Chapters: |2| 3| 4| 5|6|7| 8|9|10|11|Epilogue|

Chapter One

Once, as my heart remembers,
all the stars were fallen embers.
Once, when night seemed forever
I was with you.

Once, in the care of morning
in the air was all belonging.
Once, when that day was dawning.
I was with you

How far we are from morning.
how far we are
and the stars shining through the darkness,
falling in the air.

Once, as the night was leaving
into us our dreams were weaving.
Once, all dreams were worth keeping.
I was with you.

Once, when our hearts were singing,
I was with you.

Falling Embers: Roma Ryan

November 20, 2019

"You should have told me!" Olivia's voice was broken and filled with a mixture of hurt and anger. "I feel like an idiot! How could you have let me spend this much time with her over all these years and not tell me?" Tears pushed at the corners of her eyes and she turned away from him, not wanting him to see.

"Cher? You over-reacting a bit, yes? How you not see it youself? She built exactly like Baby, has her same skin, she got eyes the color of René's. An old blind woman could see who she is." He had slipped entirely into a heavy Cajun accent. He knew that was her weakness; when he became Cajun Boy she would surrender to whatever he wanted, and right now he wanted her to quit being angry about Nina. She recognized why he was doing that immediately, and almost snarled in defiance of it.

"How could I know that, Jean? Yes, she has René's eyes, I thought she was some bastard child conceived before he was killed, but how could I know she was Baby's? He was a vampire!" She was borderline shrill, not like her at all, and Jean Claude could not figure out why she was so upset. "Vampires don't have babies. How was I supposed to know? Your family tree is such a mass of shrubs and brambles I don't know who belongs to whom!"

"Olivia!" She snapped her head back toward him. He rarely used her name anymore, so this did exactly what he had hoped it would: it got her attention. He tried not to see her tears, he tried to remain hard. She was making too big a deal about this and he wanted her to see it. Still, the sight of her tears could melt the resolve of any man, vampire or human, and the fact that she never used those tears disingenuously only made it that much more difficult.

Her lower lip began to quiver, her voice softening into something more pitiful than angry. "Jean … sometimes I feel so apart from your life it's as if I don't belong in it at all."

"Livie." He approached her calmly, putting his hands behind her neck and pulling her head toward his, resting their foreheads together. She was stiff but did not resist. "Cher, we been together near 20 years now, do you see anyone else around this long but family? Yes you belong, you are a part of me. I know I've been gone a lot this last year, but …." His words trailed off.

She stared down at the hardwood floor of their beach house, silent tears splashing randomly. "Jean …. since we met, there has been no one in my heart but you, and no one else in my bed without you or René. I am yours and have been since the night we met." She finally looked up at him and kissed him softly before continuing. "But … but I am not first with you, I never have been and I've understood that from the beginning as well. Neither am I second. Or even third."

Jean tried to interrupt her, to correct her, but realized he honestly couldn't. Olivia had always stayed in the background waiting for him to return to her when he was through with family issues, love issues, other women, and other men. She had been his loyal companion, never asking for more from him than what she had. She had worn her mark proudly, represented the family when needed, kept an eye on things in Mobile when he and René were away; she had even come to NOLA when the family went to England to battle the Council, having the place cleaned up and repairs well under way by the time they returned. She had not only been his lover but anything else he had ever needed. Once she had been granted status as his companion she accepted her role and carried out duties with grace, as in everything she did. He stood there holding her, wondering that he had never made her more than that. She was right. She never came first. She had never complained and never asked for more than he gave her, whether it be his time, his support, or his love. He would have liked to think it was because she was pleased to be a part of the legacy of Spike's family, but he knew it was because she had been in love with him since their first night together, even though she had never said the words to him, just as he had never said them to her. He suddenly regretted that omission. She had no idea how much he loved her simply because he had never told her.

"But Livie …." He tried to interrupt, but she held up a hand, cutting him off.

He pressed his lips to her forehead as she continued. "The family must take priority, I know that. I have always known that, and I have respected that and tried to represent you and them well, and I have tried to be here for you and for René when you needed me. I've put no demands on you, Jean." She looked up at him then, finally meeting his eyes with her own, "Not ever."

She was more confident now, able to spill everything to him that she needed to say; it was time, it was past time. And she was right about everything. "When you said come to New Orleans, I came. When you asked me to return to Mobile and care for Aunt Billie and watch over Nina, I did it. I waited here to comfort you when Marie died, just as you asked, because you didn't want things to be awkward with the girls." She cringed a little, "I had to hear you had married René from Cordelia." That was the deepest cut for them both. He hadn't mean for it to happen that way, but he had been so involved with René and his own grief that he hadn't even thought of her. She went on, "I have always been here for you, Jean, here or wherever else you wanted me. Waiting. Waiting for my turn."

This was insufferably difficult for them both, but he knew she was right. She had always been there when he needed her, and stayed out of the way when he didn't. He knew he could depend on her, and he did so regularly, moving far past the casual lover status they first had within a year of their meeting, calling on her for favors and chores that only a full family member should be asked to perform. And she always did it cheerfully and many times invisibly. Jean felt that stab of regret again, regret that he had so taken advantage of her and that he had never given her everything she needed. He didn't want to say anything; this was her time to let it all out and clear the stale air between them, but the silence suddenly hanging heavily between them was stifling and painful.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her, feeling her gather courage to say more. Leading her to the sofa and settling her into his arms, her breath was warm against his chest as her tears began to dampen his shirt. After a few minutes, he broke the silence himself. "Livie …. what is it you need, my sweet girl?" He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. "I know this is going somewhere, and it has little to do with Nina's baby."

She turned her tear-streaked face up toward him, sincerity and pain showing plainly in her eyes. "It's my turn, Jean. Just for a little while, a few weeks, a few months, I don't care, but I need for it to be my turn."

He looked at her with love-filled eyes, yet she pushed away and stood in front of him. "I need to go for a walk. I'm going down the beach for awhile, I just need to get out, and I need for you to think about things while I'm gone." She looked out the ocean-side French doors. It was a stunning day, not too hot, perfect weather for beach combing, and she suddenly felt the desire to go. She so seldom walked in the sun anymore, but today the water and sand were calling to her. Jean Claude started to object when she placed her fingertips upon his lips. "No, Jean. I need to go. You need to think about things. I'm not giving you an ultimatum, I am just telling you what I need right now. But know that I love you, and no matter what you decide I will still love you. And I will always be yours." She kissed him urgently, resisting the temptation of his arms, then turned and walked out the door before he could stop her.

Jean poured himself a scotch, went out on the well-covered deck, and watched her as she walked away. He hadn't noticed until that moment how frail she looked. She was thinner than she had been last year before he went to LA. Her skin was almost translucent, so obviously she was spending less and less time in the daylight. Granted, she always was a night owl, most club singers were, but the longer she had been with him, the more she kept vampire hours, sleeping during the day, active at night, even if he wasn't around. As she moved further down the beach, he felt a tug of guilt at how much she belonged in that sunlight, how it caught the sheen of her hair as it was tossed about in the breeze, how she walked in the surf, ankle-deep, just so she could feel the sand beneath her feet fall away as the waves went back out. He noticed that she looked wonderful in her thin, cotton dress in his favorite shade of blue. She was natural and feminine and wind-swept, and he was suddenly overcome with a desire to wrap her in his arms and hold her there in safety for the rest of forever. But he was held captive by the sun and could only watch her become smaller and smaller as she moved down the beach.

He smiled to himself. "Clever girl. Letting me see what I can't have, but making it impossible for me to go to her, making me want her all the more." He laughed a little. Her strategy had worked. Though Olivia could never be called a manipulator, when she wanted or needed something she went directly to getting it any way she could. And that apparently included him.

He smiled again before going inside to call René and ask if he or Baby needed anything from New Orleans.

He didn't see the tiny figure in the distance collapse on the sand, or the crowd of people that gathered around her.

As he quickly showered, thoughts of Europe danced in his head. Olivia would like to see Europe, he thought, she had always talked of one day seeing the cathedrals and chateaus of France. By the time his briefcase was packed, the sun was setting and he could be on his way. Part of him wanted to wait for Olivia to return, perhaps take her with him to New Orleans, but he was eager to get things taken care of so he would be free to devote his time to her and her alone.

He scribbled a note and stuck it on the fridge.

Liv,
I've gone to NOLA, be back tomorrow night.
You're right, it's your turn.
I love you,
JC

He stepped back out onto the deck again hoping to catch a glimpse of her returning. She was nowhere in sight. Eager to be on his way, he tossed his bag into the car and headed out completely oblivious to the cry of the ambulance echoing in the opposite direction.

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

The phone was ringing when he came through the front door of the house on Rue Royale. Jean greeted his father and briefed him on what his plans were, but before he could settle into business matters, Anne handed him the phone. "It's for you."

Already in Prince mode, Jean answered in his most professional tone. "DuValliere." He listened for a few moments, his expression quickly dropping from the joy of being home to panic and concern. "I'm coming," he said curtly. Without another word, he handed the phone back to Anne, picked up his keys, and left.

"René?" Anne queried into the receiver, stunned at how quickly Jean Claude had left. She listened for a moment as well before handing the phone to the now-impatient Spike. Anne went to the front door and stared out into the night. The taillights of Jean Claude's car were already long gone.

Chapter Two

November 21, 2019

René sat in the hospital room staring at nothing, the annoying beep of the heart monitor and the persistent drip-drip-drip of the IV beginning to cloy. He felt helpless and useless, and he couldn't bear to look at the frail figure on the bed … but there was no way he would leave her side until Jean arrived.

The doctors had been reticent to talk to him, but after a few words of encouragement and a few downright threats, they had told him simply that she was in amazingly good shape considering she had refused additional treatment, that they were doing all they could, and that he should be grateful she was gotten to the hospital so quickly or they'd have lost her right then. From the obvious pain and weakness she was suffering, René wasn't sure that was a good thing. He shivered at the memory of what Marie's illness and death had done to Jean. He wasn't sure his brother could go through this again without going completely insane.

"René?" Olivia's voice was weak, almost a whisper.

He moved closer and took her hand, looking into her eyes, searching for the young, vibrant woman who used to live in this body. "I'm here, cher."

"Don't tell him, please. He can't … don't tell him. You promised … remember."

"I know, baby, but ... he already know. He comin' back from N'awlins now."

"No … René." She was struggling, visibly uncomfortable with the tubes and monitor cables, making it that much more difficult to speak. "Marie … too soon." She looked confused for a moment, then forced her eyes to focus on René. "New Orleans?"

"Yes, cher. He call me last night, tell me you two goin' away, he was goin' to Papa's to finish some business." He patted her hand reassuringly. "I caught him there, he's comin' back now, he be here in another hour or so." She looked strangely peaceful for a moment. "You rest now."

She was groggy and made little sense, substantial pain meds making it more and more difficult for her to concentrate and communicate. "René … no …" And she drifted back to sleep.

René stood and stretched a little. The room was plush for a hospital room; being the Master of Mobile had its advantages. Springhill Medical Center was an all-private-room facility to begin with, but he had wanted to be sure that Olivia was comfortable and was given as much special treatment as possible. When the ER nurse had contacted him to let him know someone from his household had been brought in, she assured him that Olivia would be given the best treatment and care possible in a quiet, exclusive wing of the facility. René had thanked her, gotten in his car, and headed to the hospital immediately. A valet was waiting to take his car when he arrived. Normally only available during daylight hours, the ER nurse had obviously made arrangements for more than Olivia to be taken care of.

Stepping near the bed again, he leaned over and kissed Liv on the forehead before stepping out into the hall to stretch a bit more. The posh waiting area had coffee and relatively fresh Danish, a selection of teas and juices and a sign that said other selections were available and a courtesy number to dial. He smiled. The hospital had subtle ways of being accommodating. A cheerful attendant approached him.

"Master Beaumont, can I get you anything? Are you hungry, sir?" She was young and sweet, obviously new, and very obviously aware of who he was and what 'being hungry' involved.

"No thank you, sweetheart, perhaps later." He flashed her a dazzling smile that made her blush as she skittered off to the nurse's station. Yes, very accommodating, he thought to himself.

René poured a cup of coffee, more to give him something to do with his hands rather than to actually drink it, and went to the large windows that looked out over Dauphin Street. There was little traffic this time of night and the street was damp from the light rain that was still trying to drizzle down onto the streets. He stared through the glass, thinking, remembering the first time he had met Liv, when Jean had first introduced her to him … after the first time he and Jean had truly made love, after he had first seen Nina again. René's mind tumbled as he stared past the window into the darkness and back to a time many years ago.

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

February 13, 2003

Jean practically had to drag René from the golden sheets of the bed they had shared. What a time it had been, Jean professing his love for his brother, their intimacy that had transcended anything Jean could have imagined and had taken René by surprise as well … such passion from his brother was something he hadn't anticipated. René had never enjoyed being with men-even in the family bonding he usually stayed with the girls, the vicious ghosts of the past making it too difficult for him to lose himself in the trust and love of even his father. But Jean, he had brought such beauty and love and tenderness to their bed. He opened to him as he had never opened to any other man and accepted the love that Jean offered him. It had been incredible and he had wanted to stay in bed and bask in the glow of it for the rest of the night.

Jean had other plans.

"Come on, lazy, we have places to go and people to meet." He whipped the sheet from his brother's naked form and nudged him off the bed. "Come on, Aunt Billie is waiting, and you know what happens if she's kept waiting." He raised a mischievous eyebrow.

René bounded out of bed. "Why you not say that's where we're going?" He was dressed in a flash and the two men were out the door and on their way to the old plantation house. They were met at the door by Leone, dusting flour from her hands and swishing her skirts just enough to make sure René would notice that red petticoat.

"Ya'll get inside, the bugs'll eat ya up. They's bad this year!" As they went inside the entryway, Jean Claude had vanished while Leone took René into the dining room that was decorated in festive colors, streamers, and balloons. A huge banner hung over the table, "Happy Birthday!" René was just wondering how the old women had gotten it hung up when Aunt Billie burst in, all smiles and hugs for him.

"Cher, you lookin' younger every day," he cooed to her as he hugged her until she could hardly breathe.

"Liar," she said with a grin.

René looked about, "I don't know where Jean got off to, but …"

"Oh, he'll be along," Bille said. "Let's you and me have a seat and let Leone finish the supper and the cake. She's made a dickens of a mess in there and won't let me do a thing!"

Billie sat at the head of the table and René at her right hand as they chatted about things past and things future. About the third time she mentioned Nina, René stopped her.

"All right, Auntie, you keep mentioning Nina. Who is that, cher? Do I know her?"

"You most certainly do." Jean Claude had appeared in the dining room doorway holding a stunningly beautiful child. She was no more than a year old with dark hair, creamy-pale skin, and the most stunning teal eyes René had ever seen. Jean moved closer and handed her to his dumbstruck brother. "René, I'd like you to meet Jeanina Renée Willamina Beaumont."

René's eyes flew open with the realization that this was his daughter, his and Baby's daughter whom Jean has squirreled away for safekeeping, away from the vampire family, away from the crime families, and away from her mother and him. This was where he had placed their precious child.

He looked at Jean, tears streaming down his face, then to Billie who was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

Jean smiled at the old woman. "I think that went rather well, don't you?" They both laughed as René spent the next few minutes just staring at and touching his daughter for the first time since she had left his arms in New Orleans a year ago.

For hours they ate the fine feast Leone had prepared, talked and laughed and ate cake, as they celebrated the birth of René's child. René himself rarely let her out of his arms, playing with her fingers and toes, smelling her hair and trying to capture the memory of her scent to be kept with him always. He whispered sweet things to her in French and English and even climbed onto the rug to play with her under the table while the others finished their coffee.

He had never been so happy.

At her bedtime, it was René who took her up to her room, admiring her room to her in loving words, telling her how pretty it was and what a special girl she was and would be and how much she was loved. He changed her and gathered her into his arms as he settled into the rocking chair in her room and sang softly to her until she fell asleep in his arms. He stayed there, holding his beautiful, sleeping child until Jean came to get him.

Jean stood in the doorway watching them until René looked up at him with loving, appreciative eyes. Then he set the baby in her crib, kissed her lovingly on the forehead and joining Jean in the hallway, where he threw his arms around his brother and quietly cried for a few minutes.

"Merci, m'frère …. merci pour toute … merci … merci … " René's voice trailed off as he began to gather himself back together, his brother's arms tightly around him, loving him and holding him.

When they went back downstairs, they said their goodbyes and thank you's to the two women, embraced them and headed out to the car.

Jean checked his watch as they pulled out of the driveway. "We're just in time," he half-said to himself.

"Where to now? I don't see how you can top that." René was beaming. To finally find his daughter after a year of suffering, not knowing, not being with her, it was almost more than he could bear. He had trusted Jean implicitly when he had entrusted her to him, but he had no idea Jean would find such a perfect place for her. She was safe with a good family, safely away from the bad, and safely away from the constant threat she would be under in a household of vampires. And she was nearby, where he could see her and visit her without putting her in danger or giving away who she was. Aunt Billie had told the family she had adopted Nina from up north, a young girl from her side of the family who had "gotten in trouble." Billie had always wanted a child, but had never married. She had gladly taken the child and was raising her in a proper Southern home filled with love, doting relatives, and a particularly doting uncle from New Orleans.

As they drove toward the coast Jean had chatted about nothing important while René was lost in his thoughts. They pulled into the parking area of the Pink Pony and climbed out of the sports car. They both paused just outside the door, letting the ocean breeze brush against their skin, clean and cool and tasting of salt. There was something about being this close to the water that made them both feel like they were home.

Olivia Fairchild was just starting her final set when they entered the club. Jean parked René at a conspicuously empty table near the stage while he got them drinks. The voluptuous blonde at the piano was crooning a particularly bluesy number, her fingers dancing along the keyboard as if by magic. René was taken with her immediately, the deep brown of her eyes catching his attention almost immediately, not to mention the dangerously low cut of her blouse. There was no doubt that those were real. Olivia caught him looking and smiled as she hummed the last ornamental notes of the piece. Jean set down his and René's drinks on the table before going to the singer and kissing her lightly as he set a drink for her on the coaster at the edge of the grand piano. Their familiarity was evident, and the smile that followed was only for him. René felt an unexpected jolt of jealousy and knew immediately why Jean had brought him here.

When Jean settled into the seat across from René, he turned his chair slightly so he could watch the chanteuse as she belted through an old Billie Holiday tune. René smirked at him. "So, it's the shrimp baskets, huh?"

"Hey, they have top notch shrimp baskets here, frère. We got some comin' in a few minutes."

"Right." René was almost laughing. He had noticed Jean made more frequent trips to Mobile than he used to. After seeing Nina, he assumed that was the reason … now he could see that Jean's little niece was not the only attraction to Alabama.

Olivia caught and held Jean's eyes more than once, taunting and teasing him with her expressions and smoldering eyes as her voice wrapped around his heart. It was poetry to watch. Jean was giving her back as much as she was giving. René had seldom seen Jean make this much effort for any woman. He usually didn't have to. But this was obviously their routine … Jean coming in late, bringing her a drink, her singing only for him, and then the rest of the night spent, and probably most of the next day, with a 'do not disturb' sign on the door. René was pleased. Jean had chosen well, an artistic type with already established late night hours and a voice that could seduce the strongest of them. As she started her final song, the crowd in the room seemed to melt away and there was only Jean, as she made love to him in music

Pride can stand a thousand trials
The strong will never fall
But watching stars without you
My soul cries

Heaving heart is full of pain
Oooh, oooh, the aching
'Cause I'm kissing you, oooh
I'm kissing you, oooh

Jean was visibly moved, and René watched the exchange as if he were a voyeur watching a couple in the throes of lovemaking …. fascinated, aroused, and as if he was intruding.

Touch me deep, pure and true
Give to me forever
'Cause I'm kissing you, oooh
I'm kissing you, oooh

Where are you now
Where are you now
'Cause I'm kissing you
I'm kissing you, oooh

As she finished the last notes, Jean joined her at the piano and pulled her into his arms, kissing her in a way René had never seen him kiss anyone in public. Olivia gave herself over to him from the moment he touched her, her hands slipping beneath his shirt and snaking their way up his back, as the admiring audience continued their applause. Jean's hands traveled down her back and over her shapely bottom, lifting her slightly so that she wrapped her legs around his waist. Before the room could even grow quiet, they were out the door.

René stared after them, half-laughing, half-annoyed he'd been tossed aside. As he finished his drink, the bartender, a girl barely 21 herself, handed him Jean's car keys. "Jean said for you to enjoy your drink and he'd see you at the hotel."

René gave her one of his famous smiles. "Well, cher, it seems my brother has abandoned me. Care to join me?" The famous Beaumont charm was never wasted on anyone, particularly not a pretty little thing like this.

"Jean also told me I was not, under any circumstances, to leave with you." She smiled back at him, resisting the temptation to laugh. "Said he'd pay my spring tuition if I could resist." She beamed. "Tough choice, but he'd never let me live it down." René had done exactly what Jean said he would. "He's driving Liv's car to the hotel, they'll see you there for a late supper." She handed him a bag. "The shrimp baskets. Hope ya'll come by again next time you're in Mobile." Her invitation was obvious … apparently Jean told her she didn't have to resist more than once.

René gathered the bag and keys, graced the girl with another smile and a warm "Good night," and was off into the night.

When he arrived at the hotel, René fully expected to find another room key and a note taped to the door. He found neither, so he slipped the room card into the slot and entered. The room was bathed in candlelight, and Jean was lighting still more. Olivia was nowhere to be seen.

"Liv's in the shower, frère. That the shrimp baskets?"

René had forgotten he was still holding them and held them awkwardly out to Jean.

"Bon. She's always famished after a show." Jean set them on the table and poured three glasses of wine. "She'll be out in a minute, post-show shower followed by the post-show feeding frenzy."

"So." René picked up a glass of wine as he settled into a chair, "when did you meet her?"

Jean was bursting to tell him everything, he was so obviously tickled that the two of them were finally meeting. "I met her last year when I brought Nina out. I was feeling kinda low dropping off the kidlet and it was too late to drive back, so I stopped into the Pony for a drink. We … kinda …. hit it off."

René chuckled. "To say the least."

Jean beamed and grabbed his own glass of wine, settling onto the king-sized bed. "She is rather extraordinary, don't you think?" His smile was contagious, and René couldn't resist teasing him.

"Oh, she seems okay." René hid his smile as Jean's expression fell, "If you like the gorgeous, voluptuous, talented, blonde type." Jean laughed. He was so obviously taken with Olivia that anything René said sent threads of delight through him.

Jean knew very well that René had not only noticed Liv at the club, he was already planning her seduction when he had seen his brother approach her affectionately first. He also knew, before even asking him, that René was going to be very much up for what Jean wanted to give her tonight.

"Frère," he started with a sparkle in his eye, "Liv is important to me, tu compreds, n'est-ce pas?" René nodded, his teal eyes flashing in anticipation. Jean really didn't have to ask--just that much was enough to tip René off as to what Jean had in mind, and he was very much interested. He'd seen that delicious décolletage at the club and he could still feel a hint of the taste of his brother in his mouth. The thought of being with both of them was very inviting indeed. He smiled at Jean and nodded before he said anymore.

Jean's smile broadened. "We show her the sons of William the Bloody know how to appreciate a woman, no?" He reached his wine glass out toward René's, the crystal making a musical clinking sound just as the bathroom door opened.

Olivia moved across the room with a smooth grace René hadn't expected. Her hair was wet, her face scrubbed clean of stage makeup, and she was wearing only Jean Claude's silk bathrobe, revealing every curve of her figure beneath the clingy fabric. She seemed oblivious to it as she slid onto the bed next to Jean and kissed him deeply.

"Mmmmmmm, feel better, cher?" Jean mumbled into her mouth as they reluctantly broke the kiss. She nodded and nuzzled her head into his shoulder just as she noticed the food on the table.

"Oooo," she smiled at him. "Food?" A hopeful smile spread across her face as she sat up quickly and reached toward the table.

Jean laughed. "Yes, Liv, darlin', I knew you'd be famished after the show. I had René bring some back with him. Shrimp okay?"

"The paper it's wrapped in is okay! I'm famished!" She sat up on her knees and reached into one of the bags René held out, her hand emerging with an enormous shrimp vanishing into her mouth almost instantly.

"Wine, cher?" René was playing host while Jean arranged some pillows up by the headboard and got comfortable as she snarfed down the third shrimp.

"She will," Jean interceded for her while Olivia nodded enthusiastically. Jean took the basket out of the bag and set it next to him then pulled her back between his legs and into his arms.

René handed her the glass of wine then gave Jean an odd look while she nodded in thanks and took a deep drink.

Jean laughed a little. "It's the post-singing feeding frenzy. Just stand back and you'll be safe." Both men laughed and Olivia joined them, almost passing wine through her nose in the process. Jean looked down at her affectionately. "Tarter sauce? Cocktail sauce? Ketchup?"

She shook her head, then nodded twice as she swallowed down all but the tail of her current delight. "Yes, please," she said around the mouthful. Jean nibbled on her neck a little as he pulled some ketchup and cocktail sauce from the bag with one hand, ripped them open with his flat teeth and looked for a place to squeeze them out. With a mischievous grin at René, he used his other hand to open the top of her robe just a little, exposing her upper chest and the top half of her bosom. Olivia protested. "Jean ….. what are …."

"Shhhhhhh," Jean whispered to her. "Trust me." She giggled and glanced up at René, unable to keep herself from blushing a little in embarrassment. Jean took the cocktail sauce in one hand the ketchup in the other and drew out red puddles across the tops of her breasts. She wriggled a little from the cold as she licked the sticky fried shrimp residue from her fingers.

"Wait a minute, waaaaaaait a minute," Jean said playfully, "that's my job." And he took her fingers into his mouth one at a time, licking and sucking them until any trace of grease or batter was gone. Olivia rewarded him by sliding her lips over his the moment he finished the last digit.

Still graced with cocktail sauce she looked at him expectantly. With a lustful grin, Jean grabbed a handful of French fries, gave some to René, and slathered one with ketchup from her right breast before feeding it to her. René just watched and munched on the fries himself.

Olivia moaned her approval. "Mmmm, good fries." Jean took the next one and drew a ketchup picture on her skin before putting one end of the fry into her mouth and the other into his … they raced to the middle until their lips were a merged mess of fried potato, ketchup and happy sighs.

René suddenly felt conspicuously unneeded until Jean caught his eye and winked at him, his lips still enjoying the taste of the woman in his arms. With a quick glance at the cocktail sauce, René settled onto the bed next to them and grabbed the last lonely shrimp from the basket, catching Liv by surprise as he swirled it around her skin and offered it to her.

She looked at Jean questioningly before snapping it up, gratitude and contentment glimmering in her eyes … this time for René. He found it stirred him more than he thought it would.

A whirl of fries, ketchup, kisses, and wine ensued until all the food was gone. "Time to do the dishes," Jean piped up and stuffed the empty basket, unused napkins, and trash bits into the bag, tossing it to René with one hand, who in turn shot it basketball-style across the room for two points. Jean raised an eyebrow at him: "Don't forget to clean off the table." The smile on René's face could have lit the room as he crawled atop Olivia, straddling over her and licked the leftover cocktail sauce from her chest. She looked at Jean over her shoulder curiously, her mouth open a little in surprise as he whispered, cooed, and kissed her ear. "Shhhhhh, cher, it's okay."

"But Jean …" she whispered.

"Shhhh, love, let me share my brother's love with you tonight. Let us show you how our love can make you feel, and let's you and I share ourselves with him. Will you do that for me, m'petite?" He kissed her neck, "My love?" He licked around the edge of her ear.

A moaning sigh of pleasure seemed to resonate through her as she whispered back to him, "Yessss, Jean, yes."

"Lovely, cher." He spoke quietly just to her, the warmth of her body warming him, his excitement already evident. René was still obediently "cleaning the table," though the last traces of ketchup were gone. "Doesn't René have lovely hair? See how it shines in the candlelight? Touch it, cher, let your fingers curl around and slide through it."

As he spoke, she did, all the while leaning back into Jean's chest, her left hand in René's hair, the other at her shoulder stroking Jean's cheek. René's cool, wet tongue sent little shivers through her as he began to dip lower and into the valley between her breasts. Jean's hands slipped around her waist, beneath René, who was hovering over her body waiting to be invited closer. He easily untied the silk robe and let it fall open to reveal her naked form, still rosey and flushed from the warm shower.

Olivia closed her eyes, dreamily lost in the attentions both brothers were giving her generously. Jean unbuttoned his own shirt, peeling it back to feel the soft silk of his robe against his skin. Another moment found his belt undone and his trousers unfastened, Olivia happily pressing into him to feel his hardness press further into her back. She leaned down to kiss the top of René's head, breathing his scent and capturing it for her internal memory book. Something about him sent a jolt of desire through her and she found herself pulling René's shirt out and up over his head, then dropping it carelessly onto the bed. With curled fingers she rubbed her nails into his back, wondering if he liked that as much as Jean did. His reaction reassured her as he moaned softly and writhed beneath her touch.

Suddenly there was too much space between them and Liv pulled him down onto her, the cool weight of his body sending another wave of desire through her. He crawled up her bare flesh and began to kiss and lick her throat as Jean continued his attention to the side of her neck, his murmured words of love and seduction working their magic on all three of them.

Jean reached a gentle hand to René's shoulder, tracing a silent message to him so that René found Olivia's lips, embraced her and pulled her back with him enough that Jean could remove the dressing gown and his trousers completely. She moaned in approval as René settled her back into Jean's arms, their lips never parting in the process.

He loved how she tasted of wine, food, and desire, and from her unwillingness to release his lips, she apparently enjoyed him as well. Jean wrapped his legs around them both, his toes tugging urgently at the waistband of René's jeans. René raised a little and Olivia's hands found their way to the front of his 501's. Her limber fingers had him unfastened in seconds, Jean's feet freed him, pushing the jeans down around René's knees, where he kicked them off the rest of the way, his lips still firmly and urgently exploring Olivia's mouth.

The three of them became a study of gentle caresses and kisses with hands and fingertips touching the tender, erotic areas of each of their bodies. Olivia could not tell whose hands were whose and by this time didn't care, having already given herself over to René almost as much as she had given herself to Jean in the last year. The brothers were very much alike in how they touched and kissed her; their tastes and scents were slightly different but both were a powerful aphrodisiac to her, as if she were always meant to be with them both.

She kissed her way down René's throat and chest, nipping and sucking and licking his flesh as Jean's lips sought and found René's. The trio lingered there for a few minutes before Olivia turned over between them, sliding down even further and taking Jean into her mouth, causing him to moan loudly into René's kiss. René straddled both Olivia and Jean, moving up closer to Jean's lips, giving Liv room to work between his legs. Moments later Jean was very close to losing it completely and urged René from his lips and Olivia from his excruciatingly hard length, gasping and panting in an effort to calm down. Having the two of them focus so much on him was more than he could stand and still maintain control. He urged them toward one another while he calmed down a little.

René and Liv obliged, finding joy and pleasure in each other alone for a few minutes while Jean watched. René's hands quickly found her most sensitive spots and exploited them, pinching and teasing her nipples as his mouth once again plundered hers. Olivia lay on the bed next to Jean, her legs straddling one of René's, her sex pressing against his muscular thigh as she floated on a plush carpet of ecstasy. She came before he even approached the sensitive center of her pleasure, her first gasping cry bringing Jean off his back and onto his side where he could touch and fondle her himself as she sank back down into the bed again, still aroused but floating down the first wave of passion.

Wordlessly Jean's fingers worked their familiar magic, with René observing closely exactly what his brother had already learned about her body so that he could bring her even more pleasure. Jean's hungry mouth found her nipple, sucking and licking it before he began biting and nibbling it lightly with flat teeth. René gave the other nipple the same treatment even as he settled himself between her legs, bringing himself closer to exploring her depths. Olivia arched into them, her head thrown back as cries of pleasure escaped her lips and another crash of orgasm engulfed her. As she reached her peak, René released her nipple and entered her fully, sending her into another, even higher explosion. Each stroke he made into her seemingly pushed her over a never-ending series of cliffs as he built toward his own climax.

