Dawn's Path: Completed Work

"You are so full of shit!" Bryce chimed in. "I was the first one on stage. I got the ladies all primed up and ready for you. That's the only reason you got more tips than I did. Everyone loves a cowboy. You know. Like the song says. Save a horse and ride a cowboy. Right Kayla? "

Angel snickered and rolled her eyes at the male pissing contest. From what she had heard Lance, Bryce, and Marcus looked more like the Village People than strippers. "All right, all right, boys, no need for a repeat performance. Keep your clothes on and the testosterone to a minimum. Everyone knows that Keene is the sexiest guy at the compound. No contest." She winked at Keene as he sauntered across the room and plopped down on the couch.

Without the shiny bald scalp he'd once painstakingly sported. He didn't look quite as menacing. But, the ponytail, gathered at the base of his skull by a tight leather thong to spiral in a riot of red-orange curlicues below his shoulder blades and the casual jeans and button down he wore off duty really didn't soften the tough guy image. He was a good-looking male. But, stripper sexy, in that Hollywood way of Calvin Klein ads, Keene was not. He was huge. Well over six feet tall, the tallest of the brothers, so broad in the shoulders and lean in the hips, with hulking biceps, and thick, tree trunk thighs, Angel could only guess what he actually weighed. He was a tank of a man. And only the brave dared to so much as cross his shadow. He could put the hurt on a person in a permanent kind of way, if he took a mind to.

"Why, thank you, Angel," Keene said. He wasn't exactly certain of the conversation he'd accidentally stumbled into and preferred to overlook the mention of his name in the same context as strippers, doctors, cowboys, and firemen. Lori's father was out, hauling a load of freight from Florida to Michigan in his semi and would be gone most of the week. And Lori had gone to her mother's to spend the night. Ginger was not adapting to the empty nest phenomenon well. Especially on the nights her husband was away and she was off duty.

He'd thought he'd use the time away from his wife to check in on Angel. Their talk had left him disturbed and concerned for her on a number of levels. Keene feared for the worst. But, was pleasantly surprised to see Angel laughing and joking with Kayla. And, he believed it was one of the rare times, he'd actually seen an actual, genuine smile light her pretty face.

Bryce shook his head, snickering as he reset the pool table for a rematch. Lance had practically, dragged him, with Kayla in tow, to the rec room for a game of pool. Said he wanted to help Angel fit in. So much about their world was still so strange to her. And her reputation preceded her wherever she went. People at the compound didn't ignore her. They talked to her. But, she had few friends outside of her tight inner circle. He had a feeling she didn't make friends easily and trust was even more difficult for her than making friends.

He extended the cue to Angel and said, "It's your shot." He hesitated to release the treasured stick. The wooden stick was their last one. In the world of vampires, pool was a very physical game and they'd broken all the other ones, mostly over each other's heads. Chris simply refused to buy them more until, and she was adamant about this, they learned to behave and play nice. She called them poor sports. Hell, a good smack down with a pool cue was just a way to blow off steam.

Angel waved off Bryce's offer and deferred to Keene. Lance had gone out of his way tonight to make her feel a part of the group and she wanted to return the favor. Kayla fit in with these women like fingers in a glove. Other than she, Keene was the only other odd duck in the pond. He had more friends than she did, which wasn't saying much. John Mark and Dane had taken him under their wing and seemed determined to make a place for him here. And thanks to Lori, the female portion of the compound's population had accepted him. But, he was still trying, much as she, and to a certain degree, Kayla, to shake the stigma of his checkered past.

Keene wrapped his palm around the end of the stick and hefted his big body off the couch. The cue was bowed and scratched. Then tip of it, rubbed bare. During his time of service he'd had very little time for recreational activities. The few moments he did manage to steal were spent in solitude. It did not pay to make close acquaintances with those you would someday have to kill. He never sullied his hands with the task of taking life. Instead, he delegated and left it to Keene. And in some way, that he did so was a small mercy. Keene didn't prolong it. He was quick and efficient. He didn't believe in making the ones Roark had condemned to death suffer. He figured they'd already suffered enough.

Keene had no idea of how to play pool or any other type of games except for the sadistic ones his master taught him so well. And he wanted no part of those or his past. He studied the table and managed to get the gist of the game. "If you'll permit me."

