As always I own nothing but the plot and the character Sarah. The lyrics are to the song ‘Photograph’ by Nickleback and I don’t own that either. Read and review, it makes the chapters come faster.
Sarah woke bright and early the next morning, intent on exploring the house she’d be calling home for a while. The night before her screwed up sleeping schedule and what she now recognized as mental exhaustion had prompted her to okay the room she now shared with Spike the moment Angel had shown it to them. The room was close to Master Bedroom size but all Sarah cared about was that it was bigger than the one she’d had back home so it was fine by her. The headboard of the king size bed was up against the center of one wall with the rest jutting out into the room and a large bureau beside it, topped by a large mirror. Two closets occupied the wall across from the bed with a large amount of blank wall in between and the wall to the outside was lined with windows and a semicircular window seat in serious need of new upholstery. The walls were a pleasant shade of Royal blue.
/we need curtains/ she thought as she made her way to the bathroom. /maybe some bookshelves/
Her train of thought trailed off as she entered the ugliest bathroom she’d ever seen. Brown porcelain made up the tub, sink, and toilet, the floor tiles were a marbled lime green, the wallpaper (yes, wallpaper) was covered in bright red roses the size of her head, and the light fixtures looked like they belonged on the set of a 70’s porno. The Slayer stood there for several moments with her mouth hanging open, her only thought being /I must have really been out of it last night to have missed this/
Call of nature forgotten Sarah slowly backed away from the monstrosity that was the bathroom, shut off the light then firmly closed the door, as though the wood would prevent the hideous décor from leaking out into the bedroom. Spying Spike’s shirt in a corner she pulled it on and quietly slipped from the room…maybe there was a less intimidating bathroom downstairs. Silently making her way down the hall to the stairs Sarah tried to remember the layout of the house but all she could really recall was Angel saying that he’d been paying to have the plumbing and wiring updated every five years. Too bad the same couldn’t be said of the décor. Reaching the last step Sarah looked left and right, trying to decide which way was most promising. In front of her was the foyer and she grinned a little. There was a door on one wall of the entrance that she discovered was a closet, closing the door she went back to the stairs and turned left into the biggest kitchen she’d ever seen. It extended half the length of the house and was connected to a dining room that took up the other half. A partial rectangle of counters defined the ‘kitchen’ portion and there was a steady line of windows around the large room, broken only by the door toe the porch and four feet of wall between it and the end counter which was occupied by a large, new-looking refrigerator. The fridge was half-filled with blood-bags and a little human food; a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs, a package of cubed ham, and a small block of cheese.
/guess it’s omelets for breakfast/
There was a dishwasher on the far wall and an island in the middle of the kitchen portion that contained a brand new stove top on one end with an oven beneath it. Above the island was a rack where several new pots and pans hung. The dividing wall between kitchen and foyer had cupboards above the counters. At the end of that counter were two floor to ceiling cupboards; one was a pantry and the other was another closet filled with cleaning supplies. Past the door to the porch, dividing the kitchen from the dining room was another island with four stools around it. At the far end of the dining room was another door to the wrap around porch. Taking a hard right Sarah found the door to the basement. Across the hall from it was the living room and next to that was the laundry room, occupied by a lone washer and dryer that didn’t look near as new as the rest of the appliances she’d found. Making her way past the living room the Slayer found another closet located under the stairs and a hallway with yet another door to the porch at the end of it. There was one more door in that hallway that just *had* to be a bathroom. She was just reaching for the knob when it turned under her hand and the door swung inward and she jumped back with a curse.
“Crap Connor, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” the young man said, looking a little sheepish and took in her attire. “Is your bathroom a nightmare too?”
Sarah nodded, tugging the hem of her Mate’s shirt a little farther down on her thighs.
“Mine looks like a rainbow threw up,” he continued, moving out of her way.
“Ours has brown porcelain.”
He made an ‘eew’ face then gestured to the room he’d just exited.
“This one’s not too bad; at least the tub’s not pink…or brown.”
