It was a beautiful autumn day, the sun bright in the sky, the air with a bit of a nip to it, leaves providing a carpet of red and gold. Perfect day for wandering in the woods, Nikita thought sourly as she and Maggie walked up to the house, feeling Goldilocks approaching the house of the three bears...only unlike those fairy tale bears these ones would eat her alive. She shook the thought from her head, comforted by the pressure of her gun against the small of her back, hidden by jean jacket, twin blond braids bouncing as she strode up to the porch. Both of them had dressed like college girls out for a nature hike--jean jackets, shorts, boots, a New York State University sweatshirt for Maggie and a plain yellow T-shirt for Nikita--with the obligatory backpack slung over a shoulder.

The plan was for them to go to the door and just knock--if anyone answered, then try to talk their way inside. Both of them were equipped with a comset so that once they entered, the rest of the team would come to back them up.

Maggie was breathing deeply as they climbed the porch and Nikita reached over to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Let me do the talking."

Maggie gave her a grateful smile and took a step back as Nikita went to knock on the door. Chewing on gum and idly wrapping her braid around her finger she waited for someone--anyone--to answer the door, eyes scanning the porch. A few minutes ticked by and she raised her hand to knock on the door again, halting in midmotion as she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Drawing herself up she fixed a friendly smile on her face, facing the small glass window on the door as the curtain was drawn to the side and a face peered out.

The curtain fell back and there was the sound of the door unlocking, a chain being drawn back, the door opening to show a tall heavy-set man with shaved head, dressed in black jeans and black turtleneck, gold earrings in his ears.

"Yes?" he said in a deep voice, eyes flicking from Nikita to Maggie and then back.

"Hi." said Nikita, giving him a bright smile. "Sorry to bother you but my friend and I, well, we're lost..." She extended a foot to scuff at the wooden porch and the man's eyes were drawn to her long leg, a little gleam of interest coming into them.

"Maybe we could use your phone?"

"Sure." said the man, opening the door wider to let them in. Nikita went in first, flashing the man a flirtatious smile as she circled behind him, eyes flicking around the front hall even as she slid a hand under her jacket and pulled the gun free.

The man watched Maggie appreciatively as she entered and as he turned to shut the door, Nikita took one step towards him, pressing the muzzle of her gun against the back of his neck.

"Hands on the door--where I can see them." she ordered tersely.

Slowly the man raised his hands to place palms flat against the door and Nikita dug the muzzle warningly into his neck as she saw him tense. "Are you alone?"

He was silent for a long moment and then finally said, "Someone in the kitchen."

"Call him." Grabbing a handful of his sweater Nikita pulled him around, the gun still aimed at his head, Maggie fading back, and leaned forward to speak softly in the man's ear. "Don't think I won't shoot you."

"Sonny!" called the man and Nikita gestured with her chin for Maggie to stand beside her. Removing her own gun Maggie moved up beside Nikita, watching the door leading presumably into the kitchen.

"So did you chase them off..." The man Sonny--shorter than the other with short-cropped dark hair--came to a halt as he saw Nikita and Maggie, the automatic leer fading as Maggie pointed her gun at him.

"Sit." ordered Nikita, giving the man in front of her a shove as well. Reluctantly, glowering at her, Sonny sank down on the floor and the other man went down too, both putting hands on their head.

"Picked the wrong house to do this s--t." said the bald man with a shake of his head.

"Shut up." Nikita took a step back from them and tapped the comset. "We're in. Got two in the living room."

"Hold position. We're coming in." said John's voice in her ear.

"Got it." To the two men, Nikita said, "Anyone else in the house?" Nothing from the bald man, just stony silence, and Nikita shifted her gaze to the other man, already starting to sweat. Smiling she lifted the gun and lazily aimed it at his crotch, recognizing that he was the weak link of the two. "How bout you? Anyone else here?"

"Upstairs..." muttered Sonny.

"Shut up, man." said the bald man with a threatening look at his companion and Sonny lowered his head.

"Thanks." said Nikita sweetly.

A moment later the door opened and the rest of the team came inside, immeaditely going over to bind and gag the two men. As John came up to her and gave her an approving nod, Nikita said, "I think he's upstairs. I'm going up."

"Vic will go with you." A tall, lean man with the weathered complexion of someone that had spent a lot of time outdoors, brown hair with streaks of white, came forward and followed Nikita as she took the stairs up to the second floor. Down at the end of the hallway was a set of double doors but along the way was other doors to be checked and Nikita gestured for Vic to take one as she went to the end of the hallway. The doorknob turned under her hand but didn't open--with a sigh, Nikita slipped the backpack off her shoulder and unzipped the front flap, withdrawing a set of lockpicks. The lock was an easy one, taking less than a minute to jimmy, and once she had it open she slipped inside, easing it shut behind her.

Directly in front of her was a huge canopy bed and she could discern a figure sprawled on it, covered by blankets. Looking quickly around her to see no other occupant in the room, she went to the bed, shoving her gun down the waistband of her shorts, and reached out to pull the blankets back.

It was Michael, lying on his back and the blankets pulled up to his shoulders, brown hair falling across his forehead. "Michael." she whispered, laying a hand on his cheek, but there was no response from him, not even so much as a twitch. She let her hand slide down his cheek and to his throat, feeling for his pulse and encountering something wet; drawing back her hand she stared at the blood on her fingertips and swallowed hard before pressing her fingers back against his throat. At last he stirred, a moan escaping him, hands coming up to weakly push at hers. "No...please..."

"Michael...shh...it's me." He opened his eyes to look at her, his own dark and dazed, blinking as he brought her into focus, and his hands fell back, eyes closing again. Brushing his hair back she could see bite marks on his throat and his pulse was sluggish under her fingers--they must have been bleeding him steadily over the last few days, she realized with horror. Grasping his arms she pulled him up and pushed him back against the headboard, slapping him gently on the cheek to rouse him.

His eyes opened again and this time he seemed more alert, swallowing painfully as he touched her arm. "Leave me..."

"Do you want to stay here, Michael?" asked Nikita, feeling more than a little sick. Had they messed with his mind too?

Michael shook his head weakly, revulsion and fear in his eyes, and she grasped his hands to give them a squeeze, pulling him with her. "Then let's get out of here." Taking his arm she slung it over her shoulder and helped him to his feet, bracing herself as his weight came down on her shoulders and waiting for him to get his feet under him before she started to move to the bedroom door.

One-handed she hauled open the door and stared in shock at the man that stood there, long brown hair hanging down to his waist, wearing a black velvet robe over trousers and shirt. With the speed and power of a snake, he reached out to drag Michael from her, pulling him back against his chest and an arm going around his waist to pin arms.

Belatedly Nikita drew her gun from behind her waistband and pointed it at the man.

"Let him go."

The man laughed, one hand curling in Michael's hair and pulling his head to the side, exposing pale throat marred by a line of blood. "I'll break his neck before you even pull the trigger."

"Shoot...him." said Michael hoarsely, eyes a little wild as they met Nikita's.

"Shut up." said the man, his hand tightening painfully in Michael's hair.

"Won't kill me...she'd destroy him." There was a naked pleading in Michael's eyes that it hurt to see. "Shoot..."

"I don't have to kill you." said the man with a chuckle, tongue flicking out to touch his throat and taste the blood there. As Nikita watched, frozen with horror, the man's mouth pressed against Michael's throat and Michael jerked, stiffening briefly in the man's hold and then going suddenly limp, head lolling. Withdrawing the man cast Michael away from him with a contemptuous gesture, wiping away the blood on his mouth with long fingers.