Jean remained relentless in his affection to her nipple, sliding his hand over to the other when René abandoned it, knowing this pleasure center would
keep her riding the waves of passion over and over as his brother continued to fill her. He felt her hand search for him, slipping down his stomach, fingertips dancing over his flesh and eagerly finding and squeezing him hard. As he gasped, she released her grip, her palm rotating gently around the soft, velvety head. As one body, the three of them began to move together, Liv climaxing three more times before the brothers finally came with her, both of them turning to their demon faces as they howled their release, Jean's fangs penetrating Olivia's right breast and bringing her even harder as he suckled from her.

When they were spent, the three remained entangled and sated and exhausted. Loving hands still stroked and caressed whatever was near them until they sank into a quiet, warm slumber.

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

Remembering that first time with her caused his unbeating heart to squeeze in stifled pain. Since that first meeting, the three of them had loved and made love for almost 20 years off and on. She had come to his bed alone many times when she needed Jean and he was not there, or when René himself needed her. The loneliness of their lives was somehow eerily tandem, though his loneliness was by choice and hers was not. She was more than a lover, she was a friend, a companion, a helpmate, a business assistant; anything that he had needed from her she had provided without question, for him, for Nina, for the family, and for Jean.

These last months René had tried to help her as much as he could; he had seen to it that she had the best medical care, that she was cared for when she refused to stay at his home, and he personally took care of her when she stayed with him. She had stepped in to fill Cordelia's shoes when she left to drag Angel back to LA, even though she was sick. It had been difficult for her to hide it from Jean then, and she and René had had more than one argument about her keeping it from him. As he took stock of the time they had spent together, the times they had been lovers, the times they had cried to one another, he finally realized just how much she had meant to him over the years. To Jean, he knew she meant even more.

René stared beyond the glass window of the hospital, suddenly wondering why it was that Jean never claimed her as his own, never took her as his consort. They were certainly together long enough and there was no doubt how much they loved each other.

His thoughts drifted to Marie and how devoted Jean had been to her, how he truly denied himself to fully love anyone else while she was alive. It was the main reason, René had always suspected, that Jean had a seemingly never-ending string of one-night stands and short-term affairs. And still, Liv was always there when he came back. René's hand wandered mindlessly toward the consort mark on his chest, and he suddenly realized the reason Jean never claimed her was not just because of Marie.

Chapter Three

That same night

As René entered Olivia's room, he saw Jean standing there, his back to the door, his shoulders slumped over. He didn't move, he didn't even notice René come in.

"Jean?" His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, not wanting to intrude too suddenly on Jean's thoughts. His brother turned toward his voice, streams of tears leaving their stain on his face and his shirt. Neither one of them knew how long he had stood there alone, but the moment their eyes met, Jean crumbled. René caught him, holding him to his chest, stroking his hair and murmuring softly to him that everything would be all right. He moved Jean to the chair near the window where he had been sitting before. As Jean sat, René kneeled on the floor next to him, not wanting to turn loose of his brother for fear he would collapse again.

After some long, silent minutes, Jean finally found the strength to speak. Pain-filled eyes searched René's face for answers to his unasked questions. "I … I know these machines, René. What happened? I … I don't understand. How long has she been sick?"

René didn't know how much to tell him, how much to explain. There was so much pain behind those deep brown eyes, pain not only for Olivia, but also for everyone he had ever lost.

"I'm not sure, Jean. About a year, I think. She didn't want you to know." He paused for a moment. "What I don't understand is how you didn't notice."

Jean looked down at him, pain and a search for understanding written in the now deep lines on his face.

"Jean … you didn't notice how frail she looks? How much weight she's lost? How pale … " He stopped mid-sentence. This wasn't helping.

Jean shook his head, unable to form the words, as he looked over at the woman, his lover of almost two decades, unconscious on the starched, white hospital sheets. How could he not have noticed? He had thought she looked pale yesterday when they quarreled but he was so used to everyone being pale it hadn't occurred to him that there might be something wrong. He swallowed hard. "W… what is it?"

René looked at her, too. "Ovarian cancer. Hard to detect in time to give good treatment."

Jean looked back at him expectantly, wanting to know more and unable to ask. René met his eyes.

"She had a hysterectomy last fall while you were in Sunnydale with Spike. Chemo and radiation had little to no effect and made her so sick she stopped them. She said she didn't want to live like that." He tried to smile a little. "Before she went into surgery she said she might as well have the plumbing yanked, she didn't figure on having any children since all her lovers were vampires." René felt the momentary peace of how well she accepted it all, then turned to his brother again, placing his hand upon Jean's knee. "She made me promise not to tell you." He placed his head in Jean's lap, looking soulfully at Olivia. "She thought she had more time … so did I."

She started to stir, "René …." René was at her side in a shot.

"I'm here, cher … and … " he glanced at his brother, still sitting motionless in the chair, "… and Jean is here for you, Liv. He's here now."

A sorrowful moan came from her, an almost inhuman sound of agony. "No … René … you promised …" She started to cry.

Jean couldn't take it. He couldn't look at her, he couldn't hear that pitiful sound that used to be her voice. He ran from the room and down the hall unable to cope with what was happening … again. He couldn't bear that Olivia didn't want him there. How much must she hate him to not want him there? "It's too late." His voice broke. Unchecked tears flowed from his eyes as he collapsed to his knees. "What have I done?" He turned his eyes toward the heavens searching for his answer, only then realizing that he was kneeling in the chapel gazing up at the face of God.

René remained by Olivia's side. Nothing, not even Jean, could make him leave right now. Liv needed him, he would stay until she fell asleep again. He pulled the chair closer, holding her hand, murmuring soothingly to her. "He's gone now, cher, he didn't see. He didn't see. I promise."

She began to calm down enough that the nurse who had come running slowed to a walk when she entered the room. "Is she okay?" the woman asked?

"She's better now. She … she was just upset." René flinched a little. "Is … is there anything we can do for her? To make it easier? Or take away the pain? Or … anything?" Desperation laced his quiet words. He couldn't stand the thought of her being in pain.

"Her doctor will be by after sunup. I know that's inconvenient, but I can arrange for him to call you personally when he comes in …."

Before she could finish, René was interrupting. "I won't be leaving."

"Oh," she was taken aback. "Um, but I thought …"

"We will need to keep the shades and draperies pulled on this side of the building. Is that a problem?" He was suddenly all business. He refused to leave her side because of something as insignificant as the sun.

"Uh, no sir, not at all. I'll arrange for it to be done well before sunrise." She was nervous but efficient. He put that task squarely into her hands. "Did you see where my brother went?"

"Yes, sir, he was headed for the chapel."

René smiled, "Yes, that is where he would go now." He gave the nurse a thank you nod.

"And sir …" she was hesitant, but compassionate, "I'm very sorry about …" she indicated Olivia, once again asleep and peaceful. It was a telling remark from a nurse. Obviously they didn't expect her to last very long.

René found Jean slumped over the kneeling rail of the chapel. He wrapped his older brother in his arms and held him closely, Jean's body still twitching from stifled sobs. René stroked his hair and whispered sweet words of love and support until he could calm down enough to talk.

Jean turned tear-filled, but appreciative eyes up to René. "I should have known. How could I not have known, René?" He swallowed. "I've ruined everything. She's going to die and she hates me for what I didn't give her, for holding back, for not giving her the love she needed."

René gathered his brother into his arms and held him again, rocking slowly in comfort and love. When Jean had quieted and calmed a little more, René took his face into his hands. "M'frère doux, she not hate you. She couldn't hate you. She love you all these years. I think she love you before she met you. Nothing in this world could stop her kind of love. Not even death."

Jean looked into the teal eyes he loved so much, searching for hope and for more answers. "Then ... René, why doesn't she want me there, why does she send me away from her bed now when I only want to love her and make her not hurt so much. When I only want to tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me. I've never told her, René, I've never told her!"

"Shhhhhhhhh, Jean, no, petite. It's not because she doesn't love you that she made me promise, it's because she does love you." He could see the confusion written deeply along side Jean's pain. "She … she couldn't bear the thought of you having to go through this again, she knew what watching Marie waste away did to you. She didn't want you to watch her die. She so afraid you will hurt more to see her go like this."

"She wha ….." Jean's eyes flew open. "No! René, no! No! I want to be with her. This isn't Marie, this isn't a woman I loved long ago who married someone else and who had written me out of her life. This is the woman I love NOW, the one I'll hold in my heart for as long as she'll let me. It's not right. I have to be there with her, holding her. Loving her!" Jean was already on his feet, grabbing René by the arm and trying to drag him back to Olivia's room.

René didn't move fast enough and Jean shot out of the chapel at a dead run down the hall, hitting the doorway to Liv's room the moment the sun rose shooting glorious rainbows of color through her window and flooding it with sunlight. Jean stopped just outside, desperate to get inside, ready to crawl on his hands and knees to get to her if that's what it took for him to be there with her. He dropped to the floor and tried to make his way as safely as possible across randomly appearing patches of sun and glare on the cold linoleum floor.

Before he got too far, René arrived, signaling the attendant frantically. She came scurrying over, flailing her arms in panic. She had gotten every window, every blind and drape on her floor …. EXCEPT Olivia's room! She had waited until René left and then gotten busy with her duties and didn't seal the windows. She was apologizing profusely while she closed the room down so that it was safe for both of them, finishing just in time for Jean to reach the bed and crawl up into it with Olivia, slipping beneath her frail, wasted form and wrapping her in his arms, holding her to him as tightly as he could and still keep her connected to the medical equipment she needed.

René rushed the woman out to leave them alone, closing the door behind him.

Olivia stirred in Jean's arms, her eyes fluttering open as she struggled to consciousness. "Jean? No … no … don't … you're not …"

He pressed his lips to hers, cutting her off. She had the strength to resist many things in her life, but even at the peak of good health, she could never resist a kiss from Jean Claude DuValliere. Tears began to fall from her eyes as he poured all the love he had into that kiss, as if by doing so he would bring her back to life and health just from what he gave her lips. She moved closer to him, wanting to feel as much of his body against her as possible. Just having him here gave her strength she didn't know she had. She buried her face in his chest as his arms tightened around her even more. "Jean … my Jean … for now mine."

"Yes, my love …. shhhhhh, rest, I'm here."

"Stay."

"Yes Livie, my love, I'll stay. I'll stay and hold you as long as you want me to. There is nowhere I want to be but here with you."

" … love … you …"

"I know, baby, and I love you, and I'm sorry I've never told you how much. I don't want to lose you, m'coeur. Stay with me." He murmured into her hair, feeling her hot breath on his chest, slowing, but still strong and even.

"Jean …."

"Shhh, yes, I'm here." He squeezed her gently.

"Let … let me die in your arms ..."

Her breathing slowed even more, but did not stop. Her heartbeat felt strong and even against his chest. He relaxed a little, it wasn't too late. He thought about what he had almost lost and fear gripped his throat. He was not going to let this happen. Tonight, after she'd slept some and was feeling stronger, tonight he would turn her. Tonight he would let her die in his arms as she tasted his blood for the first time and he took hers into his own body to give her a new life … with him. The decision made, he drifted off on a carpet of warm memories and sweet dreams.

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

February 14, 2003

Olivia sat on the balcony sipping her coffee and appreciating the late afternoon warmth of the courtyard. It was stunning and lush and she loved when Jean stayed here. The staff all recognized her and treated her well and they never hesitated if she made a special request. She'd been up for hours, showered, and had coffee, a light lunch, and the paper brought up to the room. Her feet were propped up on the table, Jean's silk robe falling away from her legs so she could get a little sun on them.

Jean was still lazing in bed, in and out of sleep, finally waking completely and just watching her outside in the sunlight. She looked stunning, a golden sheen in her just washed hair, all scrubbed and fresh and without any make up or fashions to hide her natural beauty. He loved to just watch her out there. His body enjoyed watching her as well.

René had apparently moved into the adjoining room. His things were gone and Jean could see that the connecting door was slightly ajar. No matter how enjoyable the previous night had been, he appreciated the privacy now. He wanted some alone time with Liv, and he particularly wanted to find out how she was holding up after her first experience with the Brothers Roxton the night before. And what a night it had been. When he looked up she was smiling at him.

"Ah, you're awake. Coffee?" She was already getting up, gathering her cup and the paper and moving inside. She shut the draperies, just to be safe, and got him a cup before he could even answer. She settled on the bed next to him as he sat up and maneuvered the pillows behind him.

After a lingering kiss, she handed him his coffee and scooted in closer to him. He could feel she wanted to talk about something but was hesitant. She just had that slightly tense feel to her, that she wasn't sure if she should say it or not. He kissed the top of her head and that was all the encouragement she needed. He guessed she would want to talk about last night. He was wrong.

She sipped her coffee and tried to be casual. "So … does he know?"

Jean looked confused. "Who?"

"René."

"Huh?"

"Does he know you're in love with him?"

Jean looked at her with new eyes. He had no idea she was this intuitive. As much time as they had spent together, he felt he knew her better than any woman he'd ever been with. He hadn't really admitted it to himself, but he had pretty much stopped seeing anyone else. Oh, he was still very much a participant in the family sexual games and bonding, but he had withdrawn from other women without really realizing it. Olivia was safe to him. She was human, she was warm, and she offered all the comforts of a wife without any of the demands. She was always happy to see him and spend time with him, even if it was just a quick one night of intimacy before he had to leave town again. She seemed just as pleased with the arrangement as he was. If he was in Mobile, he was either working or with her. Sometimes he went to Mobile just to see her. But in all that time he hadn't realized how much she knew and observed about him.

He turned her face toward him, looking deeply into her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

She smiled back at him affectionately. "Jean … you don't know? You don't feel it?" She laughed a little and sipped her coffee again. "Men can be so thick sometimes."

He nibbled her neck, a lame attempt to distract her from the subject. "You didn't seem to mind us 'thick men' last night."

She giggled and wriggled before turning back toward him again. "It's okay. It doesn't bother me. I've known all along someone else held your heart. I'd always thought it was Marie. I didn't realize it was René until last night. The two of you together … " she sighed wistfully, "… are exquisite. Not just to me, but to each other." She sipped her coffee again. "You really didn't know?"

Jean stammered like a teenager. "I … I …" Her warm brown eyes melted his reserve. "I didn't think it showed."

"Oh my sweet Jean," she kissed him soundly. "You wear your heart on the outside of your clothes. I doubt there is anyone close to you who doesn't know. It's nice that they're so respectful of your privacy." She set her cup down on the table, then took his as well before she straddled him over the sheets, sitting up across his hips and looking down at him suggestively.

"But since he's not here right now and I am ….." A sly grin spread across her lips as she slowly untied the robe and pushed it off her shoulders to reveal she were nothing beneath it.

Jean captured her mouth, both of his hands helping themselves to her breasts. A crashing wave of desire washed over them both, and he remembered why he came to Mobile so often.

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

March 14, 2004

Jean found himself on the road to Mobile once again. Before he left home, he called in a few favors … a flat in the French Quarter, a part time jazz gig at a popular night spot, a few neutral furnishings, a 9' grand piano in the middle of the main room, and a red 1965 Mustang convertible. She'd always wanted one, now seemed a good time. He knew she'd object and say it was all too much, and he knew he'd distract her with kisses and caresses and that would be the end of those objections.

He wondered that it had taken him so long to realize he wanted her close by, though he suspected the final trigger had been the events of the night before. The family hunt had been exhilarating, but the true masterpiece of the night had been Wesley & Drusilla joining in the post hunt sexual activities. The two of them fit perfectly, more than perfectly, with the family and they had all gloried in slathering affection and love on the somewhat transient couple. Their combined skills in both the hunt and the family bonding ritual afterwards were welcomed, and he hoped they would return to New Orleans often.

However, one of the consequences of the heat and intimacy of having two humans in their midst was that it made Jean realize just how much he missed Liv. Every time he touched Wesley or Baby that night a tiny part of him had thought of her and wanted to reach for her, too. Only she wasn't there. She was still in Mobile, entirely too far away. He'd made up his mind when he collapsed into sleep that he wanted her with him, he wanted her to have more of a presence in his life, perhaps even introduce her to the family.

René had adored her. In the last year he had asked about her frequently and tried to tag along on business trips more than once. Jean had brushed him off most of the time. It was a rushed trip and he hardly got to do more than give her a kiss hello and goodbye. However, René had a great deal of idle time and apparently they didn't waste it, as the next time Jean and Olivia were together he had noticed she had picked up a few tricks which were distinctly René's. An odd kind of jealousy had taken him over. He had never really figured out if he was jealous of René for being with Liv or of Liv for being with René, but whichever it was, he didn't take René with him again for a long time. René had noticed and grumbled.

Olivia was just finishing her first set when Jean strode into the club, all jeans and casual shirt and boots, instead of his usual stylish suit. Liv had nearly blinded him with her smile, a small reward for such a great surprise. She hadn't been expecting him. She begged off the rest of the night and they had spent the next six hours naked in and around the beach house.

Over the last year Jean had been quite generous to her, as he seemed to be with everyone. Not one to squander money and feeling odd about any way he "helped" her financially, she had taken every dime and sunk it into a down payment on a cozy little place on the beach. She had stocked it with comfortable furnishings, an extra fridge for blood, and plantation shutters. Jean had been both impressed and charmed by it. Each time he was there it seemed to have another little feature that he loved, as if she were adding to a collection of "Things Jean Likes." It was their place. She lived in it full time, but she felt him in everything about it.

Their last round of intimacy had been near the water, both of them collapsing in exhaustion. Jean woke up with that ticklish pre-dawn feeling and they had run into the house, showered the sand off and then cozied up in the bed just talking and sharing what had happened since they had last seen each other.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, her head resting on his chest. He felt every bit as at home as he did in New Orleans. It all just felt so right.

"Liv?"

"Mmm-huh?" she replied dreamily.

"How would you feel about moving to New Orleans?"

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

November 20, 2019

René looked into the small window of her hospital room door to see them both sleeping. The steady beat of the heart monitor was reassuring, but he did not look forward to his next conversation with Jean. He could tell what his brother was thinking, what he planned. He could feel how he had hope for the future, and René knew why he felt that way. But he had to tell him, he had to give him the bad news, relay her wishes, and Jean wasn't going to like it.

René was going to have to tell him that Olivia did not want to be turned, that she had flatly refused the half a dozen times he and Baby had tried to talk her into it when her pain was so great she could scarcely breathe. She was determined that she did not want to risk becoming what she might become. She did not want to be a cold, dead thing that no longer warmed him. She did not want to risk becoming a soulless monster that killed and fed on innocents. She did not want to risk losing her place in heaven if she could not control the demon within. If she could be assured that she would be like Jean and René and the others, she would have done it joyfully, but she had heard the stories about those who didn't make it, of the torment they caused and their eventual destruction and descent into Hell. René was honest with her and told her that there were no guarantees. Without a guarantee, she would not agree to it.

And it was going to shatter Jean's heart to let her go.

Chapter Four

October 1, 2006

Jean had been quiet since returning from LA and Spike's resurrection. No matter what else happened in the past or future, no one could ever say that Baby didn't love Spike. What she went through with Angel alone was enough to kill most human women. According to vampire custom he had to claim her to legitimize the children and her claim to Spike's city. Angel did what was required, but it had been difficult for Jean to watch Baby be so brutalized and then marked by Angel. Jean didn't think he'd ever seen a stronger human being in his life or unlife. But she didn't stop there. She wanted her husband back, so she had plotted the destruction of Wolfram & Hart, as well as the resurrection of Spike. Then she had the forethought and determination to present him with the Gem of Amarra, which rendered him invulnerable to sunlight, stakes and holy water. It was all a complicated masterpiece of strategy and persistence that no one could have even attempted, much less pulled off. Baby had proven herself much more than a worthy consort to Spike, she had established the two of them as legends in vampire lore.

Olivia noticed Jean had been withdrawn and allowed him space. In the last two and a half years in New Orleans she had learned when to approach him and when not to. This was a "not to" time. He obviously needed to work through whatever it was that was haunting him after the trip west. He said very little, but he was quite content to sit quietly with her, wrapped up on her arms and listen to music, watch a movie, or just sit together and read. Sometimes he asked her to play and sing for him, usually something quiet and melancholy. He'd come sit on the bench with her or stretch out on the sofa and just listen. His lovemaking had changed as well. Where he used to be creative and occasionally aggressive, he had pulled way back and become more tender, less urgent. Everything was slower, like enjoying a favorite dessert by savoring every mouthful. When they had their fill, he would wrap his arms around her protectively and hold her for as long as he stayed, which sometimes was all day, but more recently he had taken to leaving before sunrise so that he cold be back at the house on Rue Royale before everyone turned in. She sensed a restlessness in him, that something had happened that worried him still. But she didn't try to force him to talk about it, knowing that when he was ready he'd come to her. It made things more quiet and intimate at the flat, and that was okay and made a nice contrast to the hubbub of the French Quarter.

She loved her flat. Jean had hand picked it for her before he even asked her to move, and he had furnished it well with fine, artistic furniture, nothing too flashy, but more elegant. It felt like home the instant she walked into it, and she added very few touches to it. Jean had exquisite taste.

Her favorite piece, of course, was the 9' grand piano. She'd never had such an incredible instrument of her own. It had the most beautiful tone and touch, and she loved playing it almost as much as Jean enjoyed listening to her play it.

She liked her job, too, and she was well compensated for her talents. It was a lazy part time job that conveniently left her available to attend functions with Jean and occasionally members of the family. She got her artistic performance outlet stroked regularly at the club and still had the opportunity to try other ventures as well as spend time with Jean. Life was good. Really good. She felt incredibly lucky. She was also very much in love with Jean Claude DuValliere.

They were spending a quiet evening alone together. First they had been wrapped up together watching an old movie, something with Cary Grant, though she wasn't really paying that much attention. Being around Jean sometimes had the affect of making her concentration waver … a lot. They'd had an incredible two hours of lovemaking and they were both still basking in the afterglow, when she had moved to the piano. She was playing for him, Debussy, one of his favorites, when he had sat beside her on the bench and begun kissing her neck, something he knew she adored.

She had faltered and stopped but he was insistent, "No, don't stop. Keep playing … and sing for me, too". His tongue ran along the delicate outside edge of her ear.

She continued to play, whispering to him, "No words to Debussy." She changed songs almost imperceptibly, always eager to please him. She broke into his favorite song, one she had first done for him three years ago, when he had been so overcome he'd kissed her, picked her up, and carried her right out of the club. Whenever he asked her to sing, she knew this was what he wanted to hear, even three years later.

Pride can stand a thousand trials

He nibbled on her neck and around to her throat, peppering her jaw with kisses and driving her mad while she tried to sing her heart to him. His hand traced loving patterns on her back and tickled her sides, and every touch thrilled her like the first time he had touched her.

'Cause I'm kissing you
I'm kissing you, oooh

She moved into the final piano interlude, quietly teasing him. "How well do you think I'll be able to play when you're doing .. " she gasped as he drew her flesh into his mouth, "ooooooo …… ummmm … that?" She began to melt into him, like she had a thousand times before, his lips welcome on her flesh. She finished the piece and turned toward him, shifting in his arms and straddling the piano bench so that she could face him and wrap herself around him.

"Cher .. I need to talk to you." He murmured into her ear, pushing her away a little.

For some reason Olivia's heart froze. Jean was being serious, and Jean was rarely serious unless he was fighting or doing business. He'd been so withdrawn she had a sudden fear that he was about to send her packing back to Mobile, and she had no idea how she would be able to survive that and remain sane. She'd gone out of her way to keep her true feelings hidden from him for fear he would be overwhelmed or, worse, bothered. Jean was a man who needed space and freedom, and she gave him as much of it as she possibly could and still be there for him when he needed or wanted her. Of course, she always wanted him. There was never a time when she didn't. The fear welled up in her again as she feared what he might be about to say.

She nodded her approval and he began to spill details of the story of the Pride's trip to LA, of how Baby conducted herself, how she saved not only Spike but the family as well, of her dealings with Angel, him claiming her, of her revenge on Wolfram & Hart, and of how watching her had shown him the importance of having someone at your side, someone to share things with but also to stand up for you when the world seemed out to dust you.

He kissed her lightly before he went on. "Liv … you know I'm already married." She nodded, speech being all but impossible right now with the ball of fear wadded in her throat. Yes, she was very aware he was married, and that his wife had remarried because he was technically dead. But she also knew that he still wore his wedding band, he still made sure his wife and daughters were well taken care of financially, and though he wasn't a daily presence in their lives, he watched over them much more than anyone else knew. She also knew that Jean Claude had never claimed anyone else primarily because he still had a human wife. Jean was not a man who would commit himself to one person when he was already committed to another, or in love with another, and Olivia knew beyond all doubt that he was still committed to Marie and quite in love with René. As often as she brought the both of them into her bed, it had been impossible for him to hide it from her.

"You know that I have no one … permanent," he looked down at the floor like an embarrassed schoolboy asking a girl out for the first time. It was adorable. God, she loved him.

He went on. "But … and well I can't really, it wouldn't be right, still, " he looked up at her again, the warm brown of his eyes more seductive than ever. "Still … you mean more to me than I thought any woman ever could. And … and I want to make things a little more 'official' between us."

Olivia was pleasantly stunned. She had feared a brush off, yet he wanted to bring them closer? She was relieved and eager and had absolutely no idea what he had in mind, but she also knew that no matter what it was, her answer would be yes. She was so much in love with him that she wouldn't deny him anything, even her life if he wanted it. She had carefully concealed how much she cared for him, not wanting him to feel pressured or obligated to her. Nothing would have irked her more than for him to feel obligated to her, she'd have felt like a troublesome stone around his neck. She knew he still carried a brightly flaming torch for his brother, she knew he still considered himself married to Marie, she knew that vampires didn't necessarily marry, though in Spike's family things did seem to be a bit closer to human mating than what she'd read about vampire culture in general. Nothing about their family was typical.

"I don't know how much you know of our ways, of the different ways we … oh, this isn't coming out right." He groaned. He closed his eyes and focused, taking her hands in his before turning that devastating gaze on her again. "Liv … will you be my companion?" He stammered a little. "Th .. that means we are bound to each other, but you are not claimed, we wouldn't be married, but other vampires would know that you are spoken for and that to approach you would mean they have to answer ….."

"Yes!" Before he could even finish what he was saying, she was on him, her arms thrown around his neck, her lips on his, her acceptance still ringing in the air. He drew her lips into his, lingering in her kiss and feeling flushed and warm from the inside out. She'd said yes.

After a few minutes he began to withdraw a little, trying to talk to her while still kissing her hungrily. "Liv …" he moaned. "Liv, cher, I need …to explain … what …" She devoured him again. "Liv … honey … let me tell you … ohhhhhhhhhh." Lost in her kisses and the feel of her fingers in his hair, his mind swam in her, losing whatever it was that he felt he needed to tell her.

She unbuttoned his shirt, her lips never leaving his, her hands moving swiftly and accurately and his shirt quickly finding its way to the floor. Her hands held lightly to his sides, each finger claiming a rib while her kiss claimed him. Her light-weight sweater joined his shirt on the floor and Jean's hands found their way up past her knees beneath her full skirt to the velvety soft skin of her inner thighs. Olivia gasped against him. She loved how he teased her there, making her body ache for him to go further until she was ready to beg, then just as she was ready to plead with him, he would lightly caress and tease to the edge of orgasm. Then he would delay her further. He was both torturous and magnificent in how well he played her body.

The clasp and zipper of his trousers offered no challenge to her, and once they were open her hand dipped inside to grasp the prize he offered. She squeezed, he moaned in response. It was a delicious duet of ecstasy and desire as they played and loved together in a slow movement of foreplay and sexual teasing. Moments later, their clothes littering the floor, Jean reached with one hand to close the keyboard and bring the cover down before he bid her stand with only a little urging from his own body, their mouths still hungry for one another.

His arms encircled her, pressing her to him as he lifted her onto the cool, polished wood of the piano. It hardly gave beneath her, the steady instrument well anchored in the center of the room. With tender hands upon each of her knees, Jean opened her to him as his lips danced over her soft inner thighs and into the scorching wetness that was she held only for him. She moaned against him, quickly rocketing into an orgasm with gentlest urging of his tongue. As she came down from it, he crawled atop her, joining his lips to hers once again. She could taste herself on him, something which would have made her uncomfortable three years ago and which she loved now. It was Jean offering it to her, the scent and taste of her own arousal. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pulled him into her, wanting to feel him inside her, a part of her, joined for just this little while in a memory that she would savor forever.

She felt him change. He rarely did that when they made love and he usually tried to hide it when he did, as if he were somehow ashamed of what he was. It was the only time she saw any uncertainty or insecurity in him. She held him tighter. He felt so different when he was changed. He was still Jean but different, not just in his face, but other parts of his body changed as well, and it always excited her even more when he did it. She'd never told him … she did this time, cooing her approval in his ear as she pulled him even further into her. She felt his fangs elongate and brush her neck, dragging along the artery.

It was time. She'd wanted this for some time and never asked him, never offered it to him, but tonight, she wanted it, she wanted to give him this taste of her, all of her. "Yessssss," she whispered to him. And she lifted her chin, offering her throat to him.

"Liv …" he said breathlessly. "Yes … yes … for us both." He captured her mouth first, his fangs pressing against her lips but not breaking the skin, though at this point she wouldn't have objected or even cared. "My love," he whispered to her, "this will mark you as mine. No one will touch you without my permission and yours."

"Yes, please, Jean … please, please do it … please." Her legs tighted around him as she moved her hips in slow circles, wanting his fangs in her as much as the cool, hard shaft that was already inside her, moving and touching with each word and each movement they both made. "Yessssssssssss," she hissed.

Unable and unwilling to wait another moment, he brushed her hair aside and slid his sharp teeth into the exposed artery of her throat. She cried out, in ecstasy more than pain, as Jean drew her blood into him, his own growl of dominance resounding in his chest as well as hers. The world exploded around them at their simultaneous release, tiny droplets of escaped blood trickling onto their black lacquer bed, the strings of the piano vibrating their approval in overtones as their joining was consummated.

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

"Jean?" Olivia's voice was noticeably stronger. "Jean?" She urged him awake, calling his name and stroking his cheek. Her hand was invaded with multiple IV's and monitors, still she had that soft touch that always made him feel warm and safe and loved. "Jean? Love, wake up. Can you wake up? Please?" She was actually jostling him.

Jean's arms were still tight around her as he slept the day. Olivia had felt better after only a few hours asleep in his arms, as if his presence were a magic elixir bringing her back from the edge of death and into his arms instead. She had managed to call the nurse and convince her, quietly, to disconnect some of the tubes and monitors and to remove the totally obnoxious catheter all without waking up Jean. She'd regained enough strength to not necessarily be threatening to a perfectly healthy nurse, but sharp enough to manipulate her with warnings of how cranky vampires can be when they are woken in the middle of the day. But now she herself was going to have to deal with the "wrath of Jean." She needed him to loosen his hold on her.

"Jean! Please, honey, wake up just a little? I need to move." Her voice was sounding a bit desperate.

"Mmmmmmmm, no, gonna hold you all day," he murmured in his half-awake state.

"No, Jean, honey, I have to get up. I need to … please, baby, I need to get up." She sounded uncomfortable and was suddenly regretting convincing the nurse to remove the catheter. With all the IV fluids they had going into her she was going to burst if she didn't get to the bathroom soon. She beeped the attendant and asked for help. She was going to need help getting to the john with the IV stand anyway, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Jean wouldn't be able to walk, much less help. She'd never seen him sleeping so hard.

The nurse tried to disentangle Jean Claude's limbs from her patient, gently but firmly until Liv was free enough to sit up on the edge of the bed. As much as she loved being in his arms, it felt wonderful to be sitting. She felt she'd been in bed for a week instead of just a day.

"You scared us yesterday," the familiar voice said.

Olivia's face broadened into an enormous smile. "René! Oh, it's good to see you." She nodded okay to the nurse, who left quickly, as Liv held her arms out to René. "Can you help me up? I'm making the long trek across the room to the can." There was a hint of life and laughter to her voice. René wasn't sure he'd ever heard anything so beautiful.

