For disclaimer see first part of story.
Mail:LunarMyth@yahoo.com


Kiara stood in front of the lit fireplace. It's light illuminated the deep blue silk of her dress and her soft, tanned skin. Angel sat on his sofa, his elbows propped up on his knees, his forehead resting in his upturned palms. Her long, silken black hair cascaded over her shoulders as she bowed her head. She remained pensive, wondering where to begin. Minutes passed.

"I'm sorry," Angel whispered, breaking the silence.

She looked up at him, her gaze saddened as she sensed his pain. "I know," she replied, her voice soft.

He looked up at her, guilt, anger and hope all shining in his dark eyes. "How can you?" he laughed hollowly. "How can you stand there and think you know how this feels?" He hesitated momentarily. His voice was emotionless as he began again. "You were dead." Memories flashed through his mind in bright bursts as he sat there: Kiara laughing up at him. Kiara looking at him with the unmistakable glow of love in her silver eyes. Kiara dancing with him in the moonlight. Kiara chained to her open terrace, pain in her soft gaze as the sun began to rise. "You were dead...." he stated, though there was a hesitant question in his tone.

"You of all people should know appearances aren't always what they seem," she stated quietly, feeling his inner turmoil.

"Well you sure as hell aren't human, or else you look really great for 441." He scowled up at her. "So what I want to know is how you escaped from certain death." *And why I never knew you were still alive* he thought to himself.

She considered his request. "Death's a tricky thing these days. I hear even you came back after a brief interim in Hell."

"How did you know -"

"News travels fast in our circles," she offered as a lame explanation.

She paced back and forth in front of the mantle. There was a brief silence. "There's so much you never knew about me." A bittersweet smile crossed her lips. "Much you never took the time to find out."

He looked up at her, his face haggard. "Kiara.... I can't ever ask you to forgive me. It's hard to explain -"

"Don't bother," she said sharply. After a brief hesitation she turned to him, much softer. "I mean, I knew why you did it."

"Did you?"

She disregarded his question. "You can't kill me." She grinned. "Much to the bane of many others, it just can't be done. Not until I've accomplished what I'm here to do."

"What you're here to do? I assume you mean that in a general sense, seeing as how I obviously couldn't kill you back then either?" he asked contritely.

She shrugged and again didn't answer him. She looked at him deeply until he was forced to look away from the intensity of her gaze.

Her voice was low as she spoke. "I loved you."

"I know."

"I still do."

Angel looked up and opened his mouth to speak. She cut him off.

"I know you've found love," Kiara said. "She's a lovely girl. Smart. Savvy. Beautiful. A Slayer." He quirked a brow and she nodded. "Yes, I've seen her. Many times. I've no doubt she's good for you." She looked around his lonely apartment. "Or she would be...."

"We can't be together," he explained, defensively.

She laughed softly. "You don't get as far as I have and not know the rules, Angel. I know why you're not together."

Angel stood and paced the length of the room, stopping to stand in front of the open glass doors leading to the courtyard. "And why is that?" he asked nonchalantly.

She waited for what seemed like an eternity before answering him, her gaze wandering completely over his form; a loving, yearning, saddened look in her eyes.

"You can't trust yourself to be with her."



* * *




Buffy sat on her bed, history books opened and strewn over the top. She leaned back into her pillows and listened to the radio. The phone was cradled in her lap. Her eyes closed as she thought to herself.

*It's late. It's almost 12.*

*Which just happens to be about lunch time for him,* the second voice in her head stated.

Her eyes flew open decisively and she picked up the receiver to begin dialing.

Skies without stars
All the nights without you
I watched the world
From a room without a view...


She set the phone back down with a groan. She couldn't even get through the whole number before chickening out. With a sigh she turned her head, her gaze connecting to the framed picture of Willow, Xander and her on her nightstand. She reached out and let her fingertips trail lightly over the cool glass.

For you left me
With so few memories
That I could close my eyes
And cling to
Just a fading photograph
I sometimes sing to....

Again she picked up the phone, determined this time. She dialed the number. *Pick up, pick up, please pick up* she thought. On the fifth ring someone picked up.

"Hello?"

Buffy remained silent, cursing herself for being susceptible to that voice.

"Hello?" she heard Angel say again.

She hung up the phone quickly. With a frustrated sigh she flopped backwards onto the bed. She reached out blindly and fumbled around for the remote for a minute, then found it and switched on the TV As she curled up with her pillow, the phone rang. Startled, she bolted upright, knocking everything from her bed in her scramble to reach the phone. Hesitantly she picked up the phone, too nervous to say anything.

"H-hello? Is anyone there? B-Buffy?" she heard Giles' voice at the other end of the line.

She took a deep breath and answered him, her voice carrying her disappointment.