"Of course," Bryce said with a wide bow, stepping out of Keene's way. Some might take Keene as being standoffish and aloof in the way he addressed everyone with such formality. He was just a product of his time.

"I think these two could use some humbling," Keene said. Taking aim, he drew back the cue adjusting for the irregularities of the stick and struck the cue ball with a sharp resounding clack against the smooth white surface. Pool mostly seemed to be about angles and geometry. The game came easily and quickly he dominated the table.

Angel smiled at Kayla, and stood back to watch Keene work his magic. "I couldn't agree more." She felt more like herself now than she had in, ...well, since ever. In fact, she'd say, she'd never felt more unlike herself, before now. Her body and spirit were relaxed and her mind calm. She'd actually managed to laugh a few times. And she'd managed to keep the sarcasm she was so famous for in check.

"That ladies," Keene said, shooting Lance and Bryce a look from beneath a raised brow, "Is how, what is the saying? How it is done."

The sound of feminine laughter and the rattling of bottles interrupted any hope for a rematch. Giggling, Janine knelt beside the liquor cabinet, gathering assorted bottles of alcohol and lining them up across the top of the cabinet in a neat row. "Hey guys, guess what? The party has been moved to here."

Drunkenly, she slurred her words. Wobbling precariously in her stiletto heels as she scrambled to remain upright. Janine didn't quite accomplish the feat and she fell into the corner of the liquor cabinet, toppling the bottles on end over end like dominoes. With vampiric speed, Lance, Bryce, and Keene rushed to rescue the bottles and Janine from crashing to the floor. "Thanks boys," she said as she patted Bryce on the head with drunken graciousness.

Awkwardly, Bryce juggled the bottles he'd managed to save with one hand and a very tipsy Janine with the other. Before Kayla had entered his life, he would have welcomed the chance, any chance, to get this close to Janine. But, now, it was just awkward and uncomfortable for them both and given that Kayla knew Janine and he had a past, her as well. Unsure of what to do with Janine, he handed her off to Angel and scrambled to put the load of bottles in his arm on the top of the liquor cabinet.

Janine kind of resented being handled like a sack of potatoes. Yeah, sure she was a HOT potato, but, a potato nonetheless. Her head was a little fuzzy from the tequila. But, she was no way near drunk enough to account for her behavior. She wanted to be. Oh, how she wanted to be. Reality was just too close to the surface. Everyone expected her to have one last bash before the big day. The waiting tomorrow would be agony. And she'd rather spend it sleeping off a good bender than pace the floors and watch the hands of the clock stand still in suspended animation.

"Leigh! Did you find the lemons yet?" Janine shouted to Leigh who had been tasked with finding the necessary components of the margaritas they were going to make. A smart girl NEVER mixed alcohol. She'd started out the night with tequila and was going to stick with it. Although, she wished she'd thought about choosing champagne instead. No mixing, glasses or fuss required. She could rough it and drink it straight from the bottle. Ok, maybe it wasn't haute couture to swig good champagne from the bottle. But, who cared? It was her party and she'd chug a lug if she wanted to.

Anna got to Leigh just in time. The woman dumped a bag of lemons on the counter and was going for the butcher knives to cut them when Anna stopped her and parked her on a nearby stool. Leigh wasn't drunk, at least, not as drunk as Janine by far. But, there was no way Anna was going to trust her with a knife. Could be bad in a houseful of vampires.

Angel parked Janine on the sofa and propped her up against Keene's broad shoulder. Keene rapidly shrugged her off and Angel bolted to catch her before she hit the floor. The last thing the woman needed was a head injury. The woman had already pickled what few brain cells she had left with tequila. Frowning, Angel settled Janine on the cushions and scooted to the far end of the sofa out of smelling range of her flammable breath and the sweet essence of her blood.

Janine was not one to be put off. Since Kayla's wedding, she hadn't spent any quality girl time with Angel. In fact, Angel went out of her way to avoid her and everybody else most of the time. She studied Angel intently. The woman had plenty of clothes. Janine had made sure of that. At least, they were out of the goth Morticia Addams phase and Angel had her assets tucked away. But, the black turtleneck, jeans, and complete disregard for accentuating colors didn't do her any favors. Angel dressed like the grim reaper gone femme. And the hair...did the woman even own a comb? "Girl, you need a makeover."