It was white with gold marbling, as were the sink ad toilet. Sarah had seen sinks like that before but never entire bathroom sets. The floor was covered with black tiles speckled with faux gold and the walls were painted a yellow so light that it was almost white. Connor was right, it wasn’t too bad. Call of nature answered Sarah quickly scrubbed her hands and opened the door and almost tripped over one of her bags. She looked over at Connor as he came down the stairs.
“Thanks,” she said, figuring that he’d grabbed it for her.
“No problem.”
Moments later, dressed in a black t-shirt with a decal of Eeyor and a faded pair of jean shorts, Sarah emerged from the bathroom carrying a pair of flip-flops which she set by the door before joining Connor in the task of moving their stuff into the house.
Remember the old arcade
Blew every dollar that we ever made
The cops hated us hangin' out
They say somebody went and burned it down
We used to listen to the radio
And sing along with every song we know
We said someday we'd find out how it feels
To sing to more than just the steering wheel
Angel woke to the sound of Sarah’s enthusiastic and surprisingly pleasant singing as she belted out a song he didn’t recognize. Now that they were off the road, out of danger for the moment, and he no longer had a company to run the vampire decided to reward himself with a little sleeping in. Angel had just about dozed off when he heard his bedroom door open.
“Angel,” Sarah called softly. “Wakey, wakey.”
Angel groaned and rolled over, hoping she’d take the hint and leave him alone. Sarah stared expectantly at the large shape on the bed for several minutes. When it became apparent that the dark vamp wouldn’t be moving on his own any time soon the Slayer quietly padded over to the window. Why he’d chosen the room with the most eastern exposure she didn’t know, but it worked to her advantage now.
As brilliant sunlight flooded the room Angel instinctively shielded himself with the blankets and let out a few colorful curses before remembering that the light didn’t hurt him anymore.
“Rise and shine, it’s a beautiful day!”
He slipped an arm out and flipped her off.
/and that goes for your overly cheerful voice too/
Several seconds later Sarah landed on the bed and started jumping.
“Get (bounce) Up (bounce) An (bounce) Gel (bounce) It’s (bounce) Al (bounce) Most (bounce) Noon. Can’t sleep the day away anymore.”
“I’m a vampire,” he muttered. “Watch me.”
She stopped bouncing then walked the few steps to his blanket-covered form and poked him in the side with her big toe.
“C’mon Angel. Waaake up,” she coaxed, digging her toe into his side.
She heard him growl then she was on her back with the game-faced vampire looming inches above her. Sarah knew that he was trying to be intimidating but she’d never seen a game-faced vamp except on tv and had only felt Spike’s, so for the most part she was just fascinated. Once Angel realized that Sarah wasn’t going to run in terror any time soon and that she was actually studying his face he allowed his features to return to normal and let out a sigh. Sarah tried not to laugh; she hadn’t realized just how often he did that.
“Do I intimidate you at all?” he asked, almost pleading.
Sarah gave him a sympathetic pout then kissed the tip of his nose and smirked at him.
“Mind explaining what you’re doin’ in here Sarah?”
She peeked over Angel’s shoulder and smiled at her Mate.
“I was trying to get him up,” she said while attempting to wiggle out from under the older vampire.
“Looks like you’re doin’ a pretty good job of it,” Spike observed.
His tone gave her pause. Finally realizing what they must look like Sarah’s eyes went wide.
“Wake him up!” she quickly amended. “I was trying to *wake* him up. Get off of me.”
The last bit was directed at Angel and she punctuated the command with a shove.
“But we were having so much fun,” angel said, jumping at a chance to needle his Grandchilde.
Sarah glared at him.
“You are not helping.”
“Wasn’t trying to.”