"Oh. Giles. Ummm...yeah. I'm here."

"Did I call at a bad time? Where you expecting someone else?"

"N-n-no. I, uhhh....I was just watching a scary movie," she finished lamely.

"Ah, yes. Well. I see. Well, is there any possibility that you could meet me at the library now? I know you have your studying to do, but I think I may have...have found something dealing with your question of earlier. About Angel."

Buffy gripped the phone tightly. "I'll be right there." With that she hung up the phone and rushed out of her room.


Giles sat in his office, staring at the recently dead phone, a look of bemusement on his face. On his desk was a printout of the Restoration spell, a book entitled "The A to Z of Angels and Demons", an open book entitled "Lost Souls", a book of mythology of angels, a report of "angels" from the Watcher's Council records, and an old, weathered sketch of Kiara.



* * *




She ran into the library, letting the doors slam closed behind her. As she skidded to a halt she noticed the disapproving looks of the librarians and patrons near her. With a casual shrug of apology she looked around, easily noticing Giles despite the dark atmosphere.

Giles watched her entrance ruefully before standing to gather his bag of books. After making sure that she was in following distance, he wove his way through the aisles and aisles of books. As he neared the back of the dim, cavernous library he spotted the isolated table he was searching for. He set his bag on the table and moments later Buffy arrived at the small alcove.

"Wow Giles. Do you really think this is private enough? I mean, I think I saw Jimmy Hoffa back there...."

He arched a brow and nodded to the seat across from him.

"So what's the what?" she asked as she settled in. He couldn't help but notice how tense she was.

"Well, I, uh, I think I may have found something to do with Angel's transformation. I mean, that is, I've found a prophecy-"

She perked up instantly. "Prophecy? What prophecy? Why am I always the last one to know about these things?"

"Like I said, I may have found it.....that is, I'm not certain it has to do with Angel. And I have, uh, have not yet affirmed my translation of such-"

She cut him off again. "So you're telling me we may or may not have a prophecy about Angel and it may or may not say what you think it says? Way to go, Giles. Nothing like staying ahead in the game."

He glowered at her. "Are you quite finished yet?"

"Translate me. I'm practically breathless with antici.................pation." She grinned. He frowned and slipped off his glasses, bowing his head as he wiped them off. She sighed and muttered, "I'm quite finished yet."

He slid his glasses back on and withdrew the books from his bag. Buffy looked at them skeptically.

"'The A to Z of Angels and Demons'? 'Fact and Fiction of Angels and other Spiritual Sightings'? Ummm, Giles? Correct me if I'm wrong here, but I don't think we need to take Angel's name *quite* so literally." He shot her another look and she lifted her hands in submission. "I'm hushing, I'm hushing."

"As I was saying before, I wasn't quite certain as to whether or not this precise prophecy would pertain to Angel or not. But upon further investigation to the Watcher's Council diaries and reports, I found proof of a demon that seemingly defies any other demon I've ever encountered. Now," he withdrew the codex and opened it, pointing out the page he was referring to. "This is, uh, this is what I've translated it to, to say: When Angel and Demon shall meet on the battlefield, one soul will be acquired. Blood is mightier than the death of the Chosen. Blood binds three, and three bind blood. And in exchange shall the curse be lifted."

Buffy looked up at him, confusion plain on her face. "So what's it? In English, please?"

Giles took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?" she asked incredulously. "And while we're on that page, what's all this 'death of the Chosen' stuff? I'm not quite sure I like the sound of that."

Giles flipped through one of the Watcher's diaries and handed the book to Buffy. She set the book upon the table and looked at the old sketch. It was done impeccably, with simple lines used to portray the pure beauty of its subject. Her eyes scanned the parchment, noting the dark hair and twinkling eyes. The supple lips curled in such a secretive smile that Buffy wanted to smile back at her in order to try to gain the secret. She had the distinct feeling that this drawing had been done by the girl's lover, such a look of love and desire was held in those light eyes. She looked up at Giles. "Lemme guess? Penthouse, 1650? And to think I thought you Watchers were all prudes."

He rolled his eyes at her flippant tone. "Her name was Kiara. It is unknown as to when she was actually turned. However, stories of her began to surface around 1580. She was cruel. One of the deadliest demons ever, as I hear it." Buffy arched her brows dubiously. He noticed. "She killed for pleasure. She was utterly carefree. Streets literally ran with tides of blood in the villages she stayed. Think Angelus multiplied by one hundred. But...she was never caught. She was always one step ahead of our Slayers." Buffy listened to his words and looked down at the smiling girl in the picture, unable to believe they were one and the same person. But Giles was still droning on. "- for about a hundred years. Then, all information of her whereabouts and activities ceased. It was as if she just disappeared. The Council assumed she was killed."