He lifted her effortlessly off the bed and steadied her as she moved slowly toward the bathroom. Thankfully, she had convinced the doctor she no longer needed heart and respiration monitors, so the IV stand was all she had to maneuver. Her steps were a little unsure but stronger than he expected. Once she was to the door, she insisted he leave her alone for a few minutes.

"I promise, Mr. Fussy, if I need help I'll call you. I'm feeling pretty good now that I'm moving around, a little stiff, but functional."

René gave her an almost lecherous smile. "Yes, well, things been known to stiffen around you, cher."

She laughed out loud, a sound that filled the room and darn near knocked Jean out of the hospital bed. He awoke with a start, scrambling to reach for the woman who was no longer there in the bed with him. She couldn't help it. She giggled. His face lit up at the sight and sound of it, and he was at her side in a shot.

"Liv, honey, what you doing up? René? What are you doing, she shouldn't be up …" Before he could finish his chastisement, Olivia's arms were around him and her lips were shutting him up with a deep, very-much-alive, kiss.

"Now shhh you," she scolded him when she at least released his lips. "If you don't help me through that door right this second you'll be seeing first hand why I'm up!"

He got the message and helped her into the small room, arguing with her as she closed the door with him on the outside.

"No use, frère, she won't let us in there. I already try." René stood there with a bit of a smirk on his face. "We might as well have a seat. I don't think she'll be quick about it, not as slow as she's moving."

The two brothers sat on her hospital bed, side by side, silent for a few minutes before Jean started asking questions. He was more than a little confused as to why she was suddenly so alert and chipper when she had seemed so weak the night before.

"I think she got the medicine she needed, Jean." René smiled at him, seeing the confusion again and then the realization. "Yeah, she need you. The doctor thought she wasn't gonna make it, but a few hours with you and she's a lot better. I always said you were good medicine."

Jean hugged his brother, partially in gratitude for keeping up with what was going on with her medically, but also in sheer relief. He hadn't lost her. And now he wouldn't ever. He began making plans, thinking out loud to René about when and how he would turn her before she got too sick again and where they would travel and what they would do … when René stopped him with a silent hand on his arm.

"Jean … m'frère, she not want to be changed." René didn't know any other way to say it except to just blurt it out. It took Jean a few moments to realize what he'd said, his mouth hanging open, his eyes furrowed in concern. René just shook his head. "I'm sorry, I talk to her for hours 'bout it, Baby, too. She wouldn't. She say she not want to be cold. She not wanna risk her place in Heaven to be undead, even with you. She … she say she just wait for you there." René had put on a brave face, but it has been excruciating to tell his brother these things. Jean had made no reply. He just stared first at René and then into space once he was unable to meet his brother's eyes any longer. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

"I … I'll ask her again, René. Maybe she'll feel different now, now that I know and now that she's hurt so bad. Maybe … maybe …." His thoughts and words drifted away, doubt and pain showing plainly in his eyes.

"And if she still say no?"

Jean sighed. "Then it's no, René." His voice was firm, full of pain, but firm. "I won't change her against her wishes. If this is what she wants, then we make her happy and comfortable until her time is through, and then we let her go."

René was about to argue with him when Olivia appeared in the doorway, smiling and proud of herself.

"All right, you two, make yourselves useful and help me back to bed, then get me my clothes and get me the hell out of here."

"Cher, no!" Both brothers stood and spoke at the same time.

She only had to raise an eyebrow and they quieted immediately.

"They told me if I could go to the toilet myself, then they'd spring me. There's not much they can do anyway except drug me unconscious when the pain gets bad, and we can do that at home, if we have to." It was obvious to them both that she had already wangled her way with the doctors and staff. Her arguments were no doubt impeccable and convincing, no matter how bad of an idea it really was.

She was suddenly all business. "René, you see if they'll give you some pain meds for me, okay, cher?" She was already taking the IV out of her hand herself. She stared at the drops of blood that formed on her hand, then she offered her hand to Jean. He took it, his eyes never leaving hers, and swathed the blood from her skin with his tongue. All these years later, her blood was still sweet and somehow feminine to him. He had never refused it whenever she offered.

The heart and respiration monitors had already been removed. "Jean? I want out of this backless wonder of a nightgown, worthless piece of almost-paper. It's ghastly. Find my clothes, please, sweetness?" By now she was patting his cheek and charming the socks off him. He'd have carried her home on his back in the sun if she'd asked him to. She was back, and he felt alive again.

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

Back at the beach house, things were quiet and not so sterile. Baby had opened the house a bit while the boys brought her home, made some soup for her and made sure there was plenty of blood in the fridge for Jean. She intended to take René home if she had to physically drag him. "They need time alone, m'coeur; put yourself in Jean's place." René had agreed and after seeing that Olivia was settled and comfortable, he and Baby had gone with orders to call immediately if they were needed, though he was still reluctant.

Jean was trying not to hover, but he was failing miserably at it. Olivia let him. She was feeling a bit sheepish herself realizing that how he found out about her illness was probably not the best way. She had always just hoped that she'd be fine and then just one day it would be over and they would never have to talk about it and he would never have to see her suffering. She couldn't bear that, even more than the thought she might be in pain for an extended time. She didn't want him to have to endure that. She just wanted to have her time with him and be gone and there not be any pain for either of them. Then she'd wait for him, just like she'd told René, wait for Jean to join her in Heaven where, she truly felt, they would finally be together as they were meant to be.

While she was tucked into bed having some soup, Jean lit a fire in the usually ornamental fireplace and put on some soft music, Fourplay, one of Liv's favorites. She smiled at him: it was one of their favorite lovemaking CD's.

"Why Monsieur DuValliere, are you trying to seduce me?"

Jean kissed her lightly, licking a bit of carrot off her lower lip. "Every day of your life, Ms. Fairchild."

She smirked. "Well, that's not much of a challenge." She was trying to joke, to keep it light. It didn't work. Jean's face dropped like a stone.

"Jean, no please, don't." She took his chin in her hand and lifted it, forcing him to look at her. "My love, please don't. It's okay. Everything will be okay."

Jean looked hurt and was suddenly defensive. "How can you say that? It's won't be okay. You're going to die, and you weren't even going to tell me. And now René tells me you won't be turned, that you don't want it, that you'd rather just die and be done with it." His lower lip trembled a little. He looked like a little boy, all helpless and desperate and wanting something he could not have.

"Jean." Her voice was soft. "Jean … love … I know you are disappointed, but … but I don't want that life. More importantly, I don't want that death. If you turn me, then I risk eternal damnation, right? I'm not redeemed like you and René, even being your childe, I would have to earn it, right?"

Jean really didn't know, but he knew she was right; it was a risk unless they could find out something more definitive.

She placed her hand on his cheek. "You know, more than anyone, what my faith has meant to me. Just as yours is to you. It is ours and it is personal, but you know what I'm talking about." She looked at him urgently. "I'm not afraid, my love. I know where I'm headed. I know it will be glorious and that eventually you will join me there and … that is what I want. This is what I want. And hopefully we'll have many days of love to share before I have to go." Her lips found his and she poured love into him. She could feel his pain, his desperate search for another answer. But she was resolute about it and she felt his surrender to what she wanted. It was her life. Just like everything else, she would meet death the way she wanted to, without trying to trick it or negotiate more time among the undead.

Jean joined her on the bed, her pulling him beneath the covers with her. Once she had assured him that she was okay and would not break, they peeled their clothes and wrapped themselves in one another, spending the next few hours touching and holding, kissing and loving one another in a dance so slow it felt as if they had all the time in the world.

Chapter Five

March 18, 2011

Liv was just finishing her set at the Pink Pony when René walked into the joint. He looked substantially more haggard than the last time she'd seen him, which had only been a few weeks ago. Even so, he was a sight for sore eyes and she brightened from her bluesy chanteuse demeanor when he kissed her lightly mid-song and took a seat at the closest table to the stage. The waitress brought his usual before he was even settled into his chair.

Olivia had come to Mobile for a few months at the request of the owner. He'd lost his most recent act unexpectedly when they'd both died suddenly from complications due to severe neck trauma. That seemed to be happening a lot recently. It was horrible and unnerving, and the first thing he did was call Olivia in New Orleans hoping she'd be up for a month or two of fill-in at the old haunt, as well as casually mention to the family what was going on in Mobile. Never one to pass on a friend in need, and wanting to check out the vampire action in her old home, she discussed it with Jean, put dust covers on her furniture and piano, and headed out the next day. She enjoyed her multiple gigs in New Orleans, but she was ready for a bit of a break. The music scene there was so much more sophisticated than Mobile, and the beachside pub had a casual feel to it she had always enjoyed. It would be nice to spend a bit of time there, as long as Jean visited frequently, which he promised to do.

Things had been busy for Jean lately and they were getting very little time together. The details and complicated inventory of keeping up with the goings on for the Master of New Orleans kept the eldest son busy and away from his companion. She wasn't necessarily feeling taken for granted, but there was a little mental subtext she saw here … with her gone, perhaps he'd realize how much he missed her and how little time they'd had lately. And even if he didn't, she'd still get to spend a few weeks at the beach. It had been a long time since she had done that.

When she finished the set, she kissed René deeply, then signaled for a drink and a refill for him. "Mmmm lovely to see you." She smiled warmly. "Now, why are you here, frère, and why do you look like shit?" Never one to mince words, Olivia noticed as she moved closer to René how unhappy and miserable he looked. She could have been all genteel about it and coerced the reasoning behind it out of him, but she knew being direct would have a better result with René, not to mention it was much easier on them both. They had a casual familiarity that could only be found in someone who was both a lover and a friend. Their shared love of Jean kept them at an uncomplicated distance from each other romantically … they knew what to expect from the other, a gentle, family love, tender lovemaking, and the unspoken knowledge that either one would drop everything and go to Jean the moment he glanced at either of them. It made things easier for them. They could talk about things with each other that they couldn't with anyone else, even Jean. They could talk about him, their love for him, their concerns about him, and discuss problems that even Jean himself might not understand.

More than once Olivia had cried on René's shoulder. Jean's love of his brother would always overshadow his love for her. She knew it, and René knew it. But with René so in love with Baby, it shuffled Jean to the same place in René's heart that Olivia had in Jean's. Second fiddle. Second best. She knew that if Jean knew she felt that way he would berate himself with guilt and make some kind of forced effort to make her feel more a part of his heart. She didn't want that. She didn't want anything forced from Jean and she never wanted him to feel guilty about their relationship. She had always accepted it just as it was: sometimes they were together, sometimes they were not. René took it all in stride; he understood all too well how both of them felt-being Baby's second best gave him a very painful insight to it all. They had both laughed amongst the tears at how pathetically bad the Roxtons were at this eternal love thing. It was always so complicated, far beyond a simple triangle. They were well into hexagons.

René stared into his drink. "Dammit, Liv, you have to be so insightful all the time? Can't a guy just come have a drink?"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, cher, you right. Can we get out of here?" He slammed down his drink, then finally looked at her. She saw the shattered pieces of his heart reflected in his eyes.

With a nod to the owner, they were gone. He'd come to expect Olivia's hasty departure any time one of the New Orleans crowd came in. At least this time they weren't making out or discarding clothes on the way.

Once outside, Liv dragged him toward the water. A walk on the beach at night always cleared her head and made it easier to verbalize or at least realize what was going on inside her own head. She suspected it might do the same for René. There was a peaceful, cleansing property to the lap of the waves against the shore. She pulled off her shoes, tossing them aside, and walked in the wet sand. She reached a hand toward him. "Come with me. Let's walk a bit."

René kept his boots on, though it would be hell getting sand out of the silver toe points later, and took her hand. The wash of the water was like white noise, non-distracting and strangely calming. She always knew just how to get him to relax enough to talk. He wondered idly how she did that. She had this ability to see just what would make someone talk about their problems, whether it be him, Jean, or anyone else within the family. He'd even seen her do it with Spike, catching them in a dusk-to-dawn chat in his study. The woman had missed her calling. She was a very good musician, but she was an incredible listener. From time to time she and René had taken to calling each other Troi and Riker, René always ready with an emotional, sometimes violent response, and Olivia, ever the listener, planting rational seeds of logic in her questions, forcing everyone to take a deep-down look at what they were thinking and feeling. It annoyed the hell out of him sometimes. He wanted to be annoyed now, but he couldn't be; she was saying and asking all the right things to make him really look at his life. They walked and talked most of the rest of the night, hand-in-hand at first, René's arm around her shoulders later. When he noticed she was getting chilled, he wrapped his jacket around her and held her closer as they returned to club. From there, they each drove to her beach house.

Olivia showered while René whipped up an omelet for her. Within 30 minutes they were cuddled up on the sofa together in front of a small fire with glasses of wine and jazz playing in the background. As the sun just began to rise, it was quite the romantic scene in spite of Liv's probing questions about him and Baby and where things could and could not go for them now.

After a period of mutual silence, she leaned in and kissed him softly before laying her head on his shoulder and moving in closer. "René … " she began slowly. "What are you going to do now? You're here with Sam and the others … what are your plans for the future? It can't all be just about escaping temptation." They'd discussed it before. No matter the depth of his love for her, he could not have Baby without destroying them both and the family, and Olivia would not let him forget it even for a moment when he was trying to set the course of his life in order. He needed to find a new direction now.

"Cher, I have no idea."

She smiled and kissed him again, caressing his cheek with her fingertips. "It's okay, René, you don't have to have all the answers right now. Have you seen Nina yet?" René shook his head. "How about we go over to Billie's tomorrow and spend some time with her, then? She's growing up so fast, and I know she loves seeing you. Besides, being around her always perks me up and helps me to see more clearly what's most important. Maybe it will do the same for you." Her smile broadened. "Not to mention we'll get a home-cooked meal out of it."

René hadn't even thought about going over there yet. He was still dealing with the heartbreak of leaving his love, his home, his family, and trying to find solace in a new location. True, he had chosen Mobile because his daughter was there, and because Aunt Billie was there, and because Spike had business dealings there he could take over for the family. Olivia being here now was an unexpected boon, as well. It seemed a good idea. It was far enough away from New Orleans that the temptation of Baby's constant presence wouldn't be a threat, yet still close enough that he could be back home if needed in three hours or less. Once settled, he thought he would like it here.

"You've done a very difficult and noble thing in leaving the woman you love, René." She paused for a moment. "It was brave of you to dare see a different life away from the pain and temptation." Her demeanor changed to something casually forced, "Um, how did Jean take it?" She had heard very little from him since she had arrived back in Mobile. She missed him terribly, and he had yet to come visit her. She hadn't specifically asked him to, but she had hoped … well, she had hoped.

René couldn't really look at her now. "It … it wasn't easy, cher." Pain and regret trimmed the edge of his voice. He spoke volumes with just the few words, those teal eyes turning up toward her revealing how hard it really had been to not only leave his sire and his love, but the brother who loved him above all others.

"Jean loves you, René." She couldn't say anymore, nor did she have to.

René felt her become heavier against him, her head beginning to loll in drowsiness. "Let's turn in, cher, it was a long night," he suggested as he gathered her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He tenderly unfastened her clothes and removed them before tucking her into the starched, eyelet sheets. He removed his own clothing and settled in next to her, pulling her next to him, feeling her warm flesh against his cool skin.

She was already asleep in his arms, murmuring nonsensically in her half-dream state. He kissed her hair, breathing her in and finding comfort in her warmth and presence. She shifted a little, moving closer to him, her hands lightly dancing on him with familiarity and affection, stopping occasionally as she would fall deeper into sleep.

"G'night, cher," he whispered to her softly.

Olivia sighed dreamily. "Night … I love you … m'Jean."

For a painful moment René's heart ached for her loneliness as he realized he was not the only one who could not have the one he loved best.

"I love you, too, cher … sleep now."

"Mmmmm yes …"

Entwined together, they drifted off to sleep.

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

Dinner at Aunt Billie's had been a rare treat for everyone. Leone pulled tons of food from the freezer and had it cooking and filling the house with delicious smells before René had even hung up the phone to let them know they were coming. Nina had been on her best behavior, charming René every moment, reading to him from her favorite books, teaching him her favorite games, doing card tricks for him, and commenting more than once how their eyes were the very same color. Billie had fussed over him shamelessly herself, as had Leone. Olivia had sat in the background this trip and simply watched as René got a heaping serving of love and adoration from all of them. She could almost see his heart healing in front of her.

As they readied to leave, René and Nina shared a few more quiet, alone moments filled with cuddles and giggles and kisses while Leone had loaded Olivia down with enough leftovers to feed an army. "Honey, you too busy with yer sanging and all, you jist enjoy all dis and come back when you need more."

Driving back to the beach house, René put his hand affectionately on Liv's. "Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"You right, cher. Seein' her makes you see what's important."

Olivia smiled brightly at him with a sparkle in her eye. "Told ya." They both laughed.

"I need to talk to Sam and the children and do a little hunting. Can I come by later?"

"Do you need to ask?" She blatantly flirted with him, keeping the mood light and playful. Taking him to see Nina had been a very good idea.

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

April 21, 2011

Liv had just started a late night set when the doors of the Pink Pony burst open. She didn't normally play this late, but it had been a good crowd and she felt inspired to reward them with a few more songs. She was feeling particularly melancholy that night and going home alone and finding once again there was no word from Jean taunted her. She'd rather play all night.

A large group tumbled into the place, laughing and talking so loudly that she cut the verse of the song short and waited for them to get in and settled while tinkering with an improvised piano interlude. When she noticed they were all extremely pale, she began to watch them more closely. There had to be close to fifty of them, and if they were all vampires out for a snack, they were all in trouble. As she played, she tried to appear relaxed and casual as mentally she tried to figure out how to call René and get some help. The group continued to pour into the place, filling most of the tables and sending the bartender and waitress into late night panic mode.

Then the last of them entered and her face lit up. Last to come into the place was René, Sam, Joseph, and a few of his other children that she recognized but didn't know by name. Some of them waved and smiled to her. She suddenly realized this was his family, his children, his grandchildren, possibly even great grandchildren, and they were all in celebration mode. René signaled to Sam to take care of things at the bar while he moved quickly to Olivia and swept her into his arms, kissing her deeply.

"Have I got news for you," he whispered across her ear. Liv cocked her head to one side curiously. "But you play for now, I'll get you a drink; you finish the set and then we'll all party."

She wasn't sure she had ever seen him so happy and proud. The family in its entirety had incredible presence, especially René and his eldest children. Fifty vampires in a room would normally send any other patrons running and bring the temperature down about 10 degrees, but not so with these. The room absolutely radiated excitement, affection, and warmth.

Liv played all of René's favorite songs while he played host and patriarch. He bought drinks for everyone in the place and when Olivia finished her set, he joined her at the stage, handing her a fresh drink and holding his own aloft.

"My family celebrating tonight." He grinned knowingly at Olivia. "We celebratin' because there is now a new Master in Mobile." He tried to look humble, but it just didn't fit. His teal eyes almost glowed in pride and enthusiasm as he took a moment to smile and nod to each of his children. They each in turn beamed back at their father; the conquerors had triumphed, and now it was time to rejoice.

Sam popped up in the back, "To the Master!"

Everyone in the room stood and raised their glasses in tribute and respect to René, who beamed proudly, his arm snaking around Olivia's waist and pulling her close. He clinked his glass to hers and drank deeply, then leaned into her. "Looks like I've found my future, cher."

Olivia stared at him, mouth agape. When René Beaumont made a decision, he rarely made it half-heartedly. Before she could say a word, René swept her up into his arms and kissed her, lifting her off the floor and swinging her around. As their lips parted, Liv threw her head back in laughter and joy.

The festivities continued another few hours with music and dancing filling the place to capacity. When things began to break up, the owner refused to accept payment from them, the first true indication that things in Mobile had turned around for them all. Here was a man whose pub had been well-established and well-known, already paying tribute to the new Master. René's nod and smile guaranteed him that this would not be forgotten and pretty much guaranteed the continued success of the Pink Pony Pub … as well as its protection from marauders and vamp gangs. No one would dare pick off patrons from his parking lot for a midnight snack now. He beamed almost as much as René.

Sam was given orders to see everyone back to the hotel safely being careful of stragglers and those who'd partied a bit too much. René held tightly to Olivia most of the night. "I'm going home with Liv," he announced to Sam, then turned to her. "I assume that's all right, cher? You mind the Master of Mobile imposing on you?" He was playful and smiling … and for the first time she could remember … happy.

She grinned back. "Who am I to deny the Master?" Their laughter filled the room.

As they headed out the door, René looked back at the bartender and raised an eyebrow mischievously, "Don't expect her in tomorrow night … or the one after that." He winked and closed the door behind him.

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

It was a short ride to her place, but by the time they arrived, most of their clothes had been shed, and René, wearing only jeans, carried an almost-naked Olivia into the house. Their lips were all but fused together, the excitement and intensity of the night bleeding into their kiss. He closed the door with his foot and took her straight to the bedroom, tossing her playfully onto the bed as he shed his jeans and eyed what few garments she still had on. She wasn't fast enough. René ripped the rest off with hardly a pass of his hand and lay her down, covering her body with his own and latching his hungry mouth onto her nipple. She gasped in surprise and fell into the arousal and sexual frenzy that René so easily elicited from her.

After the first round of lovemaking, they reclaimed the covers from the floor and settled into each others' arms. They talked and kissed and just enjoyed being together, while René explained in detail what had happened with the old Master. Liv was impressed with the planning that had gone into it, the research and effort spent to make it come off without a hitch and place René in charge of the vampire and demon population of Mobile. His family had functioned like a well-oiled machine, their years of training in New Orleans neither wasted nor squandered. Liv could hardly believe it. Just listening to him talk about the challenge and the fight and the expert manner in which his children had infiltrated the old operation and allowed the coup filled her with almost as much pride as he demonstrated.

While they talked, they petted and stroked one another, peppering kisses from time to time on skin and lips and hair. Over the last month they had developed a much deeper relationship than Liv had thought possible. She knew how much René loved Baby, she had seen it herself long before Jean filled her in on it. She had no pretense of replacing her in René's heart, but their time together had helped heal her heart that ached for Jean, and René appeared to have found solace in her arms as well. They did not fool themselves that they were in love, but they found in each other exactly what they needed and wanted, be it friendship, emotional support, love, intimacy, or a short respite from their loneliness.

René turned onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, and just stared at her for a few silent moments until Liv got visibly uncomfortable. "René? What are you doing?"

"Cher, things change tonight."

"Yes, I know. Last night I was sleeping with the second son of William the Bloody, tonight I'm sleeping with the ruler of a city. Quite a step up, don't you think?" She smiled playfully.

He stroked her cheek. "Not just that, cher. Other things change too. And I can't have you walking around Mobile with only Jean's companion mark on you. Anyone who recognizes his mark knows he's in New Orleans. It makes you look abandoned and leaves you vulnerable, Liv. I don't want you being prey, or worse, snack food, for some foolish fledge who don't know the new rules."

She wrinkled her brow a little, not really following him. "René … what are you talking about? No one bothers me."

"Cher, you been watched more than you know. Joseph's been watching them watching you, and they're getting closer and braver about it. Now that the hierarchy has changed, you could be in danger. "

She still appeared confused, and he stroked her cheek lovingly. "Liv, I want to mark you."

"What?" She was stunned. "René! No, I have Jean's mark, I'm his companion, and …"

"Shhhhh, Liv, listen to me. I know that. I not wanting to contradict that. You are Jean's companion, I not want to change that. But here, now, we are lovers, cher: you aren't some pet or fucktoy."

"René!" Embarrassed laughter escaped her lips.

"Shhhh, I want you to be marked as mine, as protected by the Master of Mobile. Not as consort or companion, but as something else. We make our own mark, as lover, as cher ami, but most important as mine." He kissed her softly. "You think, cher; I going to make us some tea. You hungry? You want a snack?"

He climbed out of bed and headed toward the kitchen. Olivia suddenly thought to herself that it was grossly unfair for him to flaunt that magnificent bare ass in front of her when she was supposed to be thinking objectively about something as important as being marked. She smirked. He was stacking the deck. When he returned with tea and some grapes, she welcomed him into her bed again, kissing him deeply as she stroked the strong line of his jaw.

"Yes."

"What? Cher? Are you sure?" She could hear the excitement in René's voice. She nodded.

"Yes, René. Mark me as yours. I can think of nothing more wonderful than to wear both your and Jean's marks."

His smile lit the room as they drank their tea, nibbled on fruit, and wrapped up in each other again. When their snack was finished, Olivia set things aside and pulled René onto her, her warm flesh welcoming the cool of his.

"Ready for round 2?" she teased.

René looked down at her, soaking in her beauty, the rich brown of her eyes, the reflection of the light off her hair, the fullness of her lips, and he wanted her. She could see it in him as well as feel his arousal against her, and she smiled at him, the welcoming smile of a lover eager to take him into her again. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer just as his lips covered hers. Their kiss, suddenly searching and urgent, brought them even closer to one another. Their need and reliance on each other was an anchor on which to hold tight. They were not the love of each other's lives, but they loved each other all the same, and their bodies did a tender, elaborate dance that reflected them.

When they both were approaching climax, René pulled back from her slightly, favoring her face, neck and shoulders with caresses and kisses. "Are you sure, m'belle?"

"Yesssss," she gasped, "Yes, René, yes." And she lifted and tilted her chin, exposing her throat to him. René immediately saw Jean's mark and felt a twinge of regret that he was not with them at this moment. The first time they had been together he was there guiding them, it seemed only right that he be here now. René knew that silently they both felt his absence. He licked his brother's mark, tracing the mostly healed puncture wounds with his tongue, then nuzzled her chin the other way, revealing unmarked flesh. He entered her just as his fangs slid into the pure, pale skin and she cried out as he claimed her as his lover, both of them drowning in the overwhelming sea of love and spirit and joining.

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

December 9, 2019

René found Jean asleep in the chair next to Olivia's bed. Baby had been right, she was much more pale and frail-looking than she had been even a week ago. The boost of energy she had experienced on her release from the hospital had waned, and she once again looked as if she didn't have much more time left. They all sensed it, yet no one talked about it. They took turns staying with her, reading to her, talking with her, making plans that would never be carried out. It was agonizing. Yet she insisted that there be a positive spirit in her home. Anyone who came into her home moping and crying was sent packing. Scented candles littered the house, adding their glow and gentle fragrance to the air. Her favorite classical music played in the background as well as inspirational arrangements of Christmas carols. It was a joyous time of year, and she wanted to experience it for as long as she could. The stench of impending death was not touching her or those around her. She wouldn't allow it.

In the last week it had gotten more difficult for her to get up and move around. She had insisted on getting out of bed. She wasn't going to lie around and wait for death like an old woman whose life was over and had nothing left but memories. If she was too weak to walk herself, then she had Jean carry her into the living room. She spent time on the covered porch every day, talking endlessly with Jean or René or Baby or Sam or whoever was on Liv Duty, and sometimes she just sat out there by herself. Even without the direct sunlight, she loved the feel of the ocean breeze on her face and the warmth of the sun that permeated the air. She lived. She ate and breathed and loved, and she felt the pain and premature loneliness of Jean and René at the knowledge that they wouldn't have her much longer. She took just enough of the drugs to take the edge off the pain but still keep herself conscious, but her body was failing her and her mind and her heart resented it.

René touched Jean gently on the shoulder, waking him. "M'frère, go sleep in the other room. I'll take over here."

Jean gave him a pained look. He could feel her slipping away now. She had remained mentally and spiritually strong up until the last few days. Now her body was giving up and her spirit just didn't have the strength to fight the uphill battle any longer.

René kissed his brother lightly. "Go now. I'll call you if there's any change."

As Jean went into the other room, René's heart ached to see how slowly and sadly he moved, how hurt and injured and lonely he was, and just how much losing Olivia was destroying him. He felt his brother's pain through their consort bond, a bond which Jean had proudly accepted and René had set aside when Baby returned to him. He still loved his brother more than anything … except her … and it killed him to see Jean in such agony and loneliness. He wanted to reach out and hold him, love him as he needed, wanted, and deserved to be loved, unconditionally, by one person. But René couldn't be all to Jean that he needed. His heart and his ultimate loyalty belonged to someone else, even though is brother's belonged to him. Jean deserved more. He deserved the love and devotion this woman had given him for almost 20 years. René knew how much Liv loved him, she glowed whenever they were together whether in public or private. And Jean was happy with her, too. He knew Olivia didn't want Jean to suffer for her loss, but by denying him her presence and love in the rest of his unlife she was sentencing him to an eternity without her companionship, something that had been very precious to Jean. On the heels of Marie's death, watching Olivia waste away and die was more than René felt Jean could take. René feared it would destroy Jean to be without her now. He needed her. He needed her much more than he even knew.

As Jean left, Olivia opened her eyes. "Jean?"

"It's René, cher, I'm here."

"Is the sun out?"

"No, cher. It set a little while ago. Do you want to go outside anyway?"

She sighed. "No. I just wanted to see the sunlight once more."

"Can I get you anything?" He'd noticed she'd stopped eating a few days ago. He hadn't had the heart to ask Jean about it, but he'd noticed that all the food in the house was still there, uneaten. The painkillers affected her appetite, but he also feared that in many ways her body was no longer functioning and preparing itself for death.

"No. Well. Yes. I'm cold."

"You want another blanket?"

She turned her dulling eyes toward him. "No. Can I have you? Your arms around me?"

"I'm all yours, m'belle." He climbed into the bed with her, pulling her wasting frame against him and wrapping his arms around her as he pulled the covers over them. The beating of her heart was slow and strangely peaceful, her body warm and soft against him. And she was weakening. She was relying on him now; his cool body wasn't so much a source of warmth as it was of strength. He could feel it. He could feel her through their link, holding on tightly to him and to Jean in an effort to stay a little longer with them.

Her voice was whisper-soft, as if she didn't have the strength to speak fully. "Where's Jean?"

"He in the other room sleeping. You want me get him?" He started to move.

"No. No, he hasn't been sleeping. I can feel him watching me while I do, but he's tired. He needs to sleep." She took a deep breath, saying so much at once took more energy than she had thought. Her eyes closed for a few minutes, resting, as if she were trying to gather her strength again.

René caressed her skin, the line of her jaw, the marks on her neck, both his and Jean's. He touched her shoulders and arms, interlaced her unresisting fingers. And he thought of Jean and ultimately what this was doing to him, how much he did not want to lose Olivia and how much pain radiated from him. Their consort link told him everything. He felt Jean's pain at losing René to Baby again, he felt the emptiness that Olivia's approaching death was bringing him. He couldn't bear the thought of Jean having any more pain, any more loneliness. Losing Olivia was going to make it worse. And he selfishly realized that he didn't want to lose her either.

"Cher?"

"Mmm?" Her eyes were still closed, her cheek nestled into René's chest.

"Liv, I want to talk to you about Jean."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Is he okay?" Her soft voice held an edge of panic.

"Shhhhh, yes, baby, he's okay. For now. But I worry. I worry what gonna happen to him when you leave him."

René felt a stifled sob shake her fragile chest. He began stroking her hair; his hand suddenly seemed too large, as if she were shrinking moment by moment. He whispered softly. "It don't have to be like this, cher. Jean, he want to turn you. He don't want to lose you. Neither do I." He lifted her chin, turning her tear-streaked face toward him. "But he won't do it if you don't want it."

Her voice broke. "I … know. I can't, René. What might happen. I can't be that." Each word was painful to release and became more and more quiet. A human would not have been able to hear half of what she said.

"I know, cher, I know. It's an awful risk. But me and Jean, we turn out okay. And Claudia. And most of Spike's children and mine and Jean's. We don't lose many. We have a strong bloodline." He smiled reassuringly down at her.

"I … can wait, René." The glow of Heaven flashed across her face. "I'll wait for you both there. Make it nice for when you both come."