"Bastard!" Tears in her eyes Nikita raised the gun to aim it at him.

The man just laughed. "You can't hurt me, bitch." And advanced leisurely towards her.

"Silver bullets, asshole." She put the first bullet through his throat, watching in grim satisfaction as his eyes flew wide in surprise, hands clasping his throat as dark blood flowed between his fingers. Second bullet she put into his head and the man staggered back, blood running down his face, shaking his head incredulously, only falling when she put two more bullets in his chest. Shrugging off the backpack she pulled out a wooden stake and kneeled over the man, driving it into his chest and grimacing as it failed to go all the way in. It took several long moments to drive it all the way in, the man making mewing sounds as she went, and by the time it was done, she had to go off to the side and empty the contents of her stomach.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Nikita turned away from the corpse and went to Michael, tears running down her cheek as she turned him over. The door flew open and she turned at the waist, bringing her gun up in a two-handed grip, but it was John that stood there, three members of his group behind him. John glanced over at the dead vampire and then went to Nikita, touching her on the shoulder as he looked down at Michael's still form.

"Is he...?"

Nikita took one limp hand in hers, pressing fingers against the inside of his wrist. "Still alive...but he needs a doctor."

"Let me." John kneeled beside her, taking one of Michael's arms and pulling him up to sling him over one shoulder, grunting a little with the effort. "I know someone near by that can help him. Come on." Wiping at the tears on her cheeks, Nikita followed him out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Nikita didn't even to think to ask if the rest of their mission was successful, her attention so focused on Michael, sitting on the floor of the van and holding him in her arms. Maggie had given her a blanket to wrap him in, to keep him warm, and she'd merely given her a nod of thanks. It wasn't until she had the blanket wrapped around Michael that she counted heads, noting that Vic was missing among them...and vaguely remembered seeing blood on the wallpaper of the hallway as she'd followed John out.

A tear escaped from one eye and she laid her cheek against the top of Michael's head, arms tightening around him. She was not going to let him die too...

Finally the van came to a halt and Nikita lifted her head as the door was hauled open, John and another man coming to take Michael from her. "Doctor." said John succinctly as they carried him out of the van and up to a small white building, Nikita going ahead to knock on the door.

The door opened to reveal a young man with long curly blond hair, tugging on a white lab coat and adjusting wire-rimmed glasses, frowning as he looked from John to the burden he and the other man carried. "John, what--" He paled a little as he saw Michael and then pushed past them to cast a quick look around, pushing at John and gesturing sharply for Nikita to go inside. "For God's sake, have a little discretion--"

"Didn't have time to call ahead, Bruce." said John sarcastically, looking around the waiting room, seeing a woman sitting wide-eyed with her daughter in her lap. "Where?"

"Room 2." said Bruce tersely, gesturing down the hallway, and as they went, Nikita could hear him talking to the woman. Pushing open the door, Nikita held it as John and the other man brought Michael inside, lying him down on the examining table.

Bruce entered just a few minutes later, striding immeaditely to the table, winding blood pressure cuff around one of Michael's arms while he grasped his chin with the other hand and turned his head to examine his throat. Expression grim he looked down at the blood pressure cuff and then at the three of them clustered before him. "Blood type?"

"O negative." said Nikita hoarsely.

Running a hand through his hair, Bruce sighed. "I can start a transfusion, give him one unit...that's all I've got of O negative right now. I can hit the blood bank tomorrow--"

John shook his head. "We need to put as much distance between us and this place as we can. One unit's going to have to do till we can get more."

For a moment it looked as if Bruce would argue but then he wearily shook his head, looking suddenly much older. "Wait out in the hallway." Nodding John and the other man went as ordered, Bruce turning his attention to Nikita. "You too."

"I'm staying." said Nikita firmly, walking to the table and taking one of Michael's hands, expression very calm as she met Bruce's eyes. He studied for a moment then gave a nod, leaving the room briefly to retrieve the unit of blood.

An hour later and Bruce reluctantly allowed them to take Michael, telling John to make sure he got a more intensive workup from the next doctor, cleaning and dressing the throat wound before he let them go. In the van again, John gave terse orders to the driver and as he pulled away from the clinic, John went into the back, Nikita sitting beside Michael, stretched out on the floor.

Nikita lifted her head to look at John. "You said we needed to put distance between us and here...why?" she said calmly.

John cleared his throat self-consciously and finally met her eyes. "Angelique wasn't there...all we got was two young ones. She's going to be looking for him."

Sudden knowledge hit Nikita like a blow, her stomach clenching hard. "And you want to use Michael to draw her out. You bastard..."

"He's not going to be safe until she's dead, Nikita." said John levelly.

"You complete and utter bastard." Slowly she rose to her feet, hands hanging loose at her sides, but blue eyes flashed as she stared at John. "If he dies...I will hold you personally accountable. Do you understand that?"

He flinched a little at the rage in her eyes but his expression remained steadfast. "It has to be done. Wanting him makes her vulnerable...and if we have to use him to bring her down...then we will." And turned away to head for the front of the van.

Ignoring the others clustered around, Nikita sat down beside Michael and took his hand, one thought running through her mind: I won't let her have you, Michael. I promise.

************

By nightfall they had put as much distance as possible between them and Angelique's house, as far away as it was possible to be and yet remain in the country.

On the West Coast and in a small town in Northern California was another base for the group, this one an old run-down hotel remodeled to provide living quarters and workspace. Unlike the haphazard appearance of the warehouse, this base was organized and better supplied, everything from an infirmary to a lab, and it was to the infirmary that Michael was taken, to be fully examined by the doctor in residence.

This time Nikita was made to wait out in the hall and she leaned back against the wall, ignoring John's prescence, still seething over his admitted intentions to use Michael as bait for this Angelique. Not that it was anything that hadn't been done to him in the past...but it was not something she wanted any part of. She had gone along with John in good faith, believing that he had no ulterior motives in wanting to rescue Michael, and as usual she had discovered that she was wearing blinders, unable to see anything but what lay before her. Time for her to cast them aside and take a good look around her...

"Nikita."

She lifted her head at the sound of John's voice and fixed him with a cool look. Hands in his pockets, John let out a heavy sigh. "I know it's a s---y thing to do...but you have no idea how much evil this woman has done. How many lives she's taken--"

"Save it, John." interrupted Nikita with a shake of her head. "I don't want to hear it."

And turned her attention to the door as it opened, a tall, slim woman with long dark hair streaked with gray emerging, wearing a white lab coat over jeans and Tshirt. She gave John a peremptory nod and then turned her attention to Nikita, allowing a slight smile to curve her lips.

"You're Nikita?" Nikita nodded and the woman extended her hand. "Dianne Curtis."

Automatically Nikita shook her hand and the older woman looked from her to John and then back, a small sigh escaping her. "I've given him a transfusion and a mild sedative-- physically he will recover quickly, I think. As for his mental state..." She trailed off, lifting her shoulders in a shrug.

"Mental state?" echoed Nikita with a frown, looking from John to Dianne.

"You planning on telling her, John? Or should I?" asked Dianne levelly.

"By all means..." said John sarcastically, making a sweeping gesture with his hand.

"Your friend--"

"Michael."

"Michael." repeated Dianne with a nod. "I've been working with survivors of attacks like this. Depending on the...strength of the creature involved, the worst side effects you're likely to see are nightmares, which results in anxiety and insomnia. With the passage of time, whatever...bond has been formed fades. But with the older ones...the bond is stronger, more intense. It helps the victim if he or she has some kind of emotional connection with a friend or lover--that connection might be the only thing that allows them to resist."