Angel swallowed against the temptation to sink her fangs into Janine's throat. Janine was so trusting, staring up at her drunkenly, with her round blue eyes. Didn't she realize the sheer torment she was putting her through by sitting so close? Not to mention that she'd insulted her. Not wise to piss off a vampiress. Especially not an anti-social one like her. Janine tsked and scooted closer, chasing Angel to the arm of the couch. "You know...I'm not entirely sure black is your color," Janine said.

Angel snatched the drink Bryce had been in the process of delivering to Janine out of his hand and thrust it toward her. "Here. Enjoy your drink, princess. I need to go."

Alex realized what was going on and moved to stand protectively at Janine's back. Anger, flashed in her brown eyes at the hunger so apparent in Angel's. It wasn't that she didn't understand the torment that Angel was going through, because she did. Janine's life force drew vampires to her like moths to a flame. They couldn't help themselves. And Janine more often than not forgot there was a fundamental difference between herself and the rest of them. She simply forgot she was human or rather, that they weren't.

"What? Do I stink?" Janine pouted as Angel practically ran for the door. She shook off Alex's cautioning hand on her shoulder and stumbled to her feet. She was going to have to complain to Chris about the furnishings. That couch was a butt sucker. She kicked off her shoes and sipped her drink as she made her way across the room. "Angel, wait. I haven't seen you in so long. I was hoping you'd stay for a while."

The apologetic tone in Janine's voice, almost forlorn as if she'd lost her best friend was hard to ignore. And Angel couldn't help herself as she turned and gave Janine's had a hard squeeze. Janine honestly didn't know. And there was no way Angel could say it without hurting her feelings. Janine had been around vampires for too long. And she simply didn't realize the danger she unwittingly put herself in through the association. Soon enough, there wouldn't be any danger. Janine would be one of them. Angel felt a twinge of regret for the life Janine had chosen. "By this time tomorrow night you'll understand why I can't. Good night, Janine."

Chris followed the noisy disruption down the hall and entered the rec room. She passed Angel on her way in. Angel didn't bother to look up as they brushed shoulders in the doorway. She didn't bother with a polite excuse me. She never did. Chris wanted to like Angel and to consider her a friend. But, the woman was awfully difficult to like. And she didn't seem to want to be friends with anyone.

Lance was tight on Angel's heels, almost bowling Chris over in his haste to follow Angel wherever it was she was going. His expression was drawn into a tight frown. Frowns were never good. Never. And the peacemaker, the motherly part of Chris wanted to help with whatever the problem was. But, she didn't. Sometimes people needed space and time to work things out for themselves. And Lance seemed to be making at least some headway with Angel.

"Hey guys, this is a party. We're celebrating..." Chris let her sentence fall flat. Alex was guarding Janine. Keene looked miserable and forlorn without Lori to keep him company. Bryce and Kayla were tucked away in a corner to themselves. And Leigh was discussing recipes with Anna. Robbie and John Mark were nowhere to be found. And Dane was locked away in his study contemplating their next move. Patrick was off somewhere doing whatever Patrick did when he was alone. And the Great Father was...well, around, she supposed. This was hardly a party and definitely not a celebration.

What was going to happen to Janine tomorrow was no cause for celebration. Each and every one of them had lived through it. And none of them had ever forgotten. Janine was the only person in the room genuinely happy. Or at least, she seemed to be on the exterior. Chris could sense the building fear and tension Janine worked so carefully to hide and so desperately to drown in expensive tequila. Her mind raced to come up with something. She had nothing. Not a clue as to what to say. "Tonight, we celebrate Janine."

Janine beamed. Finally, somebody got it. As much as tomorrow was about dying tonight was about living and enjoying every last second of her life. She clapped and tipped her class in a solitary toast. "To me!"

A chorus of voices, some reluctant, some fearful, but every one filled with love. Janine mattered. To some she was a source of courage and inspiration, to others a reminder of how it felt to be human. But, to all of them, she was important. And in her own way, she'd done something whether great or small, to give them what they'd needed at the time to hold on, have faith, and make it one more day. "To Janine."