Buffy looked up at him, then at his watch. It was almost 2. "So what's this have to do with Angel?"

Giles messaged his temples and continued. "Well, ah, around the 1790's, when Angelus was in his hey-day, there is mention of a woman he associated with. Actually, there's quite a bit of mention. It seems as if the two were inseparable for almost five years. Albeit, not long in demon chronology. Well, this of course caught the Watchers' attention, given Angelus' ever growing reputation. Reports came in that she was this, er, long lost vampire. However, as Angelus' tirade continued, she never seemed to be a part of any of it. They were seen numerous times in various locations. Sometimes together, sometimes not. But always a spectacle. Interestingly enough, they did not hide out, but reveled in the luxuriant parties thrown by the wealthy and famous of the times." He paused.

"Could she have been the mastermind behind him?" Buffy asked.

Giles considered her question. "Actually, it's been speculated upon gratuitously. Many of the Watcher's Council believe it to be so."

Buffy looked down at the drawing, seeing the sensuous lines drawn painstakingly on the paper. "So, when did she and Angel part ways? Or why?"

"Well, ah, all we, uh, all we know is that five years after they met, his interest lay more in tormenting other subjects. There is no mention of her ever again in the records."

"So we don't even really know that this woman was the woman from before. I mean, for all we know she could have been a mortal he was just having fun with?" she asked.

"Well, yes. Theoretically. But her appearance is uncannily similar to that of Kiara's." Giles pulled out an even older, weathered sketch of the beauty. It was nowhere near as well drawn as the sketch Buffy held in front of her, but she could tell the undeniable likeness between the two.

"So when was that one drawn?" she nodded to the older one.

"Most likely around the time she was changed, we estimate late 1570's, early 1580's."

"Speaking of golden oldies, what was she like before she turned? If she took such delight in killing, was she evil even before?" Buffy looked up at him, her green eyes inquisitive.

Giles coughed and she could have swore he blushed. "Actually, we, ah, we....we don't know."

She arched a brow. "Oh. So the all knowing Watchers aren't infallible? Big surprise there."

"We assume that she was somewhat evil beforehand. To go on a killing rampage such as hers...." Giles shuddered.

"So tell me again why you think any of this has anything to do with Angel?"

Giles wrote down his translation of the prophecy on a blank piece of paper. Then handed it to her. "We have 'Angel meets Demon on a battlefield'. That could describe Angel and Kiara. 'Blood mightier than the death of the Chosen', well....I think that's self explanatory." Giles looked down from her accusing glare. He cleared his throat and continued. "'Blood binds three and three bind blood', I take this to refer to Angel, Spike and Drusilla who are all strongly bound by blood. They may symbolize a family to her. But," he shook his head, "I'm not sure what the prophecy foretells taking place, save for the recantation of Angel's soul. Also....." his gaze wandered to the most recent sketch as he motioned to it. Buffy looked at him expectantly. He pointed to the area where the signature should be, though there was nothing but shading. However, upon closer inspection she could just barely make out "Angelus" in the smeared charcoal.

Buffy stood up wearily. "Can you just tell me what you think will happen then?"

Giles looked up at her hopelessly. "I...I think that the demon Kiara wants to take Angel's soul away. I think she wants her toy back. And I think she will manipulate Spike, Drusilla, Angel and even you, to get her way."

Buffy nodded to him and made her way out of the library.



* * *





Angel opened his eyes from his place on the sofa and saw her standing in the sunlight. *It's a dream* he thought. He closed his eyes again and threw his arm over them. In bright, blinding flashes, scenes from his past swam through his mind, just as they had as he'd slept away most of the day.



*Bloody hell* he thought. *If she wants to play, that's fine with me.* Angelus watched from a few paces off as Darla seduced her prey. The young man was a fop. He didn't know why they didn't just enjoy themselves and engorge themselves on the whole damn lot of the insipid human toys. He turned abruptly and walked off, annoyed.

He clasped his hands behind his back as he made his way through the elaborate gardens of this night's hosts. The moonlight bathed the yards in an eerie silver-blue light that beckoned the demon inside of him. Restraint was not his best feature and Darla knew this. *Damn her!* He could hear the tittering laughter of the not-so-innocent young maids as they succumbed to the more zealous rakehells. *Ah yes. I should only be so lucky as to be taking delicious advantage of one of these child's wiles.* He made his way absently through the darkened paths, thinking once again how easy attack would be here. Unknowingly and uncaringly he stepped inside the hosts' renowned labyrinth. Seeing the drunken young man stumbling ahead of him, he began stalking him with a subconscious stealth. The man was so sotted that he didn't even realize what was happening until Angelus' fangs were buried to the hilt in his jugular. *No fun* he thought. *Didn't even struggle.* He let the lifeless body sink to the ground and continued walking the maze of the labyrinth, guided unconsciously towards the heart. He moved quietly but it was not until he was twenty feet away from the center entrance that he heard the soft humming. He inched forward slowly, lurking within the dense foliage of the tall hedges. He stopped right before he walked into the clearing.