"Resist?"

Dianne folded her arms over her chest, expression grave. "If the vampire involved is strong enough, he/she can call their victim and have them return. Judging from what John has said..." She cast him a sideways glance and he flushed a little.

"The one that assaulted your friend is very old...and very strong. If she wants him badly enough, she will be using all her power to call him back. If it comes down to it, I will keep him sedated and restrained but I'd really rather not do that--it will not help him in his recovery. You can help him."

"I'll do whatever I have to do." said Nikita firmly.

"Good. Why don't you go sit with him? It'll help seeing a familiar face when he wakes up." The older woman gave her a warm smile.

"Thank you." said Nikita softly to Dianne as she went into the room, letting the door shut behind her. In the center of the room was a bed and Michael lay on it, blankets pulled up to his chest, left hand lying limply at his side and an IV needle taped to the back of it, his other arm lying across his midsection. Brown hair was damp with sweat at the temples and he looked so pale and vulnerable lying there, a frightening thing to see when she accustomed to seeing him so strong, so in control.

As she stood watching him, he stirred in his sleep, brow furrowing as his head moved on the pillow. He muttered something under his breath and a sigh escaped him as he went still once more, whatever nightmare had gripped him seeming to fade. Silent for a long moment, only the sound of his breathing in the room, and then he gave an anguished moan, twisting on the bed and whispering the same word over and over: "Non..."

She laid her hand on his arm but he pulled away, muttering something in French, feet kicking at the blankets covering his legs as he moved restlessly on the bed, eyelids fluttering. Pulling back the blankets, Nikita managed to wriggle up onto the bed beside him and gathered him into her arms, a hand stroking his hair soothingly as he struggled weakly against her. "It's okay, it's okay, you're safe."

Bit by bit he relaxed in her arms, the trembling easing and his breathing slowing, and as she started to extricate herself from Michael, his arms went around her waist and his head laid against her breast. With a sigh, she settled back, her hand still stroking his hair, pressing a kiss against the top of his head.Despite the awkwardness of the position Nikita managed to doze off, awaking hours later from a light sleep as Michael shifted against her. Rubbing her eyes she lifted her head a little and smiled at seeing Michael still lying against her, arms wrapped around her waist. When she had thought about being in bed with him, somehow it had involved less clothes than this...

A footstep drew her head around and she blinked at seeing Dianne at the foot of the bed. "Comfortable?" she asked with a slight teasing note to her voice.

"One of us is." said Nikita ruefully.

Dianne smiled slightly. "What I said earlier, I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted to present you with the realities of the situation. It's not going to be easy."

"Nothing with us has ever been easy." Nikita admitted with a sigh, expression softening a little as she looked down at Michael. "But I'm not going to give up on him."

"Good." Dianne glanced at her watch and smothered a yawn. "I'll check back on you later. If you need anything...just stick your head out the door and holler. Someone will come."

"Thank you." said Nikita softly.

Nodding Dianne went back out the door and Nikita let her eyes close, fingers curling in Michael's hair as she let herself fall back into sleep.

In his dream he was somewhere dark and cold, shivering and hugging arms to himself as he moved through the darkness, looking for some way out. And with the darkness was an anxiety, a knowledge that *she* was out there somewhere, taunting him with the promise of freedom, of release. As he walked the feeling of being watched grew so that he imagined he saw the red flash of her eyes every time he turned his head, his movements becoming slower and slower as the darkness enfolded him. Cold seeped into his bones, making him shiver spasmodically, and every step was like pushing through some unseen barrier.

All through it he could hear her voice calling his name, a soft, seductive whisper with the false promise of warmth and peace. He had only to surrender to her, let her in--he shook his head violently at the thought and felt her anger in his mind, cold and chilling, her will reaching out to drag him in. Struggle though he did against her, he could feel his strength draining away, the will to fight fading...

And just as he felt himself start to fall a hand caught his, a golden prescence providing light in the darkness, arms wrapping around him to shelter him from Angelique's siren call, exuding a warmth that drove the chill from him. A voice whispered nonsense words, drowning out Angelique's voice, drawing him up out of the nightmare and into consciousness.

Michael awoke to find himself on a bed, his head resting against a soft breast, arms around a slim waist, and slowly lifted his head to see Nikita looking down at him.

"Hi there..." she said with a weary smile.

"Where...?" He grimaced at the soreness of a dry throat, the word little more than a croak.

"Here--" Gently she nudged him and he released his hold on her waist, Nikita slipping off the bed to find cup and water. In one drawer was a box of straws and she stuck that in the glass, taking it back over to Michael. "Drink."

He forced himself to drink slowly, stopping when the glass was half empty, and Nikita placed it on the sink, going back to the bed to take his hand. "How do you feel?"

"Tired..." he whispered, closing his eyes and feeling himself start to shake with relief.

He was gone from that place and he would never go back, never--his fingers closed tightly around Nikita's and he turned his head to meet her eyes. "Thank you."

"Did you really think I would leave you there?" she chided him, reaching out her other hand to stroke his hair back from his eyes.

After all he had done to her, said to her, and yet she was willing to risk her own life to save his...he closed his eyes against the threat of tears and felt her squeeze his hand.

"It's okay, Michael. We'll get through this."

"I'm...scared." It hurt to make that admission, to allow her to see his weakness, but he was so tired... "I can...feel her sometimes--"

A chill went through Nikita at seeing the fear in Michael's eyes, Michael who had never been afraid of anything--except perhaps his own feelings. "If she wants a man that bad, she's going to have to look somewhere else. I saw you first." she said, trying for a flippant tone and managing to succeed.

That drew a small smile from him, not quite banishing the shadows in his eyes but showing a little bit of the Michael she knew, some of his calm returning. "If worse comes to worst...you have to promise me that you won't let her have me. No matter what it takes."

"Michael--" She bit her lip, drawing back.

Despite his weakened condition he held onto her hand with grim determination, pride warring with desperation, a plea in his eyes. "Promise me, Nikita."

"I...promise." His grip on her hand eased and he closed his eyes briefly, weariness dragging at him. Fought against its pull, not wanting to fall into that dream again, and felt her lips press against his forehead in a soothing kiss. "Rest...I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere." With her hand clasping his, he let himself fall back into sleep, his slumber dreamless this time.

Sighing Nikita went to pull up a chair and sank down into it, taking Michael's hand again and holding it between hers. She prayed that the situation never became that desperate, that she would have to keep that promise she had made...because despite her word she was not all sure that she could kill him. Even if it would be a mercy killing...

**********

Over the next few days, Nikita remained at Michael's side, a cot placed in his room so that she could nap, venturing from his side only long enough to eat and attend to personal business. He slept a great deal, aided by sedatives Dianne administered through the IV, decreasing the dosage as time passed, and Nikita sat with him, watching him for any signs of dreaming. With the sedatives he didn't seem to dream but once Dianne lowered the dosage, the nightmares returned, seeming only to ease when she held his hand and talked to him. Physically his recovery was slow, only venturing briefly out of the bed on the third day, Nikita supporting him as he walked around the room. Not like the Michael she was accustomed to and it worried her to see him so listless...

On the fourth day she actually had him up out of bed and walking down the hallway, holding onto her arm as he went, finally starting to show a little of his old determination.

She was the one to call a halt, to suggest a return to his room, and settled him into the bed, relieved that he was beginning to act more like his old self. She sat with him till late evening, when he finally fell asleep, and then ventured out in search of something to eat.