Chapter 40

Angel threw open the door of her room in hopes of a hasty retreat. Almost shutting it in Lance's face as he followed on her heels. The man had no idea of the concept of personal space. Lance was just so damned dutiful. Of course he wouldn't let her go off somewhere alone to brood. "Sorry," she grumbled. Pacing back and forth, she turned on her heel to face him. The brothers really should put her down like a rabid dog. How could she ever think otherwise, especially after what she'd thought about doing to Janine? "Do you realize what I could have done in there?"

"I do," Lance answered calmly. Angel was one of the most mercurial women he'd ever met. Hot then cold, soft then so damned hard, quick to anger, and so reluctant to forget or to forgive. He didn't have to be linked to her to feel the frustration radiating off of her in waves. Just when he thought they were making headway and she was actually feeling that she belonged, they ended up right where they started. Her fingers worked the piece of wood clutched in her palm furiously, the movements of her fingers matching her harried, agitated pacing back and forth across the room.

"What is wrong with me? I actually like Janine. How could I think something like that about her?" Janine trusted her and the only thing she could think about was how good the woman smelled. Not, in a 'oh I love that perfume' kind of way. But, in a 'I want to suck you dry' kind of way. Angel couldn't rationalize her thoughts. She was a killer in her very heart and soul. Greedy. Ruthless. And always, so damned hungry. It was unforgivable.

"But, you didn't hurt her. You kept in control." Lance reached out and wrapped his fingers around Angel's elbow, stilling her frantic steps. Sometimes, it was easy to forget how young and inexperienced she actually was. And how frightened she was of herself and the world as a whole. "Trust me, at one time or another, everyone has wanted to take a bite or two out of Janine."

"Would you even have been tempted by the thought?" Angel shook off Lance's hand at her elbow and scowled at him. The man was always so willing to believe the best about her. Not this time. She wanted him to see her as she truly was, as she could be, as a killer. She hadn't forgotten the things she'd done. And she never let herself forget that she was capable of doing it again. A lesson about her he should never forget. She knew the penalty for taking human life. And she didn't want him lulled into a false sense of security about her. Not when someday, if she fucked up, he might be the one to hunt her down and carry out the sentence.

"Yes."

Angel blinked at Lance's one word confession. She hadn't expected him to answer so quickly or so honestly. She thought she was the only one who fell victim to the beast just barely under her control. She'd never seen one of the brothers lose control. Sure, they fought amongst themselves. And Chris was always replacing something broken during a scuffle. The lamps and the furniture took a hell of a beating during one of the fairly common smack downs. But, Angel had always attributed the violent outbursts to testosterone and over inflated egos. She hadn't thought there was a more nefarious cause behind them.

She opened her fingers and stared down at the scrap of charred wood resting in her palm. Roark was a bastard. He hurt people. She just always believed it was just who he was and what got him off. Maybe, much like the brothers' many fights, it wasn't. Maybe, Roark wasn't as evil as she'd always concluded. Maybe, the things he did were to stop himself from doing something much worse. The thought was laughable. She'd spent her whole life dodging a bullet. And in this shadowy afterlife, in this thing that she was. She was still dodging a bullet. Nothing had changed. Nothing ever would. "Does it ever go away?"

"Never." Lance had no other answer. Lies weren't going to make the truth any easier for her to accept. In life, everyone had choices to make. And death wasn't any different. He navigated Angel closer, bringing their bodies in line and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I am sorry, Angel," he whispered. He wished he had something hopeful to tell her. But, he didn't. The thirst would never fade. She would know a peaceful co existence with humans. It was possible. But, when humans were around, a part of her would never be at peace.

Lance captured Angel's chin with his fingertip and tilted her face up till their eyes met. "You have to learn to trust, Angel. Trust your self. Trust other people. Trust me. What we are is a part of us. But, it isn't all we are. It isn't all you are either. I know you better than that. And you know it too. You wouldn't have hurt Janine. You're stronger than that. You are so much stronger than you want to believe you are."

"I'm terrified of who I am," Angel said. Her voice trembled as she spoke her confession. Lance stilled her chin in his gentle grasp, refusing to let her tilt her head to look away. His stare bore holes into her soul and made her want to believe everything he said was true. Her fingers wrapped around the charred piece of wood, pressing the jagged edges into her palm as she squeezed. Lance made her feel things she'd rather not feel. Think things she'd rather not think. And as she stood there captured in his faithful, searching stare, she realized things she wished she didn't.