"I know, m'amour. But I don't know that I can wait. For me. Or for Jean." He began to unfasten the tiny buttons of her flannel gown. She shivered beneath his touch, both wanting and not wanting him. Her heart and mind wanting to feel him with her again, wanting to feel Jean, wanting them both with her at her end. Her body was not cooperating. She hurt. Even his touch brought pain with the pleasure, even his kiss brought a surge of fire both good and bad.

"Can I have you one last time, cher? Can I? Would it hurt too much?" He was already unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it from beneath her cheek so that her flesh warmed his own.

"René … I …. " She hurt. She hurt a lot. But she also wanted to feel. She was so deadened by painkillers that she thought she could never feel again, that she would be drugged for her remaining days and be forced to live either a half-focused, fuzzy life or one of intense pain at the merest touch.

René continued; he forced himself out of his shirt, and with almost trembling hands he unfastened his jeans. It was tearing him up inside to do this. Yes, he wanted her, he rarely was around her when he didn't want her, but that was not why he was doing this, all but forcing himself on her.

Liv was too weak to resist at all, her all-but-lifeless limbs wrapped around him, unmoving. She wanted René …. she wanted Jean … she wanted to stay with them, she wanted to love them, she wanted to feel love from them … she didn't want to die. But neither did she want to exist in that undead vortex of vampirism. She didn't want to spend a few more years with her lovely boys only to spend eternity in Hell apart from them. She had been strong about it, and considering her many years as lover, friend, and companion to them, she had to resist the temptation to stay longer so that she could have a joyous, heavenly eternity with them later. She looked to the future instead of the now. It was so difficult, particularly now with René's hands and mouth on her, to keep that foremost in her mind, that logical string which kept her focused on eternity instead of the present.

René was not as focused, not as strong as she was, but he could feel her turmoil, her regret at leaving Jean. He could feel her heart breaking for their lost years together. He could feel more and more how much she loved Jean, how much she wanted to be with him, how she knew that her time in heaven would be spent waiting for him and wanting him. It made no sense to René. Why was she letting her fear of what might happen prevent her from being with the man that she loved? He couldn't let them both exist for possibly centuries apart and alone and agonizing for the loss of the other. His heart was breaking for them. In his own happiness with Baby now, he knew the joy and fulfillment of being so joined in heart and mind and body. He knew that they both needed that joy, they both deserved it. His heart was breaking for them, for what they were losing, for time wasted apart, for the lonely nights and empty hearts they would suffer.

He shifted over her, his lips drinking in her warmth for the last time, his hands caressing her bare skin, warm and welcoming and entirely too close to death. The decision he made in that moment of love and pain took but seconds to make, even though he knew the repercussions for it could shatter his consort and alienate him from his sire and family. It didn't matter. He would accept punishment, any punishment would be worth it. He knew what he was doing, however wrong, would keep Jean from a lifetime of loneliness aching for the woman who had so filled his life with joy and love.

His kisses trailed to her neck, the scent of her blood filling his nostrils and giving him courage as he whispered across her ear. "Cher? Are you sure you do not want to stay with us?"

"René …" she gasped, his lips driving her to distraction amongst the pleasure-pain of his touch. "I want a joy-filled eternity, not a sorrow-filled one. It's so hard, René. It's hard to leave you. It's hard to leave my Jean." Her heart clinched tightly. "Jean. Can I have Jean? René … call him. Please."

He trembled, still unsure of what he was doing, but the vision of his brother broken and in agony was clear in his head. "No, cher, you are mine for now." Tears welled up in his eyes as his face shifted into ridges and sharp teeth that she could neither see nor feel. "Jean's turn will come. You will be together always." His lips moved to hers, frequent, short kisses spurring her hunger for him and distracting her from what he was doing. He bit into his tongue, letting his mouth fill with blood before he pressed his lips to hers again and released the flood of crimson into her. She struggled beneath him, not liking it, not wanting it. She had never drunk from either of them. They had both tasted her many times over the years, but she had never even been curious about the taste of their blood, even in their most intense and passionate times together. She held it in her mouth, trying not to swallow it, but René was unyielding about it, keeping his lips closed tightly to hers so that she could not spit it out. He hurt inside, his very spirit filled with regret and sorrow at what he was doing. His own love for her screamed at him to let her go, his heart and mind arguing to keep her here. But one thought kept him going, repeating over and over in his head … for Jean … for Jean … an insistent reminder of why he was doing this, why he was torturing her, why he was hurting her and forcing this life on her when she did not want it. For Jean. He prayed that one day she would understand and forgive him, that Jean would understand why it had to be this way, that God would forgive him for murdering this innocent he loved in her last hours, why he had to risk her and his own eternity in heaven. For Jean.

He slipped a gentle hand to her face, stroking her cheek before covering her nose so that she could no longer breathe without swallowing the mouthful of blood first. His lips left hers, his broken whispers of regret and sorrow and apology ringing in her ears. "I'm so sorry, cher. I love you; I love him more. He can't survive without you now. Je suis desolè, m'petite, je suis si desolè." His lips covered hers once again. It took only seconds. She was too weak to fight it.

As she swallowed, she let out a stifled cry against René's now urgent mouth, his fanged kiss engulfing her again. As she gasped for more breath, he moved across her cheek, sprinkling tiny kisses of affection and adoration on her skin as he moved silently to her ear. He breathed in her sweet scent one last time and whispered to her. "I love you, Liv, but I have to do this … for him. For Jean. You are his. You must always be his." He kissed her cheek then sank his fangs into her throat over his own mark, drawing her hot blood into him at a dizzying and ruthless pace while his mind screamed at him to stop. He was trapped. She had left him no choice but this. For Jean. René couldn't bear the thought of his beloved brother being alone. Jean needed her. They needed each other. The gates of Heaven could wait for them both and when the time came Jean & Liv could arrive together, hand in hand, in joy and celebration … but for that happiness, René had to pay the price now. He had to force on this wonderful, amazing woman the thing she feared, the thing she did not want. He had to make himself take from her what she was clinging so desperately to. Her life. He had to risk his own redemption. For Jean. Tears streamed down his face mingling with her blood, making it salty and bitter in his mouth. Her sweet, sweet blood now tinged with bitterness and regret. God in Heaven he hurt for her, for what he was stealing from her. For Jean.

Jean woke up suddenly, her silent scream ringing in his ears. His companion. His love. He was airborne, running toward the bedroom, yelling. "René! No!! Stop!!" He found the door locked and began pounding and beating on it frantically, trying to get in, trying to stop him before it was too late. He could feel her heart slowing; weak as she already was, there was little time.

"René …… no …… noooooo." Her weak and whimpering voice could not stop him as he drained her life away. His heart ached as she struggled for life beneath him. He could feel her sense of betrayal, her fear, her pain. For Jean. He was doing this for Jean. He felt her heart slowing, straining for another beat, clinging to life. He released her, his own cry of agony shattering the air as he released her and felt her life fading away.

"René!! Nooooooooooo!" Jean smashed himself into the hard, English oak, trying to break through the heavy door that had been built to protect her from violent coastal storms, not trap her inside with one. Panic, desperation and her quiet cries drove him into the door over and over again until the lock finally gave way. Jean dove at his brother, throwing René across the room with such force that the impact made a sickening, bone-crushing sound. René cowered in the corner, sobbing incoherently. "Je suis désolé, je suis si désolé. J'ai dû. I had to. Je suis si désolé. "

Jean gathered Olivia into his arms, holding her desperately to him, begging her to stay with him, kissing her tears, her cheeks, her trembling, blood-stained lips.

"Jean …" He felt her heart stop and her last breath release into the air. Then silence.

Jean looked at his brother desperately, an unspeakable agony written across his face. René lay crumpled on the floor, tears streaming down his tortured face mingling with the blood on his lips. Her blood. Olivia's blood.

Jean looked back to her and began licking the traces of blood from her throat, trying in vain to seal the wounds that stole the last moments of her life away. He was too late. He collapsed, sobbing and shattered, over her lifeless body. She was gone. His brother had taken her from him.

Chapter Six

Jean pressed his lips one last time to the now lifeless lips of his companion. He lingered there, the traces of blood in her mouth filling him with the last moments of her life. He froze unexpectedly, pulling back from her, looking at her throat, looking at her mouth, trying to feel even the tiniest thread of life still inside her. There was none.

He turned angry, flashing eyes on René. "What have you done?" His voice was no longer broken or sob-filled. There was a growling, dangerous anger to it.

"What had to be done," René responded, his voice cracking with emotion, sorrow, and regret.

Jean tried to control himself. This was not what Olivia wanted. How could René violate her like this, turn her into exactly what she asked not to be turned into, and if she had changed her mind, why didn't she tell Jean herself and allow him to sire her? He had asked her enough times. "Did … did she ask you to? Did she agree?" There was a hint of pain in his voice, a shadow of rejection just as he'd had the first time he had seen René's mark on her.

René raised his chin almost defiantly. "No. She didn't."

Jean snarled at him, yellow flashing in his eyes, a stark contrast to the tenderness with which he was holding Olivia's body. "When she is taken care of, m'frere, we are going to have words." His tone was barbed and almost vicious. René suddenly did not look forward to those "words."

Baby and Sam came into the beach house to find the air thick with the smell of blood, death and animosity. No words were being spoken between René and Jean, but Jean's anger was palpable. Once he broke his stare from René, he spoke authoritatively to Sam.

"Come, take her. She's dead." His voice was cold and hard and very unlike him, especially considering he was talking about Olivia, the woman who had owned a large portion of his heart for almost two decades, the woman Baby had always suspected might one day be more than Jean's companion. Now he spoke of her as if she were nothing more then another dead body in a sea of them.

René drew up into a ball in the corner, his face turned up to Baby, tear stains and anguish plainly written on his face. She moved immediately toward him, though she spoke to Jean. "What's happened?" There was obviously more to this than Olivia's passing, though that would understandably upset both her sons. Jean gently handed Liv's lifeless body to Sam, who settled onto the bed, holding her tenderly. Baby saw the blood and marks on the dead woman's neck … and recognized them immediately as René's. She then turned to him and repeated herself, this time more urgently. "What's happened?!"

Jean took two steps toward his younger brother, his eyes shooting arrows of fire into him, his voice and manner detached and unemotional. "René has seen fit to turn Olivia."

"What?" Baby turned to Jean, obviously surprised at the development. "Did she change her mind? I thought she didn't want to be turned."

Jean moved with a menacing quiet toward his brother. "She didn't."

He didn't have to say any more. Baby and Sam were both obviously rocked by this. René had violated one of Spike's most sacred rules … give them the choice, turn no one against their will.

Baby sighed heavily. She wanted to question his actions, but she couldn't do it in good conscience since she herself had considered doing the same thing. She had recognized, as René had, that Jean needed Olivia. Watching her wasting away was killing him. She couldn't bear the thought of Jean being alone, she felt enough guilt at having taken René from him--to stand by and watch his human lover of so many years be taken from him by death was too much for her … just as it obviously had been too much for René. She was somewhat stunned he had actually gone through with it. She had considered it, yes, but to actually do it, to change her against her will was not only a violation Olivia's trust but Spike's and the entire family's.

Jean stopped in front of René, still mercilessly glaring at him, still cold, still detached, still keeping his anger so tightly controlled that it was beginning to frighten Baby. "He knows exactly what he did." He snarled at his brother. "Get up."

René couldn't meet his eyes any longer and looked away.

"Get up!" Jean was insistent, letting loose a tiny flare of anger, enough that René couldn't resist standing immediately, as if Jean somehow had control of him. He braced himself against the wall so that he could stand, but before he could get his balance, Jean hit him hard across the jaw, sending him flying half way across the room. Jean both heard and felt René's jawbone shatter beneath his fist. He didn't care. He moved quickly to where René was struggling to his feet again and spun-kicked him back where he had been cowering on the floor. This time Jean pulled him to a standing position himself and backhanded him, pulled him to his feet and backhanded him again.

"Jean, no!" Baby thought it time to intercede. One look at René's expression told her to back off. She did, reluctantly, moving closer to the doorway and away from her sons. Sam had known from the moment he entered not to interfere. This was between the brothers, and it wasn't going to be pretty. He had a fierce loyalty for his sire, but he also knew whenever René had fucked up. And René had really fucked up. He wouldn't allow Jean to kill him, but he would not stand in the way of him beating some sense into René, and apparently René didn't want to stop Jean either.

René did not fight back. It was as if he wanted Jean to beat the hell out of him, punish him, even dust him for what he had done. He did not want to live with the guilt of what he'd done to someone they both loved. Jean seemed more than happy to oblige. Never had any of them seen such quiet fury exploding from him. Sam remained quiet; Baby stayed out of the way, consciously deciding to not interfere unless it began to threaten their lives. René never made a sound. He took what Jean gave him, every punch and kick, every brutal assault … he took it, silently.

The beating continued for what seemed like an hour, as Jean dealt René blow after crippling blow only to find his brother standing again, bruised and bleeding, willing, almost begging, to take more. Jean finally collapsed in exhaustion, his knuckles bloodied, his anger somewhat quenched, his pain beginning to break through and crack the icy mantle he had put on the moment she died in his arms. He turned his back on his bruised and beaten brother and snarled at his mother. "Get him out of here."

Baby knew better than to disagree at this point and moved to help René up, gathering his clothes, and letting him lean on her as they moved toward the bedroom door. He was in as bad shape physically as Jean was mentally. He could hardly move, both of his eyes swollen shut, blood dripping from his mouth and a nasty cut above his left eye; it looked like one of his legs was broken, and his shoulder was dislocated. When she grabbed René around the waist to help him move, he winced. Ribs were broken as well. The pair made slow progress toward the door, Baby having to almost carry her consort.

Jean took Olivia's body from Sam once again, setting her down onto the still-rumpled covers and tucking her in as if she were sleeping. He leaned over her and kissed her softly on the forehead. Sam joined Baby and René.

"Maman?" Jean was beginning to lose control of the grief that was threatening to engulf him, his voice cracking beneath the strain. His eyes remained on Olivia as he smoothly stroked her hair. "Call Papa. He needs to know. He may need to come."

"Okay, Jean, whatever you say."

"Now, go away."

Ordinarily she'd have bristled at being dismissed, but she could feel Jean crumbling inside, through René's bond with both of them, and she knew he had only seconds before he could no longer appear to be the fountain of strength he had always been.

The trio left quietly, leaving him alone with her. He continued stroking her hair and straightening the linens around her, covering her nude body. Taking a washcloth from the bathroom he ran it under warm water and washed her, removing all traces of dried blood and sweat and the stench of death. He dressed her in one of her favorite nightshirts, a silky black thing that felt good against her skin.

"Shhhhhh, it's okay, cher. Jean will take care of everything." He finished tending to her, then removed his shirt and slipped beneath the covers beside her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her to him while whispering softly. He stayed there with her in the bed they had shared all these years, holding her, loving her, always in physical contact with her, watching over her, protecting her, caring for her … for three days.

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

January 28, 2016
This segment was written by Ebony Silvers for "Dancing in the Dark." Used with her permission.

René leaned down and kissed Baby on the cheek. He ignored the sight of Jack Niemczyk's hand resting on her leg and the scent of Jack's seed on her. René had seen them earlier. It seemed Bébé had found another one that liked to do it in public.

"So you two are off then?" Baby asked.

"Oui, Maman," René grinned. "Me and Jean, we have us a little… appointment with an old friend." The glint in his eye made it obvious that both the appointment and the old friend were the shy and familiar blonde standing behind him holding so tightly to Jean Claude's hand. The half-smirk on Jean's face made it obvious that the appointment entailed nakedness and multiple orgasms for all involved.

"You two are incorrigible." Baby smiled and shook her head. "Olivia, don't let these scamps take advantage of you, dear."

René laughed. "Oh Maman, we already did that! Years ago!"

Baby shook her head. "So you did. Well, have fun then."

Jean's eyes flashed for an instant and his smile lit the bar. "Oh, we will, Maman; we will!"

René laughed. "Oh yeah, we all gonna have lots of fun." He turned around and kissed Jean quickly then raised the blonde's hand to his lips. "Won't we, cher?" She smiled bashfully and he laughed again. "Come, Olivia, m' petite fille. Me and Jean, we gonna show you a really good time tonight."

Jean placed an arm around Olivia. "Yeah." His accent was deep and luxurious. "You remember how good me and Renny are at that, heh?"

She blushed and didn't seem to know where to look. She cast her big, dark eyes at the floor.

Baby was rather surprised, that after all this time, Jean could still embarrass the woman. It wasn't as though Olivia was unfamiliar with the sexual openness of the family. She'd been one of Jean's regular lovers for nearly fifteen years. She had the freedom of the house on Rue Royal and Baby was never surprised to find Olivia in bed with Jean and René. But then Olivia always had been a timid little thing.

Baby had watched her sons cut a swath through the female population of the bar. The resulting frown and pouty expressions when the two dropped their court of admirers to envelop the unassuming Olivia in hugs and kisses the instant she walked in the door had been highly amusing. After talking to her exclusively for over half an hour, they'd pulled her out onto the dance floor. The resulting show had raised more than a couple of eyebrows, though it was actually fairly mild compared to some of the public displays Baby herself had performed in this very bar. Hell, it was mild compared to what she and Jack had just done, though they had been relatively discrete. Nonetheless, it had been rather thrilling to watch Jean Claude and René tease and torment the woman. Jean had wrapped himself around her from behind while René had placed himself in front of her. Sandwiched between them, they had proceeded to do everything short of completely stripping her that the two could think of. Her blouse was still half-unbuttoned from René's clever fingers and her skirt hiked up slightly on one side from Jean's exploring hand. Baby smiled a bit at the memory of watching them. Jean had been particularly aggressive, sliding both his hands under Olivia's blouse to cup her breasts and lift them for René's delectation. The black-haired vampire had been unabashed in his appreciation of his brother's action, opening her conservative blouse. He'd proceeded to kiss and lick the exposed portions of her golden skin. René had bitten and worried her concealed nipples through the pale pink satin of her bra while she gasped and threw her head back against Jean's broad chest. Jean had lowered his own head to kiss her soundly, his tongue seeking out every secret of her mouth while his hand worried whatever breast René's mouth wasn't busy with. His other hand stole unashamedly up her leg, brazenly sliding his hand over her hip and around between her and René. He had cupped his hand over her sex, feeling and pressing his fingers against the pink silk of her panties. Jean had held her against him with that talented hand sweetly tormenting her while he ground his arousal against her in time to the music. René pulled Jean from her lips so he could kiss his brother. The two men pressed the woman tightly between them, rocking in perfect time to the music. René had finally released Jean's mouth and claimed Olivia's lips instead, Jean settling for worrying her neck and earlobe. With René's fingers pinching and rolling her nipples and Jean, his hand now inside her panties, stroking her clitoris, the poor girl had orgasmed in the middle of the dance floor. Her cries of pleasure were stifled by René's hungry mouth while she was held upright by Jean's strong arm about her waist. No wonder the little thing looked rumpled.

Baby had thought Jack was going to pass out a time or two, though whether it would be from embarrassment on Olivia's behalf or lust at what the three were doing, she couldn't be sure. Baby compared his blatant interest in the floorshow Jean orchestrated to his reaction to what she and Spike had done at Amato's. It seemed Jack's horizons had all ready broadened significantly.

Baby kissed René gently on the cheek and grinned. "I'll see you both in the morning?"

Jean surrendered his companion to René's embrace so he could say his good-byes. "Mais oui, Maman," he said and gave her a kiss. "But it won't be too early." He frowned briefly. "Of course, I do need to be back at the house. There are reports that some of our minions have disappeared. I don't like it. I need to get in touch with…"

She laughed. "Jean! Please, take a night off for a change?"

He glanced over his shoulder at his oh-so-beautiful brother and the oh-so-appealing woman in his arms. Jean had a sudden mental image of the two of them sans clothing in his bed and recalled how very sweet that could be. He grinned down at his mother. "You're right, Maman. I do need some time off."

Her smile was soft and caring and Jean remembered why he loved her. "Good. I worry about you working too hard, my Jean. You have fun," she told him. "Promise me?"

He kissed her again. "I will, cher Maman. I promise."

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

December 12, 2019

"Jean?" Baby let herself into Olivia's beach house. It was deathly quiet and dark, even though it was bright outside, as if the place were empty.

"Jean?" She set a bag down on the counter in the small kitchen and began turning on some lights.

She had spent almost three days tending to René's injuries, contacting Spike and telling him what had happened, and trying to help Sam keep a handle on René's holdings within the city so that things didn't collapse under the strain. Easy had shown up from Baltimore, unwilling to discuss why he had left Becca, and set to brooding in his old room. She would need to address that later as René obviously had no interest in quizzing him about why they had left Mobile in the first place much less why he had returned. Spike and Cordelia were due to arrive later that night.

René had finally pulled from his self-imposed prison of guilt and grief enough to communicate to Baby what was going on and tell her to get to Jean, that he needed her more than René did right now. She had gathered some blood and supplies and gotten to the beach house at midday because René had been so insistent. He was so dreadfully worried about his brother that he had deliberately opened his link from Jean to Baby just a tiny bit so that she could feel what he was feeling. She had almost run out of the house into the sunlight in an effort to get to him. Sam had convinced her that bursting into flames would not help anyone and to let one of the house servants take her over in their specially equipped and protected delivery van and get her inside safely. She had griped the entire way that speed limits were for wusses.

"Jean?" She was getting concerned, as she wandered around the house, until she came to the bedroom and could just make out the figure of her oldest son, lying on the bed with his dead lover still in his arms. She lowered her voice. "Jean?"

"Shhhh, Maman, she sleeping." He pulled Olivia closer, nuzzling his face into her hair.

Baby's heart froze. It was worse than she had thought. She hurried to the kitchen, warmed a mug of blood and brought it to her distressed and hallucinating son. She sat on the edge of the bed offering it to him. "Jean, here, darling, take this. Drink it. Please."

Jean looked at her with dull, lifeless, empty eyes. He shook his head. "No, Maman, I have to take care of Liv. She need me when she wake up."

Baby set the mug on the night table and turned on the light, then moved closer to Jean, pulling him to her slightly and cradling his head to her bosom for a moment, before tilting his chin up towards her face and speaking to him gently. "I know, m'fils. I'll hold her while you eat, but you must eat, Jean."

He was still reluctant.

"You want to be strong when she wakes up, don't you?" God, she hated manipulating him, but she could think of no other way right now. He was in bad shape.

Jean thought for a moment, then seemed to accept that and gently removed his arms from around Liv, covering her tightly with the covers and kissing her on the forehead before turning to Baby. He took a deep, unneeded breath and nodded to her. She handed him the warm blood and gathered him into her arms while he drank mindlessly. She had no idea what to say. All she could do was sit with him and see that he had something to eat and hopefully he would begin to heal and recover quickly.

"Jean? When did you sleep last?"

"She sleeping, Maman."

"I know, baby, but you need to sleep, too. When did you sleep last?"

Jean wrinkled his brow in thought. "Before René came."

"That's three days, cher, three days without food or sleep. You cannot take care of Liv like that, Jean. You have to be better to yourself so you can be better to her."

His eyes filled with tears. "René hurt her." He was heartbroken; his voice sounded like the pitiful cry of a sad little boy.

"I know, my love. He didn't mean to. He wanted her to stay with you, to be with you always. He didn't want to hurt her."

Innocence and his child-like quality cut through to her. "But … he did hurt her."

"Yes, my darling, he did. And he's very sorry." She began to stroke his hair, pulling him into her arms again and holding him as he had been holding Olivia. "Shhhhhh, it's okay. I'll take care of everything." The now-empty cup tumbled into her lap as she felt Jean fall asleep against her.

The cell phone in her hip holster blared its too-loud, obnoxious tune. "Yes?" she answered. "Yes, he's okay, he's sleeping now … No, I think he's been here with her the whole time, hasn't slept or eaten." She shook her head. "I know, I'll stay until someone else can get here. Is René okay? Okay, thanks, Sam. I'll let you know if we need anything." She turned the phone off completely and slapped it closed. Holding onto Jean tightly once again, she tried to figure out how to make this all better, how to heal the pain both of her sons were in, how to make the unwanted transition easier for Olivia, how to keep Spike from punishing René, how to … her mind seemed to lock around the most important thing … how to keep her family together for another day.

Chapter Seven

Later that night (December 12, 2019)

Jean appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but his dreams were vivid and historically accurate, more like memories than dreams really.

He dreamt of Olivia, the times they'd had together, the times they had been separated by circumstances or choice. He dreamed of their first time together, before they even knew each other's names, of the times he and René had shared her, of her moving to be near him when he asked her to, of marking her as his companion. He dreamed of how hurt he had been when he saw her bearing René's mark after a short stint in Mobile. He shouldn't have been surprised; she was practically living in René's household by then, but he had been thrilled that she returned to New Orleans with him, though he had never told her. He dreamed of her being at Rue Royale, of her flat in the French Quarter, of her singing for only him in a club full of patrons … of the fight they had when the entire Pride, as well as the Scourge in from LA, had gone dimension tripping in an effort to save Connor. They had fought for what seemed like hours. She wanted to go; he wouldn't allow it. When he had returned, she was gone, and he had been too stubborn to ask her back, though he had kept track of her to be sure she was safe. It was almost two years before they had seen each other again in that club in New Orleans, and it was as if they had never been separated … her and Jean and René. He and his brother had gone out of their way to show her how much she had been missed. He had known from her broken spirit that night that things had not been good for her in that two-year separation, yet she had happily shared her knowledge of the family and vampire-human relationships with Jack that same night, playing up all the good and not mentioning the bad. In fact, she'd never mentioned the bad.

He dreamed of how much he'd missed her when she'd gone to Mobile at René's request to help run things after Becca left. He dreamed of how, even when they lived far apart, she had always been there for him, whether or not he had asked her. He remembered when they had been attacked in New Orleans and then had gone to England to seek their revenge on the Watchers Council; again she had asked to go, and again he had said no. When the family returned the house had been cleaned up and repairs were well under way, and she had gone back to Mobile. She had done it without being asked. Why hadn't he noticed that she had begun to do this more and more: she would do something for the family, then vanish until needed again. Why? Why was she doing this? Why do all these things and then leave? She was there for him and for the family when she was needed, yet she never asked for anything in return. She would just quietly leave and return to Mobile. And then it struck him, in his dream state-she did what was expected of her as his companion, as a member of his family, even performing duties more suited to a consort than a companion, yet she still felt apart from it. She was apart from it. He had kept her apart from it. She did what was needed and expected, then went away until needed again. And Jean appeared to no longer need her. He didn't ask for her, he didn't come to her, he made no objection when she would return to Mobile. When Marie had become ill, she wanted to come to him, be with him and support him through a difficult time. He wouldn't allow it. He had shut her out, as he had done a hundred times before. Finally, even though she still continued to perform what she felt were her duties to him and his family, she had shut him out.

His dreams continued, his own imagination filling in the blanks of what she had been through in the last year with her illness, of her having surgery without him even knowing … or noticing. He dreamed of how René and Cordy had kept it from him at her wishes, of how alone and in pain she must have been … and he wasn't there for her, to care for her, love her, to be with her when she needed him. Of how René had brought him back to Mobile, claimed him, saw him through a dark time, and he had never asked about Liv. He remembered her scent strongly in René's house, yet he had never seen her. He had been too preoccupied with finally having René all to himself. He saw images of their life together move before his eyes and his heart ached for what he had never given to her. Of the children she'd never borne, of the love she deserved and had never gotten. And he wept for her.

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

Jean awoke to the shimmering glow of yellow eyes staring at him adoringly. As his lids fluttered completely open, cool lips met his gently, almost questioningly, as Olivia's body settled onto his. His arms automatically pulled her closer, pressing her into him, her body familiar and conforming to his almost immediately. The scent of her hair was the same, the feel of her skin, soft and giving, was the same. She was cooler to the touch, her lips especially, but it was Olivia, here, with him, alive again. A sudden urge to both cover her with kisses and devour her completely washed over him, mingled with a silent prayer of thanks. For Liv. And for René.

He rolled her over so that he could look down into her face once again. The sallow was gone, the hidden pain, the dark circles; she had the same glow about her that she had when she was human, that same lust for life and love. His mouth covered hers hungrily, his tongue eager to plunder and explore her in new ways. She was his again. She was different, but she was still his. She whimpered as his mouth left hers to explore and taste her throat and neck, his tongue tracing and teasing the companion mark he had given her so long ago. She moaned beneath him, shifting and opening herself to him, obviously wanting to feel him inside her. Jean was all too happy to oblige, quickly shedding his jeans and settling into her, cool skin to cool skin. With slow, controlled strokes he filled her, each loving movement going deeper and deeper until they both cried out with the sheer ecstasy of being joined once again. It was as if they had never been apart, as if she had never suffered or died. They were one, together again, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

A growl came from Liv as Jean slipped out of her. Her eyes flew open in surprise at the sound, yet Jean looked down lovingly at the now-ridged face of his beloved. He stroked her tenderly, feeling each line and curve of her vampire face. It was beautiful. He didn't know when he'd ever seen anyone so beautiful. He kissed her cheeks and forehead, tracing his tongue over the protruding portions over her eyes and nose. She purred beneath him. He moved to her mouth, capturing it and deliberately letting her razor sharp fangs pierce his lip. Drops of blood formed quickly and she licked them from him eagerly. A different sort of growl came from deep inside her, and she looked up at him again, yellow eyes tinged with fear.

"You're hungry, my love. It's all right," he said soothingly. "You need to feed. You should have fed before we …" His voice trailed off as a mischievous smile crept across his face. "We have blood here, but …" He kissed her before continuing. "But I don't want bagged, animal blood to be your first meal. You need the taste and feel of something real."

He rolled off her and pulled her close as he took the sharpened nail of her clawed hand and opened a shallow wound across his chest, just above his heart. He pulled her face close to his, kissing her deeply. "Drink, my love." He guided her mouth to the blood pooling on his skin. He gasped as she drew deeply from him. The feel of her mouth on him was more exquisite than he could ever remember; his blood flowing into her made him want her even more. He hardened beneath her, wanting to give her more than just his blood. He could see her face as she fed, glorious and hungry and in ecstasy. His was not her sire's blood, but it was rich with his strength and his love for her and would no doubt make her strong in her new life.

She released him, gasping from habit rather than from need, and gazed down at him. His blood covered her lips and fangs, and he could not resist tasting himself on her. She rolled to the side and pulled Jean with her, giving him the top once again, their mouths devouring each other. It was intoxicating, much more so than he thought possible. It wasn't as if he'd never tasted his own blood before, but he had never tasted it on her.

"Jean … " she moaned beneath him. "I'm hungry."

"I know, cher." He kissed her, tenderly licking the blood from her lips. "Drink me," he reassured her as he exposed his neck, inviting her to feed from him again.

"Too much?" She looked confused, yet she was panting in anticipation. She could still smell his blood, still taste it on her lips, and still feel it coursing through her. She wanted more, she needed more, but something inside her was afraid … for him.

"No, love." He spoke softly as he caressed her cheek. "It's not too much. It's never too much, my love, you take all that you need …"

"As much as I hate to intrude on this tender moment, fils, she's quite right, you know." The familiar voice of Jean's own sire boomed across the room like a warm blanket bringing comfort.

"Papa!" Jean looked over his shoulder from his position atop Olivia, then shifted, bringing them both upright. "I wasn't expecting you so soon." Jean jumped off the bed and went to embrace his father. Olivia, still in game face, wrapped the sheet around her and moved to the edge of the bed. While the two men spoke quietly, she turned away from them, taking the first opportunity she'd had to touch her new face. She knew she would never be able to see it in a reflection, but she couldn't resist the temptation to feel the ridges of her misshapen face and touch the sharp edges of her fangs. She wasn't shocked or repulsed by them-she had seen them enough on Jean and René and adored them-but she was more than a little curious and a little frightened. Would Jean still find her attractive like this?

"Let's take a look at our girl, then." Spike moved toward her casually, hiding his fear that because of the unwilling circumstances of her death, she might have to be destroyed.

Liv looked nervously at Jean, who quickly sat down next to her and took her hand in his. Spike took her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes, the heavenly blue of his own eyes shimmering at her like white diamonds. He examined her ridges visually first, then by touch, and as his hand slid down her cheek, her features involuntarily melted into her human face once again. He smiled. It was exactly what he wanted to see.