Dianne must have spoken to John for Nikita hadn't seen him once in the last few days and didn't see him as she went to the main kitchen. Putting together a sandwich, she stayed in the empty kitchen long enough to finish it before going back to Michael's room, taking with her a snack for later. Opening the door, she stared for a long moment at the now empty bed, the covers pushed back, and then set her burden down before checking the bathroom, finding it empty as well.

A small flutter of panic ran through her as she went back out into the hallway to look for Michael, following the corridor to the main lobby and at last seeing him, walking slowly towards the door. Shoulders sagging in relief she went to him, calling, "What are you doing out here?"

No response from him and she frowned as she moved around him, blocking him from the door, a hand going up to lay against his chest. Looking into his eyes she felt a chill go through her as she saw they were utterly blank, no sign at all that he heard or saw her. Almost as if he were sleepwalking...she caught his arms and gave him a hard shake. "Michael!"

He blinked as she said his name, a shiver going through him, and gave a little shake of his head as if to clear it, sense returning to his eyes. A hand went to his forehead and he weaved, Nikita gripping his arms to support him. "Where were you going?"

"I...I was dreaming." Dazedly he looked around him, as if only know seeing where he was, and as his eyes came to the front door, he staggered back, swallowing hard. "I was going to her--"

Nikita took his hands and tugged on them, forcing Michael to look at her and trying not to let her own unease show. Hard not to react to the panic and fear she saw lurking in his eyes, despite his efforts to conceal it. "I won't let you go, Michael. I promise. Come on..." she added coaxingly, pulling him around. Numbly he let her lead him back to the room and sank down onto the bed. Kissing him on the forehead, she said softly, "Stay here...I'll be right back." She left him still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor, and went in search of Dianne.

After ten minutes of searching, she finally found Dianne in her own quarters, told the location by Maggie, and after just a brief explanation, Dianne dragged on clothes and took Nikita by her office so that she could pick up supplies. It was a relief to find Michael still sitting on the bed but it hurt to see the dullness in his eyes, no interest at all in Dianne as she entered the room.

"I'm going to give you something to help you sleep, okay, Michael?" said Dianne briskly, her professional demeanor helping to ease some of the tension.

He nodded slowly, extending his arm, and Nikita looked away as Dianne gave him a sedative, forcing a reassuring smile as she went to help Michael lay down. Whatever Dianne had given him must have been especially strong for his eyelids were already starting to flutter and Nikita took his hand in hers, holding it as he slowly sank into sleep, fighting it all the way.

Breathing deeply, Nikita reached out to brush a lock of hair from his eyes, her fingers trailing down his cheek, and felt a prick of tears in her eyes. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with it, to accept that she loved him, and now that she thought he might actually be able to return it, here was another obstacle to be overcome. Fury swept through her at the thought and she vowed that she would do everything in her power to see to it that this...woman didn't take Michael from her.

A hand touched her on the arm and Nikita glanced over at Dianne, seeing her serious expression. "Let's talk in the hall." said Dianne quietly.

Nodding Nikita went out first, waiting for Dianne to join her; Dianne closed the door softly behind her and let her head bow briefly, rubbing the back of her neck wearily. No matter how many times she saw this, it was always hard to witness, harder still given that she had lost half of her patients to either their attackers or their own depression.

Raising her head, she drew in a deep breath as she faced Nikita. "Night is when she's strongest--she'll keep trying to summon him. The only way we'll be able to keep him from going to her is to sedate and restrain him at night." Her mouth twisted as she said it, a sigh escaping her. She wouldn't tell Nikita of her past failures, of patients that had dislocated limbs to free themselves of the restraints, so driven by the call that they would walk until they dropped from exhaustion.

"Right now his only hope is that we find and destroy her."

"John wants to use him as bait to draw her out." said Nikita flatly.

Dianne rubbed her forehead. "I'm of two minds about that, I'll admit--destroying her is very important...but taking that kind of chance with your friend...it goes against everything I've been taught and believe in. I don't know if having him confront her is a good idea, in his present condition. I think it's something that Michael needs to agree to...and believe me, I *will* tell John as much." she added grimly.

"Thank you." said Nikita softly.

"Being there for him...it's the best thing that you can do for him right now. Whatever improvement he's made--you've been a big part of." Dianne hesitated briefly and then gave her a quick hug. "I know it's hard...but he'll come through it." Nikita wiped away a tear as she drew back. "You've gone through this, too, haven't you?"

Dianne smiled sadly. "His name was Ben, he was my husband...he killed himself."

And with that she walked away, leaving Nikita to stare after her in surprise. Once Dianne had gone out of sight, Nikita returned to Michael's room to take up the vigil again.

Nikita had thought what had gone before was bad...but the next three nights were worse.

The first night the sedatives kept Michael asleep and restraints weren't required but on the second night, he was coming out of the sedatives faster than he should have and rather than give him a dangerously high dose, Dianne had him moved to another room and restrained to the bed. Nikita had sat and watched him as he twisted in his sleep, the nightmares stronger now, struggling against his restraints and stopping only when she soothed him. It was exacting a heavy toll on her as well, sleeping sporadically, waking with even the smallest sound, an effort to force herself to eat.

But at last, after the third night, the nightmares seemed to fade; whether or not that was a good thing Nikita was not sure, it was enough that at last Michael seemed to be pulling a little out of the depression he had sunk into. Apathetic and uncommunicative in the daytime, a listlessness in him she had never seen before, and with Dianne's comment about her husband killing himself, Nikita had made certain there was nothing sharp in the room that Michael could use to hurt himself.

On the third night she had curled up next to him on the bed in the hope that physical contact might calm him, as it had before, and she awoke the next morning to the feel of his cheek pressed against her head. Sighed and wanted to just snuggle up against him, forget about the world, but his soft voice brought her head up. "Nikita..."

Raising her head, she studied him, seeing circles still under his eyes, but some of the darkness had faded from his eyes, a little of his old calm coming into them. "How are you feeling?" she asked quietly.

"Better." His eyes went from her to the restraints on wrists and then back to her, a mute plea. Raising herself she undid the restraints, sliding off the bed to attend to the ankle restraints as well, extending a hand to help him up to a sitting position. He closed his eyes briefly, drawing in a deep breath, and wrinkled his nose. "I need a shower."

"Want some company?" As soon as the words left her mouth she blushed, the blush deepening as he arched an eyebrow at her. "I meant..."

"I think I know what you meant." He took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles, eyes somber as he regarded her. "If it wasn't for you...I would have been lost. After everything that's happened between us...I don't know why you did this--"

"Yes, you do." Nikita took a step closer to the bed, reaching out a hand to place it against his cheek, her thumb rubbing against his cheek. "For the same reason that you risked so much for me, to keep me alive...even when I didn't care anymore. Love."

Michael smiled a little but there was pain darkening his eyes. "You could do better than me."

"I asked Madeline once if you even had a heart. She said that you loved deeply once...and that she didn't know if you could again." She let her hand trail down his cheek and to his mouth, finger tracing his lips. "For a while, I didn't think you could... but somewhere deep inside me I always knew you had the capacity to love again. Just as I knew someday we would be together..."

Just her touch was enough to warm him, to drive away the lingering shadows of Angelique's prescence, and he surrendered to the impulse to draw her closer, to press his mouth against hers. Drew her down onto the bed atop him, the two of them setting aside all worries and concerns, letting the heat of the moment take them away.