The heart of the maze was a circle about thirty feet in diameter. It was paved with stones that, if looked at from above, would have created a geometrically precise spiral. Though the hedge walls encompassing the clearing were at least ten feet high, the moon still spotlighted the area. He knew it to be well after midnight, but somehow the light did not create shadows in the surreal alcove. But his attention was on none of this. In the very center of the spiral was a girl. *Take her!* his mind screamed. But he held back, content to watch for the moment. Her long black hair swirled around her slender frame as she spun around, humming, dancing in the moonlight. She raised her arms and her face towards the dark sky littered with stars. He could tell her eyes were closed but his own gaze was riveted on the secretive smile on her lips. For a moment he yearned to know that secret.

*Fool!* his mind screamed once more. *Secrets? The only secrets she has are yours for the tasting.* Still he didn't move. She slowly stopped her twirling and looked around, a contemplative look on her face. *Does she sense me?* She turned her back to him and wrapped her arms around herself. *Yes, be afraid. Be wary.* He took in the rest of her. She was petite and the long white gown hung perfectly on her small body. The décolletage on the gown was deep and the heavy cloth was balanced on the very edges of the gentle slope of her shoulders. A breeze blew through the clearing and danced through her dark locks, exposing the soft skin of her bare back, her smooth shoulders, her gracefully curving neck. The hunger pounded through his body, but he kept it in check. Without a sound he moved swiftly to stand behind her. He knew she remained unaware of him, her eyes closed as if she were watching something of utmost importance behind the thin, almost translucent lids. His hands hovered over her shoulders. Her scent was intoxicating to him. Almost like...jasmine. But it was not a perfumed smell. This scent came from within her, her skin, her blood. It was her essence. He inhaled deeply as he noted the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. *A child.* He frowned at the thought. How could a child be so enticing to him? He shook the thought off. *A meal is a meal, afterall* he thought.

"I knew you would come," she said, her voice soft and low, like a warm wind blowing over him. He was shocked. Had he given some sign that he was there? Her eyes were still closed. He didn't say a word, for fear she was speaking to herself or to her dream.

"My Angel," she whispered. He froze.

She turned to him and looked up at him, her silver eyes dancing in the glow of the moonlight. She smiled that smile up at him and he felt as if the world was tilting. She raised her fingers to trace over the ridges of his features and he only then realized he had morphed into his game face. He snarled lowly, but it did not stop her exploration. She touched him gently, almost as if in awe. *You coward.* He grabbed her slender wrist, marveling at how frail it seemed, and twisted it harshly behind her back. He buried his free hand in the silken mass of her raven black hair and bent her head to the side, exposing her sweet neck to him once again. His growl was half moan as his gaze took her in. He was angry at himself for being so drawn in by this slip of a girl.

"I'm going to enjoy drinking you, luv. You're quite the tender morsel," he snarled. He was furious with himself, but could only transfer that onto her. He wanted her to beg. To plead. He wanted to see the fright, the pleading in her eyes. Her eyes that were brighter than stars in the black velvet sky. Without another thought he bared his fangs to her and dipped his head to the curve of her neck.

She remained calm. "You won't," she said.

Her words stopped him. *I won't?!?! Where in the hell does she think she is? Maybe she's insane.* He laughed darkly inside. He bent his head and let his fangs scrape her tender skin, beads of dark red blood forming on the scratches. He intended to show that he most certainly would. His tongue licked at the drops of blood. They inflamed his senses.

"You can't," she said in that same even tone.

He stopped as he finished lapping at the blood. He suddenly felt as if the world was turning the other way. His hands rested upon her cool shoulders. He shook his head, disbelievingly, and thrust her violently away. She fell a few paces away. She watched him calmly as he stalked off. She slept in the heart of the labyrinth amidst the screams of terror and cries for mercy as Angelus disregarded his sire's request and feasted in a rage upon the party attendants.

She sighed like a contented lover as her fingertips traced the quickly healing scratches upon her neck. "My Angel," she whispered.


He opened his eyes again as the sun went down. The first thing he saw was that she was sitting on the arm of the sofa, watching him sleep. She smiled at him as he sat up.

"Sleep well?" she inquired.

"Not exactly."

She nodded and stood up at the same time he did. The second thing he noticed was that she had cleaned. He looked at her curiously. She shrugged.

"We're going to have visitors," she said evasively.



Next