"She's something quite special, Jean." He never took his eyes from her, wanting to observe her closely for as long as he could. Jean sat by proudly, nodding and smiling. "I don't wonder René wanted to turn her."

Olivia had a crease of confusion for a moment and then realization shone in her eyes. She hadn't put it all together yet; she hadn't had to. Jean had been with her when she woke, and her last clear memories had been of him. But now she had no choice, she was forced to recall that it wasn't Jean who turned her, but René … and that it had been against her wishes. She suddenly bristled.

Spike continued to watch her closely. As angry as he was with René for doing this, they could not risk that she would reject her sire. It would seal her fate and make it impossible for her to survive in their ways if she could not or would not accept him. He stood for a few moments of indecision, unsure if she was ready to see him yet or not.

"I think you've kept her to yourself long enough, Jean. Why don't you leave us alone for a bit? Your mother is in the other room and no doubt is fretting." He looked back at Olivia with a conspiratorial grin. "She so loves to fret over new children." Spike did not mention that René was also out there, awaiting his father's orders.

"As you say, Papa." Jean kissed Olivia on the cheek and left quietly, closing the door behind him and leaving his long-term lover alone with the Master of New Orleans.

Spike sat down on the bed next to her, taking her hand in his and stroking it lightly. "Olivia … things did not go as you had wished, I know. Do you remember now?"

She nodded, a little afraid of meeting his eyes.

"René should not have changed you against your will, that is one of our rules. It is also one of the things that keep our family strong in its ability to do what is expected … to feed on no innocent and to love the family above all. You understand this?"

"I …I remember." She nodded, then paused a moment. Spike gave her time to gather her thoughts, knowing things were very confusing for her right now but internally grateful that Jean had been with her when she awoke. Having that quiet, intimate time with him first may very well have saved her.
Olivia went on. "How can I be strong? I want to learn … and … and to be strong enough to … to be …"

He squeezed her hand. "You have to defeat the demon within. Do you feel it? Do you feel a strong force urging you outside? To feed? To … kill?"

He saw her cringe a little, then her eyes turned up to him, filled with honesty and hope. "Yes, I feel it. It's like it's far away but coming nearer."

"You're lucky Jean was with you. Had you awoken alone, that force would have been much stronger and might have taken over."

Her eyes glistened as she looked past him toward the other room where Jean was. She still felt such love for him. She was coming to realize more and more what had happened to her and how things had changed. But she was surprised at how much she still loved Jean … and how angry she felt inside at René. She had loved René almost as long, though not as fiercely, as Jean. However, there was an anger inside her which she had not been able to understand until now, as Spike explained what happened to her.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. "I think that's about enough talk for now. Though Jean's blood is good, it is not enough right now. You will need more." He lifted his own wrist to his mouth and let his fangs slip down into place, piercing his flesh until blood began to pool. He held it up to her. "For you, cher. Your grandsire's blood should help keep the demon far away."

Her eyes locked on his as his yellow reverted back to blue and hers shifted to yellow. Not even blinking, she raised his wrist to her mouth and drew in the ambrosia of his blood. She felt her entire body go hot almost immediately. It was so rich and so good she wanted to let loose and let it wash over her. But she held tightly to her control, not going too fast or too urgently, but savoring every mouthful. She remembered Jean talking about sire's blood and how compelling it was, how intense and intoxicating it was. She couldn't imagine anything being better than this.

Spike felt the passion rising in her. He wanted to call Jean in, but his better judgment told him if he did, she would rely on him too much. He reached beneath her chin and lifted her face toward his. She lapped at the blood on her lips with a happy, satisfied grin that he quickly engulfed in a deep, arduous kiss. They lingered, tasting one another, until Spike broke the kiss gently.

"Jean?"

His son, almost on cue, opened the door and looked in questioningly. Spike said nothing, only nodding. Jean replied with a single nod of his head and vanished again.

The door opened a second time and René came into the room. She recognized him immediately in spite of the bruises on his face and the rapidly healing scar running from his left eye down his cheek. Obviously he had been in a fight. Something inside of her knew this, and she didn't fully understand it, but it was clear that someone had given him a thrashing. Considering how it marred that perfect face, it was harsh punishment in her eyes.

Olivia moved closer to Spike, clinging to him, unsure of René and the potential threat he could be. She still held an unclear fear of him, but she already trusted Spike implicitly. He put his arm around her and nibbled lightly on her neck, feeling her fear and distracting her from it, as he whispered soothing words of reassurance.

"It's okay, cher, he's not here to hurt you. He wants to help … it's his right." He turned her face gently toward the dark, handsome before her. "He is your sire. Look upon him with love and trust and accept what he offers you. Obey him without question and you will find the strength you need to be one of us."

René sat down on the bed next to Olivia, as he had done a hundred times with his brother. Spike still held her closely, turning her face up toward his own and kissing her deeply. His hand behind her began to stroke her back and shoulder. René's hand joined his father's. Spike's lips traveled down her neck toward her ear; René's took their place in the kiss, feeling Liv begin to relax in his touch. She parted her lips and he entered, filling her mouth with the taste of her sire. She moaned helplessly as she fell toward him, Spike continuing to touch and stroke and kiss her as she slowly moved more toward René, finding comfort and love there like she had never known, in the touch and kiss of her sire.

René's hands began to replace Spike's, touch for touch, caress for caress, as the Master began to withdraw and allow the sire his time with his childe. He urged them to lie back and covered them with the light sheet, then slipped from the room as they began to entangle and intertwine. Spike slipped from the room unnoticed as their kisses became more urgent.

René opened his eyes to look at her. She was magnificent, just as he knew she would be. The glow about her as a human was increased as a vampire, making her almost luminescent. He felt his own desire for her take over and it was as it had always been, except now their bond was deeper and unbreakable. The more simple lover's bond had been increased one hundred fold. She was his childe now, his responsibility, his to love and teach and care for and claim if he wanted to. His moments of self-doubt in turning her were washed away in the light and love he suddenly felt from and for her.

He nibbled down her throat, letting his fangs come out to gently scratch across her skin. She shivered, her body responding to him in ways it never had before. Her face changed as he explored her new body even further, kissing and sucking her cool flesh, occasionally scraping his sharp teeth across her skin. She moaned and writhed beneath him until she thought she would crawl out of her own skin. Wanting. Needing. Hungry for him.

He climbed back up her body, capturing her mouth with his own, letting her see his own changed face and feel it against hers. Then he whispered to her in French, telling her what to do, and opened himself to her, exposing his neck to her, inviting her to feed from him. She did as he instructed, powerless against the seductive and beautiful voice of her sire, and slowly slid her fangs into him, drawing in deeply and screaming with the intensity of it. René's cry joined hers as she fed and he continued to love and stroke her, playing her body with the touch only he could offer and feeding her with the most profound blood she would ever experience.

Jean jumped to his feet from the overstuffed chair in the middle of the room at the sound of Olivia's cry. Spike smiled at him playfully, placing a sympathetic hand on his son's arm. "It seems to be going well, don't you think?" Jean just stared a little, not really sure how to react. He knew this was necessary, but he'd never had to 'wait outside' for René and Olivia, though René had certainly waited for them countless times. He gave his father a sheepish grin and shrugged.

"Come here, m'Jean, come here with your mama and me." Spike led him by the hand to the sofa where Baby was curled up reading and settled him between them. Four arms were suddenly encircling him, holding and loving him while he tried not to focus on what was going on in the next room. He wanted to be there. He needed to be there. But he also knew that Olivia needed René right now, and he also knew that René needed her as well. René needed for her to be strong enough, even more than Jean did. He needed her to defeat the demon within and make it all okay. Jean knew, deep in his heart, that what René had done was out of love for him … they both needed Olivia to come through this healthy and strong and a part of the family. If she didn't, it could very well destroy them both.

Spike began to distract Jean's thoughts with soft kisses and nibbles on his neck and face. Baby touched and caressed him, his chest, his shoulders and arms. He flinched away from her for just a moment; he was still raw where she was concerned, his fear that she would take René away from him keeping him distant and untrusting. But she was insistent, giving more of herself and her affection to him, kissing him tenderly, nuzzling into his neck and whispering sweet words of assurance and love. Clothing began to shed and soon the three of them were mingled as one, the emotions from René and Olivia feeding each of them as well with their intensity.

In Olivia's arms, René became the proper sire, just as Spike had hoped he would, loving and giving and nurturing his new childe as she needed him. Hours went by in a blur of lovemaking and feeding, cries and emotions from the other room keeping the pair anchored in the frenzy that such coupling brought. When they were spent, they would sleep, limbs tangled like the roots of a very old tree. They would awaken with Renewed passion and continue their journey together … sire and childe … until they would fall once again into the abyss of peaceful, satisfied sleep.

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

Olivia came into the kitchen wearing nothing but a silk robe, her bare feet padding quietly over the hardwood floor. She smiled at the sight of the naked trio asleep on the sofa stacked on top of one another; Spike was on the bottom, his head nestled on a small pile of pillows, Jean was atop him, his head on Spike's chest, and Baby lay along her son's back, the curve of her stomach fitting perfectly on the curve of Jean's ass. Liv moved toward them and just watched them for a few moments, perfect and blissful and beautiful. This was what she had joined, what she had been afraid to become a part of. She suddenly marveled at her silliness. How could she have wanted to forgo such love and devotion?

As she watched them, René's arms slipped around her from behind, his lips cool on her neck, his words lovely music to her ears and heart. "They beautiful, aren't they, cher?"

"I was just thinking that." She looked over her shoulder at him and kissed him lightly. "Should we wake them?"

"No, petite, let them sleep." René stood there, his arms snuggly around Liv, admiring his family silently. They really were beautiful, the bleached blonde of his sire, the dark brown hair of his brother, and Baby's brilliant red hair. They were a Botticelli painting, all softness and love.

"Shower?" René's voice filled her with joy, just the mere one-word utterance.

"Mmmm, yes, please." She pressed back into his chest, his arms tightening around her. "Then coffee."

René raised a mischievous eyebrow.

"Well, okay, coffee at SOME point."

"Yeah, cher." He kissed her deeply. "At some point."

Chapter Eight

October 12, 2018

Cordelia pulled into the little parking area adjacent to Olivia's beach house. She sat on the hood of the car for a few minutes and took off her shoes while she stared at the ocean that today reminded her particularly of home. Sometimes she really missed L.A. As she listened to the waves play upon the sand she went over what she had to tell Liv. They had been good friends, and Liv was one of the few human friends she had anymore. She was looking forward to seeing her friend again. It had been too long, months it seemed, since they had seen one another. Still, Cordy cringed at the thought of some of the things she would have to tell her friend today, things which would hurt her, possibly break her heart.

She went to the beach side door and knocked. It was warm on the deck, even in the shade, and she suddenly realized that she didn't get out as much in the day as she should.

As the door opened, Cordy saw a thin, frail-looking woman who was almost a shadow of her old friend. Olivia's face broke into a welcoming smile and immediately dispelled her worries. She embraced Cordy and invited her in, chatting casually and offering her something to drink. They settled into the Adirondack chairs on the deck before a silence fell between them, both of them looking at the distant horizon.

Olivia finally spoke. "I've missed you," she started. "But as much as I would love to think this is a social call … it isn't … is it? What's happened?"

Cordy sighed. Olivia always observed much more than people gave her credit for. "Lots." She took a sip of her tea. "You know that Marie died."

Olivia nodded. She had waited for Jean to come to her. He wouldn't allow her to come to him and comfort him and be with him when he needed her. He didn't want to have to explain her presence to his daughters, she had understood that. But she knew Marie had died over two months ago and Jean had never appeared. It had taken all her strength to not run to him immediately afterward. She had waited for him, sure he would come to her and finally relax from the tensions and pains of the funeral and family matters and allow himself to grieve. Except … he never came. By the time she had realized he wasn't coming to her she had gotten the bad news from her doctor and didn't feel right chasing him down just to present him with the possibility that he would have to watch another woman that he loved waste away and die.

Cordelia continued. "Jean was in pretty bad shape. I was surprised you weren't in New Orleans."

"I … he didn't want me there," she said quietly. "It would have been awkward with the girls there, and … I had hoped he would come back to Mobile."

"He did." Cordy looked at her, surprised. Jean hadn't been in contact with her at all? She thought after he had gotten himself together that perhaps he'd have seen her. She'd noticed that she didn't see Liv at the big pink house anymore, but she hadn't realized Jean hadn't even contacted her. This was about to get more difficult. She took another long drink from her glass.

"René brought him back and cared for him … and …" She just couldn't tell her. She knew it would hurt her friend to know … but she also knew that she had to know. She couldn't seem to make her mouth say the words.

Liv was staring at her. "What's wrong, Cordy? Is Jean all right??" A note of panic was beginning to show around the edges of her voice.

"Yes, yes, Liv, he's okay." Cordy patted her hand, then held it, trying desperately not to look into her friend's eyes. "It's just … René … and Jean … "

Liv slipped her hand from beneath Cordy's and reached for the collar of her loose-fitting shirt, tugging at it as if it were too tight and she couldn't breathe. After a moment she turned tear-filled eyes toward Cordelia. "René claimed Jean … "

Cordy was shocked that she had figured it out and nodded slowly. "Yes … yes, he did." As she responded, Liv lowered her head again, a single tear splashing onto her lap before she raised her head again, a smile making a vain attempt at concealing the pain in her eyes.

"I know … I felt it … from both of them." She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts, trying to put them into words that convincingly hid the pain she felt inside. "I'm glad for Jean. It is what he's always wanted." Her hand shook a little as she raised her tea glass to her lips again and drained it.

"H … how did you know?" Cordy gasped, more than a little confused.

Liv gave her a sad smile, a hint of laughter in her voice, as she stroked the marks on her neck. "Well, these helped. Though I'm no one's consort, their marks let me feel some things, particularly intense emotions. It's how I knew Marie had died, it's how I knew René had … " She looked up at her friend with an expression of acceptance. She obviously hadn't liked that they were consorts, but she had not objected. It had, however, obviously hurt. Cordy couldn't even imagine what she had felt, the man she loved having always been in love with someone else and finally having that love returned. It must have been agony to feel every kiss, caress, and climax the two had experienced without her … Cordy herself could only remember the pain that shot through her when she felt Angel and Baby together. How had Olivia survived it?

"Besides, geez, Cordy. How long have you known them?" Olivia was staring at her, a hint of incredulity on her face. "You can't be in the same room with them and not know how Jean feels." She changed her focus, looking back out over the water, watching the sun and sky reflected in it even as it moved and churned toward the shore. "I've known from the first time the three of us were together, even before I was marked. After all our years together there's little they can hide from me, even if they wanted to. And Jean …" Her voice broke just a little, "Jean has been in love with René since the first day I met him." She stood and walked to the rail, sucking on a large piece of ice from her glass, and then spitting it out onto the sand. "I could use something a bit stronger than this, how about you?"

Once inside, Liv pulled out a pre-made pitcher of margaritas from the fridge, salted two large glasses and added ice. Margaritas on the rocks, no one made them better. She handed Cordy a glass and tilted her own toward it. "To the love of a good man." They clinked their glasses and then half-drained them, both women hoping the tequila would dull the ache they both suddenly felt.

Silently they went back outside, Liv bringing the pitcher, Cordy bringing the salt, just as the sun began to make its late afternoon descent toward the west, leaving long shadows along the beach and the water. The two women chatted about unimportant things and life-altering things, their lives, their loves, their pains and sorrows. They shared. A lot.

Cordy went into detail of how badly things were going with Angel, how he'd damned near killed René, and how angry she still was with him about everything. She told Liv about Baby returning to René and how that had pretty much turned the household upside down.

"I know," she said sadly. "I must admit I'm rather tired of the sight and sound of her in my head every time she and René …" Her voice trailed off. She knew it already. Again, she had felt René's joy and Jean's pain through their link. It hadn't taken much to figure out what had happened. She could never seem to get the sight of Baby out of her head … either in a loving embrace or associated with a sense of resentment. She just always seemed to be in both of their thoughts, so she was also in Liv's.

"I thought Jean might come to me when Baby appeared." Her voice sounded strong and self-assured, but there was still this tiny pain around its edges. Again she was waiting for him, again he didn't come. "He doesn't need me like he used to," she said quietly.

Cordy cringed a little. "That's my fault. I did everything I could to distract him. He was in a lot of pain and wouldn't admit it. Every time they touched, every time they …. " She stopped, seeing the knowing expression on Liv's face. "I'm sorry … you felt it all, too … didn't you?"

Liv shrugged. "Some of it. I didn't see you, I just kept feeling sex. I thought it was Baby and René. Then I couldn't feel Jean, just sex … they … they never blocked things from me."

Cordy suddenly felt her throat tighten. It had to have been agony for her to experience all that, all those extremes of emotions from both men at the same time, and still be so far apart from it. Liv seemed to read her mind.

"It's okay, Cordelia. I could still feel them, and that was important to me. I'm just … I'm just glad to know they are both okay. I was worried about Jean when I realized she'd come back."

They both drank in silence for a while, mulling over what the other had said, the things that had happened.

"Cordy …" she began again tentatively. "Should I go to Jean? I mean, does he need me, in that big house with everyone else … and with Baby and René being all, well, Baby and René?"

"Liv," she said, a little disbelieving, "He's not there. Jean's not there. He left. He and Spike went to California to see Giles and enlist his help in finding Nina."

"What? Nina?! What's happened to Nina?" Liv was stunned and obviously very worried.

"Oh boy, I've left out chunks of stuff. I'm so sorry. Nina's been missing since September 21st. No one can find her … she appears to have run away."

"Good Lord!" A million unpleasant thoughts crowded into Liv's brain. Where could the girl have gone to? She hadn't seemed unhappy the last time she'd seen her, just typical teenager stuff. What on earth could have gotten into the girl's head to make her bolt like that? "Well, let's get going, then; let's see what you and I can drum up that the undeads haven't thought of yet." She was already standing, albeit shakily.

Cordy put her hand on Liv's arm. "She's not here, she's not in Mobile anymore. René has been everywhere, we've all been everywhere. There is no … scent … of her in Mobile at all."

Liv froze. "He's not here?" Her mind was spinning. She hadn't believed she was so out of things, so insensitive to Jean himself now and what he was feeling and thinking that she didn't even know he had left. She sat back down in her chair, suddenly dizzy. "He … he left?" Her voice broke slightly, a mixture of confusion and pain. He'd left. He'd not only left her, he'd left René. It didn't make sense.

"Baby asked him to. She asked him to take Spike to California to see … I think … I think to see the Slayer. They are looking for Nina, too, but it all kind of fit together into one thing and … I'm sorry, Liv. He's gone."

She couldn't stand it anymore. Tears began streaming down her face. Jean was gone. And she hadn't even known. Her glass dropped to the deck, shattering, as both of her hands gripped the arms of her chair tightly. Her knuckles turned white, not in anger as much as in fear. She suddenly felt lost. The trauma of the last month piled on top of her like oppressive heat making it almost impossible to breathe. "Cordy … I … help me." She turned terrified eyes to her friend, as she felt more and more frightened.

"God! Liv! What's wrong, you're pale as a ghost … you're … oh God!" It dawned on her. Dammit, why hadn't she seen it the moment she saw Liv at the door? Her own demon senses should have gone off like a fire alarm, but she was so worried about how her friend was going to take all this bad news that she hadn't even thought about asking her how she was, what had been going on with her, why she smelled like drugs and disinfectant. "Oh God … Liv! What is wrong? You're sick. God! You're sick!" She was panicking; she didn't want to panic, but she was, and it wasn't going to help Liv, and it wasn't going to help Jean, and she suddenly felt like that silly 17-year-old schoolgirl whose only concerns were expensive shoes and who she went to the dance with. She felt shallow and stupid and oddly desperate.

"Shhhh, no, Cordy, I'm … I'll be okay."

Her voice was quiet and fragile. Cordy chastised herself for it. Liv's voice had been quiet and fragile the entire time she'd been there, why hadn't she noticed?

"At least, I think I'll be okay … I'm … I'm going to need some help, though. I need … I need for you to not tell anyone, especially Jean. He couldn't stand it, and I don't want him to see me like this."

More realization dawned on Cordelia. Of course she hadn't been around René's … she'd lost so much weight she was all but wasting away-she was pale and drawn, her eyes were sunken in, and even in the dusk she could tell Liv was losing her hair as well. Of course she wouldn't have come to Rene's, of course she wouldn't have wanted Jean to see her like this, not after what he went through with Marie. Liv must have felt every heartache Jean experienced while at that hospital all those months. Then to be handed her own illness to deal with? It just wasn't fair.

"What can I do?" In spite of her mind trying to catch up with what her heart should have known immediately, she was ready to do whatever Liv needed.

"I … I have to have surgery."

"When?"

"Day after tomorrow." Liv couldn't even face her, she was looking solemnly down at her hands folded in her lap.

"Day after … good God, Olivia! Why didn't you tell me?" Even as she asked, she knew the answer. Liv didn't want Jean to know. And if Cordy knew, she assumed Jean would know. Cordy calmed herself and took her friend's hands in her own. "Listen … I'm going back to the house and get some things, I'll tell René something, that I'm over here with you hanging out for awhile. He'll understand. Baby's there, things are hectic. He's focused on her and trying to keep Nina's disappearance from her." She got up to go, then stopped. "Do you want to come with me? See René? See … her?"

"No."

Somehow Cordelia wasn't surprised by that answer. "Will you be okay until I get back?"

Liv nodded quietly, a little overcome by Cordy's enthusiasm to take charge and care for her. She'd been okay for more than six months without hearing from anyone, she figured she could last an hour or so longer. A touch of bitterness entered her thoughts, then she ejected it. Negative was not going to help right now. "I'll be fine. Just … just please don't let Jean know."

Cordy helped Liv clean up the shattered glass before she left and made sure she was settled safely into the house. Then she was gone like a shot, hitting René's house in record time.

"Hey! What's the hurry?" Sam saw her running up the stairs. Cordelia Chase-Angel never ran up the stairs. Never.

Cordy stopped, mid-step. Yes, dork, you are drawing attention to yourself. Calm. Calm. "Hey Sam." She forced a cheerful, non-concerned smile toward him. "Oh, I've, uh, decided to spend a few days with a friend. Things here are under control and … I … uh think she could use some company about now."

"Okay. Need any help?" He was making his way up toward her.

"No, no, that's okay. Just gathering a few things." By the time she finished he was at her side, smiling.

"Be sure and tell Liv we miss her around here."

"Huh? Oh! Sure, okay." Damned vampires, she thought to herself.

"Things don't run as smoothly around here without her. I know the Horacheks are skimming, probably the Barbours too, but I can't catch them at it with this sub par bookkeeper we're using now." He was starting to mumble.

Cordy tried to be polite and excuse herself, but she stopped short. "Sam …." She thought for a minute. She'd said Jean, don't let Jean know. She didn't say anything about Sam. "Sam … um … come with me, I need to talk to you."

When they got to her rooms she began packing, all the while asking him if Liv's rooms were still hers and if he thought she could be there without being detected by every vampire in the place. She was casual about it, but Sam could tell she was anything but casual about this.

He sat down on the edge of her bed. "All right, Cordelia. Spill it. What the Hell is going on?"

She sighed heavily and explained it as best she could with as much knowledge as she had. She realized she didn't know what was wrong with her, only that she was sick and surgery was required, and as soon as Cordy had gotten to the house on Old Government she realized that Liv shouldn't be at the beach house alone or with just her. No matter what she was having done, she needed the care and protection of her family. And they were her family.

Sam took it all in stride, nodding and agreeing with everything she said. "I'll see to it. Her rooms will be fresh and ready. While she's at the hospital I'll go get her favorite CDs from the beach house, maybe get her some movies. What do you think?"

Cordelia closed her bag and planted a warm, affectionate kiss on Sam. "I think you're wonderful." She smiled and headed down the stairs. He caught up with her half-way, grabbed the bag, and carried it to the car, sending her off with a smile.

She stopped just before she headed out. "And Sam … um … don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want anyone to know unless they figure it out on their own." She paused for a few moments, then added, "Especially Jean."

"Consider it done. Call me when she goes in."

"Will do," and Cordy was off, headed back to the beach at breakneck speed.

By the time Cordy returned, Liv was doing tequila shots, that heady mix of lemon, salt, and tequila that seemed to dull the pain when nothing else would.

Cordy breezed in and nabbed the shot in Liv's hand, downing it herself. "You know, this is probably not a good thing to do if you're going in for surgery in two days. Shouldn't you be on, like, yogurt and fruit or something?"

Liv cringed. "Yeah, right. You want to kill me before they do?" She suddenly wished she hadn't put it that way.

Cordy got it and nodded, then poured them both a shot. Holding her glass up in a toast: "To bow-legged men."

Liv broke into a huge smile, held up her glass, and said, "Amen." They both swallowed it down, shivered a bit, then smiled at one another.

Cordy dragged her friend over to the sofa and sat her down, hit play on the CD player and got them both something non-alcoholic to drink … for now. "Okay, friend … things are taken care of, and what's not, I'll take care of myself. So … tell me … what's wrong and what do the doctors have to say about it? What's the prognosis?"

Liv sighed. She had not looked forward to this part. She tried to make it as short as possible. "Cancer. Ovarian. Hard to detect early. Yanking the plumbing. Even then, not very good." Then she took a drink of the iced tea Cordy had given her and stayed silent.

Cordy processed for a few minutes. Then made the mental list of questions and tried to screen them and phrase them as gently as she could. "Plumbing? Hysterectomy?" Liv nodded. "Full or partial?"

Liv took another drink. "Full."

Cordy visibly cringed. "No children."

"Nope." She was way more casual about it than she felt and substantially more casual than Cordy was. "But … Cordy …" She turned toward her friend, tucking one leg beneath her, "I'm 39 years old. What are the chances I was going to have children now anyway?" She paused for a moment, glancing away from her friend, not wanting her to see what was in her eyes. "Besides, I knew when I got involved with all these vampires that I wouldn't be having any children. I haven't been with anyone but Jean and René since I was in my early 20's." This time it was Cordy's turn to nod. She knew exactly what she meant. "Oh sure, I would have liked to give Jean a son. He had a houseful of daughters, after all, I think it's about the only regret from his human life, but … " Liv realized she was rambling. "Well, you know." She took another drink to shut herself up.

Cordy went down the list of necessary questions. "Chemo?"

Liv nodded. "After."

"Radiation?"

She nodded again. "Been there. Done that. Want my t-shirt?" She tried to smile. "No real effect."

"Damn, that's not going to be much of a picnic, huh."

Liv shrugged resolutely. She'd stopped trying to fight her doctors who wanted to do all manner of horrible things to her body in an effort to make it last longer. She had finally caved in, allowing the surgery, which would then be followed by chemotherapy. What she hadn't told the team of oncologists was that if the surgery didn't get all of it, or what appeared to be all of it, she wasn't going to spend the rest of her limited life bald and throwing up. She wasn't sure, when the time came for it, that she'd agree to the chemotherapy at all. Radiation had done bupkis. She had no desire to suffer at the hands of any other useless methods. She'd rather spend her days enjoying what was left of her life with those she loved.

"Liv?" Cordy broke her from her thoughts. "Are you going to ask Jean to turn you? Or René?" This had become such an accepted part of Cordelia's life that it seemed a logical question to ask. Those close to the family rarely died. They were turned.

Liv couldn't look at her, choosing instead to look down into her almost empty glass. "I … I don't want to be turned at all."

"What??" Cordy wasn't sure she'd heard right. "You what??"

Liv sighed. "Cordy, I don't want to be turned. I don't want my body running around after I've died. I don't want some demon setting up housekeeping in it having a heyday fighting, feeding, and having sex. I don't want to look down from Heaven and see the man I love loving something that looks like me but is not me." She stopped. She hadn't meant to say that part out loud. It was her biggest fear, more than pain, more than cancer, more than death. She did not want Jean to love something that was not her.

"Liv … I … " Cordy was stunned. "Oh my God, I … I had no idea you felt that way. I mean, all the people in your life, most of them anyway, are vampires. They love you, you love them."

"I know it's hard for you to understand, but the vampires I know and love I've known only since they were vampires, not as the men, or women, they were before. I love them, the demon them, because that is all I've ever known of them. I know who I am, I know where my faith lies, and that when God chooses to end my life I know where I'm headed. I'm not frightened of it. But I am frightened of what my body could become."

Cordelia knew when to shut up. This was not the time. She sat quietly and listened while Liv explained technically what was going to happen to her and what she did not want to happen to her. It all made sense, she had obviously thought it all through. But a recurring thought came to her over and over again … how would Jean be able to deal with losing her like this?

They talked for hours, about their lovers, about their lives, about how their lovers had changed their lives. Liv fell asleep just before dawn, Cordy's arms wrapped tightly and protectively around her. The next few months were going to be difficult. She only hoped they were all strong enough to get through it, and that Liv could have her life, and death, the way she wanted it. Something inside her said that wasn't going to be easy.

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

December 24, 2019

It was Christmas Eve and René's house was well lit and festively decorated. Olivia had outdone herself. The entryway and stairway literally glowed with garlands, sugared fruit, lights and ribbons of gold brocade. Classy, elegant, perfect. There were Christmas trees in all of the common rooms, each with a different theme and each with wrapped gifts beneath them that matched the theme of their tree. She had carefully avoided the use of crosses, for herself as much as any of the non-Redeemed, yet there was no doubt that this house was celebrating the birth of Christ. It was one of the most festive in Mobile, one of the houses families drove by just to see and admire.

Olivia had spent the last few weeks getting accustomed to her new life as part of the undead. Though many necessary changes she had already made voluntarily, such as becoming a night person rather than a day one and avoiding the sun, because of her time with the family and particularly Jean, René, and Sam. She had dived back into the business end of René's empire in Mobile. Sam was pleased to have her back, their backup bookkeeper having not exactly been fastidious about record keeping while Olivia had been ill. She had the mess cleaned up within a few days, a list of those who had been skimming tribute in Sam's hands, and a more efficient method of running the household within a week. Then she had turned her attention to the festivities of Christmas, making sure the help had adequate time off with their families, with a pocketful of gratuity to assist them.

Everyone had been amazed at how quickly and easily she had adapted. Considering the length of her illness and the rather dubious manner in which she was turned, Sam had kept a close eye on her to be sure she was adjusting well, that there were no signs of weakness, and that her demon was kept well in check. Obviously the combination of sire and grandsire blood had worked wonders for her, not to mention the attention Jean had lavished on her. The weakness she had suffered during her illness was obliterated and she had become a positive and productive member of the family quickly. Sometimes he marveled at her and what she could accomplish.

She slept between Jean and René, their strength and their love for her nurturing her like no other. When Baby was there, Liv stayed only with Jean, who always seemed pleased to have the time alone with her. She hunted with the family and fed as they did, and she fed from her sire and her lover and became strong and seemingly happy with the new arrangements.

The only true change in her activities had been the inordinate amount of time she now spent with Easy. The former priest had returned to Mobile under somewhat mysterious circumstances, refusing to discuss Becca or the situation in Baltimore. The moment he had arrived, Liv had latched onto him. He had reassured her that her soul was indeed in Heaven, being the good Catholic that she was, and this went a long way to making her more comfortable and happy in her new existence. They spent hours hidden away, having philosophical discussions about vampires, demons, the Redeemed, and their chances of going to Heaven. Both had come to terms with their souls already living their Heavenly reward, but it seemed to bother Liv that she didn't know what would happen to the demon her when she was dust. She took great comfort in Easy and his insistence that she had not lost her chance at Heaven because of being turned.

She did, however, miss her participation in church. It was not something she spoke about; her religion was always a very private thing for her. But she missed her beads, she missed mass, she missed communion, she missed being blessed, and she missed the peace she had always found inside the house of God. Something inside still gnawed at her: there was a tiny seed of doubt that becoming a vampire had ruined her chance at Heaven, something which had always been important to her. In spite of Easy's reassurances, that little doubt still taunted her, and it was the one way her demon could upset her. Whenever she felt tired or weak, that little voice would remind her that what she did now didn't matter, her soul was in Heaven, she was leftover refuse who had no place in Heaven or Hell … or on Earth.