************

Nikita awoke to find Michael gone from her side and rubbed her eyes as she sat up in bed, looking at her watch. Just past noon--slipping out of bed she recovered her clothing and pulled it on, tugging fingers through her hair to rid it of the tangles before leaving the room. It took her a few moments of searching but she finally spotted someone sitting out on the patio--visible through the glass doors of the lobby--and she went out through the doors, recognizing Michael's brown head, hair damp as if he'd come out of the shower not long ago.

He turned his head a little to look at her and then made room for her on the bench, patting it; Nikita sank down beside him and looked out across the garden, slipping her arm through his.

"I'd almost forgotten how nice it is, to just sit and enjoy the sun." he said quietly, turning his face up to the sun and closing his eyes.

Nikita smiled fondly as she gazed at him. "One of the simple pleasures of life..."

A sigh escaped him. "This won't last."

"What won't?"

"This peace..." He let his head fall forward, arms draping across his knees as he stared out at the garden. "She's not going to let me go so easily."

A shiver went through despite the warmth of the sun. "Why are you so important to her?" she asked softly, turning on the chair sideways so that she could study his profile.

"She thinks that I'm someone she knew a long time ago...and that we're destined to be together." A small ironic smile curved his lips. "And she's not the type to take no for an answer."

Nikita was silent for a moment and then finally said, "They want to use you to draw her out." His head came around to look at her sharply. "I don't agree with them--I think it's too foolhardy."

"It might be the only way to destroy her." He shivered, straightening to rub his arms, but that was all the reaction he would give, nothing to be read at all in his eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, he rose from the bench and extended a hand to help her to her feet, eyes calm as they met hers. "Who is in charge here?"

"You want me to be the bait."

Michael sounded almost preternaturally calm as he said the words to John, John sitting behind the desk that had once belonged to the hotel manager, Nikita and Michael seated across from him. Nikita stiffened at the bald statement, managing to overcome the instinct to shoot a glare at John, cursing herself for letting Michael pull her into this.

He was hardly even recovered and now he was throwing himself back into the battle again...

"You're important to her. I think with the proper incentive she'll come out of hiding and make a play for you. And we'll be ready." said John with equal calm, not even looking at Nikita.

"Here?" asked Michael with upraised eyebrows, eyes flicking around the room.

"It's not very defensible."

"When you're ready, we'll move out. We have a perfect locale in mind."

Slowly Nikita pushed herself up from the chair and walked out of the room, going out to stand in the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes, trying not to give in to the tears of anger and helplessness. If he could be strong enough to face his fears, to allow himself to used as bait, then the least she could do was support her...but she hated the thought of him being placed in harm's way, of being vulnerable again to that...creature.

She straightened as the door opened and wiped surreptiously at her eyes as Michael came to stand before her. His hand cupped her chin and lifted it, his other hand going to wipe away the marks of tears on her cheek, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead.

"It has to be done." he said quietly.

"I don't want to lose you..." she whispered.

Michael drew her into his arms, pressing his cheek against her hair. "If it wasn't for you...I wouldn't have come through this. It's because of you that I'll have the strength to do this." He drew back, stroking her hair back from her face, and smiled, looking deeply into her eyes, as if drinking her in. "You make me believe in myself..."

She reached up to take his hands, squeezing them as she returned his gaze.

"Together we can beat her." And pressed her lips against his in a gentle kiss, drawing him back towards the doors. "Come on, you look like you need some more...bed rest."

"And resting is what we'll be doing?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, letting her lead him back inside.

Nikita flashed him a wicked grin as she pulled him back to the room.

It had been a long time since she had such an idyllic day, spent entirely with Michael, doing whatever caught their fancy. They even had dinner in his room and afterwards went for a walk, returning to the room and spending the rest of the evening in each other's arms, exploring their newfound intimacy. Nikita fell asleep in Michael's arms, feeling at peace and content for the first time in a long time.

And woke to the feel of his hand shaking her shoulder, lifting her head from the pillow to look at him, blinking as eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. "What...?" she muttered sleepily.

"Something's...wrong." He slipped out of bed, reaching for scattered clothing, and Nikita sat up, drawing the blanket up to her shoulders. "She's here." said Michael tersely, hurriedly dragging on clothing.

"Are you sure?" Shoving aside the blanket Nikita snatched up her own clothing and began to dress as well.

"Yes...I can...feel her." There was tension in his voice and a touch of fear, back rigid as he pulled on shirt and then turned to face her. "Do you have a gun?"

A scream outside the door made Nikita jump, casting her eyes around for jeans.

"In my room--" Wouldn't say that she hadn't trusted bringing a gun into the room with him, not in his previous emotional state...finding her jeans under the chair she pulled them on and approached the door slowly. Michael opened it to stick his head out, scanning the hallway, and then took her hand to pull her out with him. A man lay on his back not far from the door, hand still clutching his gun, his throat a red ruin, and Michael moved over to take the gun from his hand, ejecting the clip to check for the amount of rounds and then slapping it back in. "Exits?" he whispered to Nikita.

"This way." She tugged at his hand, indicating the way behind them, and he let her lead him, looking back over his shoulder as they went. Down the hall and to a bend, there were exits through the back, she was fairly sure... She came around the corner and lunged back as something moved in front of her, Michael dragging her back behind him and placing himself between her and the danger.

Hands caught him and threw him into the wall, Michael hitting it hard and sliding down it, still managing to hold onto the gun. Nikita stood frozen, torn between wanting to go to Michael and attack, took a step back as the figure moved closer, chuckling as it reached for her.

A boom and the figure staggered back, hissing and spinning to face Michael; using the wall Michael pushed himself up, extending his arm to fire again, the bullet tearing through the figure's throat and sending it down, writhing. He took two steps and put two more bullets in its head, Nikita venturing closer to see it was a young red-headed woman.

"Laurel." said Michael softly as he stared down at the body and shook his head, reaching for Nikita's arm. "Let's get out of here..." He trailed off, head lifting to look back down the hallway, suddenly rigid, and Nikita grasped his arm to pull him along.

"What's wrong?" She looked back down the hallway and saw a woman slowly approaching, long skirts swishing around her legs as she came towards them at a leisurely pace. Michael's gun hand shook as he brought the gun up to aim it at her, taking a step back, and from behind her arms wrapped around Nikita, squeezing tight enough to drive the breath from her. A hand caught in her hair and dragged her head to the side, hot breath against her throat.

Michael moved the gun from Nikita's captor to the woman, eyes flicking rapidly back and forth. "Drop the gun or the woman dies." said the man that held Nikita, his tongue flicking out to touch her throat and sending a shiver of disgust through her.

"Let her go." said Michael flatly, turning his attention from the man to the woman. "If you let her go, I'll come with you...willingly."

"Such devotion." said the woman with a laugh like broken glass, tossing long black hair back from white features. "Perhaps we'll just bring her along for your first...meal."

"Touch her...and you'll never have me." Calmly he raised the gun to press it against his temple, finger tugging at the trigger.

"You won't do it." said the woman but there was a touch of uncertainity in her voice, a slight frown creasing her brow as she stared at him.

"You can't stop me here. Not when she's near." There was a note of triumph in Michael's voice, almost as if he wanted her to push him, and Nikita swallowed a shout of protest. "Decide."

"If you die...so will she." snapped the woman.

"Then so be it." whispered Michael and his finger tightened on the trigger.

"Agreed!" With a sharp gesture the woman nodded for Nikita to be released and she staggered away, starting to reach for Michael, but the woman had already come to him, taking the gun from his hand, fingers closing around his wrist. She turned to face Nikita, eyes glowing with triumph, and lashed out with one hand, the blow sending her into darkness.

