said.

 

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

 

“I’m going to need some help here, I think. It’s Mahleah. She’s acting very bizarre tonight. Was she okay when you saw her?”

 

“She seemed fine. Hold on let me ask Diana.” He turned to the woman behind him. “How was Mahleah this evening? Did she act strange in any way?”

 

“Strange?” Diana frowned. “No, she seemed perfectly normal to me. She was a little hyper when she left.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Oh, nothing much. She just had what we’ve always called the trouble twinkle in her eye.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Every now and then, Mahleah gets bored and goes out looking for trouble. It’s usually nothing serious. She usually finds a fairly harmless way of working it out of her system.”

 

“And when she doesn’t?” Angel was listening and interrupted with the question.

 

She heard him and answered, “Then she can do something like take off across the country for a couple of months in the middle of her sophomore year. It’s rarely that serious, though.”

 

There had been sounds of a slight scuffle in the background that Wesley puzzled at. It seemed calm now though and he asked Angel, “What’s going on? What’s Mahleah done?”

 

“She’s been running a seriously high temperature and complaining that her skin is itching,” came the response, “Among other things.”

 

“What other things?” Wesley started to ask when he heard a painful scream on the other end of the line.

 

“Angel, what happened? What’s going on?”

 

“Get over here, Wes. We need help.”

 

 

Chapter Twenty Four

 

 

“Mahleah has obviously been affected by a love spell,” Wesley announced.

 

“Gee, you think?” Cordelia scoffed sarcastically. “Considering she suddenly can’t keep her hands off Angel. No offense, boss,” she added sweetly.

 

Angel was in no state of mind to debate her words. Mahleah’s condition had gone from bad to worse. Her fever was at dangerous levels and she constantly clawed at her skin unless he held her hands. At first his touch seemed to alleviate her symptoms although it heightened her attempts to seduce him. Now, she was lost in a haze of pain and unslaked desire that threatened to drown her mind and body and even touching her didn’t dispel her condition. She writhed and wailed in misery if he wasn’t in some sort of physical contact with her, though. He had no doubts that this was, as Wesley suspected, a spell of some sort. When he got his hands on the culprits he would tear them in two.

 

Wesley had not only ransacked his books but other resources as well. When unable to immediately locate the exact spell he had called the best source of occult knowledge any of them knew: Rupert Giles. Apparently whatever the two of them had found, frightened Giles enough to grab the relevant texts and hit the road. He would arrive in L.A. at any minute.

 

Scowling at Cordelia, Wesley continued, “It’s known as the Psyche-Eros Potion.”

 

With a name like that Angel had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like what his friend had to say about the cure.

 

“After the victim has been doused with the potion, every time she comes into contact with the designated key the spell becomes stronger until it takes control of her mind. She suffers from increasing physical discomfort until one of two things happen.”

 

“What?” Angel asked with misgivings.

 

Wesley looked grim, “Either she finds her release with the designated key…”

 

“Not an option,” Cordelia chimed in, “Sorry but no more Angelus, please. I mean I feel sorry for Mahleah but we’re talking crazy sicko vampire who tried to end the world here.”

 

“Or,” Angel impatiently waved Wesley on with his free hand.

 

“Or she dies,” Wesley said matter-of-factly.

 

Angel closed his eyes in frustration.

 

“But maybe that’s a good thing,” Cordelia suggested. When they looked at her with incredulity, she hastily added, “I meant she’s Immortal, right? So, she dies and when she comes back maybe the spell will be broken. It’s worth a shot, right?”

 

“Are you willing to let her die in such excruciating pain?” Angel demanded.

 

“I am,” a weak voice replied.

 

He looked down to see Mahleah gazing at him weakly. She clutched his fingers tightly.

 

“Mahleah, no there’s got to be some other way,” he protested.

 

“You heard the man,” she rasped, “Only two outcomes. We can’t risk breaking the curse so that only leaves Cordelia’s plan. It might work.”

 

“It might not,” he countered.

 

“Then we’ll think of something else,” she tried to smile, but failed. She squeezed his hand again, then let it go and pulled away from him.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

 

“Speeding up the process,” she said hissing in pain.

 

“Mahleah,” he reached for her.

 

“No,” she cried out. “Don’t touch me.”

 

Helpless, he watched as she curled up in a fetal position and rocked back and forth keening.

 

“Angel, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Cordelia said softly. “In fact, I know it isn’t.”

 

Mahleah clutched her head and let out a blood-curdling screech.

 

“Make that the worst plan known on the face of the earth,” she amended. “Can’t we do something?”

 

Wincing, Wesley told them, “Every time Angel touched her, the stronger her compulsion to have that touch became. By now being deprived of it will hasten her condition quite rapidly.”

 

The screams intensified until Angel couldn’t stand it any longer. He started to reach toward her and Wesley blocked his way. He stared dumbfounded at his friend, unable to believe he could be so cruel but the other man only nodded, “It’s too late.”

 

With horror, he saw Mahleah’s body arch up into a taut bow-shape and then crumple gracelessly to the bed.

 

“Mahleah,” he crouched beside the bed and straightened out her body. He’d heard her heart stop so there was no need to check her pulse.

 

“Angel,” Wesley said gently. “It might be best if you weren’t touching her when she revives. We need to see if death broke the spell and made her agony worthwhile.”

 

Reluctantly nodding, Angel rose and walked away from the bed.

 

“It might even be prudent for you to be gone,” Wesley continued. “I know it’s hard but if…”

 

“I know,” Angel interrupted brusquely. “I’ll go upstairs but I’m not leaving. This might not have worked and then she’ll need me.”

 

He heard a door slam above and went to investigate. As the elevator opened he saw Rupert Giles and Willow Rosenberg waiting for him with worried faces. As he looked into the face of the young witch who had restored his soul, Angel’s anxiety intensified. Hopefully, Giles had found a way to reverse the love spell and had brought Willow along to cast a counter spell of some sort. Their grim expressions however didn’t bode well.

 

“Giles, Willow,” he greeted them. “What have you found out? Do you know how to help Mahleah?”

 

Giles looked pale and tired. He shook his head discouragingly to Angel’s inquiries.

 

“I’m afraid the outlook is rather bleak,” he said without preamble. He frowned, “Might I ask what you’re doing up here? I would have thought Mahleah would be in terrific pain without your touch.”

 

Angel sagged onto the nearest chair. “Mahleah decided to see if death would release her.”

 

“Dear God,” Giles stared at him. “Do you mean to say that she’s deliberately letting the spell kill her to see if its boundaries end with death?”

 

“Yes,” Angel studied his hands without really seeing them. “I didn’t want to put her through that, but she insisted. Wesley sent me up here so that I wouldn’t be nearby when she revives. Hopefully, she’ll be back to normal.”

 

“Indeed,” Giles agreed.

 

His next remark was interrupted by a series of shrieks and cries coming from below them. Angel didn’t wait for the elevator but flew down the steps. When he reached the bottom he saw that Mahleah had torn all her clothes off and was trying to tear her flesh off as well. Cordelia and Wesley were desperately trying to stop her efforts to harm herself and she was putting up quite a battle.

 

“Mahleah,” he called to the manic woman, hoping to be able to calm her down. “Mahleah, it’s okay. I’m here now.”

 

Spotting him she rushed forward, knocking them both to the ground. He found himself with an armful of hellcat who rolled them across the floor. He managed to get some leverage and pinned her solidly so that she couldn’t move. Sometimes it was good to have supernatural strength, he reflected grimly.

 

“I’m thinking she’s not any better, Wesley,” Cordelia remarked, trying in vain to set her clothes aright after her skirmish with the bewitched woman.

 

“No, she’s worse,” Angel agreed.

 

“Willow, there’s a first aid kit in Angel’s office. Why don’t you take Cordelia upstairs and help her out with those scratches?” Wesley suggested.

 

The two young women took the hint and took the elevator upstairs leaving the two ex-Watchers alone with Angel and Mahleah.

 

“Okay, so what do you want to tell me that you thought Cordy shouldn’t hear?” Angel asked.

 

“Wesley believes there may be a way to break the spell,” Giles told him.

 

“Wesley believes, but you don’t?” Angel raised an eyebrow.

 

“Let’s just say I have some reservations,” the older Englishman hedged.

 

“What is it Wes? What can we do?”

 

“I can only see two courses of action, one of which we would choose only out of sheer desperation,” Wesley told him. “The trick is to break the spell without also breaking the loophole in your curse and I only see one way of doing that.”

 

“Which would be?” Angel demanded impatiently.

 

Wesley cleared his throat, “The curse depends on the fact that you can’t experience a moment of happiness, Angel. It says nothing about you giving happiness to others.”

 

“Ah,” Angel said slowly. No wonder Wesley had sent the girls out of the room. Cordelia would have been freaked by his suggestion and Willow would have been embarrassed. “Giles, you’re being awfully quiet here. You don’t think this will work?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t believe it will break the hold the Psyche-Eros Potion has on her,” Giles sighed, “but I could be wrong and the alternatives are terrible.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“Meaning that if you can’t find a way to free her from this spell that Mahleah will be doomed to suffer continuous physical torment until it kills her over and over again. I doubt any human mind could withstand that kind of torture no matter how strong it was in the beginning. So, I’m hoping that Wesley’s suggestion will work as he predicts.”

 

“And if it doesn’t?” Angel looked down at Mahleah who was still struggling against him, seeming not to know even him now.

 

“I brought Willow,” Giles said simply.

 

A chill ran through Angel. That was it then. His choices were to condemn Mahleah to an eternity of pain and insanity or to make love to her and risk losing his soul. Leave it to Giles to be pragmatic enough to bring along the one person they knew was capable of performing the ancient Romani curse. No doubt he’d also tucked chains strong enough to hold a vampire in the trunk of his car.

 

“Okay then,” he swallowed. “I’ll try Wesley’s way.”

 

They stood around awkwardly until Angel growled at them, “You might want to go upstairs. This is going to be tricky enough without an audience.”

 

“Right,” Giles agreed immediately, making his way towards the elevator. Wesley lingered for a moment.

 

“I realize that you don’t need advice here, Angel,” he said, “but might I suggest some music to calm the poor woman down? We’ve all seen how songs have the ability to bypass the conscious part of her brain. It could help…her music that is, not yours.”

 

He ground his teeth together, “It’s a good idea, Wes. Since I kind of have my hands full here, why don’t you find something appropriate to put on…quickly.”

 

“Yes, right,” Wesley agreed. Hastily scanning the titles in Mahleah’s portable CD holder, he chose one, stuck it in the player and followed Giles’ exit.

 

These arms of mine

They are lonely

Lonely and feeling blue

These arms of mine

They are yearning

Yearning from wanting you

 

Not bad, Angel thought grudgingly. He slipped an arm beneath Mahleah and carried her over to the bed. She whimpered and thrashed beneath him.

 

“Ssh, it’s going to be okay,” he promised her. Her dark eyes stared at him blank and unknowing, lost in a world of horrors he couldn’t see.

 

He stroked her hair softly, “You’re safe, Mahleah. Come back to me.” Gently, he started peppering kisses across her face, looking for any sign that she acknowledged him. None was forthcoming but he bent his mouth to hers anyway. At first he just brushed their lips together, rubbing affectionately in a sort of Eskimo kiss, then he added pressure sucking on her bottom lip then nipping it a little with his blunt front teeth. He licked the corner of her mouth and pressed gently against the seam of her lips. With a moan she opened for him.

 

And if you

Would let them hold you

Oh, how grateful I would be

 

“Angel,” he heard with relief, and tilting his head back saw cognizance returning to her eyes.

 

Gently his hands started roaming across her curves and his lips began exploring the soft skin between her breasts. He heard her breathing hitch and very, very slowly worked his way over to the aching point of one breast. By the time his tongue gave her nipple a series of long, languorous caresses followed by short, sharp licks she was bucking beneath him.

 

These arms of mine

They are burning

Burning from wanting you

These arms of mine

They are wanting

Wanting to hold you

 

Gradually he worked his way down her body, avoiding her own roving hands, which were anxiously trying to return his caresses. He lavished attention on the sensitive underside of her belly, and then moved down to her inner thighs. At the first touch of his cool mouth between her lips she wailed his name and grabbed his shoulders.

 

There are times that not having to breathe pays off, he reflected with satisfaction. He was able to build her to a peak, back off, and rebuild it again torturously slow. By the time he finally triggered her release she was clawing the sheets and pleading with him. Unfortunately, she was still pleading with him after the orgasm as well. He realized that oral sex was only slowing down her symptoms not curing them.

 

And if you

Would let them hold you

Oh how grateful I would be

 

The least he could do was prevent her from being in unbearable pain as long as possible. He repeated the process again and again until her body was spent but she was begging him to skip the foreplay and make love to her. He shifted up in the bed and held her, talking to her quietly in Irish. As his hands gently stroked her hair and arms in the small, soothing circles she had enjoyed before, she finally gave in to her exhaustion and slept.

 

 

Come on, come on baby

Just be my little woman yeah

Just be my lover

I need somebody (somebody)

To treat me right

Oh I need your warm loving arms to hold me tight

And I need your tender lips too

Hold me, hold me

 

 

 

“Well, you were right, Giles,” Angel said as he stepped off the elevator. “I didn’t break the spell but I did manage to buy us a little time. She’s asleep.”

 

He stopped abruptly as he recognized the man leaning on Cordelia’s desk looking tense and decidedly unhappy.

 

“Hello, Duncan,” he greeted him.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Five

 

 

“It’s not that I’m unhappy to see you,” Angel said hesitantly, “but what are you doing here, MacLeod?”

 

“Got a phone call from Diana,” the Scot said tersely. “She was quite emphatic that Mahleah was in danger and she seemed under the impression that I was the only one that could help her. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find out just how wrong she was.”

 

“She’s not completely mistaken, as we’ve told you,” Wesley said soothingly to the Immortal. “You may very well be vital to our efforts to free Mahleah from this spell.”

 

“Maybe,” MacLeod assented, “but it still seems strange to me that the only person who thought enough to call me was a woman staying on Holy Ground.” His eyebrow rose in a sardonic fashion. “I suppose no one else had a telephone.”  His gaze had fastened on Joe, who had also arrived while Angel was otherwise occupied.

 

The Watcher flushed, “I haven’t known what was going on much longer than you, Mac, and to be honest I don’t know that I would have called you for help. I’ve already done that twice this year on Mahleah’s behalf and you’ve always refused.”

 

“Somehow I think that being under a spell that’s bound to continually kill her until she’s driven insane falls under a different heading from a need for guidance,” MacLeod said sharply.