As the sun set on Christmas Eve, the household literally buzzed with excitement. Toys had been collected, purchased, and wrapped for the Women and Children's Shelter of the Waterfront Rescue Mission, along with clothing and a sizeable monetary contribution to help with their new expansion. Sam and Easy had taken over the project the moment Liv had mentioned it, and the entire household had been excited about bringing some Christmas joy to those who were less fortunate.

When the caravan returned there would be a feast in the main dining room not for the family itself but for the help. The staff and their families had been invited for food and gifts, served by the family. It had been Liv's idea, of course, a show of gratitude and appreciation to the human servants at a time of joyous celebration. Again, the household had grabbed the idea and run with it. Extravagant gifts were purchased for the children as well as the adults; the very best and freshest turkeys, ham, and produce were prepared for their meal. Those who attended early mass were picked up by limo and brought to the house, those who wished to attend late services were taken afterward. The feast was enjoyed, gifts were given, songs were sung, and a household that would not have been expected to celebrate Christmas literally teemed with its joy and spirit.

When things calmed and the guests had left, the family quietly gathered in the main living room while the minions cleaned up. Small tokens were exchanged amongst the childer, gifts of books, photographs, and music, each expressing the intimate knowledge they had of one another. Each gift was given with love and appreciation for the unique individuals they all were.

Olivia watched quietly from her seat next to Jean; his right arm was thrown possessively around her, his other hand holding her hand that now bore the silver ring he had given her. The intertwining Celtic-like design hugged the middle finger of her right hand, the three strands representing her, Jean, and René and their never-ending bond. Being here at this time with these people who she loved so much … she belonged. She was home. Except . . . Except for one bit of unresolved business which she had been putting off, something which needed to be done, a gift which needed to be given.

She slipped from Jean's grasp, kissing him lightly and whispering affection in his ear, then she sought out René. She found him across the room, embracing Sam. Waiting patiently for her turn, when he turned toward her, she kissed him on the cheek and took his hand, leading outside into the rose garden.

One of the wonders of Alabama was the warm climate that made it possible for some specialty roses to bloom. Other parts of the country did not get to experience the fresh scent of blooming roses in December. It filled her with springtime and newness, and she was suddenly very glad she had chosen to take him to the garden for this exchange. She found a special alcove surrounded by blooms and faced him, taking both of his hands in hers and looking up into his now-puzzled face.

"René … my love, my sire." She spoke sincerely but formally. "There are things which need to be said between us. Important things." She paused, swallowing in her now-dry throat. This wasn't going to be as easy as she had thought. "When … when I was alive, and sick, you and Jean offered, even begged, to turn me." She pulled away slightly, glancing to the roses for a moment to collect her thoughts, then returned her gaze to him. "Over and over again, I said no. I did not want to be changed. I wanted to die a natural death, I wanted my place in Heaven. I wanted peace in the knowledge that my body wasn't running amuck in Mobile killing and doing God knows what."

René stood there stoically, listening to her, all the guilt and shame of what he had done washing over him again, just as it had the moment he had turned her. He did not regret having done it, but he regretted that it was against her will, forced on her as if she were some piece of unwilling food that a lesser vampire had chosen to change on his own. He understood why she didn't want it, but he had felt then, and still did, that she would be strong enough, that, with his and Jean's help, she would be a great addition to their family and a comfort and love to Jean. René still could not imagine how Jean would have survived had she died and not come back.

"I want you to know, René," she continued. "I want you to know that, in my two weeks as your daughter, I love my life here. My discussions with Easy have convinced me that I've not lost anything, but have instead gained something, a second existence which is more than I was before, without sacrificing the person I was." She lifted his hands to her lips and turned them over, kissing both of his palms before releasing their hands completely.

She looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts one last time, her right hand beginning to ball up, clenching tighter and tighter. Her eyes met his again, tears being forcibly held back as a flash of anger crossed her delicate features. Before he even saw it coming, her clenched fist clocked him across the jaw, knocking him back slightly, leaving him stunned.

Words tumbled from her mouth unchecked and filled with anger. "If you EVER do something to me against my will again, I'll dust you in your fucking sleep! Do you get it, René? Sire or not! You took a risk with my life you had NO RIGHT to take! DON'T. DO. IT. AGAIN." She was absolutely furious. The anger and betrayal she felt the night she was changed came leaping to the fore, spilling over onto him with venom and resentment. For a split second, he was actually afraid of her. Then as quickly as it had appeared, her anger was gone.

Her brown eyes, filled with unspilled tears, looked calmly up into the flashing, slightly terrified depths of teal which belonged to her sire. Love spilled into him through their link. She lifted up onto her toes and kissed him softly, letting their lips linger together a few moments, sealing what had just happened with love. When she stood back down, breaking their kiss, she leaned over and took something from behind a bench, a small box wrapped in only a deep crimson ribbon. She offered it to him … the only gift she had for him, besides the slightly swelling bruise on his jaw.

With no words exchanged, he untied the ribbon and opened the box. It was empty. He looked at her again, confusion clearly written on his face.

"You think it's empty, don't you?" Her voice was calm and loving. "It's not."

He looked into the box again then back at her.

She placed both of her hands tenderly on his. "This box, this gift, my father, my sire, my love … is filled with forgiveness." She lifted up again and pressed her lips to his, once more pouring her love into him … not just the love of a childe for her sire, but from a woman to a man, from one lover to another; everything she had of herself she offered to him, a healing seal on their hearts.

René accepted it all, dropping the box to the ground and wrapping himself around her, feeling every negative thought and feeling melt away, every tiny bit of guilt he had, every morsel of resentment she'd held back dissipated into the cool night air. He lifted her off the ground, crushing her to him, as she worked her lips toward his ear, whispering softly. "We'll never speak of this again, cher, it is done, it is forgiven, we are what we are now and will forever be connected by our bonds and our love."

René felt tears well up into his own eyes. What two minutes ago was rapidly becoming a nightmare had moved into one of the most profound moments of his life.

She smiled up at him. "We'd better get back inside before Jean thinks we're going out on him."

René hugged her to him one more time, then they returned to the party, each with an arm wrapped tightly around the other.

Jean turned toward them as they came back into the room. His smile rivaled the lights on the trees. He'd felt it all … the love, the forgiveness, the newness of their lives. He embraced them both, kissing Olivia first, then René. As his lips merged with those of his consort, Liv's sweet voice brushed across their ears. "Merry Christmas, my loves."

Chapter Nine

January 4, 2020

Olivia sat at her desk in René's office in the big, pink house in Mobile, finishing up the year-end accounts and putting the finishing touches on the financial reports Sam was waiting for. Some of the lesser groups had been skimming from their tribute, and it was showing. Sam would not be happy. She'd long given up whether or not René minded. Sam took care of business, she'd learned that early. René did what he wanted and preferred not to get involved unless it became a matter of being disrespectful to the Master and his family. Then he'd make an appearance, dust a few rebels to remind them why he was Master, and the masses would be quietly obedient from then after. Obedience to Sam meant they would be spared the Master's wrath.

Although Liv's life had unalterably changed, she'd fallen back into a comfortably familiar routine. She worked on the financial and business dealings of René's empire just as she had done the last few years she was human. From time to time she still played at the Pink Pony Pub or crashed at her beach house, but for the most part she remained at René's mansion, keeping the household running, and stayed in his bed between him and Jean, if Baby wasn't there, and with just Jean if she was. And when that happened the house literally hummed with sex. Jean and Olivia's links to René would spread into their bed as well. Though in two separate rooms, it was as if all four of them were together. It was quite the rush.

The bond with her sire had become the most important anchor to her life; they were connected in a way she could not understand before and now could not imagine living without. René's presence made her blossom, though her heart still belonged to Jean. When both of them were with there, her life was perfection. She couldn't have hoped for the happy and pain-free life she now led. There were times when she felt the emptiness of a cold heart and no soul, but overall those things had been replaced with relationships and love that she'd have never thought possible. She was different, but she was the same.

Only a week after she had been turned, Spike felt she was strong enough to hunt with the family. It had been the most glorious experience of her life. She had heard Cordelia and Wes and Jack talk about the thrill of hunting with them and the spectacular "activities" which followed, and she had been privy to a little of the post-hunt intimacy with both Jean and René, but she had never experienced the thrill of it all for herself. The excitement of tracking down a criminal, of saving an innocent, of feeding from the hot blood of someone as they perished in her arms and the heat that spread through her body from it. She had almost come out of her skin with want after that first hunt. Her clothes didn't come off fast enough, she wasn't touched quickly enough, and she wanted Jean inside her instantly. He had happily obliged, and the bonding which followed with him, René, Baby, Spike, Sam and a few of the other siblings had been one of the most profound experiences of her existence.

It had also turned into a valuable lesson of control for her, keeping the demon at bay while still enjoying the thrill of the kill and the all-consuming fire of passion afterward. She quickly recognized how easy it would be to let the demon loose when her body and spirit were so out of control. She took particular note of how it felt and how to stay in command of things. Jean had been incredible in helping her conquer it and still enjoy it. René had touched her mind repeatedly as well as her body in an effort to help her know and understand. Afterwards she felt glorious and powerful and, most of all, loved.

Now, things were returning to business as usual. She still had adjustments to make, but Sam was very helpful. His continued presence, combined with Jean and René, made her feel strong and confident in what she was doing and what she was feeling.

Today, however, she felt a little unsettled. Jean and René had gone to New Orleans to take care of some important family business. She had convinced them both that with Sam's help she would be fine and promised not to go out hunting on her own. She was well aware that she wasn't ready for that, and at this point in her new life she wouldn't have felt comfortable doing it anyway. She promised to stick close to Sam and to the house until they returned. On the one hand she was pleased they felt so confident in her abilities; on the other, she knew she would miss them terribly. She hadn't slept alone since she had been turned.

As the night dragged on, she became more and more uncomfortable with them gone. Sam noticed it in her and stayed close, and even touched René's mind a bit to let him know they needed to wrap their business up in a hurry. She was restless. After 2 o'clock he didn't leave the room again, casually moving closer and closer to her while they both worked until he couldn't stand her anxiety any longer and wrapped his arms around her tightly from behind, holding her to him.

"They'll be back soon, sweetheart. Do you want to stay with me tonight? We're not getting any work done anyway."

Olivia leaned back into him and let out a heavy sigh. She'd had no idea how much she had needed that reassurance until those strong arms engulfed her and made her feel safe again. She nodded. Staying with Sam was a good idea. René being so far away left her feeling vulnerable. Sam always made her feel protected.

"I know it's early, but let's go ahead and turn in. We'll get a fresh start on things tomorrow." He moved to her side and reached his hand out to her. She took it gratefully, her soft smile saying everything. They shut down the office and headed up to Sam's rooms about 3 a.m. A little after 4 a.m. their world exploded in a blaze of blinding pain and silence.

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

By dawn the majority of the screaming and wailing in the house had begun to die down. It had taken almost three hours for Sam to get the household under control again and gather everyone into the kitchen to discuss what to do. Coffee and blood were set out for those who needed either or both. Sam had made countless calls to New Orleans to see if he could find out what happened. He'd gotten no answer.

From the hollow ache in his own heart it was evident what had happened. René was dead. All bonds with him had been broken. They were no longer his children or lovers. No one bound them together any longer. He was gone, as if he had never existed, and his absence left a gaping hole in every one of them.

Most of the children couldn't function or wandered about unfocused and shattered. Some of them still cried softly but were trying to gather themselves together, the prideful children of René Beaumont, Master of Mobile. Sam buried his grief and his emptiness and channeled his energy into finding out what had happened and figuring out what they could or should do. Consulting Spike seemed the most logical answer, but right now even that seemed impossible.

Olivia was catatonic. The warmth and love that had surrounded and supported her in her few weeks as a vampire were gone. Her bond with her sire was shattered. She was filled with nothingness. To make it worse, her companion was in much the same shape. All she could feel of him through their bond was agony, grief, and a wish to die. It infected her like a virus, leaving her demon to play tricks on her and do things that she wouldn't have dreamed of doing a few hours before.

Sam was most worried about her and tried his best to stay in close contact with her, touching her if possible. He had Easy on the other side of her, holding her hand, talking to her softly trying to convince her everything was okay. He knew better. He had felt that shattering emptiness, too. He knew that things would never be the same again and he ached to hear the voice and feel the touch of his sire again. He knew they all did.

When the phone rang, everyone in the kitchen seemed to startle. Sam answered it and took it to the other room. He wasn't sure he could hold himself together while getting the bad news and he didn't want the others to see him lose it entirely.

It was Spike. He tried to explain as best he could through his broken sobs what had happened to René and how bravely he had died. He wanted René's children to be proud of the man he was, it was the only thing he could give them right now. Sam stood tall, even alone in the hallway, accepting what was told to him and preparing to share it with the others. He had the presence of mind to extend condolences to his grandsire before asking him what should be done in Mobile. He was told that things would be decided in a day or so and to just sit tight for now, allowing as few people as possible to know that René was gone.

Before they hung up, Sam expressed his concern for Olivia. "Sire, " he said, having never been comfortable calling Spike by his name. "She's so young still. I'm afraid we're going to lose her."

They spoke for a few more minutes, then Sam hung up the phone and returned to the others. The kitchen was silent, no breath, no sobs, simply silence. He gently explained to everyone that their fears were correct. Their sire had been killed. He had died nobly, protecting those he loved. Sobs of agony filled the room. Sam sat quietly at the head of the table, in René's seat, wrapped his arms around Olivia and cried for the first time in his life.

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

January 8, 2020

"Do I take her to Rue Royale or her flat?" Easy was still shaky, but, other than Sam, he was the only one of René's children who could possibly pull this off right now. Most of the others had taken to their rooms, remaining wrapped in each other's arms, sleeping, weeping quietly, or just staring into nothingness trying to sort their own thoughts. They had done as he had hoped they would, sought solace in each other. No one hunted. No one left the house.

"Rue Royale. Take her straight to Spike, and Jean if he's seeing anyone yet." He thought for a moment. "I don't care if Jean is seeing anyone or not, take her to him! Maybe just his scent will reach her, but hopefully something will. She won't last much longer like this." Sam chewed at his lower lip. "Maybe I should take her myself."

"No, Sam, I can do this, I promise you. You're needed here."

This much was true. Spike's plans to keep René's territories within the family were complex and would need Sam's personal touch. If he left now, no doubt everything would fold and a territorial war would most likely break out. He had to pass the responsibility of Olivia onto Easy if things were to work out for them all. He only hoped it would be enough to get her there with Spike and Jean. He hoped they could reach her somehow.

He embraced Easy, whispering to him. "Take care of her, Father, we're both counting on you." Sam almost always referred to Easy as "Father." It was his way of respecting what Easy had been in life, even though his association with the church could not be what it once was. He was the religious heart of their family, for both the redeemed and unredeemed. His position as liaison between Spike's family and the Vatican made him well-known as a man of God in an unlikely place.

Sam made sure Olivia was warmly bundled in the front seat of the car, then kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Be strong, little sister. I love you."

Easy made good time getting to New Orleans. He had left the moment the sun had dipped low enough. The entire trip he spoke softly and lovingly to Olivia, telling her where they were in the drive, what they were going to do when they arrived, who they were going to see. He avoided mention of René, partly because he was afraid it would upset her, and partly because he was afraid it would upset him. She blinked occasionally, but mostly she just stared out the windshield, unmoving. He played some of her favorite piano pieces on the CD player, Horowitz mostly, lots of Chopin. He even put Billie Holliday in for a while, thinking it might trigger something for her. Still, there was no reaction.

By the time he reached Rue Royale he was becoming seriously concerned about the situation. Sam had warned him not to expect anything from her, but he somehow thought getting her out of the house and closer to Jean would do something to bring her out of the self-imposed prison she appeared to be in. She was still completely shut down.

Cordelia met him at the car, a constant stream of instructions and information tumbling from her mouth. Apparently a lot had happened in their time on the road. She tried to explain that René was back, but he was not in the same body and so his links with his children were still broken, and something about an alternate reality, but Easy didn't really understand any of it. He was too worried about Olivia and not really sure what he was supposed to do about all this.

Cordy suddenly stopped talking and stared at Olivia.

"Oh my God." Her voice was filled with sadness. "She's just like Baby. Baby was in this same kind of … oh my God. Let's get her inside."

Not sure where to take her once they were inside the house, Cordy and Easy helped her to an overstuffed chair in the parlor, settling her in comfortably and again trying to get some kind of response from her. There was nothing. She only stared straight ahead, blinking occasionally.

Cordelia and Easy settled on the divan where they could watch her closely. They wanted her to feel the familiarity of the house, the close proximity of Jean, and hopefully make some progress back. They sat patiently and spoke quietly, Cordy explaining more slowly and in more detail about the evil René from the other dimension dusting their René and how he had been brought back into the evil René's body who was then vanquished somehow. He was with Spike and Jean and Baby now that they had gotten her out of her comatose state. And they were all spending an inordinate amount of time in bed. Cordy had no desire to interrupt them, even for Olivia. There was nothing for them to do but wait.

Both of them became visibly uneasy as the house became filled with the scent of arousal and sexual activity going on in the house. Cordy excused herself to go find appropriate rooms for Liv and Easy and returned quickly, looking a little flushed.

"Do you want to stay with her or in a room nearby?"

"No power on earth could make me leave her."

Cordelia smiled. "That's what I thought, but I did want to offer. I've had Jean's room made up for you both. He, uh, apparently won't be needing it."

Easy gathered Olivia into his arms and carried her to Jean's room, Cordy helped him remove her clothes, and they both tucked her in. Cordy made sure Easy had something to eat. From the look of him he hadn't been feeding, and she suddenly feared for all of the children back in Mobile if Easy was the one in the best shape to make the trip to New Orleans. She made a mental note to have Spike or Jean or René contact Sam tomorrow and give him an update. There were things that would need to be addressed and taken care of if his children and his empire were to survive.

After he had eaten, Easy slipped into the bed next to Olivia and pulled her into his arms. He realized Jean's room was the perfect place for them. She seemed to visibly relax surrounded by the scent of her companion. In fact, Easy himself felt more secure and comfortable as well. He had always liked and trusted Jean; being here made him feel for the first time as if everything would be all right.

Just as he started to drift off to sleep, he felt her move in his arms, turning toward him and nuzzling in closer. It was the first deliberate move she'd made since the bond was cut with her sire. He brushed the hair away from her face, whispering softly to her, trying to pull her from the dark place she seemed trapped inside.

"Jean?" Her voice was almost inaudible, a pleading, pathetic sound as if she were searching for him but didn't expect to ever find him again.

Easy sat bolt upright, bringing the clinging Olivia with him. "Cordelia!"

She appeared in the doorway in seconds, apparently not wanting to be too far from them in case she was needed.

"Get Jean!" Easy ordered. "I don't care whose bed you have to drag him from!!"

Cordelia had never seen him this commanding before and found herself obeying him without considering the consequences or possible embarrassment involved. She ran down the hall to Spike's room. Sex literally glowed from the doorway, and she cringed at the thought of what she was about to interrupt. She didn't know. She just quietly opened the door and went in. It's not as if she'd never been in the middle of this herself before; somehow, remembering that made it a bit easier. Her eyes adjusted and she began searching the tangle of undulating arms, legs and torsos looking for Jean. She cursed under her breath and everyone stopped, all four pair of eyes looking at her with an odd combination of annoyance and concern.

She swallowed in a dry throat. "Jean … please. It's important."

"It had better be," a grumbly voice from the bottom of the pile growled. Cordy didn't know if it was Spike or René and suddenly didn't care as she quickly escaped the room and waited for Jean outside.

A few moments later he joined her in the hallway, having slipped on only a pair of jeans. Cordy tried not to notice that he reeked of sex, his voice was low and seductive, and he was sporting a hard on that no jeans made could have hidden.

"This had better be good," he purred. "Or else you'll have a great deal to make up for here, darlin."

Cordy felt a bit swoony but recovered quickly, though her thoughts had already taken her to a lovely, lovely place of nakedness and non-stop Jean action. She coughed and cleared her throat, interrupting her quickly developing fantasy.

"Liv … she's here."

"What?? Where?"

"She's in bad shape, Jean. Apparently all of René's children are in trouble, but she in particular because she's so young, and … come on, please!" Her voice had taken an urgent turn, and Jean brushed past her, already having traced his companion to his room.

He stormed in to find Easy sitting in his bed holding a mostly unconscious Olivia. "Goddammit! Why didn't someone tell me the moment she got here?"

Jean never cursed like that, but two seconds inside his room he realized how close she was to not making it at all. He was furious. How dare they not let him know … how dare he not know himself when she got here. Guilt descended on him like a storm. He had been too wrapped up in René and Baby and Spike and had pretty much locked himself away from anyone that wasn't them.

Jean was at Olivia's other side in moments, Easy handing her over to him wordlessly. He slipped from the bed and the room, bringing Cordelia with him, while Jean was already whispering words of love and affection to the drowsy woman now clinging tightly to him.

As the door closed they could hear her voice murmuring inside … "Jean? Jean? Oh m'Jean, I got lost. I couldn't find you."

"I'm here, m'petite, I'm here. Your Jean is here." He was crushing her to him, stroking her hair and covering her face with kisses. She stirred slightly in his arms, but she was very weak, still she kept trying to talk to him.

"I couldn't find you. And René, where is my René? He's not here anymore." Her pale hand reached for her heart, pain and loneliness permeated her voice to the point it broke Jean's heart.

"René is here, my love, you can see him later. You stay here with me now. I'm here. I won't leave you, I'm here." He wrapped himself around her. She felt frail and fragile and not at all the strong woman he'd been with in Mobile less than a week ago. How could this have happened so quickly? How could she have crumbled from the pillar she was to this shadow?

It struck him hard, making his throat squeeze. René. It hadn't registered when Cordy told him in the hallway that all René's children were suffering. Of course they were. They had lost their sire, their bond was broken, they were all set adrift like ships with no rudder. And for someone like Olivia, who wasn't even a month old as a vampire, it had to be devastating. He pulled her even tighter to him, kissing her hair, murmuring love and affection to her. His hands couldn't stop petting and stroking her. He knew how empty he'd felt when René had died, and he knew he had shut himself off to everyone, blocking every bond and every connection because he couldn't deal with the pain himself. So this sweet young vampire had not only lost her sire, she had lost her companion, her lovers, all her emotional and vampire bonds. She must have felt nothing but emptiness.

Jean suddenly felt nauseous. God, what had they done to her? Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with her hair. She felt him inside her mind, weeping for her, and turned her face up toward him, becoming more and more cognizant the more he was with her and the more he opened himself to her.

"No, my sweet Jean, no, please don't cry. I'm here, I'm okay. I'm always okay as long as I can be with you. Please, don't cry, my love, don't cry." Her own eyes began to tear, partly as a reflection of him and partly because it felt so good to be with him again, to feel his arms around her and his voice and heart wrapped safely around her again.

His voice, soft and sweet, whispered to her the words they had exchanged a thousand times, "Twas not into my ear you whispered but into my heart."

She kissed him softly and replied, "Twas not my lips you kissed, but my soul."

She brushed her cheek against his, her lips meeting his as he spoke around them and into them, "Soul meets soul on lover's lips." Their lips joined and drank from one another the love that was offered. She was home. She was safe. It wasn't dark inside anymore.

They trembled together, trying to get closer and closer to one another until all clothes were shed and there was nothing to keep them apart. Their hands and lips ached for each other and quenched each other through the night. They fed each other physically and emotionally with their passion and their blood, finally collapsing into sleep just before dawn came. They remained there unmoving and undisturbed through the day and well into the evening, sleeping peacefully and safely in each other's love.

*Poetry by Shelley - Prometheus Unbound

Chapter Ten

January 12, 2020

The house on Rue Royale had gotten crowded over the last few days. René's death and subsequent return had caused a great stir in things and suddenly the family that had been scattered across Louisiana and Alabama was coming from everywhere to be with him, rebond with him, and just to see him for themselves.

Easy and Olivia moved over to her flat near the French Quarter once she appeared strong enough. Being near Jean had all but cured her, but feeling her sire feed from her and feeding from him once again was like a magic elixir. Her strength returned almost immediately and she appeared to become the solid, strong woman she had been.

Jean came and stayed with her most nights, to reassure himself she was okay and to be with her. He still held so much love for her it scared him sometimes. He felt he had become the luckiest man in the South. He was married to not only his beloved brother, but also bound as consort to both his parents, and he had this incredible woman who loved him more than any living thing. Surely no man had ever been as loved or as lucky as he.

Easy was using his time in New Orleans to refamiliarize himself with the workings of Spike's empire and was again in close contact with the Holy Father as well as the New Orleans Diocese. It made him feel stronger to have such important work, and even more so after he was able to rebond with his sire. Feeling that connection with René once again made all his uncertainties and insecurities melt way like ice cream in summer. He too felt strong again, so much so that he had encouraged René to return to Mobile for even a short visit to re-establish himself with all of his children. His mere suggestion had sent René out the next evening with Jean in tow for a quick trip back to reassure everyone and to reestablish that much-needed connection with his family.

Olivia and Easy had elected to stay in New Orleans a while longer. It had been awhile since either had been there for any length of time, and with Jean and René insisting they would be back the next day, they decided to take the opportunity to wander the French Quarter, taste some of the food, and enjoy the jazz they both loved so much. Things had progressed in Mobile, but still it just wasn't the same as New Orleans. Nothing was like New Orleans. Liv hadn't really even been to New Orleans since she had been turned, so it was almost like exploring a new city in many ways. She saw, heard, and smelled things she'd never noticed as a human, and they all made her almost drunk with joy and excitement. Easy had a hard time getting her to come in when it neared dawn.

Having so overdone it, she slept in way past sunset the next day. Easy checked on her to be sure she was okay, then left her a note and slipped out to go check on things at Rue Royale and visit with some of his fellow priests at the diocese. He had always enjoyed his theological discussions with Liv and Jean, but sometimes he enjoyed mixing it up with those who were as entrenched with catholic philosophy as his fellow clergy.

When he returned to Liv's flat close to midnight, she was still sleeping. He made a mental note to keep better track of her and tequila shots and then returned to the main room, curling up with a new book Brother Francis had given him on the Vatican II liturgical changes and their long-term effects on the 21st century. He was well into the third chapter when he heard Olivia screaming from the other room.

He dropped the book and ran to her, finding her sitting upright in bed, naked and covered in blood. She was plainly terrified and he climbed onto the bed, grabbing her and holding her to him. She pulled away from him, sobbing and pointing at the floor on the other side of the bed, her voice wailing in grief and terror. He leaned across her to find the body of a young man, also naked. He was dead. The cause of death was obvious: severe neck trauma and exsanguination.

Easy wrapped her in the sheet and took her out to the bathroom, running the shower and putting her inside it, washing her trembling form as best he could. She began to calm down, but was obviously still in shock. He put his hands on both sides of her face and forced her to look at him.

"Olivia? Olivia! Are you with me, sweetheart?"

She nodded. Her eyes locked onto his. She was filled with horror at what she might have done, but she began to get control over herself again as he spoke to her calmly and instructed her to wash her hair and finish bathing. He would put fresh clothes in the bathroom for her, but she was to stay in there until he told her to come out. She nodded again and tried to speak. Her voice shaky and pitiful. "Easy … did … did I do that?"

He touched her face again. "No, sweetheart, I don't think you did. I think someone is playing a sick joke. Probably someone wants to get back at the Master for something and found out you were here. You finish up now and we'll get to the bottom of this."

Easy closed the door and called Rue Royale. "How quickly can you get over here?"

By the time Spike and Baby arrived, Easy had already cleaned up Olivia's bedroom and wrapped the dead man in the bottom sheet from her bed and taken it into the other room, stashing it out of plain sight. He had collected the bloody sheet from the bathroom and left her fresh clothing, and he had washed the floor and walls with bleach to take away the stench of blood. The water was still running in the shower. He had a feeling she would be washing herself for a very long time; visions of Lady Macbeth came to mind and he quickly shoved those thoughts away.

Spike looked concerned the moment he entered the flat. Easy didn't like what he saw; he had spent the last few minutes convincing himself it was all some kind of trick or revenge being played out by some of the Master's enemies. The expression on Spike's face said that was not the case.

He examined the body, then called the two minions waiting outside. They took it away to dispose of it without a word.

"Where is she?"

"Still in the bathroom. I told her not to come out until I called her."

"Good." Spike put a strong, supportive hand on Easy's shoulder. It put him immediately more at ease, even though he knew the rest of what Spike had to say would not be good.

"The man reeked of her and no one else." He turned to his wife. "Baby, you go talk with her, settle her down and see if you can get her to sleep."

She nodded and vanished into the bedroom.

Spike explained to Easy that he feared the disconnection from her sire had put a strain on her that had allowed her demon to take control. He wasn't certain and wouldn't be until Baby had talked to her. Until then, it would be unwise to jump to conclusions or make decisions based on something that could have been an accident or, as Easy had thought, a deception of some kind.

Spike poured them both a drink and they sat down on the sofa talking about anything except their fears.

Baby returned 15 minutes later. Olivia was already asleep.

She swallowed hard--the answer was in her eyes, those beautiful golden eyes that were now filled with pain and regret. "He's all over her, not just him, but his blood. And she's fed. She wouldn't even accept my offered blood, though I guess that could be the trauma of this as much as …. " She stopped herself, realizing she was rationalizing. "She did it, Spike. She smells of bloodlust. You can feel it, you can almost see it." She chewed at her bottom lip for a moment. "She's terrified. I think she knows."

Spike turned to Easy. "When are Jean and René due back?"

Baby answered, "They're on their way back, I can feel them."

"What … what do we do, Master?" Easy hadn't spoken for quite some time, afraid that anything he said or suggested might mean Olivia's death.

"We watch her. Don't let her be alone. Ever. And we'd better tell Jean and René the moment they return. This will likely take all of us to sort out."

"What needs to be sorted out?" Jean's voice was light, almost jovial, until he saw the expressions on his parents' and Easy's faces. His face fell as he reached out to his brother in the doorway and held tightly to René. "What's happened?"

The brothers came inside Olivia's flat, Sam following behind. Greetings were exchanged, and Sam explained he'd returned with them to meet with the heads of three families not meeting their responsibilities in Mobile. Spike quizzed him a bit more on this and they quickly settled some of the details that René hadn't been briefed on yet. It would be fine, but it would need his personal attention.

They all settled in the living room and silence settled over the place like a morgue. Too many unasked questions, floated in the air, and too many emotions ran rampant amongst the family members to the point it was difficult to sort out. But the crux of things was obvious; something had gone wrong for Olivia.

Baby finally spoke up. "We can talk out loud. She is asleep in the other room. I gave her a sedative and it's not likely she'll wake up until late tomorrow." Spike took her hand and squeezed it.

"A good idea, rose, let her sleep it off, and hopefully forget what happened. We may be able to do some damage control and save things."

Jean swallowed in a dry throat. "Exactly what happened?"

Spike explained their suspicions, the evidence, and his concerns about how this might have happened. René paled, even for a vampire. He hadn't thought how his death would affect any of his children. It wouldn't have changed the outcome of what he did, but he could have made arrangements with Spike or Jean to see to his family immediately afterwards and perhaps head some of this off. He hurt for Olivia. What emptiness and abandonment she must have felt. His guilt cloud began to expand over not only him but his brother.

Jean was mentally flailing himself for not going to her immediately. He should have remembered. He should have called Sam or someone in Mobile. He should have … anything. But he had been wound up in his own grief and despair, and that had made matters worse. He had disconnected from her as well, leaving the tender, new vampire with nothing to hold onto. Still, no matter how bad things must have been for her, he couldn't believe she would kill an innocent.