*************

The lair was an old abandoned church, crumbling and in disrepair, wooden pews covered with dust and cobwebs, candles set around the interior to provide light. Michael was dragged up to the altar and dropped on the stairs, left to sit there as the half-dozen of Angelique's followers spread through the church, lighting candles.

Breathing deeply to control his racing heart, Michael slid fingers surreptiously under the collar of his shirt, relief washing over him as he felt the small tracker placed there. As he'd outlined his plan, John had given Michael the tracker, telling him that if he was taken, the tracker would lead them to him. He pressed it with one finger to activate it and let himself relax...he only had to hold out until they found the lair. Surely he could survive that long...

A shadow fell over him and he lifted his head to regard Angelique, his heart skipping a beat. She stood over him, utterly still, white features blank but with a darkness lurking in her eyes, hands smoothing down the skirt of her burgundy lace dress.

"You're strong." she said, almost grudgingly. "Anyone else would have come to me... but you did not. Why is that, I wonder?" For all the playful tone of her voice, there was an undercurrent of anger and perhaps even jealousy, a small, hard smile curving her lips.

"It was her, wasn't it? There's a bond between you."

Without Nikita's prescence he would have succumbed to the call, he knew that--for the first time he could admit to himself that something more than mere circumstance tied them together. She provided him with a part of himself he'd lost a long time ago...

Michael allowed himself a thin smile. "I'm not your Philippe--your Philippe was weak."

With a snarl she struck him openhanded across the mouth, sending him sprawling against the stairs, gasping and tasting blood in his mouth. Hands reached for him, fingers touching his collar preparatory to seizing it, just inches from the tracker, and he shifted position so that she grabbed the front of his shirt instead, drawing him up so that they were face to face.

"You *will* be mine. You *will* submit to me." Despite himself he shivered as her power flowed over him, battering at fortified defenses no one had been able to breach...except for Nikita, and concentrated on the image of Nikita, using it as a shield. "I will bring you over and I will be your master...for all eternity. And you will never leave me again." Her tongue flicked at the corner of his mouth, tasting the blood there, and her mouth closed over his, fingers winding through his hair. He responded not all, allowing the kiss but setting teeth so that her tongue could not slip inside, not even reacting as fingers tugged hard at his hair.

Angelique drew back and Michael met her stare, his own eyes cold and expression blank. She shoved him from her, the fury flaring and then dying in her eyes, replaced by a grim pleasure. "Luke." She turned sideways, revealing a young man that looked to be barely out of his teens, long blond hair framing a grinning face with mad blue eyes. "He's yours." Luke licked his lips, a hunger coming into his eyes, and as he took a step forward Angelique caught his arm, effortlessly holding him back. "Kill him...and I will have your head. Anything short of that...do what you wish."

Nodding Luke straddled Michael, a hand catching in his hair to drag his head back, mouth pressing against his throat, and Michael closed his eyes, withdrawing into himself, not even feeling the pain.

It was a dark and cold place and somewhere Michael was in danger but no matter how she searched she couldn't find him. And echoing in her ears, till she thought it would drive her mad, was a woman's laughter...

"Nikita!"

Nikita opened bleary eyes as the sharp voice pulled her up out of unconsciousness, blinking and seeing John leaning over her. Behind him was Dianne, slipping around him to lay a hand on Nikita's shoulder to press her back down.

"Lie still. You've taken a nasty bump."

"Michael..." In a rush it all came back to her, the fight and the appearance of Angelique, Michael's bargaining for Nikita's life, surrendering himself to Angelique so that Nikita could live...tears sprang to her eyes and this time when she sat up Dianne let her, sighing. "They've taken him." she whispered, throat tight with her tears.

"Nikita, he's wearing a tracker. It's been activated...which means he's still alive." Numbly she lifted her head to look at John and he grasped her shoulders to give them a reassuring squeeze. "We will find him, Nikita. It's just a matter of time."

"Time's something we don't have." she said flatly, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat and laying a hand over her heart. Somehow she did know Michael was alive, it was like some kind of...connection had been formed between them and though it was weak now, she could still feel that calm prescence that was Michael. Faded and worn but still there...

Resolutely she pushed the blanket off herself and gripping the head of the bed to pull herself to her feet, standing still for a moment as her head spun and waiting for it to pass before forcing herself to move. "Let's get started." she said brusquely to John and he studied her for a long moment before finally giving a nod and leading the way out of the room.

"Got a location yet, Scotty?"

John asked the question as they entered what had once been a conference room, converted into the main computer room for the hotel base, and behind one of the monitors sat a young man with curly light brown hair hanging down to his collar, wearing jeans and a white Tshirt. As he spun his chair to face John and Nikita her mouth twisted in a small smile, seeing that on the front of his shirt was a yellow smiley face with a bullet hole in its forehead and a line of blood running down its face.

"Not yet, Captain." responded the young man in a thick Highland burr, flashing a brief smile at Nikita, the accent disappearing as he continued. "It's active and sending...but I'm having a hard time locking it down. Our equipment here isn't exactly up to speed, y'know." he said, giving the monitor in front of him a commiserating pat, as if in apology.

"We don't have a lot of time to work with here, Scotty." said John with a sigh, hands on his hips.

"Well, you can keep telling me that and telling me that...it's just not going to make an impression on Matilda here. She can only do so much." responded Scotty with a rueful shake of his head, touching the tower case lightly. "If I had a couple of days, I could lock it down...but you say I don't have it. So...it's not going to happen, John. Not with this equipment."

Nikita stared at the bank of computers, seeing not them but the more familiar ones of the Section, a young man with only a thin layer of stubble covering his head. "I think I know how we can find him." She turned to face John, drawing in a deep breath. "I need a phone."

"Wakey wakey..."

A slap to the cheek roused Michael from the doze he had fallen into and he blinked dazedly as he tried to bring the face over him into focus. Luke grinned at him as he pulled him up to a sitting position, an arm slipping around his shoulders to keep him upright, a young woman coming into his line of sight, tugging his shirt closed and buttoning it, dark brown hair falling over her face as she worked. She raised her head as if sensing his regard and a sweet smile lit her angel's face, marred only by the ever-present hunger in soft brown eyes...Delia, his weary mind supplied, and with the name came the memory of her over him, blood on her mouth, grinning down at him...

Buttoning the cuffs on one wrist, she took his other wrist in her hand and turned it up, sighing as her eyes fell on the inside of his wrist, tongue extruding from between her lips as she lifted his wrist to her mouth. Weakly he tugged at his wrist but her fingers held it in an iron grip, lips drawing back from her fangs as she pressed her mouth to his wrist.

Luke slapped her on the back of the head and she let Michael's wrist fall, turning on Luke with a growl, eyes glowing red. "Leave him...she wants him to be able to at least walk."

"But I'm hungry." she said petulantly.

"Then go find your own." snapped Luke, giving her a shove.

Glaring at him, Delia flounced out of the room and Luke pulled Michael up to his feet, supporting him when he swayed. "The big day is here...we're going to the chapel and we're gonna get married..." he sang as he led Michael out of the room.

The words sank into his dazed mind and yet had no meaning, not until they emerged from the corridor and into the main hall of the church. As they entered, organ music started up, playing a somber version of the Wedding March, and gathered around the altar were more than a dozen figures, all dressed in wedding finery.

Angelique turned to face them, her gown blood red rather than white, and Michael set his heels into the carpet, resisting the forward motion and shaking his head in negation.

Making an impatient sound Luke dragged him bodily forward and cast him down at Angelique's feet, Angelique kneeling to raise him up.