 

Besides, MacLeod hadn’t refused her either time, Angel now realized. He had aided her in all the ways he could while still respecting her wishes. The Highlander had sent Joe to someone he thought could help, namely Angel himself and when Mahleah had gone catatonic from shock it had been Duncan’s suggestion, refined by Diana, that eventually got Mahleah back on her feet again. No wonder he was angry that Joe had neglected to fill him in on this situation. Suddenly Wesley’s words penetrated his tired brain and he puzzled over them.

 

“How can Duncan help?” he asked aloud. “I’m not doubting the connection you have with Mahleah,” he hastily added, “I’m just wondering if that would be enough to sever the hold this spell has on her since some bastard has keyed it to me.”

 

“I was going to try,” Duncan folded his arms over his chest, “but they told me that I might make things worse.”

 

“At this stage of the spell anyone who touches Mahleah other than Angel will only drive her further into madness,” Giles affirmed, cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief.

 

Drawing back his fist Angel hit the wall, managing to pull the blow before he punched a hall through the wood.

 

“I guess we know where that leaves us,” he said bitterly.

 

“With an attitude like that I can see why you’ve not had any luck helping her,” Duncan observed. “Mahleah’s a beautiful woman not a battle to be fought.”

 

Angel swung around to face the Immortal. “Let’s see how you’d feel if every time you made love to someone you risked losing your soul. If every time you touched someone or were touched in return you had to be on your guard because if you allowed it to make you too content you would cease to exist and a demon wearing your face would go around torturing and killing everyone you cared about.” He grimaced and shut up, realizing that the others were staring at him in surprise at his uncharacteristic outburst.

 

“So, she is a battle to be fought,” Duncan said mildly. “I’m sorry, Angel. You’re right. I couldn’t possibly know what it feels like to exist the way you do. I’m afraid, though, that according to your friends here, that’s the very reason that you’ve not been able to release the spell on Mahleah.”

 

“What?” Angel turned to look at Giles and Wesley.

 

Wesley cleared his throat, “Yes, well as its name would indicate the Psyche-Eros Potion is not just a common love spell. If cast by an experienced witch it binds its victim…binds them not to the body of the designated person but instead…”

 

“To their soul,” Angel realized with a groan. “Psyche and Eros: the marriage of physical love with the soul.”

 

“Precisely,” Giles nodded. “That is why I was nearly certain that Wesley’s earlier plan would not succeed.”

 

“And why you brought Willow,” Angel acknowledged. His shoulders slumped. “Basically you’re saying that the only way the spell will be broken is if Mahleah feels my soul leaving?”

 

Wesley frowned, “Not exactly, which brings us to our new plan. It really is fortuitous that MacLeod arrived because I think that with his cooperation we might find a satisfactory solution to the entire problem.”

 

Duncan raised an eyebrow, and commented dryly, “Trust me -- you’re going to love this.”

 

****

He couldn’t believe he was going through with this and he sensed that MacLeod felt the same doubts. Still, the Watchers were fairly positive that this crazy plan could work. Willow had her own set of doubts about her ability to successfully pull off a spell of this complexity and magnitude but Giles assured her that he would guide her every step of the way.

 

As he watched their preparations, which included retrieving the magically forged manacles he’d known Giles would produce at some point, he felt MacLeod come up behind him.

 

“Worried?” he asked.

 

Angel laughed mirthlessly, “Why should I be worried? If any part of this plan doesn’t work there’s a good chance that I’ll lose my soul and both you and Mahleah could be insane forever. Still, what choice do we have?”

 

“A pragmatist would say that we could just end Mahleah’s suffering and the rest of us wouldn’t have to take all of these risks,” Duncan said stone-faced.

 

“End her suffering?” Angel’s brow wrinkled as he contemplated the other man’s words. “But that’s what we’re trying to do…oh. You’re saying we could…no that’s not an option.”

 

He was gifted with the first smile Duncan had worn since his arrival. “No, it’s not an option,” he agreed. “I’ve always been more of a romantic than a pragmatist anyway.”

 

“I know this is an awkward situation,” Angel told him, “To say the least. Thank you for agreeing to do this. I know it’s not an easy decision.”

 

Duncan’s small smile disappeared, “I’m not doing it for you.”

 

“I know,” Angel replied. He started to walk away when a hand on his arm stopped him.

 

“Do me a favor?” Duncan asked seriously. “Don’t tell Mahleah that I was here. Tell her that you used temporary magic to break the spell – the kind that’ll never happen again – but don’t tell her I was involved.”

 

“Why?”

 

“If the situation was different…if it had been Buffy’s new boyfriend who called and needed the same kind of help from you, would you want her to know?” Duncan asked.

 

Angel swallowed and repressed a wince at being compared to Riley. His primal side screamed yes, he would want Buffy to know exactly who had helped her and how he’d done it but his human side understood what MacLeod was saying.

 

“No,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t. I promise, I won’t tell her.”

 

“Thanks,” Duncan relaxed.

 

“It’s time, guys,” Willow called.

 

They looked at each other and then moved toward the witch, ready for the next step of the plan.

 

****

Mahleah shifted restlessly as her blood began to burn once more and her skin itched with the desire to lose herself in Angel. He’d been here earlier and temporarily sated the hunger that was devouring her body but he’d left a deep void that longed to be filled.

 

She twisted in the sheets, reaching for a completion that relentlessly eluded her. The tickle under her flesh only seemed to increase and she moaned in frustration.

 

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay,” a familiar voice said tenderly.

 

Soothe me baby, soothe me

Soothe me with your kindness

For you know your powerful love is

Soothing to me

 

“Angel,” she protested.

 

“I’m here,” a warm hand caressed her face lovingly.

 

She managed to drag her eyes open to see dark brown irises staring back at her.

 

“Please Angel,” she begged him. “I need you.”

 

“I know,” he said softly. “I know.”

 

Bending down he caught her mouth with his, but this time he didn’t hold back. His tongue tangled with hers in lush exploration until they had to part for breath. She absently noted that he was panting.

 

Soothe me baby, soothe me

Soothe me with your kindness

For you know your powerful love is

Soothing to me

 

Her fingers skated up the taut muscles of his stomach and when he didn’t protest, she immediately began tugging his shirt off, desperately wanting to feel his skin against hers. Chuckling, he broke the kiss so she could pull it over his head.

 

“Slow down, Mahleah, I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got until dawn.”

 

Oh how I used to ramble

And how I used to roam

Oh but since I met that baby of mine

All I do is stay at home and I tell her

 

While she liked the sound of that she’d been waiting too damn long for this. She was a mile and a half past ready and while she definitely enjoyed his foreplay it was time to get down to basics. Briefly caressing his chest, her fingers immediately descended to his waist. To her delight he didn’t stop her this time when she started removing the trousers she had begun to hate. Instead, when her fingers started moving across his hot, hard flesh he guided her hand, showing her the rhythm he liked best.

 

His groan mingled with hers, making her heart beat even faster. Reluctantly she pulled her hand away so she could finally, finally get rid of those damn pants. Mission accomplished she forcefully pushed him back on the bed, straddling his hips and quickly guiding him to her center before he changed his mind again.

 

Oh I used to have a lot of girls

Have them big and small

Oh but since I met that baby of mine

I know no other girls at all

I just tell her

 

“Damn,” he chuckled, “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. You’ve never been in this big a hurry before.”

 

Ignoring this strange comment she kissed him again, setting up complementary motions above and below. For a second his kiss changed, his tongue tracing a familiar pattern across hers.

 

Soothe me baby, soothe me

Soothe me with your kindness

For you know your powerful love is

Soothing to me

 

Dazed, she murmured, “Duncan.”

 

A shadow moved across his face before he gently scolded her, “Don’t you know it’s not nice to call out another man’s name in bed? I guess I’ll just have to make you forget anyone else.”

 

With only his admonition for a warning, he rolled them over, skillfully remaining inside of her. His motion drove him even deeper within her body, which made her heart sing with elation. This was what she’d been craving. She needed him surrounding her, filling her, falling over the edge with her. Rocking beneath him she met his strong thrusts, trying to ride the waves of pleasure, as they grew more insistent. Hitting the crest she struggled for a moment against its force but finally succumbed and drowned, wondering faintly if she would find a new birth waiting for her.

 

It’s so soothing to me

Your love, babe, is soothing to me

 

****

 

Not long before dawn, Mahleah ruffled her fingers through her sleeping lover’s dark brown hair. He shifted a little, rubbing his smooth cheek between her breasts, mumbling something unintelligible before fatigue claimed him again.

 

Let him sleep, she thought fondly, he damn sure earned it. There was much to be said for superhuman stamina that could last for hours. She was so blissfully lethargic that she didn’t have the energy to shiver as she hazily recalled their passion-filled night.

 

Take these hands they’re good for nothing

You know these hands have never worked a day

Take these boots they’re going nowhere

You know these boots don’t want to stray

You got my head filled with songs

You got my shoelaces undone

Take my shirt go on, take it off me

You can tear it up

If you can tie me down

 

Music had been playing throughout the encounter. Incandescently beautiful songs by singers she loved that substantially enhanced her mood. They couldn’t have been more perfect, if they’d been hand selected. She suspected they had been, and even had a prime suspect in mind although she had yet to determine how he became involved.

 

Vague as some details were, lost in the cloud of numerous passionate couplings, she could remember one thing clearly. In either their third or fourth encounter she had finally felt him surrender to the joy her soul bathed in. The release went far beyond the mere physical, no matter how blissful, to a transcendent rapture that stripped them of all defenses, leaving them vulnerable on the most elemental level.

 

As he collapsed on her, trembling and temporarily spent, she felt the last remnants of the artificially induced madness fade away and her mind regained control of sanity.  Shaking, and a little teary, she’d clutched him to her body not wanting the unity between them broken.

 

His eyes were wet too as he pressed kisses into the hollow between her throat. Content to dwell in the moment, her world was shaken when in one breath he whispered, “Mo chroí,” into her ear and the next she was swallowing a word from his mouth she would have sworn was “M’annsachd.”

 

Do you feel loved?

Do you feel loved?

 

Now she kissed Angel’s forehead tenderly. Why would an Irish vampire be speaking in his native tongue one second and the Scots variant of it the next? Combining it with the other strange coincidences – his odd comments, the warmth of his skin, the pulse that had throbbed in time with hers – she knew that somehow, in some way, Duncan was with her as well.

 

Although the man sleeping with his head pillowed on her chest had Angel’s face, he wasn’t just Angel of that she was sure. While they were making love she had been blessed with a partner who possessed a vampire’s knowledge of the power of oral stimulation in all its forms coupled with the most skilled pair of hands she’d ever had the fortune to encounter. Throughout the night she’d felt both the fevered excitement of someone learning her body for the first time and the calm surety of a familiar touch. Over six hundred and fifty years of experience in giving women pleasure, passing along lessons honed to mastery…quite the night for new experiences. Too bad it was impossible to thank those women, she thought in amusement.

 

Take the colours of my imagination

Take the scent hanging in the air

Take this tangle of a conversation

And turn it into your own farewell

With my fingers as you want them

With my nails under your hide

With my teeth at your back

And my tongue to tell you the sweetest lies.

 

Earlier in the year she’d told Angel that all her life she had felt abandoned, left behind by those she loved. From her mother to Duncan, those she cared for most had a habit of slipping away from her, which made her doubt their feelings for her. Tonight she had learned that time and distance did not blur those ties. Love could last despite the obstacles against it.

 

Do you feel loved?

Do you feel loved?

Do you feel loved?

And it looks like the sun but it feels like the rain

 

Her fingers lightly traced the lines of the griffin on Angel’s back. Was it really there, she wondered? It didn’t matter. Whatever magic had been performed to conjure this little miracle was irrelevant. These two men had managed to find wounds she didn’t even realize were bleeding and bind them together with the strength of their love. The old injuries would probably leave scars, invisible to the eye but sore if pressed the wrong way; still, they were healing for the first time.

 

Love’s a bully pushing and shoving

In the belly of a woman

Heavy rhythm taking over

To stick together

A man and a woman

Stick together

Man and woman

Stick together

 

It had to be U2, she thought in amusement. There was simply no other way to end the night. Something she would have to thank her warrior-poet for someday.

 

Angel stirred and raised his head to see her open eyes.

 

“You’re still awake,” he observed. “Go to sleep, mhuirnin. You have to be tired.” He kissed the skin over her heart gently. Dark eyes glowed at her luminously. “You don’t know how glad I am to have you back,” he said softly.

 

No, she didn’t, but she could make a guess.

 

“Kiss me,” she requested. Dawn was almost at hand, and she needed one last touch before she allowed herself to fall asleep.

 

Obediently, he slanted his mouth over hers. She opened herself completely, wrapping him in her arms and legs, praying that the depth of her emotions would somehow pass through her touch to both the souls who had brought her such contentment. Then, like a damsel out of an old legend, she closed her eyes knowing that when she woke this moment would live only in memory, but the knowledge of its lessons would endure.

 

Do you feel loved?

Do you feel loved?

Do you feel loved?

And it looks like the sun

But it feels like the rain

And there’s heat in the sun

To see us through the rain

 

****

In the late afternoon when she woke, Mahleah found Angel, fully dressed, watching over her from a chair next to the bed. She smiled at him and he returned the gesture.

 

“Hi seems somewhat inadequate to say at this moment,” she confessed, “but I’m afraid I’m not sure of the proper etiquette.”

 

“Hi works for me,” he said softly.

 

She reached a hand out to him, and his eyes darkened as he shook his head.

 

“I can’t Mahleah, last night was special…a one-time only deal.”

 

“I know,” she replied, still holding out her hand. “It doesn’t mean that you can’t hold me, right? Honestly, I’m still too worn out for anything else and I doubt you could get too happy just from a little contact.”

 

Apparently agreeing with that assessment, he slid onto the bed and spooned her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and burying his nose in her hair for a moment.

 

“Thank you also seems inadequate,” she ventured, “but I’m very grateful to you.”

 

He shifted uncomfortably.

 

“You’re welcome,” he finally replied.

 

“I have to thank you since I don’t know when I’ll see Duncan again.”

 

She felt his body tense behind her.

 

“I know,” she said softly. “I’m not sure how it was done, but I know that it was both of you. He probably told you not to say anything, right? He’d want to be all noble and self-sacrificing but it’s not necessary.”

 

“How?” he sputtered, “When did you?”

 

“There are some things a person just knows,” she said simply. “Besides, who else but Mac would call me ‘m’annsachd’? What I’m curious about is how the hell you two managed to pull it off?”