"No, this just isn't possible. Olivia's not like that. She's strong and she's adapted so well. I've rarely seen anyone adjust as quickly and as solidly as she has." Jean was incredulous. He didn't believe any of it, though inside he knew there was no reason for any of them to make this up or jump to conclusions. The evidence was compelling. Even after it had been cleaned up, Jean could still smell the dead man's presence in her flat as well as his blood mingled with a sense of greed and hunger that was not characteristic of Liv at all.

René agreed, it didn't sound like Liv; they had seen no signs of the demon in any other way, not ever, not even in the beginning. She had awoken in Jean's arms and bonded immediately to both him and René and everything had gone perfectly from the moment she opened her eyes. It made no sense. None of them wanted to believe it was possible that she suddenly was losing her control.

"Except when René died. She was so weak she couldn't … she was in bad shape. You told me yourself. You both know things can happen when the bond is cut so suddenly like that. Bad things can happen." Spike was trying to be reassuring yet logical about the whole thing. It was looking bad. He had that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Visions of Philip kept trying to make their way into his head. "Very bad things," he said quietly.

"Should we want to move her back to the house?" Ever the practical man, Sam was looking for ways to protect Olivia from herself. He knew if she were back at La Maison du Rouge s'Elevé she wouldn't be able to get out or to feed without the entire household knowing about it.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now." Spike was tentative, but had good reasons. "If she gets out and kills again, they will all know it. There will be no way to head this off and it could turn ugly quickly." He thought for a moment. "Let's keep her here under close supervision. Jean," he turned toward both of his sons. "You and René come back with me and we'll check a few of our resources just to be sure we haven't missed something."

They stood and nodded, preparing for their return to the house, both of them mentally going over any details that could aid them in helping Liv conquer the demon permanently. They were both visibly worried and eager to find a solution.

Spike continued, "Baby: darlin', you and Sam see if you can find out who this guy was and if anything could tie him to Liv." They nodded, picked up his ID and personal items from the kitchen counter, and hit the streets.

"Easy, you stay here with her, do not leave her under any circumstances, even if you think she's asleep, even though she's drugged for now. Do not leave."

Easy snapped to attention like a soldier yet he still held the gentle understanding of a priest. "I understand, Master."

"If there is any problem, anything unusual, you call me immediately."

Easy nodded again. He picked up his book from the end table and went directly into Olivia's room, taking a chair with him. He closed the door and from the sound behind it, he pushed the chair against the door from the inside. Spike smiled. He was a good one, a definite keeper. René had chosen well there.

He reached out to Jean and René, one hand to each, and squeezed. "Let's get to work. We have a life to save." They left the flat, locking the door behind them.

Baby and Sam took less than an hour to accomplish their task. The man, little more than a college-aged kid, was a musician, new in town, apparently had no family and hadn't made any real friends yet. Olivia had chosen her victim well, most likely a young man trying to make a friend or get some. Unfortunately he had gotten more than he bargained for. Sam would keep an eye on the club where he was working for a few days, but they didn't expect there to be any concern over a missing man. Turnover in jazz clubs was high this time of year.

They returned to Rue Royale to find Jean on the computer, Spike pouring over books, and René pretending to read but mostly brooding. Baby took him by the hand and they went to the dining room table to research the book he had. Sometimes he just needed a bit of a hand to get into these things, even when they were important. Baby knew how worried he was. This was his childe, his childe who had not chosen to be his childe: double guilt coupons. Baby placed her hand over his and squeezed it gently, leaning in to kiss him on the temple. "We'll find a way. She'll be all right."

Hours later Jean had found nothing on the Internet. He was obviously frustrated. "How can there be this many web sites on vampires and no real information?" He slammed the lid of his laptop and went to the bookcases, taking up with the next book in Spike's stack.

Baby quietly got up and made a phone call. Fifteen minutes later Jack rang the bell. "I hear you need a vampire hacker?"

Jean smiled for the first time since he'd arrived back in New Orleans. He took Jack's hand and shook it appreciatively, then led him to the computer before he returned to the book he'd already opened. The laptop seemed to come alive with activity and information and Jack scanned it hungrily. He'd always liked Olivia, and he was hopeful he could help to find a solution. He went into high F.B.I. research mode, took off his gun and set it on the table, then began the tedious chore of separating the wheat from the chaff. He was all business inside two minutes, and Baby kissed him lightly on the top of the head before returning to a slightly more broody René.

Just before dawn things were looking no better. Jack had found a dozen leads that eventually petered out to nerd boys living in their parents' basements, making up vampire lore for their role playing games. He wasn't amused and e-mailed a few of the sites to Special Agent Harrison in DC for her to follow up. A few of them had obviously hacked some military sites to garner fuel for their games, and they'd be getting a visit from their friendly neighborhood F.B.I. in the next few days.

Spike stood and stretched. He had a few passages marked in 4 or 5 books, things that might interconnect and be helpful, but he couldn't put it together just yet. Fatigue had set in and he felt that in everyone.

"Let's break for some shut-eye. Jack, you're welcome to stay over if you don't have to go into work."

Jack nodded appreciatively and shut down the laptop, carefully bookmarking the last site he'd found. The others left their books open where they were. The staff would know not to touch. They each hugged, kissed, or otherwise touched one another before going upstairs to bed.

They all slept in, the staff knowing better than to awaken anyone prematurely. Spike came downstairs around 10 p.m. He hadn't slept well and was still trying to piece together a solution. As he headed for the kitchen for coffee, he noticed Jean asleep in the leather chair of his study. Either he had gotten up during the day and come down to continue working or no one had noticed he never left. From the stack of abandoned books on the floor next to him, he had been at it all day. Spike approached his eldest son with affection, kissing the top of his head and trying to rouse him a little. Jean woke up immediately, a little disoriented at first and then obviously disappointed that he had fallen asleep at all.

"Fils, go upstairs and sleep for a few hours. You'll be no good to her like this." He placed his hand affectionately on Jean's shoulder. "I'll wake you before midnight. Go on." He tossed his head toward the stairway.

Jean leaped from the chair and, seeing how late it was, headed for the front door at a dead run. "Sorry, Papa, I want to be there before she wakes up. I have to be there. I'll call." He was out the door before Spike could object.

When he arrived at Olivia's apartment, his blood ran cold. The door was open, her bedroom door was ripped off its hinges, and Easy was lying on the floor unconscious. Jean cursed under his breath and called home. "She's gone." He hung up and saw to the unconscious man on the floor. He'd been attacked but at least he wasn't dusted or too badly injured. He settled the priest onto the sofa. "Maman will be here in a few minutes, you tell her what happened. I'm going to look for her." He stopped for a moment. "Was she alone?" Easy nodded, and Jean was gone.

Down in the French Quarter, Sam was just coming out of his meeting. It had gone well, he thought, much faster and more efficiently than he had expected. Those in charge of the reluctant families in Mobile would be replaced according to tradition, which meant most likely beheading, possibly simple dusting. The anger in one of the patriarchs was substantial. He alone seemed to grasp just how big of an insult his wayward son was perpetuating on both the Master of Mobile and the Master of New Orleans. Sam cringed at the thought of what that son was facing.

As he rounded the corner near one of his favorite old spots, he saw and heard movement in the alley. He froze, staying in the shadows hopefully unseen, and watched. Before he even got a good look at her he knew it was Liv. He would know her scent a half-mile away. He could tell he was too late for whoever was in there with her; there was no hint of a heartbeat in that alleyway. He leaned against the brick wall and waited for her to come out, then followed her as she began to stroll the Quarter again.

When she stopped and talked to a nice-looking, and obviously naïve, young man, he approached her from behind, putting his hands on her shoulders seemingly affectionately, but firmly enough that she couldn't have shaken him off easily.

"Liv?" He pitched his voice high and friendly, as if he'd just run into her unexpectedly. "What are you doing out here alone, honey? You know better than to walk the Quarter alone at night."

"Beat it, Grandpa." Okay, so maybe he wasn't as naïve as he looked; he certainly had a smart mouth on him. Perhaps he should let Liv have a go at him and save the world from another snot-nosed collegiate. He sighed. "No, I don't think so." And he decked the boy with one punch.

Olivia turned flashing yellow eyes on him. "What are you doing? We were just talking!"

"Yes, sweetheart, I saw the last guy you were talking to back there in the alley. How about we head back to your place and chat about it?" It wasn't really a question and he had already grabbed her arm tightly and was guiding her away from the crowd.

Liv opened her eyes in a wide, innocent expression and began screaming. "Let go of me! Help! Help! Leave me alone, you fucking asshole, I said no!" Bouncers seemed to come from everywhere and had Sam on the ground and all but immobilized before he realized what she'd done. By the time he fought them off, she was gone.

"Merde." He opened his cell phone and called her flat. "Jean? Yeah, I know." He rubbed his jaw and gave a grunt toward the large fellow walking away none too apologetically. "Because I just saw her," he said into the phone impatiently. "Yeah, she's on Bourbon St., just the other side of Toulouse, if you get a move on you can cut her off before she finds another snack." He listened, fatigue showing in his voice. "Yeah, I said another. She's in trouble, Jean. We gotta get her off the streets." He flipped the phone closed and tried to get more of an idea which way she headed. He picked up her scent quickly. She'd just fed: it was like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to find her.

Less than five minutes passed before Jean cornered her.

"Jean?" She stopped suddenly, her voice and posture suddenly turning to that of a frightened girl. "Jean?" She tried to move towards him and her legs began to buckle. She staggered a few more steps before she crumpled to the ground, her hands still reaching out to him.

"Careful there, partner." Sam was running up the street from the opposite direction. "She pulled that on me and darn near got me killed."

Jean looked at him questioningly as they both moved toward her. He could feel her: she was shattered and broken and anything but threatening. Jean fell to the ground next to her, gathering her in his arms as she began to sob.

Sam stood guard over them, discouraging any onlookers who might be tempted to hang around, all the while keeping a distrusting eye on Olivia. He didn't think she would turn on them again, but he wasn't taking any changes.

After a few minutes, Jean lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the flat, Sam taking his back in case there was unexpected trouble. By the time they arrived, Baby and Spike were already there, Easy had been cared for, and there was nothing more to do but address the tearful woman in Jean's arms.

Olivia's face was buried in Jean's chest, her shoulders shaking. She would not look at anyone. She wouldn't even lift her face from his tear-stained shirt.

Jean shook his head at his parents and took her into the bedroom, closing the already-repaired door behind him. The others stayed outside.

He settled them both onto the bed and held her in his arms while she cried and pleaded with him to help her. She didn't understand what was going on, she didn't know why she was in the middle of Bourbon Street, and she didn't understand why she was covered in blood. Jean stroked her hair and cooed to her softly, trying to calm her down so that he could explain what he thought was happening to her. He wasn't really even sure himself, but he knew that if he wanted her to survive he couldn't show fear or express concern that she was doing anything wrong.

He rocked her quietly until she relaxed in his arms. Once she was quiet, he realized her body was warm. He cringed a little. She'd fed again. The more she fed like this, the stronger the demon would become. Just the thought of it made his heart break open for her and he fought to hold back tears of his own. Unexpectedly, her pitiful voice vibrated against his chest. "Why is this happening to me?"

"I don't know, cher, we're trying to find out and fix it." He kissed her hair. "I know you're scared, but it'll be all right. I promise. It'll be all right."

"I don't want to kill anyone, Jean, don't let me kill anyone, please …please …" She fell asleep in his arms, still clinging to him, still terrified of what was going on around her. He sat holding her for what seemed hours, rocking her, and talking to her softly while she slept, saying all the things she loved to hear, telling her the story of how they met and about their many adventures and trips together. It was for himself as much as for her. She had been a precious part of his life, and he did not want to give up on her yet.

He heard a soft knock at the door and Baby walked in with the others behind her. She touched his arm gently. "We need to talk, m'Jean." He nodded and gestured as best he could that they should all come in and sit down. Spike sat next to him on the bed; Baby stood behind him. René, Sam and Easy sat around the room. Everyone's eyes were on Jean and the sleeping woman he held so tightly to him.

He spoke quietly. "She's sleeping now, and even if she wakes up, she needs to know what's happening." He stopped and looked down at her, a mixture of adoration and sorrow on his face. "What are we going to do, Papa?"

Spike seemed lost in thought for a very long time, the others beginning to shift uncomfortably in their seats. "I think we agree that Liv is a special case here. Ordinarily by this point we'd have … well … disposed of a vamp which appeared to go bad, not taking any further risk." He paused, then began again. "But Olivia has some extenuating circumstances; she was turned against her will, she lost the bond with her sire at less than one month of age, and as a human she was not only of great service to the family, she was a bound companion to Jean and marked lover to René." He took a deep breath. "These things cannot be ignored. Add to that how she expressed that she does not want to kill and we can see that she is someone worthy of taking extraordinary actions to save."

Everyone seemed to agree, though no one had additional comments to make. Jean stroked Olivia's hair. Love and pride welled up inside of him. She was indeed an extraordinary person, in life and in death.

Spike suddenly became all business. "However, we cannot have her running loose in the French Quarter snacking on tourists, whether or not she is aware of what she's doing. Drastic measures are in order, I think." He turned to his eldest son. "Jean?"

"Yes, Papa."

"She seems to be more stable when you are around, so I want you to remain with her 24/7 until we figure out how to give her more strength to fight the demon."

Jean nodded and continued to stroke her hair as she slept. Staying with her would be no problem for him. No problem at all. In fact, he rather looked forward to it, realizing that as she had become stronger back in Mobile, he had seen less and less of her. He didn't want her to be dependent on him, but he had missed her when they were both so busy back home.

"Sam?" Spike turned to his grandchilde. "Are the Mobile families taken care of?" Sam nodded. "Good. She seems to trust you and Easy and is comfortable with both of you. However, since we've seen her demon is clever, manipulative, and strong enough to render a vamp unconscious, I think it's a good idea if one or both of you were here as well as Jean." Spike smiled a little. "I doubt any demon, no matter how clever, could get the better of the three of you." His voice held a note of pride behind it.

"Baby? René?" Baby moved closer, René stood and moved toward the other side of the bed, reaching a tender hand toward his sleeping lover. "We have a lot of work to do. First on the docket is contacting Wesley and Giles. We should have called them last night, but I thought we could handle this without their expertise. I was wrong." A quiet sigh escaped his lips. He had overestimated their abilities and underestimated the strength of a determined demon. It had cost a man his life. "Call Wesley on his cell, I believe he's in Dallas right now with Dru and possibly Faith. He won't have his references with him, but he'll know where to go, what to look for, and who to ask. Giles still keeps most of his reference books at his home in Sunnydale. Most of his are Watchers' Journals and the like and most likely won't have information regarding modifying natural vampire behavior, but it's worth asking." He glanced at Olivia, still sleeping peacefully in Jean's arms. "She's worth asking."

Looking at everyone again. "Sam, come back to the house with us and get some, uh, chains and window bars. It may be necessary to restrain her from time to time." Looking at her now it was almost impossible to believe that she had even the tiniest streak of violence in her. But they all knew she had that potential, and some of them had already seen it. "Let's get moving."

Sam and Easy headed for the doorway to attend to their tasks. Baby kissed Jean on the forehead and left, René kissed him tenderly on the lips and they stood by his side, leaving only him, Jean, Olivia, and Spike in the room.

"Son," Spike put his hand on Jean's shoulder. "If we can't find anything, and she can't control this, you know what will have to be done."

They both nodded stiffly. They knew. They knew too well. They had seen it done a few times, and each time it was painful because there was always a residual bit of the fledgling left that didn't understand.

"If that comes," Spike was speaking as gently as he could, "I'll take care of her. I don't expect either of you to do it."

René started to object, but stopped, Jean beating him to it.

Jean looked up at his father, a little stricken. "Papa, if it comes to that, I will do it." Jean looked down at her again, blinking back a threatening stream of tears. "She may be your grandchilde and René's childe, but she is mine. My lover, my companion. My mark was on her first. I am responsible, and if it must be done, I want to be with her at the end." He held her just a little bit tighter.

Spike almost glowed with pride at his son. He looked at René for his approval, which he immediately got with a nod of his head and a flash of teal eyes. René wouldn't object.

"All right then. We have work to do." Spike kissed both of his sons, then grasped René's hand and took him from the room, leaving Olivia and Jean alone again.

Jean sank down into the bed a bit more, shifting and adjusting until they were both lying down and their limbs were intermingled. He had always loved sleeping with her. There was a peace and security she brought with her that had always soothed him. Perhaps it was because he knew that she was the one person in the world who loved only him. He was first in her life, he had always been, even when it was unspoken. Part of him regretted that he was never able to give her as much of himself as she deserved, but another part of him basked in the comfort and peace she brought him, without demands, without pain. She was simply his. Wrapped in each other, Jean drifted off to sleep as well, grateful to still have her, grateful to still be with her, and hoping against hope that a solution could be found to keep her with him.

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

Jean woke at midday, an unusual time for him to be awake but he had slept very little the day before and the night had been more than a little stressful. He'd fallen asleep in Liv's arms about 2 a.m., also not his usual time to sleep. He was alone in the bed, so he quickly got up and went into the living room to find the place absolutely abuzz with activity. He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"What is everyone doing up at this hour?" he mumbled.

Liv met him immediately, kissed him soundly and handed him her cup of coffee. Everyone was there, in the middle of the day, extremely odd by his book. Sam and Easy were poring over religious texts, Baby was on the phone, Spike was rounding up some food in the kitchen, and René was curled up asleep in an overstuffed chair. The shutters were tightly closed, as they had been since the day Liv had come back to New Orleans. No trace of sunlight showed through.

Jean put his arm around her. She was exceedingly chipper for this time of the day and considering it was her life they were trying to save in their research. Maybe that was why she was so positive. All of these people were working for her, to help her. Even if nothing could be done, it had to make her heart glad to have such support and love.

He squeezed her to him, kissing her cheek lightly. "Any news?" he all but whispered to her.

"Nothing definite yet. But Wesley said he knew a few contacts that might be able to help within a coven in L.A. Giles is on the phone with Baby right now."

Still clinging to one another, they moved over to Baby and waited. She hung up almost immediately. "Zero. We scored a big, fat zero there." She sighed heavily. "You'd think someone would know what we could do! How many hundreds of years did the Council, well, watch? Their records should show something!" She was visibly frustrated and joined Spike in the kitchen to give herself something to do.

Easy and Sam moved into the bedroom and closed the door, the sound of drills and hammers giving away what they were doing. Once her bedroom was secure, it would be harder for her to get out at night, especially with an entourage of vampires in her living room like they were now.

Jean moved to the books Easy and Sam had been looking at and sat down. Liv was too restless for that. She moved quietly to the piano and opened it for the first time in almost a year. Her fingers moved silently over the keys, their familiarity comforting to her. It still amazed her that she could remember how to play. She had thought that skill might have stayed attached to her soul, but she had gotten to keep it, and though she seldom played, it was still a comfort to her.

Spike came up behind her, watching her delicate fingers noiselessly brush against the white and ebony. "Go ahead and play, sweetheart. Music soothes the savage … " He stopped himself, not wanting to finish the old saying. She turned her face toward him and smiled. Perhaps it would have a calming affect on the desperate undertones of the busy room.

She began her favorite Debussy arabesque, rolling arpeggios and detailed finger work that always made her feel accomplished when she got them exactly right. It was as if everyone in the room took a collective breath and let it out slowly, letting all the stress and worry of the situation drain out of them. It was astonishing how it affected them all. René stirred from his sleep, a smile on his face as his eyes fluttered open to the soothing and familiar melody. Sam and Easy came out of the bedroom and leaned on the doorframe, stopping their hammering long enough to just listen. Jean came to the crook of the piano and leaned down onto it, letting his cheek rest on the cool lacquer and feeling the vibrations against his skin. His eyes closed and suddenly the scent of them together filled him. How many times had they made love on that piano? He couldn't even begin to remember.

When the song was finished, everyone remained transfixed for a few moments, letting the final notes rest in the echo of the room. It was a silent reminder that this is what they were all working for. This is who they were trying to save.

Olivia looked at Jean, his eyes opening and meeting hers with the smokiness that told her how much he wanted her. The temperature in the room seemed to rise as they stood and joined hands and then lips. Jean came around the side of the piano and slid onto the bench with her, their mouths never parting for even a moment. Spike was still standing behind her and found himself touching her hair and shoulders, then bending down to kiss and nuzzle her neck. She smelled wonderful … all orchids and music and Jean. Moments later Baby was there as well, and René, and Easy and Sam looked at one another trying to decide if they should join in or finish their work so they could have the bedroom. A moan of pleasure came from the feast of kisses and caresses at the piano. Yeah, right, they were going to miss out on something this good to install window bars? Hardly.

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

January 15, 2020

Their strategy seemed to work. The more Olivia was with Jean, and most times with René, she appeared strong and resolved. She was adamant that no matter what, she did not want to be responsible for the death of an innocent. She had even refused to hunt with the family for fear that it might trigger the darkness inside her again and she would be lost.

She hid her fear well most of the time, but Jean knew. He would hear her when they slept, talking to herself, talking herself out of the bloodlust, overanalyzing it, trying to make it seem less oppressive and dangerous. She covered it all well, and whenever she touched him he felt nothing but the loving woman she had always been with him. It was obvious, however, that she was a little frightened of time away from him. They had begun to test the limits a little, beginning with him staying in the other room while she read quietly in the bedroom, and even to the point where he would make quick trips to Rue Royale, leaving Easy behind just in case. Each time they tried it, she became more confident. She was settling in well again and the worst of it seemed to be over. Best of all, she was happy. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her this happy.

They decided to test the waters with a hunting trip, midweek when there was less risk of the streets being crowded. There would only be the three of them, Jean, Olivia, and Easy. René and Spike had gone to Mobile with Sam to instigate some new procedures with the now much more cooperative extensions of the New Orleans families Sam had met with. Liv had begged Jean and Easy to let her try it before René and Spike got back; she wanted to be sure she had things under control before being under the watchful eye of her father and the Master. They chose their time and place and headed out to see what could be found lurking in the alleyways in the middle of the week.

By 11 p.m. the moon was rising large and yellow on the horizon and a little less than full. It was almost magical to her. She hadn't realized until then how little she had been out at night, mostly just a few nights out to the house or an evening walk with Jean at her side. His hand in hers always seemed to give her extra courage and quell the fears that haunted her when she thought of the two men she had killed.

One of Liv's favorite pubs had always been Pat O'Briens, not because it was famous but because it offered such a variety of atmospheres and people. Jean chose that as their destination and they happily sat out on the patio enjoying the coolish evening. It was a comfortable, casual setting with glass and iron tables scattered amongst lush foliage and a sparkling carpet of stars above them. And they made great Hurricanes. They sat away from the flaming water fountain, which itself always seemed to attract the crowds, and they enjoyed their drink and people-watched for at least an hour, occasionally cattily discussing the abysmal taste in clothing of winter tourists. Some things didn't change.

Ready to return from what felt like a very successful evening, they made their way down Bourbon Street, jazz music permeating the air like summer heat. Liv felt tingly all over and squeezed Jean's hand tightly. It was lovely to be out.

Easy, though feeling a bit of a third wheel, enjoyed it as well. Mobile had a lot to offer, but whenever they spent any real time in New Orleans he remembered why he liked it so much. It amazed him Liv ever left at all.

As the trio strolled along, the broken asphalt and distinctive smells of the French Quarter washed over them, including the smell of fear. They froze simultaneously, each of them looking around, searching for its source when a woman's scream split the air. They ran to its source, around the corner and down a dark and what felt like a damp alley, the stench of garbage thick and offensive. Two men ran out of the alley, running over Easy and knocking him to the ground. Jean nodded to Liv to go on into the alley, following the sound of muffled crying. Just past a restaurant dumpster she found a child clinging to its mother. She was about 6 years old and absolutely filthy, her hair matted and caked with dirt and who knew what else. Her mother was dead. Her few belongings were scattered about the alley, her shoes were gone, and her throat had been slit. Liv didn't even want to think what that innocent little child had witnessed.

She approached the little girl slowly, talking to her in a soft, almost musical voice, then crouched on the ground and held out her arms. The frightened child squealed in fear and tried to move even closer to her dead mother.

Easy righted himself and went to join Liv when he saw the scared and dirty child. He could see what Olivia was trying to do and tilted his head in an unspoken question. She nodded slightly and pointed her eyes toward where Jean had gone after the attackers. Easy turned and followed him, leaving Liv alone in the alley with the girl and the dead woman.

Jean found it no challenge to catch up with the murderers. They were sloppy, obviously on drugs, and were taken completely by surprise when they'd found them in the alley. They had no escape plan and no way of outrunning a vampire, much less two. Once he reached them, he grabbed one of them and threw him into a brick wall almost without breaking his gait. He caught the other less than 10 yards later, throwing him to the ground and holding him there with an aggressive foot in the middle of the man's back. When he struggled, Jean pressed that much more until the man was screaming in agony and Jean could just feel his vertebrae about to snap.

Easy stopped to collect the unconscious heap at the base of the brick wall. Jean signaled him to take him back to the alley, then grabbed the no-longer-squirming man beneath his boot by the back of the neck. "Now we can do this easy, or we can do this hard. It's your choice. You gonna walk nicely and live a few minutes longer or shall I snap your neck right here and carry you back?"

The man gave Jean a terrified nod and let Jean guide him back by the shoulder, slowly and calmly. Just before they reached the alley, Easy's prisoner stumbled away, yelling and running in the opposite direction. Jean dragged the other man into the alley at a run, finding Easy standing in the middle of darkened lane staring down at something on the ground.

"What the Hell is going on? Easy! Why'd you let him get away?" He shoved his charge at Easy, who grabbed hold of him without even looking, his eyes wide and focused only on what was before him.

Jean took another few steps and fell to the ground, his hands joining, fingers interlaced in an almost prayerful manner, but shaking in anger and frustration. From deep in his throat came a mournful howl of despair. "Noooooooooooooooo!!!!"

Olivia looked up suddenly at his cry. The child in her arms was dead, her tiny body drained of blood, and Olivia was in full game face, covered in blood. When she saw Jean, her face immediately shifted back, a look of confusion on her now-soft features. Slowly her expression changed to fear and she looked down at the lifeless form in her lap. Immediately she started panting in panic, looking first to Easy, then to Jean, then back to Easy again, a pitiful, whispered "no" on her lips. She pulled the child to her chest, hugging and rocking her, whispering to her, "Shhhhh, little baby girl, it'll be all right, your momma, she's sleeping now, you be okay, I'll take care of you, I promise. Won't nobody hurt you ever again. Shhhh now." Tears poured down her face as she spoke and sang softly and tried to bring the dead girl back to life with her will alone.

Easy could see the madness in her eyes and that she was quickly slipping away. "Jean?" He had to get Jean's attention; he needed for him to see what was happening so he could stop it before she fell into that deep, dark pit of insanity that he knew was calling to her. No pain there, no worries there. He knew if something wasn't said or done to stop her, it would be too late. He was momentarily distracted when the man he held captive began struggling, terrified and yelling at Easy to let him go. "Jean??"

Jean looked up at him, desperation and agony written on his face. With but a slight gesture of his hand, Easy snapped the man's neck and dropped him to the ground, then moved quickly to Olivia just as Jean got to her.

Easy spoke first, his voice deceptively calm, his experience as a priest being pretty much the only thing holding him together right now. "Sweetheart, let me take her, now, okay? I'll see to her." He reached for the girl, and Olivia pulled the child protectively closer, not wanting anyone to take the little girl away.

Jean moved behind her, crouching down and wrapping his arms around her. "Liv, my love, let Easy take her. He'll take good care of her, I promise, cher." He tightened his grip on her, kissing her neck and shoulders softly, trying to hold on to not only her body, but her spirit.

She released her grip on the girl and Easy gathered the poor little thing into his arms and took her over to where her mother lay.

Jean whispered a few more words to Liv and they both stood together, arms tightly wrapped around each other. "Easy, you take care of things, yes?" He waited for Easy to nod and then slowly walked with Olivia out of the alley and toward home.

The night was suddenly deathly quiet as Easy waited for them to leave so he could clean up. He looked around solemnly. He wasn't sure there was any way to make this appear natural--there was nothing natural about it. A man with a broken neck, a homeless woman who had been stabbed to death, and her child who bore two conspicuous puncture wounds to the neck and was drained of blood. Sadly, the advantage was that there was probably no kin to be concerned about for any of them. He called the usual mortuary and made arrangements, then called the coroner's office and spoke with his contact there. Things would be taken care of in less than an hour and there would be no sign that this had happened at all.

As he waited for the coroner, Easy knelt beside the mother and child. Pain squeezed his heart as he realized what a sad, lonely existence they must have had. They were both dirty and unkempt, their clothes were shabby and torn, the little girl was pitifully thin, but her mother was even more so and had obviously sacrificed what little she had to her child. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and tried to clean the little girl's face, gently brushing her hair back and straightening up her ragged clothes. He noticed a cheap necklace around her neck with half of a red plastic heart dangling from the plastic chain. It said "Best" in painted silvery letters. He set her gently down as he tended to her mother in much the same way, wiping her face, pushing her hair back and straightening her clothing. She wore an identical plastic necklace, only her half of the heart said "Friends." He smiled and grimaced at the same time as tears came into his eyes. Perhaps their difficult life hadn't been so lonely after all.

Easy looked down at the broken bodies before him, wondering, not for the first time, how a city with such riches and culture could still have hidden masses of people with no home and no hope. The Pride did well in their dealings with crime and corruption, they were powerful and influential within the community as well as a help to law enforcement, and their dealings with the underworld kept things in the real world under control and out of the hands of demons. However, outside of a few popular charities, their efforts did not extend to helping the poor. It was a problem for society as far back as there had been human beings, back to caveman days, through the Roman Empire, into the Middle Ages, and to contemporary society. There had always been poverty. No one yet, even Lord Christ himself, had been able to find a way to eradicate it and keep the poor from a life of destitution and hunger. He hoped and prayed that one day such suffering and death could finally come to an end. He made a note to himself to talk with Jean about it to see if the family could help find some way to help those downtrodden like this mother and her daughter.

He tenderly placed the child in her mother's arms, keeping them together in death, then kissed them both softly on the forehead. Kneeling beside them, he took a more official posture, removed a small bottle of water from his jacket. Using the water, he made the Sign of the Cross on both of their foreheads. "Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up."

When it was all done, and the coroner had gone, Easy looked around the alley again, still deathly quiet but with no sign of any struggle, homeless people, murderers or vampires anywhere in sight. He thought to himself how simple it had been to take care of this. As he left, he stopped and looked up to Heaven, giving a quiet prayer for the souls of those who had died here tonight, for those who had killed, and for those who now had to decide what could be done for Olivia.

Chapter Eleven

January 16, 2020
5:12 p.m.

"I'm not sure what we're going to do just yet, Papa. She's still sleeping; in fact I hope she sleeps for the next two days. Dealing with what happened is not going to be easy." Jean held the phone in his shaking hand. He hadn't wanted to tell Spike what had happened to the little girl. He hadn't really wanted to admit it to himself. But Easy had convinced him that it had to be done and that to deny it was to lie not only to himself, but to his father. Such a lie could cause an irreconcilable rift between them. And it would eventually destroy Olivia. Jean had reluctantly agreed, and had promised to call Spike when they got up.

He and Liv had both had a very restless sleep, both tossing and turning and hardly touching one another at all, which in itself was unusual. When he finally got up, he made sure Liv was sleeping soundly and then made the call.

"I understand. I know. I know something must be done. Wesley found nothing?" He nodded sadly, even though his father couldn't see it. "I understand. I was just hopeful." He visibly saddened, his body almost slumping under the heavy weight of what had happened and what might still happen. Decisions would have to be made, decisions that he couldn't bear to think about. "Papa? There is another way." He hesitated, but decided to at least voice this option. "We could, I mean, Wesley could … restore her soul."

It hung in the air for a few moments, then the telephone exploded into indecipherable yelling both in English and in French. Jean had to hold the phone away from his ear, all the while trying to interrupt. "René! René, stop yelling, cher. I know. I know! But …. I know, I don't want to take that away from her either but … but René … I know, there's no guarantee she would be … I know, but …" He sighed heavily. "René … please … let me talk to Papa again." Another minute or two of yelling, then the phone was obviously handed back to Spike. Jean was shaken. He hadn't expected René to react like that, though in his heart he felt the same way. Still he had wanted to offer all options, even those he knew she would not like.