"My love..." she breathed, a hand caressing his cheek, and took his arms, forcing him back against the altar. Bending him painfully over the altar she placed a palm against his chair and pushed his head back, placing gentle kisses on his throat before sinking teeth into his throat.

But this time she did not stop as he went limp, mouth continuing to suck at his throat. Vision dimmed and a roaring in his ears eclipsed all other sound, he could feel his heartbeat slow, struggling painfully to maintain the beat, darkness slowly, inexorably drawing him into its folds.

Angelique withdrew, timing the moment perfectly, so attuned to him that she knew when he started to fade. Holding him in one arm, she stroked hair tenderly back from pale features as she watched him struggle still to live, heart beat slowing and then finally stopping. Luke came forward, dagger extended, and took Michael's limp figure from her, holding him upright as she drew the dagger across her wrist with a hiss of pain.

Turning her wrist she pressed it against Michael's lips, some of the blood seeping in past parted lips, forced his head back and pried open mouth, squeezing her fist to send a stream of blood into his mouth and stroking his throat with the other that he swallowed. For a long moment she feared she had judged amiss, that she had waited too long, but then he started to stir, mouth working instinctively at her wrist. She sighed and let her eyes close, a delicious warmth spreading through her, breath coming a little faster as his hands came up to clasp her wrist, sucking harder at the wound in her wrist.

"Enough." she said and pulled her wrist free, Luke allowing Michael to slump to hands and knees. Slowly he brought his hand up to his mouth, shaking fingers touching his lips and lifting fingers before his eyes, staring in horror at the blood there. And then curled in on himself, shaking violently as the change started to come over him.

Angelique kneeled beside him and drew him into her arms, stroking his hair and holding him. "Soon it will be over...and you will be one of us." And pressed her cheek against his hair, a triumphant smile curving her lips.

************

Dressed casually in jeans and T-shirt with denim jacket, dark sunglasses to hide her eyes, Nikita sat at an outdoor table of a small bistro in the downtown district, John seated across from her. A phone call to Birkhoff--a mixture of pleas and threats--had secured a meeting with the young man here and a promise of assistance in helping them to track Michael. If anyone could find Michael then Birkhoff could...or so Nikita fervently hoped.

Sipping at a capuccino Nikita scanned the sidewalk and let out a little sigh of relief at seeing Birkhoff's familiar head. She hadn't been entirely certain that he would come but apparently loyalty to Michael must have convinced him--he carried with a black briefcase and sat down at the table with a quick nod of greeting to Nikita before he flipped open the case.

"Receiver." he said shortly, holding his hand out, and John leaned across the table to place the receiver in his hand, both he and Nikita watching as Birkhoff expertly hooked it up to his laptop. "It'll take a few minutes..." said Birkhoff, gaze intent on his screen.

"You can give us a location?" asked Nikita.

"As long as the tracker's still active, yes."

Letting her shoulders slump a little in relief, Nikita moved her chair closer to Birkhoff's so she could look over his shoulder, watching him as his fingers danced over the keys.

Grids flashed across the screen as the program cycled through, searching for the signal transmitted by Michael's tracker, and Nikita sat back with a sigh, turning her attention back to the people moving down the sidewalk around her. Hard to resist the urge to shake Birkhoff, make him work quicker, but she knew as well as John that time was running short. The longer they left Michael with Angelique, the less his chances of being still alive when they reached him...

"Got it."

Both John and Nikita rose from their chairs to stand behind Birkhoff as he brought the location up on the screen. "It looks like an old church, on Fleet Street in St. Louis. Used to be called St. Vincent's...it's abandoned now."

"Fleet Street, St. Louis...got it." said John with a brisk nod after scrawling down notes.

"Thanks, Birkhoff." said Nikita, laying a hand on the young man's shoulder before she started to follow John.

"Nikita!" Nikita halted in mid-stride and looked back over her shoulder at Birkhoff, seeing concern and unease in his eyes. "Be careful, okay?"

Nikita tilted her head, surprised at the concern in his eyes, and flashed him a smile.

"Of course." And then she strode off, heading with John to the waiting van. Once she had gone, Birkhoff slipped a hand into his coat pocket and withdrew a cell phone, flipping it open and dialing a number. "It's me. I have a location." At the acknowledgement from the other end he deactivated the phone and slipped it back into his pocket, hunching his shoulders as he headed back to the Section, feeling a rare stab of guilt at his part in this deception.

Michael had thought he knew pain before but it was nothing compared to this; Angelique's blood flowed through him, a rush of searing heat that swept through him as quickly and voraciously as a wildfire, changing him at the most basic cellular level. He lay curled up on the floor for what seemed an eternity, every nerve ending in his body afire, the pain so great it made him retch, though there was nothing in him to bring up.

Not even Angelique's blood for it had been assimilated into his system, absorbed by his tissues and in turn changing those same tissues.

Through it all he was aware of Angelique beside him, soothing him through the worst of it while she used her power to weave a link to bind him to her, strengthening the tie that already existed between maker and child. Even in his extremity he resisted her, callling on that same strength of will that had seen him through years with the Section, had helped him to resist torture again and again, managing to hold to his sense of self and not let her sweep him away.

Bit by bit it started to ease and he fell at last into sleep, a heavy sleep filled with disturbing dreams in which he bathed in a pool of blood, and when he awoke again it was to the sound of Angelique's voice, her hands stroking damp lank hair back from his face.

"Time to feed, love." she whispered in his ear and raised him up, gripping his shoulders to steady him as he weaved. Senses had sharpened to an unbearable pitch and he put hands over his ears in an attempt to stifle the sounds that overloaded him-- the frantic beating of a heart, voices drifting to him throughout all of the church, even the lightest of footballs like a drumming of thunder in his head. Angelique placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, fingers stroking his temples, and the din seemed a little more quiet, a little more bearable. "Newborn as you are, your senses will be very acute--but it'll fade. Now...you need...nourishment."

Even before he saw her Michael could smell her blood, a tantalizing scent that made his mouth water, and her fear gave it an exotic spice; she was maybe sixteen, dressed in a black leather mini-skirt and hot pink halter, heavily made up and her hair pulled back to be piled at the top of her head, dyed blond. A prostitute, lured her by the promise of money, but she'd soon seen what these people really wanted from her. For them the taking of her blood was far more erotic than any sex she could offer them...

Tears were streaming down pale features, mascara running and leaving streaks of black around her eyes, the frantic beat of her heart calling to him just as did the blood running through her veins. A shiver ran through him and he licked his lips, feeling stomach cramp with sudden hunger. Gripping her by the arms, Luke brought her closer and Michael reached out a shaking hand to touch her on the throat, to feel her pulse beat under his fingers, the girl giving a whimper as his hand slid back to grasp hair and yank her head back.

Her skin tasted of soap and salt from tears and sweat, a tremble going through her as his mouth pressed against her throat. He imagined he could feel the blood flowing through her veins and lips skinned back from suddenly sharp teeth, pressing into her throat. "Please..." she whimpered, closing eyes tightly.

The soft plea was a dash of cold water in his face and he drew back, horror washing through him at the thought of what he'd nearly done. No matter that his body screamed with the need for her blood he would not take it from her, not rob her of her life...as his had been taken from him...

"Take her." Angelique's voice whispered in his ear, all silken seduction. "She is cattle...she exists only to provide you with sustenance. Take her--I know you want to. I can feel the need in you--"

Oh, he did want her, wanted her in a way he had never wanted a woman before, to sink his teeth in her throat and taste her blood as it flowed over his tongue and down his throat. To drink her blood and feel the release from this hunger that gnawed at him...but he had not lived as long as he had without schooling himself, without denying himself.