 

“It was the only way to break the Psyche-Eros Potion,” he told her. “I don’t think anything else would have worked.”

 

“Psyche-Eros, huh? Someone’s been dipping a bit too much into Greek Mythology,” she mused. “That still doesn’t tell me how.”

 

“Do you remember me telling you about Rupert Giles?” he asked.

 

“Buffy’s Watcher in Sunnydale?”

 

“That’s the one. He came to L.A. to help us out and he brought Willow Rosenberg with him.”

 

She frowned, trying to remember, “Isn’t she Buffy’s best friend?”

 

“Yes, she’s also a witch. She’s the one that restored my soul.”

 

“Handy person to have around,” Mahleah muttered.

 

“Yeah, Giles was afraid that she might be needed for the same spell this time, but Duncan showed up and that changed the plan.”

 

“How did he know what was going on?” she asked.

 

“Diana called him.”

 

“Figures,” she chuckled. “Go on. Duncan’s arrival gave everyone new ideas.”

 

“Giles had Willow cast a spell that allowed my soul to share Duncan’s body until morning,” he explained. “She added a glamour so you would see my appearance instead of his. Since the spell was connected to my soul, as long as that was present in your lover, the charm was satisfied.”

 

“What happened to your body?” she asked.

 

“It spent the night bound and gagged,” he gave a short laugh. “Giles brought along the chains but Cordelia didn’t want to have to listen to Angelus all night so when I woke up I found she’d stuffed a rag in my mouth.”

 

She snickered. “That’s too funny.”

 

“It was a rude awakening,” he countered dryly. “Apparently the last time Cordy met my evil side she didn’t like what I had to say.”

 

“Evidently not.” She was quiet for a long moment and then asked, “What was it like?”

 

“Oh, I insulted her, told her she couldn’t act….”

 

“No that,” she interrupted.

 

“Well, you were there, you tell me,” he retorted.

 

She elbowed him in the ribs, “I don’t mean the sex, silly. That was fabulous. I meant tell me what it was like sharing Duncan’s body.” When she heard nothing but silence for several minutes she added, “And if you tell me it was indescribable, I’ll slug you.”

 

“Well, at the risk of being beaten, there aren’t really any words for it. Giles and Wesley were fairly sure that because of the spell my soul would be the dominant force for the night and that Duncan might not even be aware.”

 

“They were wrong,” she said firmly.

 

“They were wrong,” he agreed. “At times we merged and thought as one person – a combination of both our emotions and memories – but there were times when I could tell the difference between his feelings and mine. Really, that’s why I think that if we’d tried it any other way it wouldn’t have worked. I’m so hesitant about relaxing that much that I don’t know if, alone, I could have felt the happiness it took to release you from the spell. I would have been too nervous, too worried. It’s not that the thought of making love to you wasn’t a pleasant one, it’s just…”

“I’m not Buffy, and she’s the only one you could have completely let go with and not thought too hard about it,” she finished. “It’s okay, Angel, I understand. You were playing for huge stakes here. Talk about performance anxiety, yikes.”

 

 He kissed her temple briefly, and then continued, “Honestly, I haven’t been able to define my feelings for you yet. I know I care about you but after that I’m lost in unfamiliar territory. That’s why being with Duncan was such a blessing -- while he had some mixed emotions about tonight none of them dealt with the way he feels about you. He loves you Mahleah, never doubt that.”

 

“I don’t,” she said wistfully, “not any more.”

 

“With him, I didn’t have to think about defining things: I could just feel and, God between the two of us, it was overwhelming. Being able to make love to you, no matter how strange the situation was, was such a precious gift to him that it was easy to lose myself in his pure joy.”

 

“I know,” she pulled his arm tighter around her. “I felt it too. I think that’s when the spell was lifted.”

 

“He kissed you before he left,” Angel told her. “I don’t think you even moved; you were so sleeping so deeply.”

 

“Can you blame me?” she laughed. “I had the magical equivalent of two men making love to me for hours…two very talented, very energetic men. I’m lucky I’m Immortal or I wouldn’t be able to walk for days.”

 

He tried to suppress the laugh that was threatening to escape, but her exaggerated sigh and theatrical motions were too much after the stressful day they’d all had. The mirth crept up from deep inside his belly and within seconds he was roaring, tears leaking from his eyes. When he was finally able to control himself, although his sides were still shaking, she gave him a soft look and said, “That’s when I know I’ve done well – when a man can laugh in bed with me.”

 

“Oh Mahleah,” he sighed, shifting her to lie on his chest. “I still can’t label my feelings but I can give you a name: precious.”

 

She nuzzled him contentedly, then gathered her nerve and asked, “So what happens now?”

 

The tension immediately began to build back up in his body.

 

“It’s not safe for you to stay here anymore,” he said regretfully.

 

“I knew you were going to say that,” she mourned.

 

“Completely putting my curse issues aside, it’s obvious that someone went to a lot of trouble to use you,” he said firmly. “I’d prefer it if you weren’t so readily available.”

 

“Any suggestions?” she inquired. “I don’t really have any burning desire to return home to the mountains at the moment.”

 

He was quiet, as if building the nerve for the suggestion and then said, “You could go back to Sunnydale with Giles and Willow.”

 

“Sunnydale?” she raised her head to look at him incredulously. “You don’t think that might be a little awkward?”

 

“I’ve already spoken to Giles and he says that the college there is looking for a history teacher for some summer classes,” he persisted. “Sunnydale’s only two hours away so if you were to need me…”

 

“Or you needed me?” she said pointedly.

 

“Or if I needed you, you would be fairly close.” He agreed.

 

She studied him closely, “Something’s got you worried.”

 

“It’s this potion, it smacks of Drusilla,” he said with a frown. “It’s devious, fiendish and a little insane. That describes my childe perfectly. If she’s in town, I’d rather you went somewhere you’d have someone watching your back.”

 

“Which brings us to Buffy,” she observed. “I don’t know, Angel that could be awkward. Hi, I’m Mahleah and your ex-boyfriend saved me from going insane by having sex with me all night. Uh huh, I see that going over really well.”

 

He winced, “I was planning on calling her and letting her know you were coming, if you agreed. I’d explain…about tonight.”

 

“So, when I arrived she would already know,” she frowned. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

 

“I think the two of you could be good friends,” he told her.

 

Studying him closely, she concluded, “Not only are you saying that with a straight face, you’re serious, sincere even. Look, Angel, I’m a big girl. I can be nice to Buffy. Maybe she’ll even be nice to me, but what about the two of you? Wouldn’t I be causing problems between you?”

 

“No,” he said shortly.

 

“You sure?” she repeated doubtfully. “I mean it’s obvious to me that you still have feelings for her and if the feelings are mutual…”

 

“They’re not,” he interrupted curtly.

 

“How can you be so sure?” she couldn’t understand any woman getting over this wonderful man so quickly.

 

“A few months ago she came to L.A. We had a rather ugly fight,” he said grimly. “She told me she’d moved on to better things with someone else, someone she could trust.”

 

“Oh, Angel, that’s awful,” she said sadly. “But like you said it was in the middle of a fight. People frequently say things they don’t mean when they’re angry.”

 

“I know that,” he agreed, “I did and I went to Sunnydale and apologized for it. She said she was sorry for making rash judgments about what I’d been trying to do, but she never took back what she said about trusting Riley more than she did me.”

 

She sensed there was more to his pain and kept quiet, hoping he’d share it with her.

 

“It’s just…it’s hard knowing she’s moved on when at Thanksgiving…” he stopped.

 

“At Thanksgiving,” she prompted.

 

He licked his lips, clearly uncertain about whether he wanted to talk about this.

 

“Angel, you were there for me when I needed to talk about being sexually assaulted,” she reminded him, “or anything else that was troubling me. Why shouldn’t you get the chance to talk about your woes? I promise I’m a good listener.”

 

With a shudder, he wrapped one arm tightly around her as his other hand played with her hair and told her a story about sunlight, ice cream and a day that never was.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Six

 

 

“Let’s see if I’ve got this straight,” Riley Finn said as he followed Buffy with an armful of boxes, “Angel’s new girlfriend is being targeted by Wolfram and Hart, an evil law firm, and possibly by Drusilla, Spike’s ex. So, he’s sending her here to Sunnydale for you to look after despite the fact that she’s an Immortal who can kick ass and take names.”

 

“She’s not his girlfriend,” Buffy automatically corrected, hiding her frown. “They’re not romantically involved. She’s an old friend.”

 

“Buffy, you told me that Willow and Giles just spent the last two days in L.A. helping Angel find a cure for a love spell and the only way they found to break it was to use magic to allow him to have sex with her. Maybe she’s not his girlfriend but I think their relationship has veered a little left of just good friends,” Riley said patiently.

 

Ignoring the twinge in her heart, Buffy admitted, “True. Still, she is, was and always will be in love with Duncan MacLeod. Trust me -- I have that from a reliable source.”

 

“Yeah, that brings me to the part of the story I’m still shaky on,” Riley dropped the boxes in the trunk of his car. “You met this Mahleah two years ago, but it wasn’t really her. She was from the future and was stuck in the past because some crazy Immortal starting using Quickenings to change history.”

 

“Right,” Buffy nodded, starting back toward the house. “I’ve never met this Mahleah before. It’ll be interesting to see how she’s different from the other one.”

 

Other than the obvious ways, she thought, for instance where she gets to spend the night with Angel’s soul in the body of Duncan MacLeod. Somehow that got left out of the tale before. Angel was convinced that the older Mahleah had managed to alter her own history and events were changing from the story the ancient Immortal had told them. It made sense, she admitted grudgingly. She had read Faith’s account of her talk with Mahleah about the Immortal’s past and it was slightly different from the recent events Angel had quickly recounted for her.

 

“What I don’t get is why we’re moving all of this stuff out of this house,” Riley said. “Where did it come from? You’ve never even told me you owned a house.”

 

“After Mahleah MacLeod went back to her own time she left this house and all her possessions to me,” Buffy explained. “It only makes logical sense for young Mahleah to stay here as well while she’s in Sunnydale. The problem is removing the things that would be difficult to explain like the MacLeod tartan.”

 

“I understand removing the plaid,” he agreed, “but why are we packing out all of her clothes. Maybe the other Mahleah could use them.”

 

“And I just happened to have a closet full of things that were her size,” Buffy said skeptically. “That’ll never work.”

 

“Why not,” he persisted.

 

“Because Mahleah happens to be six feet tall,” she said dryly. “Most of these clothes were tailor-made. How do you suggest I explain that? In case you haven’t noticed most of the six feet tall women in this country head to L.A. or New York for modeling contracts. There aren’t a lot of them wandering around Sunnydale.”

 

“Ah,” Riley replied, “that would make a difference.”

 

Buffy stared around the room, looking for anything else that would lead back to her previous connection with Mahleah MacLeod.

 

Riley went out to close and lock his trunk and popped back in to say, “I saw Giles’ car headed this way. Are we ready for inspection?”

 

“Yeah,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “I think so.” She walked out onto the front porch. It seemed like there was something she was forgetting, but what could it be? “Oh God,” she gasped, “the picture. Riley, we forgot the picture.”

 

“What picture?” he asked.

 

“In Mahleah’s bedroom, there’s a framed picture of Duncan MacLeod. My Mahleah stole it from this Mahleah. If she sees it, I’ll never be able to justify it, and here they come.”

 

“You still have time to pop up and hide it,” he suggested.

 

“You go,” she begged. “She’s expecting to meet me. You’re a former government agent – figure a way to smuggle it out of here.”

 

“Your wish is my command, lady,” he playfully saluted her and went back in the house.

 

Giles’ beat-up Citroen pulled up at the curb as Riley’s car was parked in the driveway. Buffy took a deep breath and walked down the steps to greet the familiar stranger.

 

There were no huge differences in the way Mahleah looked. Her hair was tightly braided away from her face as usual. It might have been a little bit shorter than before. Her clothes were slightly more casual, but still comfortable. She was wearing a gold Celtic cross around her neck, which was something Buffy had never seen before. Otherwise the most noticeable change was the difference in attitude. This Mahleah didn’t know her (and knew Angel a little *too* well a voice whispered in the back of her mind…she ignored it).

 

“Hi, Buffy,” the woman said walking forward and stretching out a hand. “I’m Mahleah Brennan.”

 

“Hi,” Buffy replied shaking her hand firmly. “Good guess.”

 

Mahleah licked her lips, “Well, I’ve seen a picture so that helps.”

 

She’s nervous, Buffy realized with a start. She’s nervous about meeting me. Somehow the thought of the self-confident, calm woman she’d known displaying signs of insecurity melted her own jitters.

 

Smiling warmly, she laughed, “I hope it was a good one.”

 

“You were beautiful,” Mahleah returned her smile with evident relief. “It’s so good of you to take me in like this on such short notice.”

 

“Well, it’s not really any problem at all,” Buffy gestured for her to follow her up the porch steps and through the front door. “A friend left this house to me a couple of years ago and I’m rarely here. It’ll be good to have someone keeping an eye on things.”

 

“I can pay you rent,” Mahleah suggested. “How much would you like a month?”

 

“Rent,” Buffy’s eyes widened, “Really?” Her conscience kicked in and she shook her head, “No, that’s okay. It wouldn’t seem right to take money from an old friend…of Angel’s,” she hastily added. “If you really want to pay me back you can help out with patrol some night. I can always use someone as skilled with a blade as you are…or must be,” she fumbled. Damn, this was harder than she’d thought. “I mean you’re Immortal and you still have a head so you must be doing something right.” Shoot me now, she groaned inwardly. I sound like a total idiot.

 

“I can do that,” Mahleah nodded. She looked around the living room appreciatively. “Your friend had good taste – this place is wonderful.”

 

Buffy suppressed a laugh. It was only natural that Mahleah would feel drawn to a place she’d decorated, even an older version of herself. She watched as the Immortal ran her fingers across the spines of the books on the huge shelves dominating the room.

 

“Well, if I ever get bored there’s lots of favorites here,” Mahleah smiled. Her attention turned to the sculptures on the tables surrounding the couch. Picking up the miniature “Cupid and Psyche” her face softened momentarily before snapping back to reality and commenting, “This is an excellent copy – it’s flawless.”

 

Smirking, Buffy replied, “Yeah, my friend told me that an old flame made those for her. She said he was a forger with exceptionally talented hands.”

 

“Obviously,” Mahleah chuckled. “Your friend seems to have led an interesting life. You say she left you this house? What happened to her?”

 

Now for some fancy footwork. They say the best lies are those couched within the truth, Buffy reflected.