"Thank you, Papa. I'll stay close and do what I can. Tell René… never mind." He sighed. "I love you, too." He hung up, his hands still trembling slightly.

He turned to Easy. "Neither one of us are to leave her, for any reason. If they need one of us, they'll send someone else, but there must always be two of us here with her."

"Wesley found nothing?" Easy already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it.

Jean slowly shook his head. "Apparently Spike's lineage is the only one to ever accomplish this kind of total behavioral change. There isn't enough research or information for there to be any documentation. Not even in the ancient texts." He turned away, biting his lower lip. "I had hoped maybe there was some legend we had missed, something that could help."

"But there isn't." Olivia stood in the doorway of her bedroom. Her voice was almost matter-of-fact and business-like, laced with an edge of pain and regret. "I know, m'Jean. There is no magic to help us."

He went to her and folded her in his arms, kissing her softly on the neck. "We'll find some way, my love. I know we will."

She welcomed his lips on hers and lived happily there for some time before she pulled away and placed her hands on his chest, pushing back from him slightly. "I know we can do this. But … but for now, I need to talk to Easy for a few minutes." She paused. "Um, alone, if that's okay." She glanced over her shoulder into the bedroom. "You can stay just by the door if you wish. I feel strong right now. We should be okay."

She was calm, Jean could feel it through their link, and she was confident. That was good. He kissed her lightly on the cheek and whispered to her, "I'm going to shower. Come join me when you're through if you wish." He kissed her quickly, but seductively, then glanced over at Easy and slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Olivia let out a long sigh. That shower had sounded inviting. However, she had been awake in the bedroom, even though Jean thought she was asleep. She had heard his side of his conversation with Spike and knew that there was nothing anyone could do at this point. She couldn't live like this anymore. The guilt alone was stifling. The fear that she might kill again made her physically sick.

She went to Easy, taking one of his hands in hers. "Father Sinclair, I have a favor to ask of you."

Easy's eyes went wide for a moment. She never called him Father Sinclair. She guided them both to the sofa and began her request. He was both stunned and honored and agreed immediately to do what she had asked.

"And when that is done," she qualified, "I'm going to ask you to do something against Spike's wishes." She waited for him to object, but was pleased that he waited to hear her out first. "When we are through, I would like to spend the rest of the night alone with Jean. I know Spike has said there should always be two of you, but you know that I am strong with Jean here and I promise not to be more than 8 inches away from him all night." She all but blushed at the comment realizing what she was saying.

Easy turned his head away so that she wouldn't see him smile, then recovered and turned back to her, nodding. He understood exactly what she was asking for and he would not deny her that.

"I need to get some things from my bag and we can begin." He stopped for a moment, glancing at the bedroom door, a sly smile on his lips. "Unless you'd like to join Jean first."

Olivia's face broke into a broad grin. It was tempting, it was too tempting. She excused herself and slipped into the bedroom.

Jean was standing under the water unmoving, staring into space. The water had warmed him but he couldn't feel, he couldn't think. He was just numb. He didn't want to lose her. As much as becoming a vampire had been against Liv's wishes, he had been so happy with her, even in their short time. So much had happened to him lately, losing her, losing René, then getting them both back. Also, a part of him inside knew that if Olivia had to be destroyed it would hurt not just him, but René as well. René, her lover, had accepted that things were not going well, but René, her sire, was still feeling a great deal of guilt at what he had done, in spite of her forgiveness.

The door to the shower opened and his morose musings seemed to swirl down the drain. Here she was, this exquisitely beautiful creature, nude and opening her arms to him. He crushed himself to her and covered her mouth with his own. The warmth of the water and the clean scent of soap engulfed them both in the pleasures of touching and washing one another's bodies, shampooing hair, and making love. When they were through, they dried one another and dressed.

Once again, Olivia asked Jean to remain in the bedroom until she called him, saying that she and Easy had something to do, a kind of surprise for him. He sensed no deception or danger in her and kissed her soundly before sitting on the bed to wait for her.

She entered the living room freshly scrubbed and dressed. Easy was a little taken aback; she appeared almost virginal, like a bride coming to see the priest before her marriage. Her hair was still damp and left droplets of water on her back and occasionally on the floor. She didn't care.

He was waiting for her, seated in an overstuffed chair, a purple stole in his hands.

She approached him, looking down and smiling, then kneeled before him, her eyes wide and childlike. She squashed the desire to kiss his Bishop's ring, as she normally would have under these circumstances, then asked, "Father, do you have your beads with you?"

Easy still kept them with him at all times. Because of the unredeemed within the family, he kept them safely tucked away so as not to endanger them or make them uncomfortable. Still, they were an important part of him, so he rarely was without them. He nodded at her.

"May I see them?"

Against his better judgment, he pulled them from his pocket and held them up for her. She blanched at the sight of them and the cross they bore, as he expected. Then he saw an extraordinary example of courage when she forced herself to look at them again and reached out to touch the cross that dangled before her. Her fingers were burned instantly and she withdrew, clutching her wounded hand to her chest and nodding to him. He put them away, understanding now what she was doing and why she had wanted to see them.

Once again she turned her eyes up to him. She was ready. He placed the purple stole around his neck and said a quiet prayer to himself.

When he was ready, she bowed her head before him and murmured quietly, "Bless me, Father. I have sinned. It has been …" She stopped and looked back up at him, surprised. "This is my first confession." In truth it was. The soul who had been Olivia was no longer here. This was a demon … asking for confession and forgiveness. And it was definitely a first … for both of them.

They continued together, her kneeling and confessing to him all the things she had done, but most especially the three deaths she had caused. Tears fell from her eyes as she spoke of them individually, naming them, trying to recall the details of what had happened as best she could, and ultimately asking for forgiveness. When it came time for penance, Easy stopped, unsure what acts of contrition she could perform.

She caught his doubt and touched his hand. "Father, my penance will be a sacrifice."

Easy put his other hand on top of hers, his eyebrows knitting together in the unspoken question.

She signed and raised her chin slightly, almost proudly, and he realized at that moment what she intended to do. Tears welled in his eyes as he finished the sacrament, "God, the Father of mercies, through the death and the resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. My daughter, your sins are forgiven."

They both sighed as what felt like a great yoke of burden was lifted from them. As they both stood, she searched his face. "Father? Could I see your beads again, please?"

He removed them and held them out to her. She took them into her hands and closed her fingers around them, touching each bead individually and then finally touching the cross with her unburned fingers. There was no pain, no burning. She looked at him again, joy in her eyes and on her face. It was exactly as she had hoped. As she returned the beads to him, he held her hands tightly in his as she bowed her head and kissed his ring. Touched by her devotion and the miraculous healing power he had just seen, he asked her to wait for a moment.

He went to his bag and returned with something in his hands. Opening them to her, he held a silver cross on a silver chain. He'd had it in his bag for what seemed like years and never really knew why he had put it in there, but he always had it with him. She smiled at him with love and gratitude as he turned her around and fastened it around her neck, the silver cross lying softly on her skin, again, not burning her.

She turned around to him, throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek as she whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for this wonderful gift."

After a few quiet moments together she told him she wanted to get Jean now and went to the bedroom while he retrieved something else from his bag.

She returned dragging Jean by the hand and full of enthusiasm. Jean himself looked completely baffled until he saw the instruments before Easy on the coffee table and heard the familiar and comforting words of Holy Communion. As Olivia pulled eagerly pulled him down to his knees, he got the first recognized glimpse of the cross she wore. As the priest continued his ritual, Jean could not help but reach out and trace the silver on her neck. It was then he realized what they had been doing and what they were doing now. He and Olivia had attended mass regularly whenever they were together, but since she had been turned, it had not been possible. He had missed the unity they shared in their faith, he had missed her presence with him when he prayed at church, and until this moment he had not realized how much he had missed sharing this meal of the body and blood of Christ with her.

They continued in practiced reverence, reciting their words of faith, accepting the gift of life through sacrifice, and partaking of that which only the forgiven could enjoy. At the final blessing, their hands were joined tightly together, as they had been a thousand times before.

As they rose at the completion of the sacrament, Easy packed up quickly before excusing himself. "I'm sorry, Jean, I need to go, uh, back to the house and discuss some things with Spike and Baby. You two will be fine?" It wasn't really a question, but he felt he should give Jean some say in his leaving.

Jean had been so completely overwhelmed with what Olivia had done that he hardly noticed Easy's question at all, finally just nodding his agreement while holding both of Olivia's hands in his and drinking in the happiness and peace he saw in her eyes.

Easy leaned over to her, whispered in her ear and kissed her lightly on the cheek, keeping the tears in his eyes hidden from Jean as he slipped out the door. Once outside, he left another prayer at her door and felt the tug of his heart as he realized he would never see her again.

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

I'll be your dream,
I'll be your wish I'll be your fantasy.
I'll be your hope,
I'll be your love be everything that you need.
I love you more with every breath truly madly deeply do..
I will be strong I will be faithful
'cause I'm counting on

A new beginning.
A reason for living.
A deeper meaning.

I want to stand with you on a mountain.
I want to bathe with you in the sea.
I want to lay like this forever.
til the sky falls down on me...

And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky,
I'll make a wish send it to heaven then make you want to cry..
The tears of joy for all the pleasure in the certainty.

That we're surrounded by the comfort and protection of..
The highest powers. In lonely hours. The tears devour you..

I want to stand with you on a mountain,
I want to bathe with you in the sea.
I want to lay like this forever,
Until the sky falls down on me...

Oh can't you see it baby?
You don't have to close your eyes
'cause it's standing right here before you.
All that you need will surely come...

I'll be your dream
I'll be your wish I'll be your fantasy.
I'll be your hope
I'll be your love be everything that you need.
I'll love you more with every breath truly madly deeply do...

I want to stand with you on a mountain,
I want to bathe with you in the sea.
I want to lay like this forever,
Until the sky falls down on me...

The rest of the evening Olivia and Jean spent casually in her flat, watching a favorite movie, having popcorn, listening to music, and curled up together on the sofa just talking. Neither one spoke of the absolution nor anything about the religious sacraments they had participated in. It was as it had always been with them, something special that they did together that meant a lot to them both … and they never spoke of it.

As it neared midnight, they headed to the bedroom, hardly able to keep their hands off of one another. The first time was quick and urgent and left them both breathless and almost giggling on the bed together, their clothes scattered about the room and safely tucked beneath the covers.

After they had napped for awhile, Liv snuggled further into Jean's embrace, "Jean?"

"Yes, my love." Jean couldn't remember the last time they had felt this good together.

"Can I ask a favor of you tonight?"

"Anything."

"For just tonight, can it be just us? Just you and me? And I'm the only one in your heart and you're the only one in mine, and there is no one else crowded into our bed physically or emotionally?" Her voice was soft and almost pleading.

This was important to her, though he wasn't sure he could even begin to understand why. She had always known the score between them. She had always known that the family, and René in particular, would always come first in his heart. She had never complained about it, in fact, they had never really even discussed it. It was an accepted part of their relationship, so something about her request seemed a little off.

"If that is what you wish, cher, okay. I can do that. I can block everyone out and we can be just us." He turned her face up toward his. "Can I ask why?"

She kissed him softly, her hand resting on his chest. "I'll explain later. It's just for tonight, I promise I won't ever ask it of you again."

He returned her kiss and agreed, taking a moment to mentally dismiss the chorus of voices and activities in his head that his other loved ones were busy with. He made sure they knew nothing was wrong that he was just going to disconnect for a while for privacy with Liv. He felt some resistance from Spike, but he reassured them all that it would be fine, then turned to her and smiled. "I'm all yours."

They wrapped in each other and talked about everything and nothing before sinking into the slow, mature lovemaking that they did so well together. Long, tender kisses and slow, almost torturous, caresses that sent them both squirming in eager anticipation of the others' touch and love. They pleasured one another with their mouths, their bodies, their hearts, their hands and any other way that they could convey their love back and forth. They were uninhibited and held nothing back, then rested in each other as they drifted to sleep. It was perfect.

Later, after they had slept for a while, Jean slipped into the bathroom to retrieve some oils and other treats. Olivia moved to the window and opened it wide. The moon and stars shined brightly through the bars casting a silvery sheen to the bed. She couldn't help but smile at it. Clouds of heaven it seemed to her, and with Jean at her side, touching and loving her that was exactly what it was.

As Jean returned, she took the things from him and set them down on the bed, then reached out and took his hands in hers. He stood before her curious what she was doing but remaining still as she seemed to want him to do.

Olivia sat on the bed, her hands holding tightly to Jean's. He had never seen such a look of peace on her face, at least not since she had been turned. She had such a glow about her, her skin gleaming like alabaster, almost reflecting the moon itself. He wasn't sure she had ever looked more beautiful than she did right now, with her mussed hair, no make up, his scene on her, and the shimmer of the moon about her.

She had been gazing up at him, squeezing his hands tighter and tighter until she finally spoke. Her voice was hesitant, even nervous, but it still held that musical quality that had made his heart melt for 20 years.

"Jean, my love," she began slowly. "We have not talked about things. Important things. And we must. We can't pretend that it's not happening any longer."

"But, cher, we can …… " she stopped his interruption with gentle fingertips to his lips. She pulled him down onto the bed next to her and placed her lips where her fingertips had been.

"Please, let me finish. If you don't, I'm afraid I won't say what I need to say, and it's important, my love. It's important."

Jean felt panic welling up inside him. He didn't like where this was going. Something was just not right and she was too calm about the horrible events of the last few days. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them softly, then nodded for her to go on.

She smiled shyly then continued. "I can't control the bloodlust anymore." He started to interrupt her again, but stopped. She was right. It was becoming more difficult for her. He had tried not to see it, but he knew, and inside he screamed in agony for her. "I can't control it and it's getting worse. You know that, right?"

Jean nodded, tears welling up in his eyes.

She smiled a little. "I am many things, my love, but I am not slow. I know that I am only still alive now because I am bound to you and René. If I had been any other childe, I would be dust by now."

Again he nodded, his throat beginning to tighten and choke him.

She touched his cheek softly with her hand, caressing him, in some vain attempt to take the sting out of what she was about to say. "You know that I am forgiven, we both know it. You see this around my neck," she fingered the cross glimmering on her skin, "and you know I am redeemed now." She smiled again, her eyes closing in a solemn, prayerful moment. "As do I."

"But we also know it will not last long. I can only stay like this for so long, and then only in your presence, and sometimes René's."

She crawled up onto her knees and faced him, taking his face in her hands and kissing him deeply, suddenly realizing that nothing was going to make this easy. She guessed it must be part of her penance. It just couldn't be as easy as dying again.

"I don't know what will happen to me. I know that the Olivia who used to live here is in heaven. Too many of her memories stayed with me, teaching me to be like her, even though I am not all of her. But I don't know what would happen to me, this demon me, if I stay here. I do know that she didn't want this, that she feared being a vampire, and that somehow I might cheat her from her happy eternity. I … I don't think that will happen, but still I don't know what will happen to me. Or I don't know what will happen if I stay and if I continue to kill and feed on … on innocent people." She couldn't seem to stop the explanation. I just poured from her unbidden and wouldn't stop. Part of her hoped he would see what she was asking, what she needed to do. From the tense expression on his face and the way the muscles on his arms were flexing, she felt he was indeed beginning to understand.

"As much as I love you, I cannot stay. You know that, right? I will kill again and Spike will be forced to cover for me again and then he will have to deal with me and the legal authorities and who knows how many other people, perhaps even families. I remember the little girl from last night. I remember how beautiful she was and how sweet she tasted, and there is that part of me that will take control again and go in search of some other lovely little girl or boy." She stopped, her voice choking slightly. "I can't do it, Jean. I cannot be allowed to do it."

Jean was trembling now. His mind did not want to admit what she was saying, but his heart knew it all to be true and it seemed to break wide open in both love and agony at what she was going through and what she might yet have to go through.

She took his face in her hands again and kissed him, more gently this time, but more urgently, then she wrapped her arms around him and pressed their bodies together, resting her head on his shoulder and whispering to him softly. She wasn't sure she could face him right now. "My love … when tonight is over, and the sun begins to shine through the windows," she pulled back from him and reached into the drawer of the night table, then turned back to him, "Please … my love … please take my life." She placed the stake in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

Jean immediately pushed away from her, jumping to his feet and hurling the wooden stake across the room. "No! Olivia! What are you talking about? NO! I won't do it, you don't have to … no! We'll find another way, I know there must be something, Wesley or Giles or someone will find someway to make this work and you'll be fine. I know you will, just, just, please … don't … don't ask me to do this." His voice was shaking as must as his body, and all he could see of her were deep brown eyes filled with tears of pain and regret.

Her voice became soft and broken. "If you won't do it, then who will? You know it has to be done. Would you rather someone else did it? Spike? Or Sam? Or some impersonal council of executioners?" She looked up at him, silent tears leaving shimmering rivers on her face. "Or do I have to go for a sunrise walk alone?"

She was playing dirty now, but she had to, he had to see that she had to do this. She knew he wouldn't want any of those things for her; he didn't want to let her go at all, but he particularly didn't want her to burst into flames at sunrise … alone in her last moments, alone without him.

Jean crumbled to the floor. "There has to be something we can do." He sounded so defeated. In just a few short moments he realized everything she had said was true. She couldn't stop it, things were getting worse, and she was right, she would end up in the hands of someone who didn't love her like he did.

Liv joined him on the floor, wrapping her arms around him, trying to hold back her own sobs. "It's not what I want, m'Jean, it's not what either of us wants. But there is little choice now. If the demon inside of me is capable of killing an innocent child, then there is no one that is safe. Not you, not René. No one." She choked back tears and tried to sound more rational instead of broken. "I … I've been absolved, and for now, I am redeemed, safe from the fires of hell which I have no desire to even visit." She tried to make that sound lighter than it actually came out. She failed. "Easy … Easy understands. When it was time for penance, he was at a loss. How do you do penance for murdering three innocent people?" She sat back on her heels and tried to make him look at her. "I told him … I told him my penance would be a sacrifice. I didn't have to tell him what that sacrifice would be. He knew." She placed her hands over his, pouring as much love as she could through their link and through their joined hands. "And so do you."

The phone rang, jolting them both. After three rings Jean finally answered it, gathering himself together as best he could.

"René? No, everything's fine. Yes. I know. I … I wanted it to be just Liv and me tonight so that's why you don't feel me, but I'm fine, really. Yes. Yes, so is she. We've been talking about things and … how to fix them. It's okay, m'frere." He looked at Liv, tears running down both of their faces. "I promise, everything is going to be okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Besides, " he tried to sound a little annoyed, he wasn't sure how successful he was, "besides, you're interrupting some very important alone time here, brother … get the hint?" He forced a laugh at what René had said on the phone. Then bid him goodnight and hung up.

Jean stared at the phone after he replaced it then picked up the stake from across the room and brought it back to her, placing it gently in her hands. "He's going to be very angry in the morning when he realizes." He looked back up at her suddenly not sure if he was talking about René or himself. "He will feel it, Liv. He'll know that you've …"

She pressed her fingers to his lips again as she slid the stake beneath her pillow. "Shhhh, I know, my love. But by then he won't be able to do anything about it and … and I will be at peace." She tried to sound brave and as if this was what she wanted. She hoped it would make it easier on Jean. Somehow she thought none of this would be easy on anyone, except perhaps her.

She fingered the cross again, looking down at it this time. "You know how important this is to me. I gave my confession, I was forgiven, and we both know that for me to keep that forgiveness that … this has to happen, my love. If you cannot do it, then I will find another way. I just … I just wanted my last moments to be with you … in your arms, and for your last memories of me to be of love," she kissed him, "and tenderness," she kissed him again, "and no regrets." She kissed him again, this time with the fire she always held for him, moving him, transforming their trembling bodies into instruments of love again.

When their lips reluctantly parted, he looked at her, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "You know, I could just tie you up and lock you in the bathroom until we figure something out."

She almost laughed, then kissed him again. "I know, my love, but you won't." She looked at him questioningly. "Will you?"

"Well I don't know," he growled playfully and started crawling toward her, as she scampered up on to the bed and tried to back away. "Perhaps instead of that, I'll just have to chain you up here, and here," he pointed to the bedposts, then take my pleasure with you as long and slow as I please," he moved closer and closer, his growl becoming more playful and his body beginning to show signs of arousal instead of shock and sorrow.

"Promise?" She said with a challenging grin. It was a game they had played hundreds of times. They never tired of it, pitting their best wit against each other and waiting to see who gave up first. It was familiar and comforting and a way they could both submerge their sadness instead of argue and dwell on what they both knew would become an eventuality.

Jean did not want to kill her. Far from it, he would much prefer to keep her with him the rest of their lives. But he also saw the logic in what she was asking. She wanted to be released from the danger and guilt of killing innocents. She didn't want to become what her human self feared she would become. And rather than go for a walk in the sun or set herself on fire, she had chosen to ask him to spend this last night with her and help her go quietly into oblivion. He didn't want her to go, but he also knew that he wouldn't win this argument with her. Unless he had a concrete way of assuring her that she would never lose control again, she wouldn't even consider anything else but this way out of it.

It was going to be difficult, the most difficult thing he'd ever done in his life, except perhaps watching her waste away last November. He thought for a moment. No, this was harder. He tried to take comfort in that fact that they were having such a delightful time together and it had been such a perfect night.

With no warning whatsoever, Jean pounced on her, tickling her madly as they both dissolved into fits of giggles and laughter. The call from René had forced him to look at what she wanted. Lying to René had broken the tension and forced Jean to make it all right in his head and accept that this was the only decision she would accept. It was painful but their last hours would be joyous and loving and perfect, just as so much of their time together had been.

Her giggles died down as Jean's lips sought hers and devoured them. His hands were suddenly everywhere, touching and exploring every curve, every limb, her fingers, her ears, her lips. She opened herself to him, welcoming his touch, drawing his tongue into her mouth to dance with her own, and wrapping herself around him, holding his body to hers. He kissed and sucked every part of her he could reach, and when she begged him to, he entered her with the same explosion of passion that had always been between them. It wasn't enough. They both wanted more, so they both took more and gave more, bringing each other to orgasm over and over again through the night. Just when they would settle, exhausted, into each other's arms, one of them would start anew, teasing and daring the other to meet their passion's demands.

When they were so spent that they could hardly move, Olivia turned toward the open window, the sky still a midnight blue, though not quite as dark as it had been. Jean spooned up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly against him, nuzzling his face into her hair and whispering softly to her. Again they slept for a little while until the approaching sun woke them both. It was time.

As the horizon began to turn shades of deep purple and crimson laced with gold, Olivia turned in his arms and kissed him, giving herself over to him one last time, wrapping her heart, her body, and her love around him in a cushion to protect him from the pain and guilt she knew he would feel.

"It's not your fault, my love," she whispered. "Never think that. And it's not René's fault, either; it's just how things are." She buried her face into his chest, inhaling his scent one last time as she reached beneath the pillow and grasped the stake there. "This is what I want, okay?" He held her tighter. "Okay?"

"Yes," he whispered. "I understand, this is what you want." He looked into her deep brown eyes with his own, tears threatening both of them. "But just so you know, it's not what I want." He kissed her deeply, salty tears mixing on their lips.

"I love you, m'amour," she whispered, barely able to speak. "I will always love you." As discretely as possible she brought the hated piece of wood between them, the sharpened point directed to just the right spot on her breast, the pressure of their bodies holding it steadily in place. She kissed him again, parting her lips to him, each of them tasting the other one last time.

"I love you, Liv, God how I love you." He kissed her face, her cheeks, her throat, as much of her as he could reach.

She rested her forehead against his, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "Let me go then as I wanted to before, my love … let me die in your arms."

Their lips met one last time as they pulled each other into a fierce embrace that forced the stake into Olivia's heart. She shattered into dust, their lips still touching.

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

The pounding on the door became the crash of a door being broken down. René's voice filled the flat with desperation as he called out for both of them. He found Jean lying on the bed, curled up as he had been around her … covered in silvery gray ashes. Next to him laid a stake and the silver cross she had been wearing.

René hurried to the windows and closed the shutters against the threatening sun, then he stood, angry and shocked, in front of Jean. "What … where is … what's hap…."

"Go away, René." Jean's eyes were vacant, his voice full of pain. "You couldn't let her die how she wanted to … I did. Now go away and leave me alone." He turned away from René, clutching the silver cross to his heart, and wept.

Epilogue

Once, as my heart remembers,
all the stars were fallen embers.
Once, when night seemed forever
I was with you.

Once, in the care of morning
in the air was all belonging.
Once, when that day was dawning.
I was with you

How far we are from morning.
how far we are
and the stars shining through the darkness,
falling in the air.
Once, as the night was leaving
into us our dreams were weaving.
Once, all dreams were worth keeping.
I was with you.

Once, when our hearts were singing,
I was with you.

Falling Embers by Roma Ryan

The two men stood at her gravesite, light drizzle watering the grass and leaving teardrops of rain on their overcoats. They stood, hand-in-hand, silently. It had been a lovely service. Easy had done well by her.

It had been hard for them to speak again, both of them harbored such anger toward the other. Jean blamed René for everything, for turning Liv against her will, for dying and disconnecting from her, for not nurturing her when he was brought back, for not being there at the end to help him find a way to save her. René was still angry with Jean for lying to him and for helping Liv carry out her own suicide. He had insisted, in their numerous arguments, that that's what it was, even though in his heart he knew it wasn't and he knew how much it had hurt Jean to do what he had done. Still, stubborn brothers that they were, they continued the animosity about it until Baby had forced them both to go to Mobile and clean out her beach house together in hopes that they could work through some of this, even if they had to beat each other senseless to do it..

As they had gone through Olivia's things in her house, cleaning it out, taking keepsakes for themselves, sorting through belongings that others might like to have as a remembrance of her, Jean had found a chest in her closet. It was about the size of a hope chest and was somewhat ornately carved with flowers and vines. Taped to the top of it was an envelope that simply said "Jean Claude DuValliere."

"What you find?" René had come with him. It somehow seemed only right that the two of them personally go through her things, the last remnants of her life on earth.

"A letter." Jean's voice broke just a little. "From her." His fingertips traced the words on the front. He knew her handwriting. He turned the envelope over and over in his hands, then stood and went into the kitchen and poured himself a drink. René joined him.

"What she say, frère?"

Jean simply shrugged. He couldn't bring himself to read it just yet. The wounds were still too fresh and deep. He wasn't sure he could handle this right now.

René slipped the envelope away from his brother and cocked his head to one side. Jean nodded. He couldn't read it, but he would allow René to … just in the event there was something important that needed his attention.

René read silently, then poured himself a drink as well, draining it quickly. "She write it when she was sick." He took his brother's hand and led him back into the bedroom to the closet and to the chest.

"René … I don't know that I'm ready for this …" Sadness trimmed his voice. He was going to feel her loss for a very long time and he suddenly wasn't sure at all if he was ready to be going through her things and reading last words left for him.

René nodded but knelt down next to the chest anyway, gently flicking open the latch and opening it. The spectacular fragrance of dried roses filled the room and invited Jean to come and see for himself what was there. The chest was filled with rose petals. Nothing else appeared to be inside. Jean looked at his brother with confusion, his eyes beginning to well with tears.

"They are from you, m'frère. They are from all the roses you gave her. What was it you used to say? 'One rose for every orgasm?'" He tried not to smile, but he could still hear his brother's words saying just that to Olivia and to pretty much every other woman he'd ever been with. "There must be thousands of petals in there, Jean. That's a lot of … roses." René's smile broadened with the memory of how much she enjoyed intimacy with the two of them.

Jean was stunned. Kneeling closer to the chest, he filled his hands with petals and pulled them to his face, inhaling their heady fragrance and somehow feeling Liv herself again. After a few moments he turned back to René and gestured to the letter; there was a hint of a smile on his face. "What does she say?"

René handed him the letter. He didn't think he could read it aloud and wasn't sure Jean or Liv would want him to. He felt a little awkward having read it at all. It was for Jean and Jean alone.

With a slightly trembling hand, Jean unfolded it and began to read, crossing his legs and leaning against the almost full chest.

My dearest Jean,

I know it is difficult for you to understand right now why I made the choice I did, but please try to understand that it is what I wanted. I wanted my place in Heaven. I did not want to leave a soulless body here on earth that could only be a shadowy reflection of me. You have been the love of my life, the one love I waited for and lived for. But now, my life is over and I want nothing of me left behind to complicate that. No matter how much a demon looks like me or could be controlled, no matter how good it might be, it could never truly be me, not my heart and soul, it would only be an echo of who I was.

Though I am gone from you now, my love for you stays with me where I am, happily watching and waiting for you to join me. I'll greet the soul you were and tell him of the wonderful, redeemed soul you have become after death. I'll show him who you are and tell him of the life I had with you because of the choice he made. And I will thank him for it.

M'coeur, inside this chest are the petals from every rose you've given me over our many years together. Please take these petals and bury me with them. Cover my body with them just as you covered me so many, many times. Let me rest in that love and the fragrant remembrance of our life together.

Live long and happily, my love, until we are together again.

Yours eternally,
Olivia

Jean dropped the letter in his lap and stared at his brother, tears running down his face. He understood what she wanted, but he also knew that she was wrong. The soulless body left behind was so much more than a shadow or an echo. She had courage and dignity even beyond what Liv herself had. She had been willing to sacrifice herself so that no one else would be in danger from her, and she had left love and forgiveness behind. In her short existence, she had been extraordinary, just as the living Olivia had been.

Jean folded the note and shoved it into his pocket. He would read it again later, but for now he wanted to see to her other wishes. It was the least he could do for the woman who had meant so much to him for so many years … as well as for the woman who came after her in death.

He and René purchased the casket and placed her ashes inside it, then covered them with the petals. They smiled later that the funeral home might never get the smell of roses out of the room. She was buried in one of the newer cemeteries, near a grove of trees. The headstone was modest but elegant. She'd have liked it. It said:

Olivia Fairchild DuValliere Beaumont
Companion - Lover - Daughter
Rest in love until we are together again
August 9, 1979 - January 17, 2020

As they stood there together in silence, Jean reached into his pocket and brought out a small box. It was wrapped only in a deep brown ribbon, about the color of her eyes. He handed it wordlessly to René, who looked at him questioningly as he untied the delicate bow and opened the box. It was empty.

Jean spoke without looking at his brother, staring down instead at the fresh grave covered in fresh roses. "She forgave you, you know. Not just your daughter, but also the woman she was before."

René nodded, then murmured quietly, "I know." He paused for a moment, then continued. "She told me … when … when I was there."

"What?" Jean looked at him, confused. "When you were where?" His hands began to shake slightly and he shoved them deeply into his pockets.

"When … when I was in Heaven. She there, with me. Touched my hand, kissed my cheek, said she forgive me because she knew I did it in love for you." He blinked back tears and felt the rush of love from the memory. "Then she tell me to come back here to you. So, I did."

Jean looked at him in disbelief. "You … you never told me."

René nodded. "I couldn't. Too hard. It still hard to say." He thought for a few moments. "Heaven sure is a pretty place."

Jean took his hands out of his pockets and took René's free hand in them. "You know what is in the box, then."

René smiled and nodded.

"If she can forgive you, then who am I not to? She's right. You did it for love … for me and for her. She's in a happier, safer place now. Both of her." He leaned in toward his brother and kissed him softly. "Let's go home."

They turned and joined hands once again, glancing at the headstone next to hers and exchanging a knowing smile.

"I don't suppose she's very lonely up there, is she?"

"No, cher, she not lonely at all, she all kinds of happy."

As they walked away the rain fell harder, washing the trees, the grass, the mausoleums, even the air. Dirt and dust from the headstones soaked into the grass, leaving the names and epitaphs clear for everyone to see. And on the headstone next to hers, washed clean by the rain, were the words:

Jean Claude DuValliere
July 5, 1970 - August 20, 2000
Devoted Husband and Father

~Fin~

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