"No." he said firmly, tugging free of the constraining arms around him and crawling away, to put his back against the wall and distance between himself and the girl. His control now was not as it had been--better to not place himself so closely to temptation...

Angelique moved to kneel before him, reaching out to grasp him by the chin and hold him still, delicate fingers with the grip of iron. "You *will* feed. If not on her...then another. It's in your nature now, you cannot deny it." Her eyes smoldered and power washed over him, battering at his will and threatening to sweep him away, her hunger speaking to his, stoking it.

Before he had been successful in resisting her because of the bond with Nikita and now he could resist her because somehow his strength of will had increased with the change, enabling him to shield himself against her attack. Her surprise showed in a sudden widening of her eyes, narrowing to slits as she tested the shields he erected, and a slight smile curved her lips. "I do so love a challenge--you will not bore me, Michael, that is for certain." And looked back over her shoulder at where the girl still knelt, held by Luke.

"She's yours."

The girl cried out, a single harsh cry quickly choked off, but Angelique's form shielded him from the sight of her fate, her hand stroking his hair as mouth descended on his, sliding down his chin and to his throat. She nibbled at his flesh teasingly, drawing a moan from him, and raised her wrist to his mouth. "Drink..." A gasp escaped her as he bit deeply into her wrist and she sighed as his mouth sealed over the wound, drawing out her blood, idly stroking the head bent over her wrist. For now she would sustain him...but soon she would make certain he took that final step.

Arriving in St. Louis with a half-dozen members of his team, Nikita an addition, John was met at the airport by another member of his group, a police detective named Samuel Clement. A tall lanky dark-skinned man dressed in brown corduroys and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his suitcoat carried over one arm as a concession to the heat and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, tie hanging askew, he brought the group quickly from the airport to what was obviously his own house. A Victorian that showed a genteel shabbiness, needing paint and a fixing of the roof tiles, through which Clement led them down to the basement.

The basement was equipped with a state-of-the-art computer system and surveillance equipment, from police band radios to video cameras. It was to the computer that Clement went, pointing out the schematics he'd pulled up of the old St. Vincent church.

"Got shut down cause it failed to pass a building inspection about twelve years ago... and hasn't been used since. Technically the local diocese still holds title to it but they haven't done anything with it. For a while it was a place for some of the local street people to crash...until some of them stopped waking up in the morning. They cleared out quick." added Clement grimly. "Makes sense for them to stay there though....a church is the last place you'd expect a vamp to hole up in."

"How many exits?" asked John as he studied the schematics.

Clement reached across the cluttered desk for a sketch and smoothed it out.

"Front door has been padlocked but there's two emergency doors on either side of the building and a rear exit. Add to that about a half-dozen windows on the bottom floor."

"We hit them in the daytime...first priority is to find Michael." said John, giving Nikita a quick glance. "Then we take out as many of them as we can and fall back."

Clement let out a little sigh of relief. "Well, that I can go with. I thought you were going to wanna torch the place."

"Only as a last resort." said John with a straight face but a slight twinkle of his eyes gave him away.

Clement gave him a sour look but nodded. "So when do you wanna go?"

"Tomorrow. We could use some time to prepare." he added at seeing the angry look come over Nikita's features. "We go in without some prep time, we could all die...and that wouldn't do Michael any good, now, would it?"

Reluctantly Nikita shook her head, wrapping arms around herself, and John touched her briefly on the shoulder before moving among his people, giving orders. She drifted away and to the window that looked out on the back lawn, seeing the warm glow of the sun and hoping that Michael would hold out till they reached him. But even as that mental wish was uttered a chill certainity came to her that it was already too late and she shivered, hugging herself tighter.

***********

At noon the group set off for the old church, arriving a half-hour later. It had been decided that entrance would be made from the back, to ensure that their entry wouldn't be witnessed, and so the van was parked behind the church. Leaving Detective Clement in the van to keep an eye out for a passing patrol car, the other eight entered the church, using a crowbar to force the door.

"Most likely they'll be down in the basement." said John as they moved inside, flicking on a flashlight to provide illumination, and glanced briefly at Nikita. "We go in, get her friend Michael out, then we come back to take the rest of them out." Before they'd headed out, Nikita had shown each member of the team a picture of Michael so that they could identify him. "Questions?" A mute shake of heads and John nodded. "Okay, let's do it..you know your partners, stick with them. Don't use the radios unless you have to."

Slowly they spread out through the church, taking time to examine each nook and cranny as a potential hiding place, and as the rest of the group spread across the main floor of the church, John took another two members down into the basement with him and Nikita. Despite the amount of time since the church had been abandoned, the basement was amazingly cluttered, rotting wooden boxes spread across the floor covered with a thick layer of dust. It ran the entire area of the large church, a series of rooms connected by narrow corridors, and it was slow going as they checked for hiding places.

Straightening from examining the interior of a closet, Nikita took a step forward and flinched as she ran into a filmy cobweb, pawing frantically at it to get it free of her face and hair. Shivering with disgust, she ran fingers through her hair, skin crawling with the imagined sensation of spiders running through her hair, and forced herself to move on, catch up with John. As she walked she kept the flashlight down towards her feet, on the lookout for the only other thing she hated more than spiders: rats.

John glanced back at her, waiting for her to meet him before leading the way through a narrow corridor, the other two team members behind her. At last it opened out onto a large room...and the daytime resting place of Angelique and her brood.

"God..." whispered one of the team members and Nikita found herself nodding in agreement. There were a dozen coffins in all spread across the room, nothing to distinguish any one from the other, the placement seemingly random. And a moment later the smell struck her, making her gag as she covered her mouth with her hand, seeing out of a corner of her eye the reason for the smell. Strewn around the coffins were a half-dozen bodies in varying states of decay, a few of them little more than a scattering of limbs.

Swallowing hard Nikita moved the beam of her flashlight around the room and stopped as the light passed over a figure sprawled on a mattress, moved the beam back even as she took a step forward. It was Michael, lying on his side, back pressed against the wall, and Nikita hurried forward to kneel beside him, gripping his shoulder with one hand to shake him. "Michael!" she hissed as she shook him, his head lolling limply with the motion and body completely slack. Sliding her fingers up to his throat, she felt for a pulse, a chill going through her as her fingers failed to find one, and raised her hand to place her palm over his lips.

"He's not...breathing." she whispered, lifting her head to look at John, horror in her eyes.

Something flickered briefly in John's eyes as he put fingers to Michael's throat, features grim as he too failed to find a pulse. Taking a step back, he regarded Michael's still form for a long moment before he finally said, "Let's get him upstairs so we can check him better. I don't like being down here any longer than I have to." Stooping he grasped one of Michael's arms and hauled him up with a grunt, Nikita sliding Michael's other arm over her shoulders to help bear the brunt of his limp weight.

"You, take point." said John to the older of the two men and shifted his attention to the other. "You have the rear." Nodding they fell into position and the four of them began to retrace their path, moving cautiously around the coffins. As they re-entered the corridor Nikita heard something scuttling above them and shifted position so that she could lift her flashlight and shine it above her heads.

And illuminated the snarling white face of a blond-haired boy as he dropped down from his perch atop the pipes that lined the roof of the basement. Stumbling frantically back and trying to pull Michael with her, the flashlight jigged wildly in her hands, giving her nightmare flashes of the boy falling on the lead man, a spurt of blood as hands tore into his throat and then the boy's head pressed to his throat. The man's choked cry echoed off the walls, body convulsing as he was dragged down and managing to emit small mewling cries before he finally died.