 

“She was killed one night. She was helping me track down a serial killer and ran into the wrong guy – the price was her head.”

 

“She was Immortal,” Mahleah was intrigued. “What was her name?”

 

“Morgan Richards,” Buffy told her. “She was the first of your kind I ever met. She looked a little bit like you too, ironically, so if someone comes up and asks you about her you could just say you were a cousin or something.”

 

“Good to know, thanks,” Mahleah nodded in appreciation. “Did you ever find out who took her head?”

 

“No,” Buffy lied. “I was busy tracking down the serial killer who’d kidnapped Cordelia so I wasn’t there when it went down.”

 

Riley came down the stairs looking pleased with himself. He had a black bag in his hand and waved it at Buffy.

 

“That’s all the trash upstairs. Hey, doesn’t taking the garbage out qualify me for Boyfriend of the Year status?”

 

“Boyfriend of the Week anyway,” she teased him appreciatively and gave him a soft kiss.

 

“Riley, this is Mahleah Brennan…Mahleah, this is my boyfriend, Riley Finn,” she introduced them.

 

Mahleah examined Riley closely as she shook his hand. Buffy wondered what she was thinking.

 

“Nice to meet you,” she said politely.

 

“Likewise, ma’am,” he replied.

 

“Ma’am,” Mahleah laughed. “I feel like I’m back in the south. Where are you from?”

 

“Iowa,” he told her.

 

“Well, I don’t feel old enough to qualify for ma’am yet, so just call me Mahleah,” she requested with a smile.

 

“I’ll do that, Mahleah,” he said cheerfully. “Honey, I’m just going to put this outside.”

 

Buffy gave him another quick kiss, knowing he was taking Duncan’s picture to the car. “Thanks, you’re a sweetie.”

 

Realizing the delicateness of the situation, Giles and Willow had neatly stacked Mahleah’s luggage on the front porch then quietly left the two women to talk in private.

 

Alone at last, Mahleah looked at Buffy frankly before declaring, “Look, I know this is weird but I don’t want Angel to be the elephant in the middle of the room that everyone knows about but no one mentions. I think I can guess how bizarre this must feel to you, Buffy. You have a special connection with Angel that’ll never go away. There’s a guy in my past that I’ve known forever. I was friends with several of his girlfriends before he and I were ever romantically involved. After we hooked up, though, the first time I ran into one of his old flames it was awkward for about twenty minutes until we remembered that we’d been friends longer than he and I had been lovers and relaxed. Still, even though he and I haven’t been a couple in years now there are moments when I think of him with another woman and I want to pull her hair out by the roots.”

 

Buffy bit her lip, and then admitted, “The thought had crossed my mind, but it’s stupid. I mean he’s in L.A. living his own life and I’ve got a good thing going with Riley. It’s none of my business what he does or who he sleeps with…as long as he doesn’t go evil,” she added.

 

“He won’t,” Mahleah said softly. “I think that’s one reason he wanted me to leave. It was fine before the spell but now things are different.”

 

“You’ve tasted the forbidden fruit,” Buffy finished. “And you want more. I know how that is.”

 

“Yeah, I guess you do,” Mahleah agreed. “Angel said that he believed you and I could be good friends. Even though he seemed sincere I thought it was just wishful thinking on his part, but now that we’re talking I think he may be right. I don’t know if you’ve ever read the Anne of Green Gables books but Anne talks about meeting a person who is a ‘kindred spirit’ and just instantly connecting. I don’t feel it that often but when I do, I’ve usually made a friend for life.”

 

A warm spark lit within Buffy as she realized that although she’d never have her old guide and mentor back in her life again, she could create a new relationship with this woman, who was only about ten years her senior. Maybe she’d find she had even more in common with Mahleah Brennan than she did with Mahleah MacLeod.

 

“That would be nice,” she responded. “I could use another friend who understands my freaky world.”

 

Riley strode in with Mahleah’s bags.

 

“Where would you like these?” he inquired.

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mahleah looked flustered. “The bedroom, I guess…wherever that is.”

 

“Oh, we need to give you the grand tour,” Buffy exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

 

When they reached the dojo, Mahleah hissed in appreciation. “This is nice,” she said approvingly.

 

“I love it,” Buffy agreed. “When I feel like being alone I come here to train.”

 

She saw Riley take that in and repressed a wince.

 

“I can see that,” Mahleah nodded. “By all means, keep coming. Maybe we could train together some day.”

 

Buffy felt her face light up, “That would be great. As I recall, Immortals make wonderful sparring partners.”

 

“Even for Slayers,” Mahleah laughed. “Yeah, we can take a licking and keep on ticking.”

 

That’s going to be so great, Buffy enthused inwardly. Lately she’d been training with Riley who was sweet but no competition. She had to pull all her blows to keep from hurting him, and repress many of her instincts to keep from wounding his pride. With Mahleah she wouldn’t have to do either. Curiously, she wondered what the difference would be fighting the two Mahleahs.

 

“Oh, before I forget Giles has set up an interview for you tomorrow with the university,” Buffy told her. “I’m sure you’ll be a shoo-in for the job.”

 

“Willow kept after me all the way from L.A. to audition for the summer production the theatre department is putting on. She couldn’t remember the play, though.”

 

With a wicked smile, Buffy told her, “It’s Macbeth and she’s right you should try out. I’m sure you’d make a wonderful Lady Macbeth.”

 

Amused, Mahleah replied, “We’ll see.”

 

****

Two nights later, Mahleah impatiently let Angel’s phone ring and ring. When his voice mail kicked in, she scowled disappointedly but left a message.

 

“Hey, Angel, it’s Mahleah. Everything’s going well here in Sunnydale. I start teaching history classes next week. I also auditioned for and won the part of Lady Macbeth in the university’s summer drama production. You’ll have to come down and check that out when we open. Some sleazy guy saw me on campus and tried to hit on me. Turns out he pulls the same old lines on all the freshman girls…a real player. I could have had a little fun with him, but I’m reformed now so I just politely shot him down and went about my business. Aren’t you proud of me?

 

 “I sparred with your girl tonight. Damn, she packs one hell of a punch! It’s a good thing I heal rapidly. It was a good workout, though, quite a challenge. I think she enjoyed herself since she’s been relegated to training with Riley. Oh, yeah, I met Mr. Wonderful. He’s nice – a little bland for my tastes. Well, call me when you get time. I miss talking to you. Bye.”

 

She continued to leave messages every day or so, hoping to hear back from him. In the meantime she enjoyed the new friendships she was forming almost as much as she loved being back in a classroom again. One of the most amusing things that occurred during this time was the fact that Parker Abrams had signed up for one of her upper-division classes. When he walked in late, and realized that his new instructor was the same woman he’d unsuccessfully hit on the week before she suppressed her amusement at the look on his face, held him after class, and chastised him for his tardiness.

 

The rehearsals for the play were much more frustrating as she had constant conflicts with the director, who thought he knew everything, but really knew very little, about Shakespeare or medieval Scotland. On top of everything else, the idiot made the mistake of saying the play’s name in the theatre. Since they lived on top of a Hell Mouth this naturally had disastrous results in the form of a spirit, firmly convinced it was the essence of the true Macbeth, who wanted to kidnap Mahleah and make her his ghostly bride. It took Buffy and the Scoobies considerable time and effort to dispel him back to the ether. The resulting damage to the theatre forced the department to cancel the production.

 

Disappointed, Mahleah returned home and tried to call Angel again only to receive error messages every time she dialed. A little concerned, she pulled out her address book and quickly located Cordelia’s number.

 

When the younger woman answered, she sounded very tired but put Angel on the phone.

 

“Hey,” he said, sounding even more exhausted than Cordelia.

 

“Hey yourself,” Mahleah responded, “what’s been going on? I’ve left you a ton of messages but you never called back and tonight when I tried the number wouldn’t go through.”

 

“That’s because my office, and apartment, no longer exist,” he told her.

 

“What? What happened?”

 

“Someone set a bomb,” he replied. “I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls, but it’s been hectic up here.”

 

“Sounds like it,” she agreed, and curled up on the couch. “So tell me, what’s been going on? Was it Wolfram and Hart?”

 

“Yeah,” he let out a deliberate, frustrated sigh, “not that I’d ever be able to prove it. They’ve been wreaking hell in my life.”

 

She listened as he told her how Lindsey MacDonald, another lawyer Lilah Morgan, and a demon called Vocah opened up Cordelia’s visions so that she was experiencing a sensory overload of other people’s pain. Vocah also killed the Oracles. Angel had gone on the offensive and barged in on a ritual being performed deep within Wolfram and Hart. She shivered when he told her that he’d cut off Lindsey’s right hand.

 

“He deserved it, Mahleah,” Angel said firmly. “Look what he did to you and then Cordy. He had his chance to make something of himself and he preferred Wolfram and Hart.”

 

“I know,” Mahleah agreed, unsettled, “but Angel he already hated you with the fiery passion of ten thousand suns. What do you think he’ll do to you now?”

 

“I don’t know,” he replied. “No doubt it’ll have something to do with whatever they managed to raise in that box.”

 

“You didn’t stop the ritual,” she commiserated.

 

“No, just slowed it down,” he admitted. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject, “How about you? How are things going? Enjoying yourself as Lady Macbeth?”

 

“Ooh, I don’t know that I’ll ever say that name again,” she shivered and informed him of recent events. She scowled as he laughed softly.

 

“I’m sorry your play got ruined,” he said apologetically, “but you have to admit that’s pretty funny.”

 

“Yeah, it is,” she laughed herself. “Okay, tell me some happy news in your life. I’ve already heard the miserable stuff.”

 

“One bit of good news I had is that according to my sources, Drusilla left town in a huff. They think she was headed east, not your way. Then, there’s this scroll…” he began, and then stopped.

 

“Yes,” she encouraged.

 

“I found it at Wolfram and Hart – I seemed drawn to it. Wesley’s been working on translating it. It seems to be prophecies about the End of Days.”

 

“So far this is not happy news, Angel,” she scolded. “I was hoping for something a little lighter than that.”

 

“There was a word he was having trouble with,” he continued, ignoring her interruption, “Shanshu. At first he thought it meant that I would die but now he says that it means that I’ll live until I die; in other words, Mahleah, if I manage to overcome a whole list of troubles that are coming I’ll be rewarded with my humanity.”

 

“Human,” she gasped. “Angel, that’s wonderful. You need to tell Buffy. Why don’t you call her tonight?”

 

“No, I can’t do that,” he said stubbornly. “The prophecy doesn’t give any specific dates. This might not happen in her lifetime.”

 

“Still…” Mahleah protested.

 

“Does she even ask about me?”

 

Mahleah sighed, “No, she doesn’t but if I bring up your name she drinks in every word like a sponge. I think she’s afraid if she asks she’ll feel disloyal to Riley or something.”

 

“Yeah,” he grunted, “Riley.”

 

“He’s a nice guy, Angel,” she chided lightly, but then her tone turned warmer. “He’s just not you.”

 

“Well, Cordy’s trying to subtly ask me to get off the phone so she can get some sleep,” Angel told her, “Although Cordy’s idea of subtle is a little more obvious than most people’s.”

 

“I heard that.”

 

Mahleah stifled a laugh, “Take care, Angel.”

 

“You too, Mahleah. Be careful about saying the names of any Scottish plays around the Hell Mouth,” he playfully warned.

 

After he hung up, she whispered, “I miss you.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Seven

 

 

“Mahleah, you’re already six feet tall. Why the hell are you wearing heels?” Buffy inquired as they enjoyed their lunch on a gorgeous sunny afternoon.

 

“Today’s Tuesday,” Mahleah told her. “I always wear heels on Tuesday.”

 

“Okay, why?” Buffy looked puzzled.

 

“Tuesday is the day I have Parker Abrams in class,” Mahleah said. “Wearing these I look twice as intimidating as usual. It’s amusing to watch him squirm.”

 

“Mahleah, you’re bad,” Buffy laughed. She wasn’t about to protest a little subtle torture of the guy that had played her and both of them knew it.

 

“Hey, I said I was reforming, not that I was in the running for sainthood,” Mahleah smirked. “He’s lucky to get off this easy…little low-life twerp. Guys like that make me ill. I’ve got no objections to a one-night stand if everyone involved understands the rules going in -- but the way he does it is disgusting.”

 

“I thought he really liked me, when the whole time all he wanted was to get laid,” Buffy said sadly.

 

“Yeah, and no doubt it was the worst sex of your life,” Mahleah snorted.

 

“Mahleah,” Buffy turned bright red.

 

“Well, wasn’t it? A guy like that is only concerned with his own pleasure. He could care less about how satisfied you are. Trust me, I’ve been there. There was this guy in college. God, for him he wasn’t just about getting laid it was bagging a trophy. When I started at Berkley the guys called me ‘the untouchable woman’ because I refused to give any of them the time of day. I was still grieving over my boyfriend, Kevin, who died my junior year of high school. Roland saw me at orientation and refused to give up. He chased me for a year before I’d even date him and six months after that before I would sleep with him. The next morning he put the word out all over campus and never cared if he ever saw me again. Let me tell you, it was definitely the lousiest sex I’ve ever had and then he made me feel humiliated for months afterward. There’s a reason I prefer to date older men…much older men. They know what the hell they’re doing.”

 

“Uh huh,” Buffy looked dreamy for a moment and then flushed again. “You’re right, I don’t have a lot of experience to compare him to but Parker did seem more concerned with himself.”

 

“Exactly,” Mahleah said dryly. “A couple of months ago I would have had real fun with him, but I’m trying to go cold turkey. Honestly, I’m really not a bad girl,” she winked, “just occasionally naughty.”

 

Glancing at her watch, the Immortal told her companion, “I need to drop by the bookstore before I head back to my office. Care to join me?”

 

“Why not?” Buffy replied.

 

As they browsed through Sunnydale’s only bookstore, a girl about Buffy’s age walked up to them.

 

“Ms. Brennan,” she said warmly. “I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed Monday’s lecture. I love the way you give us little behind-the-scenes peeks at what was really going on.”

 

“Thank you, Savannah,” Mahleah smiled. “History has been written by the victors but if you’re really lucky sometimes you get to hear an account from the horse’s mouth and it can really open your eyes. I just try to bring in some of the choicer tidbits I’ve learned through the years.”

 

“It makes for an interesting class,” Savannah said enthusiastically. “I’ll see you later, Ms. Brennan.”

 

“Bye, Savannah,” Mahleah said absently. She had the feeling she was being watched. Glancing over at Buffy, she saw the Slayer was tense as well.

 

She nodded toward the back shelves of the store and Buffy nodded. Easing themselves into a less crowded area, they braced themselves for trouble. A few seconds later, Mahleah tensed even further as she felt the distinctive tingle announcing the arrival of an Immortal. A man walked into the store, and headed in their direction. He was medium height, lean and well muscled. His reddish brown hair and blue eyes viscerally reminded Mahleah of Richie for a moment and she had to blink to remind herself she was looking at a stranger.

 

“Daniel Stirling,” he announced.

 

“Mahleah Brennan,” she returned. “What can I do for you, Mr. Stirling?”

 

He whistled, “Aren’t you the one who took down Lewis Weir a while back, and Felicia Martins a few years ago – the Highlander’s protégé?”

 

“What about it?” Mahleah demanded. “You want to avenge them or something?”

 

He held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement, “I’m not looking for trouble. I’m just passing through town, taking in the sights.” He glanced past Mahleah to admire Buffy for a moment, who folded her arms against her chest, clearly not interested.

 

“We’re not looking for trouble either,” Mahleah agreed. “Surely Sunnydale’s big enough for the both of us.”

 

“Surely,” he said easily. “Like I said, I’m not here to fight. When I look at a beautiful girl the last thing I want to do is start fighting her.”

 

“Then we have no problems,” Mahleah concluded. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

 

“Sure,” he said, standing aside to let them pass. Mahleah could feel his eyes upon them all of the way out of the store.

 

“He gives me the creeps,” Buffy announced, passing her judgment once they’d cleared the shop.

 

“Yeah, me too, but if he sticks to his word we shouldn’t have any problems,” Mahleah told her. “That’s good, because I’d prefer not to fight him.”

 

“Why?” Buffy asked, obviously puzzled.

 

“He reminds me of an old friend,” Mahleah said sadly. “Someone I miss every day – Richie Ryan. He was like the brother I never had. This guy looks a little like him.”

 

“Maybe, he’ll behave himself,” Buffy muttered, and changed the subject.

 

****

 

“Giles, what do you know about an Immortal called Daniel Stirling,” Buffy said, as she strode into her ex-Watcher’s apartment the next day.

 

Giles frowned, “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of him.”

 

“I guess he doesn’t have too many heads on his belt, yet,” Buffy said, pacing across the living room.

 

“What’s wrong, Buffy? Has this Stirling challenged Mahleah?”

 

“No, in fact he went out of his way to seem friendly and non-violent,” she frowned. “I don’t trust him.”

 

“Can you be more specific?”

 

“It’s the way he looks at you,” Buffy shuddered, “and I saw him on campus today. He says he’s just passing through, but he has time to hang out on the quad?”

 

“What were Mahleah’s impressions?” Giles asked. “Does she share your misgivings?”

 

Sighing, Buffy told him, “Stirling looks a bit like Richie Ryan and it threw Mahleah a little. She told me she’d rather not fight him unless she had to, which I can understand. I thought I’d save her the grief and look into the matter myself.”

 

“I suppose I could call up some old friends,” Giles mused, “see if any of them have ever heard of the chap.”

 

“I’d start with Joe,” Buffy advised. “He seems to know a lot of Immortals and where to find out about the ones he doesn’t know.”

 

“Good idea,” Giles agreed. “Where are you going?”

 

“To watch this guy for a while,” she told him, heading out. “See what he’s up to.”

 

When Buffy returned, several hours later, Giles was waiting for her somewhat anxiously.

 

“Did you find him?” he asked.

 

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” she shrugged. “He just sat at the café and watched people all evening. I’d say it was boring, but he still gave me the creeps.”

 

“Yes, well, I’d say there’s a very good reason for that,” Giles replied. “From what I can learn the Watchers suspect that Daniel Stirling is responsible for the deaths of five girls…maybe more. The police have questioned him, but there’s never been enough evidence to charge him.”

 

“I knew it,” Buffy said grimly. “What can we do?”

 

Giles sighed, “Very little, I’m afraid. There’s nothing to take to the police but our suspicions.”

 

“Well, I’ll just have to keep a closer eye on him,” Buffy declared.

 

****

She did just that, making sure to keep him in sight as much as humanly possible. When she spotted him approaching Tara, heading to the library to meet Willow, though, something snapped.

 

Grabbing his arm, she swung him around against a tree.

 

“Oh, hello,” he said startled. “You’re Mahleah Brennan’s little friend, aren’t you?

 

“I’m certainly no friend of yours,” she said grimly. “I’d advise you to leave that girl alone – she is a friend of mine. If anything were to happen to her, I’d take offense and things could get very nasty. In fact, if you were smart you’d leave town before I tell Mahleah about your nasty little habit of leaving corpses all over the place.”

 

He smiled at her pleasantly. “Go ahead. I’ve done a little checking myself. It’s true that Mahleah killed Lewis Weir and Felicia Martins but she hasn’t taken very many other heads. Jean Samuelle I’d hardly consider a power…or her friend that got her head whacked by an idiot mortal.”

 

“From what I hear taking the head of Lewis Weir is impressive enough,” Buffy said calmly. “He only fought the best.”

 

“Doesn’t mean she won the fight because she’s the best,” he countered. “She may have just gotten lucky. I’ve also heard that since her little rampage this spring she’s gone a little soft. She’s trying to stay out of fights as much as possible.”

 

“So, what you’re saying is you’re not afraid of her,” Buffy translated.

 

“No,” he shook his head, still smiling a charming little-boy grin. “I’m not. I think we’re fairly evenly matched.”

 

 He reached out to push her hair back away from her face. She flinched and he laughed.

 

“Did your research happen to mention anything about me?”  Buffy inquired as she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him. “If you touch me again, I’ll break your arm.”

 

“You’re feisty for such a little girl, aren’t you?” he alternated between laughing and hissing in pain. “Too bad I’m not scared of you, either.”

 

“Then you’re stupider than I thought,” Buffy said in disgust, releasing him. “I’ll warn you one last time. Leave Tara alone if you want to stay in one piece and if you want to prove what a boy genius you are, leave while you still can.”

 

She stalked off, feeling the heat from her anger burn her face. Halfway across campus she was spotted by Riley.

 

“Hey beautiful,” he said giving her a kiss. “Where are you going so fast?”

 

“I was thinking to the university dojo to burn off some steam,” she growled. “I’m not in a very good mood right now, Riley.”

 

“I can see that,” he observed. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

 

“Suit yourself,” she told him.

 

“Okay, let’s see if I can’t take your mind off whatever the problem is,” he suggested. “Did you ever decide what you were going to do with that picture we smuggled out of Mahleah’s house?”

 

“No,” she said, startled by his segue.

 

“Have you considered giving it back to Mahleah?” he asked. “I mean I know you can’t do it directly but isn’t there some way of letting her find it? The other Mahleah doesn’t need it anymore, and you said it has special meaning to both of them, right?”

 

“Yeah,” she nodded, thinking furiously. “Spike!” she said triumphantly. The troublesome vampire had returned to Sunnydale, only to have Riley’s former outfit, The Initiative, implant a chip in his head that made him incapable of hurting people. “He always wants money for booze and cigarettes. We can pay him to take it to a pawnshop. He can keep whatever cash he gets for it. I’ll just have to think of a reason for Mahleah to go in the store.” She looked at Riley affectionately, “Thanks, Riley, I really needed something to feel good about, but I think I still need to work out for a while. Do you mind?”

 

“Need a sparring partner?” he asked.

 

She winced, “That might be a little dangerous right now unless you have supernatural healing. I’d better stick to dummies and punching bags. You can do something for me, though.”

 

“You got it,” he assured her.

 

“Did you see the creep that was following Tara?” she asked.

 

“The one you were manhandling against a tree,” he said raising an eyebrow. “I got a brief look at him. That’s the reason I was headed your way in the first place.”

 

“His name’s Daniel Stirling and he’s staying in the motel down by Elm Street. Keep an eye on him, will you? Just promise me you’ll stay out of sight, he’s very dangerous.”

 

“I’ll be as stealthy as the next ex-army guy,” he promised and kissed her again.

 

****

It took a good two hours before Buffy’s wrath finally subsided enough for her to feel like leaving the dojo. She wanted to check in with Riley and make sure that Stirling was either staying put for the night or vacating Sunnydale. Rubbing the sweat out of her eyes with her shirtsleeve she was startled when she heard a squishy sound under her foot. Looking down, she realized that she was standing in a puddle of something…something that looked suspiciously like blood.

 

Quickly following the sticky trail, she turned the corner and tripped, falling flat on the floor. Flipping over she frowned at the object in her way and then froze – it was a girl’s body.

 

Swallowing to keep the contents of her stomach from joining the blood splatters on the floor, Buffy gingerly reached out to turn the head her direction but barely recognized Mahleah’s student Savannah.

 

“Oh God,” she whispered.

 

****

Mahleah returned from the funeral feeling drained and weary. She hated funerals anyway and this one had been particularly horrible. Savannah’s parents were in complete shock over the loss of their daughter. When they lowered the casket into the ground, the girl’s mother broke down and started screaming.

 

The police were investigating but so far had come up empty-handed. The Scoobies were all in shock as well. They hadn’t been able to trace Daniel Stirling to the crime although they were all certain he’d been responsible. Willow and Tara were shaken as they realized how close Tara had come to being his next victim. Riley couldn’t believe that the man had slipped out of his motel room so easily and Buffy was furious with herself that she had delegated the task of watching him to someone else in the first place.

 

Mahleah just felt sick. Throwing off her coat and shoes, she listlessly walked up the stairs to her bedroom and stretched out on the bed in a fetal position. Just as she got settled, she felt the bed dip under additional weight and arms wrap themselves around her. Cool fingers stroked her cheek and she gazed up into warm brown eyes.

 

“Angel,” she said in surprise. “How did you get here?”

 

“Nearby tunnel access,” he said softly, “and you’ve invited me to visit several times so I didn’t have any problems entering the house.”

 

“Good,” she said with a sigh.

 

“Want to talk about it,” he asked.

 

She turned over to look him in the face. “What’s there to talk about? A sick, psychotic bastard raped and murdered one of my students.”

 

“I know,” his fingers slowly pulled all of the pins out of her hair and let it fall softly down her back. “He’s Immortal, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” her chin wobbled a little. “He told me that he was passing through town taking in the sights. I didn’t want to fight him because he looked like Richie.”

 

“You couldn’t have known,” he said soothingly.

 

“I should have called Joe and found out what he knew about the guy,” she said bitterly. “Instead, I just went on about my business as usual. Buffy suspected but she didn’t catch him in time. At least she tried to do something. She stopped him from approaching Tara, thank God.”

 

A tear finally trickled down her cheek and Angel pulled her to him, cradling her closely and rocking her as she began sobbing.

 

“Ssh, let it all go,” he murmured. “Let it out, Mahleah.”

 

She cried until exhausted, and still curled up in his arms fell asleep with her head on his chest. He watched her sleep, stroking her hair occasionally. When he heard a slight noise downstairs, he rose, gently arranging Mahleah on the bed and covering her with a light comforter.

 

In the living room, he found Buffy sitting in a chair staring at the floor.

 

“Is Mahleah okay?” she asked quietly.

 

“She’s sleeping,” he answered.

 

“Good,” she said awkwardly. “I don’t think she’s managed to rest since it happened. I know I haven’t.”

 

“It’s not your fault, Buffy,” he told her.

 

“I’m the Slayer,” she said stonily. “Protecting innocent people is my job. I failed.”

 

He knelt in the floor beside her chair. “Aren’t you forgetting about Tara? You protected her.”

 

“It doesn’t make up for Savannah,” she said sadly.

 

“I know,” he replied. He wasn’t sure what to do. Instinct told him to hug her, cuddle her as he had Mahleah earlier but this was Buffy, which meant things always had to be complicated. He was sure that Riley wouldn’t appreciate his efforts to comfort his girlfriend. Not that he particularly cared what Riley thought, but he was afraid that if he tried to touch her Buffy would pull away from him. Honestly, he’d had about all the rejection from her he could stand for one year.

 

“She was my age,” Buffy continued. “She was majoring in art and she loved Mahleah’s class. She’d just started dating this guy. I saw him at the funeral. I couldn’t look him in the eye…or her parents.”

 

Metaphorically holding his breath, Angel reached out and touched Buffy’s hand. She looked down at it, but didn’t move or protest so he held it between both of his own, rubbing it softly.

 

“Mahleah blames herself because Stirling looks like Richie,” Buffy told him, “but it’s not her fault. It’s not her sacred birthright to save people from the evils in this world…it’s mine.” Shaking her head as if to clear it, Buffy pulled her hand away and looked at Angel, “I’m going after him.”

 

“No, you’re not,” a voice behind them said.

 

Turning Angel saw Mahleah coming down the stairs still dressed in her funeral black. He noticed that she wasn’t wearing a dress but rather comfortable fitting slacks and top. She’d braided her hair and donned her long coat.

 

“Yes, I am,” Buffy insisted. “I’m the one that screwed up here. I’m the Slayer – it’s my responsibility.”

 

“You’re responsible for supernatural justice,” Mahleah agreed, “and Angel does the same for L.A. The police are responsible for normal justice for normal humans. Daniel Stirling doesn’t fall into either category. This is Immortal business.” Her movements were deliberate, precise as she went to the closet and pulled out a comfortable pair of boots and donned them.

 

“Mahleah, you’re still upset,” Buffy argued, “you’re in no state of mind to be fighting.”

 

“Wrong,” Mahleah corrected, “I’m in the perfect mood to be fighting. Earlier this year I was taking on battles that everyone said weren’t mine. This one is and I’ll deal with it.”

 

She headed for the door with Buffy still protesting, “Mahleah, just wait a little while…”

 

“So he has time to leave or maim and murder some other young girl,” Mahleah said softly but firmly. “No, this is right. I can feel it.”

 

She glanced back at Angel, who had kept silent during the entire exchange. He agreed with Mahleah’s position – this was her fight. It was what she’d been trained to do both mentally and physically since she was a child. It didn’t stop him from worrying, though. Recalling an earlier conversation with Joe, he approached them at the door to finally say, “Don’t forget you’ve got a lot to live for.”

 

Mahleah smiled at him warmly, glanced over at Buffy, and then pressed a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. As she pulled back, he could see her attitude change. Without another word she opened the door and left the two of them to wait and hope.

 

****

 

As Mahleah approached Stirling’s motel she realized that this would be the first time she challenged an Immortal, rather than being the pursued party. It felt a little strange, but in this instance it also felt right. What Buffy had failed to realize was that although the Brennans had adopted her, the moral code that had been passed along to her was mostly MacLeod. Duncan had been raised to become the next chief of the clan – he possessed a sense of responsibility for those under his care that he had managed to instill in his student as well. She owed it to Savannah to ensure that no other young girls lost their lives to this monster.

 

As she passed through the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse, one of many in Sunnydale (and probably hosting a plethora of undead nightlife), she felt a warning buzz and turned to see Stirling approaching.

 

“I’m disappointed,” he said. “I’d hoped the rumors were true and you’d grown beyond that goody-goody crap the Highlander must have tortured you with.”

 

“I’m afraid not,” she saw his weapon and pulled out Tora, “I can only be true to myself.”

 

“It’s too bad,” he replied. “Still, when it’s all said and done this is what we are. Even your precious MacLeod – in the end, there can be only one and you’d be wise to remember that.”

 

“At least it won’t be you,” she returned, and fluidly moved toward him.

 

****

When Mahleah stumbled through the door, Angel hastily steered her to the couch. He and Buffy exchanged relieved glances, happy to see that their friend had survived the night.

 

Buffy cleared her throat, “Well, I’d better be heading home. Mom’ll want to know that the streets are once again as safe as they ever were in this town.”

 

“Night, Buffy,” Mahleah waved vaguely at her.

 

Angel just stared at her, wishing with all of his heart that things could be differently. And, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride he could hear his father say. She returned his gaze, nodded without saying goodbye and quietly left.

 

“I bet the two of you sat here and stared at the walls, while secretly watching each other, and never opened your mouths the entire time I was gone,” Mahleah scolded.

 

“Pretty much,” Angel confessed.

 

Groaning, Mahleah struggled to sit up, “Damn,” she swore, “I hate feeling this weak.”

 

“Rest,” he pushed her back down on the couch, “it’ll pass soon.”

 

“I know,” she grumbled, “doesn’t make it any less irritating. It’s kind of like you two – you’re killing me: all deep, moony puppy dog eyes and no action.”

 

“Mahleah,” he said with exasperation, “you know why Buffy and I can’t be together.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” she agreed, “You’re like kids playing with dynamite and a candle lighter. Two seconds and boom, everything blows up! Hopefully, it won’t always be that way but until then I think you’re right—I think she needs this time to explore, to grow, to learn who Buffy is. It’s the same reason I told Mac two years ago that I needed time to myself.”

 

“So you understand,” he said gloomily, “she still doesn’t.”

 

“The part I don’t get,” she said sternly, “is why you can’t talk to her and vice versa. I know you love her Angel, but I hardly think talking to the girl is going to break your happiness curse.”

 

“It hurts too much,” he replied, not looking her in the eye.

 

“That’s too bad,” she retorted, sitting up again. “Despite everything that’s happened between us, Mac and I started off as friends and we’ll always be friends. There’s a joy there that’s completely separate from being lovers and it’s just as precious. It’s a pity that you and Buffy have cut yourselves off from even the simplest of contact.”

 

“I don’t know that Riley would appreciate Buffy being ‘just friends’ with me,” Angel commented bitterly.

 

“Screw ‘em,” Mahleah said tiredly. “If he can’t handle it, that’s his problem, not yours.” She shook her head. “God, I must be out of my mind. I’m sitting here trying to advise you about Buffy when you’re the first man that I’ve…” she trailed off, laughing at herself. “I’m a fool…”

 

“Mahleah,” he was confused and worried by the tone in her voice.

 

Looking him in the eye, she swallowed and then said, “Even when I was engaged to Mark, I knew something wasn’t right between us – namely he wasn’t Duncan. When I’m with you, though, I don’t think about him or compare you to him.” Her hand cupped his cheek, and her eyes were shiny, “I could fall in love with you so easily, Angel. Hell, maybe I already have but I know that, in the end, it wouldn’t be enough. I can never be Buffy. So, I’m trying to give you all of this good advice because I hate seeing that hurt look in your eyes. It kills me.”

 

He turned his head and kissed her palm tenderly, “I’m sorry, Mahleah. If only….”

 

“Yeah, well you know what they say about wishes,” she cut him off with a voice suspiciously hoarse. “If a frog had wings he wouldn’t have to bump his butt when he hops.”

 

Dead silence followed her pronouncement and then two weary voices, ringing with much needed laughter, filled the air.

 

****

 

Buffy sat at the Espresso Pump watching in wonder as Giles played his guitar. It still gave her a weird feeling to think of her British ex-Watcher as being the least bit cool, but she had to admit he was a little more multi-talented than she’d ever given him credit for.

 

Angel sat across the room at a table with Mahleah, conversing quietly with the beautiful Immortal. Swallowing the instant jealousy that was immediately triggered by the sight of Angel with another woman, she remembered a much happier experience earlier in the day. She had led Mahleah by the pawnshop and was rewarded by a gasp when her friend saw the framed picture of Duncan sitting in the window.

 

Mahleah had nearly ripped the door off its hinges and badgered the poor man inside for ten minutes about who had sold him the portrait. Fortified by the bribe Spike had slipped him, and the remembrance of the gleeful fangs that had been flashed at him the man stuck to his story that he didn’t remember who had brought the picture in the store. Buffy had repressed her amusement at the success of Spike’s bluff, knowing that with the government chip in his brain the vampire wasn’t able to bite anyone. Calming her friend down, she’d pointed out that Mahleah should concentrate on the fact that she could have her picture back, rather than how it mysteriously arrived in the first place.

 

The reverence with which the older woman touched the frame told Buffy that some things never changed. The look on her face was identical to that on Mahleah MacLeod’s when she showed the photo to Buffy in the first place.

 

Giles finished up his latest number and descending from the stage made a hasty consultation with Mahleah. At first she was shaking her head, refusing his request, but when he persisted she laughed and gave in.

 

Following back up on the stage, she placed herself in front of the mike and said, “Giles doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’ so I’m afraid you guys are stuck listening to me for a few minutes. This seems like a pretty cozy atmosphere and I’m sure a lot of you guys would like to dance, so I think the two of us can oblige you.”

 

Buffy involuntarily looked toward Angel, who was staring back at her. Flushing she looked away and reminded herself, “Boyfriend, you have a boyfriend who’s due to arrive any second now.”

 

I found a picture of your smiling face

Bringing old memories that I had locked away

The burden of anger from a heart filled with pain

Was finally lifted and I smile at you again

 

Dimly Buffy remembered a recent conversation with Mahleah who had asked why Buffy felt that she and Angel couldn’t be friends. Dissatisfied with Buffy’s answers, Mahleah had touched a nerve when she asked, “So all you ever wanted from Angel was sex? He’s just a pretty face with a nice body to you?”

 

She glanced up on stage and saw Mahleah’s stretching her hands out as if to grasp the two of them in her hands. The singer gestured as if nudging them to the floor.

 

If time is a healer

Then all hearts that break

Are put back together again

‘Cause love heals the wound it makes

 

Angel rose and approached her, holding out his hand. Buffy hesitated for a long moment, and then let him guide her out on the floor. As they gently swayed together she held her breath. Nothing felt as good as dancing with Angel.

 

I spoke such harsh words before goodbye

Well I wanted to hurt you for the tears you made,

You made me cry

All my hopes and dreams, well they started vanishing

Those tender hurt feelings became a dangerous thing

 

It was if the song freed her to finally come clean about something she’d long felt guilty for.

 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed into Angel’s ear.

 

“What for?” he asked, just as quietly.

 

“For hurting you,” she said. “I do trust you, Angel. God, I trust you more than anyone else in the world. I’m so sorry for saying those awful things to you – I was still angry about you leaving and then there was the mess with Faith and…”

 

He put a hand across her lips, “It’s okay. I forgive you. I’m sorry about leaving you, but I didn’t have a choice.”

 

If time is a healer

Then all hearts that break

Are put back together again

‘Cause love heals the wound it makes

 

“I know,” she said, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I understand that now. Do you think…do you think we can still talk to each other every now and then? I miss you, Angel. Not just your kisses and your touch, although the memory of them is still precious to me…I miss you, talking to you, telling you about my day, the simple things.”

 

“Me too,” he said simply.

 

Glancing up, Buffy saw that Mahleah was smiling, but there was sadness as well in the lines of her face. Noticing Buffy’s gaze, she nodded at her, then closed her eyes and lost herself in the song.

 

All of the years we spent together

Well they’re part of my life forever

I hold the joy with the pain

And the truth is I miss you my friend

 

Buffy stiffened as she saw Riley looking hurt at the doorway. She pulled away from Angel regretfully. He was frowning, but before she could explain why she was walking away she noticed he was looking past her, past Riley to a group of people who had just entered the building.

 

“What’s Kate doing here?” she heard him mutter.

 

If time is a healer

Then all hearts that break

Are put back together again

‘Cause love heals the wound it makes

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Eight

 

 

As Mahleah stepped down from the stage, a man walked up to her with a blonde woman on his heels.

 

“Mahleah Brennan,” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she answered, a sense of foreboding descending upon her good mood.

 

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Daniel Stirling,” he told her.

 

“You’re also to be questioned in the assaults of over a dozen men in L.A.” the blonde woman told her.

 

The male detective advised her of her rights as she was handcuffed and led away before a horrified Scooby gang.

 

****

“Damn it, Kate, what the hell is going on?” Angel asked Detective Lockley. “Why did you arrest Mahleah?”

 

“Why am I not surprised that you know her,” Kate replied wearily. “Look, Angel, your friend in there is in a hell of a lot of trouble. An eyewitness places her at the scene of the murder and some pictures that recently came into my possession tell me she’s the person I’ve been looking for since this spring. I’d advise you to hire her a good lawyer immediately.”

 

She walked away and Angel’s dismay increased. She had pictures of Mahleah beating up those guys in L.A.? Where the hell had they come from? At least they’d all had one stroke of luck. Mahleah hadn’t been wearing her coat while up on stage. Buffy quietly gathered it up, along with Tora, and hid the sword – he didn’t know where. Without a murder weapon maybe they wouldn’t have enough evidence to prosecute the case.

 

“Did I hear someone say they needed a good lawyer?” a voice said behind Angel.

 

Whirling around, he growled as he saw Lilah Morgan, one of his least favorite people in the world.

 

“Mahleah would rather rot in prison than have Wolfram and Hart represent her,” he told the lawyer scathingly.

 

“Are you sure?” Lilah asked smoothly. “After all for someone with her lifespan, rotting in prison could take on a whole new meaning. Think about it, Angel. Why should she go to jail for getting rid of a scumbag who liked to carve up teenage girls?”

 

“Why would Wolfram and Hart want to help her?” he countered. “While I’m sure she could pay your fees, why do I have the feeling you have something else in mind.”

 

“Because occasionally you have been known to have an intelligent thought or two run through that pretty skull of yours,” she smiled. “My employers would be interested in cutting a deal with you.”

 

“With me?” he asked in disbelief.

 

“Angel, I’m sure by now your friend Wesley has been working quite diligently on translating the Aberjian Scroll,” Lilah replied. “You’re aware that the vampire with a soul plays a large role in the Apocalypse. Problem is no one knows what side he’ll be on. We’d like him to be on ours.”

 

“Go to hell,” he told her succinctly and turned to walk away.

 

“I’m sure I will,” she told him, unconcernedly. “It’s in my contract. Question is: are you ready to send your Immortal girlfriend to an earthly version?”

 

He left, not having an answer for her.

 

****

After a night in lockup, Mahleah was quickly indicted in the morning. After she returned to her cell she was told her lawyer was there for a visit. Assuming that Angel or Giles had hired someone to represent her, she walked into the room only to freeze when she saw the man waiting for her.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.

 

“Now, darlin’ is that any way to speak to your new attorney?” Lindsey asked her.

 

“I’m not your darlin’ and since when are you my lawyer?” she retorted.

 

“Since now, if you’d care to sign the proper paperwork,” he slid a stack of forms and a pen in her direction.

 

“Since I don’t see hell freezing over any time soon you might as well slide those papers back into your briefcase,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“You might want to reconsider, Mahleah,” he warned. “You don’t know how much trouble you’re in.”

 

“It doesn’t matter how much trouble I’m in, the answer is still no,” she said firmly.

 

“Twenty five to live has an ominous ring to it, when your lifespan is as long as yours,” he said steadily. “Look, I don’t want to see you going to prison for the things you did. Those guys all had it coming, especially Stirling. I’ve represented enough slime to recognize it when I see it and he was the genuine article.”

 

She frowned and sat down at the table in front of him.

 

“Why are you suddenly pretending to care?” she asked. “I would have expected the thought of me in prison to make you incredibly happy.”

 

“I wouldn’t say that I’m opposed to making Angel miserable,” he said, his jaw tightening, “and sending you to jail would certainly accomplish that. Guess I don’t really have anything against you. Maybe I even feel like I owe you one, since I threw the Psyche-Eros Potion in your face. I’ve heard it can be very painful.”

 

“It is,” she said tersely, then relaxed and said slyly, “Maybe I should thank you though. Painful as it was, that damn spell got me a night with the two hottest men I know.”

 

“Touché,” he smirked.

 

“So, am I to presume that your little diatribe back when you kidnapped me was just an act? You don’t really hate Angel because he’s a vampire?”

 

“Oh, I hate Angel,” he agreed, “It just has nothing to do with him being a vampire. It’s more or less because he’s a self-righteous asshole that cut my hand off.”

 

“So, in order to make it up to me, you’re offering to be my lawyer?” she looked skeptical. “What exactly would I owe you? Or, more specifically what would I owe Wolfram and Hart?”

 

“The use of your services for three years,” he said smoothly. “My employers feel that someone with your qualifications and your dislike for certain elements of society could be quite useful. In return, we would ensure that all charges against you were dropped and would even use our influence to help you get closer to the Prize.”

 

“In the Game?” she asked, in astonishment. “Why on earth would you think that I either needed or wanted help with The Game?”

 

He shrugged, “Perhaps you’d prefer it to go to your old lover, MacLeod. Either way, we feel we could be of help to you.”

 

Need someone to help me

But not you, you’re not ready

Seems you have trouble helping yourself

 

She sang the verse mockingly at him, but was surprised when he countered.

 

It takes time to notice

But you don’t seem to know time keeps moving

What you’re doing is wasting my time

You would help me more

Help me more if you helped yourself

 

“You’re not the only one who has an impressive knowledge of music,” he chuckled.

 

“Why the hell would the Good Lord give someone as rotten to the core as you a voice like that?” she asked in disgust.

 

“Sense of humor,” Lindsey suggested. “What’s it going to be, Mahleah? You could be out of here in an hour.”

 

“The answer is no,” she said firmly. “Go away, viper. This woman is not going to be seduced by your apple.”

 

He smiled again.

 

“I told the Senior Partners you’d feel that way, but they thought we could convince you. Good luck, Mahleah. I’m afraid you’re going to need it.”

 

Returning to her cell, Mahleah began pacing back and forth angrily. It was so unfair she fumed. After everything she had gone through, the soul searching and examination she was being punished for being an Immortal – something she could no more change than she could her height.

 

Despite her haughty words to Lindsey a small part of her did think about accepting his offer. If the prosecution had the evidence it promised then she was in big trouble. The thought of landing in prison for several decades loomed before her and it was not a pleasant one.

 

“It’s just not fair,” she groaned.

 

“Life’s not fair, Toraneko.”

 

“Sometimes we just do what we have to.”

 

“Life’s going to present me a bill. I just hope I can pay it.”

 

Sinking down, she hung her head. Oh God, she thought, I get it now. I’ll just have to see how this turns out and accept what the fates send me. I made this lumpy bed, now let’s see how long I can stand to lie on it.

 

****

Back in L.A. a few hours later, Lilah strode into Lindsey’s office.

 

“So, did you have any luck with our girl?” she inquired.

 

“Nope, turned me down flat,” Lindsey replied. “How about you? Have any luck coaxing Angel to the dark side of the force?”

 

“Not yet,” Lilah scowled. “Although I think as the trial progresses and he understands that she really will be found guilty we might be able to sway him. Saving the damsel in distress is Angel’s Achilles’ heel.”

 

“Yeah,” Lindsey agreed.

 

“Did you tell her about Drusilla’s prophecy?” Lilah asked. “That might have changed her mind?”

 

“Tell her that the vampire who created the potion that nearly drove her nuts predicted that somewhere in the future she’d bring forth Angelus?” he shook his head. “Even if she believed me, she’d see that as a reason to go to prison, not to stay out. Besides, our seers have said that according to their visions she prevents him from becoming Angelus. So, which one is true?”

 

“I don’t know,” Lilah said, considering the question. “Maybe the answer lies somewhere in between. Maybe she doesn’t get rid of the soul through conventional methods…maybe it’s something we haven’t considered yet.”

 

“And maybe the whole thing is a bunch of crap,” Lindsey scoffed.

 

“Well, the trial starts soon,” Lilah turned to leave. “The prosecutor wants this one wrapped up quickly. The pictures and witnesses we’ve provided should ensure a conviction in short order.”

 

“Yeah,” Lindsey agreed. “God help her,” he whispered under his breath.

 

 

Chapter Twenty Nine

 

 

The next few weeks went by in a blur for Mahleah. She knew her friends were frantically trying to find some way of saving her, but strangely she felt none of their desperation. For one thing, everything she was charged with was true. She had beaten up all of those men; she had killed Daniel Stirling. She couldn’t lie about it. Her lawyer --who was not from Wolfram and Hart -- refused to put her on the stand.

                                           

She welcomed visits from her friends and loved ones, but when first Mark and then her father came to speak to her she felt more drained than after a Quickening. Mark tried to understand but she could see that her crimes had made him reevaluate her character. Her father’s visit was torturous. He knew nothing of her Immortality and blamed himself for her rampage through the scum of L.A. He felt that if only he’d been there for her more often as a child and when Mark broke off their engagement she wouldn’t have gone on her little violent spree. The odd thing was that she felt no condemnation from him about her actions. All of the men in question were monsters in his eyes and frequently in the heritage in which he was raised ridding the world of a fiend like Stirling would be rated as a good thing.

 

It was almost as bad talking to Angel, who felt personally responsible for her arrest and prosecution. He and Buffy had gathered evidence on all of the victim’s histories, even piecing together clues that damned Stirling for the murderer he was. The judge allowed the evidence of Stirling’s guilt but disallowed any information on the behavior of the living victims. Thus, the jury hated Stirling and was glad to see him dead but was appalled by the picture of his headless corpse. When the prosecution followed up with testimony from a few of the men Mahleah had assaulted she was painted as an unstable and dangerous woman. It was no surprise to her when she was found guilty of Murder Two.

 

Duncan had also visited her during her trial and while they didn’t say much to each other she took strength and comfort from his presence. One day he came with Angel as well and she wondered about the joint call.

 

Angel quietly but vehemently pleaded with her to escape. Duncan kept silent and she knew he would support whatever her decision was.

 

Smiling at them both, she shook her head, “I can’t, it wouldn’t be right.”

 

“It’s not right for them to punish you for what you are,” Angel argued.

 

“They don’t know what I am,” she replied. “They can’t know. This is their way of serving out justice.”

 

“Where’s the justice here?” he protested. “Mahleah, this makes no sense.”

 

She licked her lips and tried to explain, “I can’t escape from this like I couldn’t be valedictorian.”

 

She saw Duncan’s eyes widen, and then gleam in understanding. Thank God, someone gets it, she thought gratefully. Angel on the other hand was still confused.

 

“What do you mean? What does this have to do with something that happened back in high school?”

 

“When I was a sophomore I took off on a little extended road trip,” Mahleah told him softly. “I was a typical teenager, ticked off at the world and the authority figures in my life, so I thumbed my nose at all of them. I had the time of my life – learned so much about life and myself that I never would have known any other way. I also missed a couple of months of school and scared everybody that knew me half to death.”

 

She grinned at Duncan, who was shaking his head in remembrance, “When I returned the principal tried to expel me, but Duncan and my Dad hired a lawyer and forced him to let me back in. Two years later, though, he had his revenge when graduation rolled around. Grade wise, despite missing out on two months of classes, I still maintained the highest average in our graduating class. By that criterion, I should have been Valedictorian. Our beloved Principal saw things differently. He saw no reason to reward bad behavior and refused to grant me that honor. I was hurt and angry and so were Dad and Duncan, who once again hired a lawyer.”

 

“But you didn’t win?” Angel asked.

 

“It never went to court,” Mahleah told him. “After some thought, I decided not to fight it. See, I had made my choice two years before and now there were consequences. I wouldn’t have given up my adventure for any amount of money but for all things there is a price. That was mine and I accepted it. I learned that sometimes things happen for a reason. Diana got the honor instead and it meant the difference between her going to the local community college, and getting a scholarship to go to Berkley with me.”

 

“This is the price you have to pay,” Angel summarized, “but what are you paying for?”

 

“For losing my way, for allowing myself to lose control just as much as those animals I hunted,” she said calmly. “Maybe for having a night so beautiful it’s sustained me through this long, lonely trial.” She reached out and locked her fingers with his. “Beautiful things have their price too, Angel. You know that all too well. I’m just glad that I’m the only one paying for this one.”

 

She wasn’t entirely – her friends were worried about her – but she knew he would understand what she wasn’t saying. The price for the most beautiful night Angel could remember had been too damn high and cost others their lives. At least she had been spared that pain.

 

****

A month later she sat quietly enjoying the sun on her face in the prison yard. She saw Faith come towards her and smiled. The last thing she had expected when she was sentenced was that she could make a good friend inside, but after all she and Faith had many acquaintances in common.

 

Angel had told her about Faith first, earlier in the summer, and then Buffy later had spoken hesitantly about her sister slayer. From their contradictory descriptions, Mahleah hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect from the girl but was enjoying watching Faith’s layers slowly reveal themselves a petal at a time.

 

They had to suffer through the same group therapy, which was boring to Mahleah and frustrating for Faith. The therapist liked to make herself feel superior to the prisoners she was supposed to be counseling and her condescending attitude and frequent dropping of appropriate quotations sometimes drove Faith batty. Mahleah had immediately tuned the annoyance out, responding only when questioned until she realized that she could turn the tables occasionally on the obnoxious woman by pointing out when she misquoted something or misinterpreted one of her precious passages. It didn’t put her high on the therapist’s good list but it gained her several new pals from her group.

 

Faith tried to watch Mahleah’s back at all times – obviously thinking that by helping the Immortal she was repaying some of the debt she felt she owed Angel. Mahleah appreciated the support, but had no wish for Faith’s prison record to be dotted with skirmishes the girl had gotten involved in out of a desire to protect her. On one occasion, a particularly violent woman had caught Mahleah without her bodyguard and came after her. Mahleah dealt with her swiftly and effectively, in front of witnesses. After that, she was mostly left to her own devices, which suited her just fine.

 

“Hey, soaking up that sunshine?” Faith greeted her before plopping down beside her.

 

“It’s always good to feel the sun on my face,” Mahleah smiled.

 

“Yeah, at least that’s the good thing about being put away in California – plenty of rays.”

 

“I don’t know, I miss the seasons,” Mahleah confessed. “I love the sunshine but the world feels out of joint when I don’t get to experience the transition from one time of year to the next.”

 

“God, I don’t miss the snow in Boston,” Faith snorted. “I’ll take all the sunshine I can get.”

 

Snow can wait

I forgot my mittens

Wipe my nose

Get my new boots on

I get a little warm in my heart

When I think of winter

I put my hand in my father’s glove

 

Mahleah sang the words softly, not wanting to entertain the whole yard.

 

“Yeah, well I don’t exactly have warm fuzzy memories of winter,” Faith said skeptically. “And I sure didn’t have a father figure to take me out playing in the snow.”

 

“My Dad was always afraid of snow,” Mahleah remembered. “He hated winter, too. That’s when my mom died and he never could get past it.  Still, I had people to play with so I guess I didn’t mind too much.”

 

I run off where the drifts get deeper

Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown

I hear a voice

“You must learn to stand up for yourself

Cause I can’t always be around.”

 

Faith seemed to have gone deep into thought, and Mahleah suspected that she was recalling Angel. He seemed to be the only person that Faith truly regarded as family, despite a bittersweet affection for Buffy that she thought Faith might not even be aware of. She continued to sing; sustaining the contemplative mood they were both in.

 

He says when you gonna make up your mind

When you gonna love you as much as I do

When you gonna make up your mind

‘Cause things are gonna change so fast

All the white horses are still in bed

I tell you that I’ll always want you near

You say that things change my dear

 

“How do you do it?” Faith suddenly interrupted. “How can you stay so calm in a place like this? It’s like nothing here touches you on the inside.”

 

“Good things or bad things it’s all the same,” Mahleah shrugged. “The only things that can affect us are the ones that we allow to. I started preparing myself when I was sitting in Sunnydale Jail. The mind is a powerful thing, Faith. I close out what I don’t want to see and focus on something else. It’s the only way I’ll stay sane here. I’m not as good as you think at keeping out all the bad things. I’m still learning.”

 

“So, where do you go?” Faith asked. “What do you think about?”

 

“Hmm, lots of things,” Mahleah said slowly. “After I pick the memory I want, I close my eyes and think about where it happened and all the details I can remember about the place: what it looked like, what it smelled like and any sounds I associate with it. Then, I put the people in and I really concentrate on them. I can spend half an hour deciding what kind of clothes they were wearing that day. I want to see every strand of hair, every freckle, every wrinkle, every tan line. I want to hear every laugh, every gasp, every sigh, every growl…”

 

“Growl?” Faith raised an eyebrow.

 

Chuckling, Mahleah replied, “I’ve been known to fall occasionally for feral guys very in touch with their primal sides…thus growling. It’s quite sexy.”

 

“I see,” Faith grinned at her.

 

“Why don’t you try it,” Mahleah suggested.

 

“What growly guys?”

 

“No,” Mahleah swatted at the Slayer’s arm. “Putting yourself in a happy memory.”

 

“Afraid I don’t have too many of those,” Faith said lightly.

 

“Nothing?”

 

“Well,” Faith said uncertainly. “It’s strange you mentioned snow. Did Angel ever tell you it snowed once in Sunnydale?”

 

“No,” Mahleah said encouragingly, “I didn’t think it ever snowed there.”

 

“Well, it did when I first moved there. One of the strangest damn things I’ve seen in a long time, which is saying a lot you know? But strange in a good way,” Faith frowned.

 

“Describe it to me,” Mahleah requested softly.

 

“Well, it all started when B showed up at my motel room to invite me to her house for Christmas Eve….”

 

****

A few nights later, Mahleah was lying in her cell thinking about a couple of recent guests to the prison. The first one had been Angel, there to visit both her and Faith, and still looking sorrowful when he saw her barricaded behind the thick transparent barrier separating them.

 

She’d endeavored to cheer him up, make him realize that she was doing as well as could be expected.

 

~~~~

 

“How long?” he demanded. “How long do you expect to punish yourself?”

 

“Until something happens to tell me I need to move on,” she answered. “I know you think I’m a masochist but I can’t just continue like nothing happened. I might forget all the lessons I learned this year.”

 

“This is such a damn waste,” he muttered.

 

“Hey, how is it any more of a waste for me to be in here than Faith,” she countered.

 

“Faith dove much deeper into her wild side than you did,” he said. “I care for the girl and I’m proud of the way she’s turning her life around but I’m not whitewashing what she did. She murdered a scientist simply because she was under orders from the Mayor. I hope she doesn’t have to serve out her entire sentence because I think that would be a waste too. She’s come a long way from that scared kid locked up in her own rage and insecurities.”

 

“She has,” Mahleah agreed. “When I passed her cell on the way here, she was reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Last week she read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. I think it’s shocked many of the prison officials and the librarian that she’s been delving into literature.”

 

“They underestimate her,” he said, his voice ringing with pride, “But what about you? How are you standing it in this place?”

 

“A day at a time,” she told him. “The same way we get through anything. It helps knowing that I’ve got people that care about me who’ll write and visit occasionally.”

 

“Whenever I get the chance,” he promised. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, making the front spike up even more. “You know Mahleah, I could get you out of here.”

 

“If you’re saying that Wolfram and Hart made you some sort of offer, forget about it. I’ve already turned them down and I sure as hell don’t want you working for them.” She said seriously. “Promise me Angel. Don’t corrupt yourself for me, I’m not worth it. Besides how would you ever be able to look Buffy in the eyes after doing something that stupid?”

 

He groaned, “God, sometimes I think that my present predicaments are pay-back for all the carousing I did when I was young and stupid. Back then I was incapable of appreciating a woman for anything other than the momentary gratification she could bring me. Now, I’m incapable of expressing that appreciation.”

 

“You’re doing all right,” she smiled warmly.

 

“It’s just…well, I wanted you to know that what you said before about that night we spent together…I felt that too,” he said fumblingly. “It was beautiful. I’d never want you to think otherwise.”

 

His free hand pressed against the glass and hers followed suit.

 

Well there was a time when you let me know

What’s really going on below

But now you never show that to me do you

But remember when I moved in you

And the holy dove was moving too

And every breath we drew was hallelujah

 

She sang it lightly but her eyes misted over as did his. Biting her lip, she told him, “It was. Thanks to you and thanks to Mac that was the most beautiful night of my life. I’ve never felt so safe, so loved, and so whole before. No matter what happens I’ll always have that memory.”

 

He struggled for something to say and eventually deflected the moment by saying, “Whoever thought something Wolfram and Hart had a hand in could turn out good?”

 

They both laughed.

 

~~~~

 

Her other caller had been Duncan. When he came to see her in Sunnydale Jail they had chatted briefly about inconsequential things. Now that this was her only way to speak to him for the next few years she took the opportunity to have a more serious discussion.

 

~~~~

 

“Thank you,” she told him warmly.

 

“For what?” he asked.

 

“You know what,” she replied, “For saving my sanity. I know it couldn’t have been an easy thing to share your body with Angel like that.”

 

He shrugged uneasily, “I didn’t want you to know.”

 

“Mo saighdear bàrd, did you really think I wouldn’t know,” she chided. “If the situation were reversed, don’t you think you’d have known it was me making love to you?”

 

“Yes,” he said steadily.

 

“Thank you also for understanding why I had to do this,” she continued, “why I’m serving my sentence.”

 

“You were the only one who understood about Stephen Keane,” he reminded her. “I guess that makes us even.” His jaw tightened as he said, “I miss you, though.”

 

“I miss you, too,” she echoed. “That’s a conclusion I’ve drawn after examining it from every angle. I’ve missed you for the last two years. Yes, I know I told you to go and I don’t really regret it. Still, I miss you. We’ve always been friends above and beyond anything else. I forgot when I sent my lover away that I was losing my best friend too.”

 

“I’ll be here when you get out,” he promised.

 

“No,” she protested. “Go, live your life. Be happy. God knows when I’ll get out of here. As long as we’re still friends it’ll be enough for now. When I get out we’ll talk about whether we still want a romantic relationship.”

 

“I’d have to be crazy not to,” he said, his dark eyes gazing into hers. “It doesn’t matter that right now we can’t really see each other or touch each other.”

 

“No ‘dull sublunary lovers’ love’ for us, huh?” she smiled faintly. “Just…let’s not make any promises we could never be sure we’d keep, okay? Friendship is something I think we can always count on and anything else can come later if it’s still in the cards.”

 

“Okay,” he’d returned her smile.

 

~~~~

 

The memory made Mahleah feel warm even as she felt her eyelids drooping closed. God, she was so tired she could barely stay awake. Her head felt thick and muddy and her arms were as heavy as iron weights.

 

Wait, this isn’t normal, she realized sluggishly. What the hell is going on?

 

 

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

A Week Earlier

 

Logan paced back and forth in front of James Hudson’s office, ignoring the speculative looks of the three men sitting in the uncomfortable office chairs in front of him. He made two of them nervous, but the third quietly scrutinized him with calm green eyes and then seemingly turned his attention inward. Logan could tell from the man’s scent that he wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared, but his demeanor gave away nothing. No doubt, the three of them were body guards to whoever James was meeting with – the reason he was wearing a hole in the carpet rather than talking to his friend.

 

James Hudson had found him in a snowy forest, wild and naked, after Logan had finally escaped from the lab that had given him adamantium claws. Over the years he had aided his friend, on a freelance basis, whenever James, or the branch of Canadian intelligence he was in charge of, needed it. Right now, James had asked him to check out rumors of trouble with the Japanese mafia and the Yashida clan – a family he knew that Logan took a personal interest in.

 

Logan’s plane left in two hours but he needed to present Mahleah’s case to James before trotting off to Japan. The idea of being locked up, imprisoned, was his idea of hell. The animal part of him snarled at the very thought. On top of that, if anyone were to learn that Mahleah healed extremely quickly she could wind up in a secret lab someplace like he had.

 

He’d tried to watch out for her over the years, which hadn’t been easy, especially after she had been hurled into a tree and woken up Immortal. It had been difficult to restrain himself and not gut MacLeod for that. Still, the rambunctious sixteen year old had turned into a surprisingly contented seventeen year old, due in no small part to Kevin Davis. He was glad that she’d taken his advice about allowing herself to be a kid for a little while longer and contented himself with sending her small presents, frequently books, from his travels.

 

After finding out her true age, he’d strictly forbidden himself to ever touch her in a sexual way again --a vow that had been much easier to keep during her teenage years than when she’d hit her twenties. It helped when he realized suddenly that she was in love with Duncan MacLeod. From that point on, he knew that even if she ever graced his bed again she would always be holding back a part of herself. Yet, he was frequently her first choice when she needed a good listener. In fact, he could clearly recall a time when he was her only confidante.

 

~~~~

 

When Mahleah entered the old cabin, she gave out a start of surprise then quickly gave him a warm hug.

 

“When I heard the radio I knew it had to be you. What are you doing here, Logan?” she asked.

 

“Since when did I have to have a reason to come see you, tiger?” he teased her. His face sobered. “Besides I thought you might need a friendly shoulder right about now.”

 

Her eyes closed tightly and tears began leaking from them.

 

“Come here,” he tugged her back in his arms and then curled up with her on the bed.

 

“Oh God, Logan, why did he have to die?” she sobbed. “Why couldn’t it have been me instead?”

 

“Toraneko, don’t take this the wrong way,” he said slowly, “but I’d much rather it have been Kevin than you. I heal from most things but I think you getting murdered would damage something inside of me that couldn’t be fixed.”

 

“But it was my fault,” she told him. “I was the one that beat up Keith, I convinced those girls to testify against him. Why wasn’t I the one to die?”

 

“Because this hurts more,” he told her gently. “That miserable son of a bitch wanted to make you hurt as much as he possibly could and you can’t suffer after you’re dead. So, instead he took your lover away from you.”

 

When I find myself in times of trouble

Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom let it be

And in my hour of darkness

She is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom let it be

Let it be, let it be

Whisper words of wisdom let it be

 

She sniffled, “You knew? About Kevin and me?”

 

“Darlin’ I try to keep track of everything important around here. Besides, unlike the rest of your friends I already knew you were sexually active. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

 

“Dad and Duncan don’t know,” she confessed. “It’s been so hard to keep it all inside. I feel like screaming at them when they treat me like a kid who’s lost her favorite toy. I keep wondering, don’t they see? Can’t they understand he wasn’t just a friend or a boyfriend?”

 

And when the broken hearted people

Living in the world agree

There will be an answer let it be

For though they may be parted there is

Still a chance that they will see

There will be an answer let it be

Let it be, let it be, yeah

There will be an answer let it be

 

“It’s easier for them not to see,” Logan consoled her. “They hurt when you hurt and if they knew how tore up you are inside I figure they’d just about go crazy. It’s okay. You can tell me anything you need to. I’ll be here as long as it takes. He was good to you, wasn’t he?”

 

“Yeah,” she smiled through her tears. “He was smart and gentle and sensitive. He was a musician. I don’t know if you knew that.”

 

“Figures you’d fall for a guitar player, tiger,” he rumbled. “Go on.”

 

“He never thought I was a freak, and it didn’t intimidate him that I’m smart,” she remembered. “He didn’t care that he wasn’t my first, but he didn’t assume that I was a slut either.”

 

“He better not have,” Logan said sternly.

 

“No, he wasn’t like that,” she reassured him. “When we made love he was always sweet and considerate. He always wanted it to be good for me and I wanted it to be good for him.” She lifted her head to smile warmly at Logan, “It was never like it was with you, but it was very nice.”

 

“And you loved him,” he concluded.

 

“I loved him,” she agreed, the tears falling faster again.

 

“That says it all right there,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

 

And when the night is cloudy

There is still a light that shines on me

Shine on until tomorrow let it be

I wake up to the sound of music

Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom let it be

Let it be, let it be

There will be an answer let it be

Let it be, let it be

Whisper words of wisdom let it be

 

They lay snuggled up to each other for the rest of the evening. He let her talk or cry as she needed -- to fill the empty spaces she couldn’t tell anyone else about.

 

~~~~

 

He recalled tracking down Shane, the little murdering scumbag who’d killed Kevin. The police had lost him, but Logan caught up to him two states away. Shane appeared on the police doorstep the next day, ragged and worse for wear but lucky to be alive. Logan generally believed in giving justice a helping hand (or claw), but wasn’t sure if Mahleah would want the jerk dead. She was much more forgiving than he was.

 

Logan had also tried to help her out when her tight-ass principal took being valedictorian away from her. He’d made some calls that had the stupid geezer quaking in his boots, but Mahleah had remonstrated with him. Graciously, she’d given up her rights to the title to her best friend. Although he protested her decision, her reasoning still made him glow: “Diana gets to give a boring speech that no one wants to listen to in the first place. I got a week in a small cabin with you. I’d say she got gypped.”

 

Logan blinked back to the present as James’s door opened.

 

“Come in,” his friend invited. “I’m sorry to make you wait so long, Logan, but I had some business to finish up first.”

 

Logan noticed the attractive brunette sitting calmly on James’s couch, but ignored her when his friend asked, “So what can I do for you?”

 

He thrust a folder with Mahleah’s history in it, all that wasn’t related to her being Immortal anyway, into James’s hand.

 

“I’ve got a candidate for recruitment,” he said gruffly. God knows he didn’t really want Mahleah involved in espionage but at least she’d be out of that damn prison. After he returned from Japan, he’d be sure to keep a close eye on her and keep her from going on any missions he considered too dangerous.

 

“Hmm,” James quickly skimmed the folder. “Tell me about her.”

 

“Her name is Mahleah Brennan,” Logan said quickly. “She speaks at least two dozen languages and is proficient in a variety of martial arts.”

 

“I see she’s been incarcerated,” James noted, “what’s she in prison for?”

 

“She killed the guy that raped and murdered one of her students,” Logan explained. “He got what was coming to him. Turned out he’d done the same thing to half a dozen other girls.”

 

“I don’t know, Logan, we don’t really need anyone at the moment,” James frowned.

 

“She’d be a valuable asset,” Logan said, starting to feel a little frantic.

 

“What’s your interest in all this,” James asked. “I’m sensing a personal vibe here.”

 

“I’ve known her since she was a kid and I hate seeing her rot in jail for giving a psychopath the justice he deserved,” Logan said honestly.

 

“I promise I’ll see what I can do,” James told him. “Now shouldn’t you be getting ready to catch a plane?”

 

Realizing that was the best he was going to get out of James, Logan shook his hand and left.

 

Stopping just outside the closed door, he listened intently to the conversation within.

 

“What do you think, Madeline? Could you use her?”

 

“She sounds quite promising,” came the smooth reply.

 

Logan locked gazes with the quiet green-eyed man watching him. “Take care of Mahleah until I return,” he instructed, then left, feeling the tightness ease from his chest. Mahleah would be free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

 

 

 

I began writing this story in January 2000 and finished on February 1, 2004. It has been my most difficult story to write, constantly morphing and changing through the years. I hope the results have entertained you. You can send comments to [email protected].

 

 

Acknowledgements:

 

Prologue: “It’s Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home) as performed by U2

 

Chapter Four: Mahleah dances to “Leave It All Behind” by Lunatic Calm and “Life in Mono” by Mono.

 

Chapter Five: Mahleah quotes two Liz Phair songs, “Soap Star Joe” and “Flower”.

 

Chapter Six: Mahleah sings a few lines from Sarah McLachlan’s song “Ice Cream.”

 

Chapter Ten: The songs played here are as follows:

“Crossroads” as performed by Cream

“Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin

“Whole Lotta Love” by Led Zeppelin

“Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix

“Stairway to Heaven” by Led Zeppelin

“One” by U2

“Bring It On Home to Me” by Sam Cooke and the following songs performed by Sam with the Soul Stirrers:

“Peace in the Valley”

“Come and Go to that Land”

“I’m So Glad (Trouble Don’t Last Always)”

“Touch the Hem of His Garment”

 

 

Chapter Twelve: The songs playing are Liz Phair’s “Fuck and Run” and Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” which also appears in the next chapter.

 

Chapter Thirteen: Patch sings a bit of Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road.”

 

Chapter Fourteen: Mahleah recites the poem “At Sixteen” by Ann Darr. She also reads the opening lines of Margaret Atwood’s novel “The Blind Assassin.”

 

Chapter Fifteen: Mahleah and Wesley and Diana dance to Strauss’ “Vienna Blood Waltz” and later Mahleah sings Springsteen’s “Shut Out the Light.”

 

Chapter Sixteen: Mahleah sings the following songs:

“Hyperballad” by Bjork

“Only Happy When It Rains” by Garbage

“Stay (Faraway So Close)” by U2

“Shelter From the Storm” by Bob Dylan which continues into the next chapter.

 

Chapter Seventeen: The radio at the cabin plays the following songs

“Shelter from the Storm” by Bob Dylan

“A Boy Named Sue” by Johnny Cash

“Tunnel of Love” by Bruce Springsteen

“Try a Little Tenderness” by Otis Redding

“Trip Through Your Wires” by U2

 

Chapter Eighteen: The radio in Duncan’s vehicle plays these songs

“I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” by U2

“A Sort of Homecoming” by U2

“Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash

 

Chapter Nineteen: Angel is playing Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.”

 

Chapter Twenty: Mahleah is singing Janet Jackson’s “What About” and later Diana listens to Hooverphonic’s “Eden” and Madonna’s “Into the Groove” on the radio.

 

Chapter Twenty One: Mahleah sings Poe’s “Angry Johnny.”

Chapter Twenty Two: Diana sings “Me and a Gun” by Tori Amos and “No Man’s Woman” by Sinead O’Connor.

 

Chapter Twenty Three: Mahleah plays “Glory Box” by Portishead.

 

Chapter Twenty Four: Otis Redding’s “These Arms of Mine” is playing.

 

Chapter Twenty Five: Sam Cooke’s “Soothe Me” and U2’s “Do You Feel Loved” plays.

 

Chapter Twenty Seven: Mahleah sings “Time is a Healer” as performed by Eva Cassidy.

 

Chapter Twenty Eight: Mahleah and Lindsey banter over Joan Armatrading’s “Help Yourself.”

 

Chapter Twenty Nine: Mahleah sings excerpts from Tori Amos’s “Winter” and “Hallelujah” as performed by Jeff Buckley. The quote “dull sublunary lovers’ love” comes from John Donne’s “A Valediction (Forbidding Mourning)”.

 

Epilogue: “Let It Be” is of course a Beatles’ song.