That sounded like something Angelus would say. Frowning thoughtfully she studied him. If he *was* Angelus it had to have happened sometime last night and considering that they’d all woken up this morning Sarah decided that he was just being a jackass. She rolled him off of her and stood up, moving to placate her Mate, when Angel said something that wasn’t in English. She didn’t understand a word of it but apparently Spike did because his expression darkened dramatically then she found herself pressed non too gently against the door with his fangs in her throat. A flash wave of desire shot through her until he spoke.
“Mine,” he growled. “You’re mine and no one else’s.”
Normally his possessive attitude was a major turn on but right now, something in his voice, his words, just pissed her off. Sarah hadn’t done anything wrong. Angel was the one being the ass hole, not her.
“You don’t own me,” she said in a low angry tone. Spike chuckled humorlessly.
“But I do,” he said. “This…”
He swiped his cool tongue over the reopened Claiming bite, lapping up the blood.
“This says that I do. This mark, the words you said…”
He raised a hand to run his thumb over the bite. Sarah gave a rather impressive snarl and slapped his hand away. Hooking a foot behind him she shoved her Mate and was treated to the gratifying sight of him sprawled on the floor then she was on him, their faces inches apart, one hand behind his head to be sure she had his attention.
“Maybe I should take it back.”
Somehow Sarah knew that she could. Either one of them could shatter the Claim before they were Mated, but considering how his body had gone deathly still under her, wide blue eyes fixed on her face, that was the last thing he wanted. Confident that her point had been made, Sarah stood.
“I’m not gonna be the object of one of your pissing contests,” she growled at the two vampires then turned and stomped out, the angry slap of bare feet on hard wood marking her passing.
After a moment Spike looked up at Angel.
“Am I the only one who saw her eyes turn green?”
The irate Slayer stormed outside, slamming the door behind her and angrily swiped at the blood trickling down her neck.
“Stupid jackass motherfu…”
“Who?” Connor cut her off.
“Take your pick.”
He nodded, slowly backing up in an attempt to escape. She was scary when she was mad. Sarah took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. In a more pleasant tone of voice she asked, “Will you come with me to get groceries? I was asleep when we got to town last night.”
Connor studied her for a moment.
“Sure,” he said, wondering if he’d just signed his own death warrant.
She slipped on the pair of flip-flops from earlier and tossed Connor her keys.
“You drive.”
Turning back to the house Sarah called, “We’re goin to town to get groceries.”
Climbing into the passenger seat as Connor started the car Sarah flipped down the visor and studied the bite in the mirror.
“Son of a bitch!” she growled before reaching for the glove box and the packet of wipes she kept there.
“He *bite* you?” Connor asked, slightly incredulous.
“Possessive vampire crap. I’m fine,” Sarah assured him and pulled open the glove box then frowned at the large manila envelope she found.
“What’s that?”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
After making sure that the bleeding had stopped and the bite was relatively covered by her shirt collar, Sarah opened the envelope and dumped the contents into her lap. There were several plastic rectangles which turned out to be ATM cards and driver’s licenses for both her and Spike and Sarah cringed at the photo on hers, she’d always said that it looked like a crack whore’s mug shot.
“Nice picture,” Connor grinned.
“I had the flu,” she defended weakly and turned back to the pile, trying to ignore a tingling sensation centered on the reopened Claiming bite. There were also social security cards and one credit card in Angel’s new name that Sarah tucked into her back pocket with a semi-evil grin, as well as birth certificates for both herself and Spike. She quickly checked the year on hers and sighed with relief to find that Brande Lyn Mitchell-Bishop was almost twenty-one. She quirked an eyebrow, so she was related to Angel now? Sarah shrugged and continued leafing through the papers until she found something interesting. One was apparently new but the other was authentic.
“Wow.”
“What?” Connor asked.
“William Charles Bishop…1877…Cambridge with honors.”
“Huh, go Spike,” he cheered.
She had a diploma too, not from Cambridge and not from college, but at least ‘Brande’ had finished high school; after marrying William according to the date on the marriage license Sarah discovered. After tucking her new license into her purse Sarah slipped the papers back into the large envelope and regarded the two smaller ones. The smallest looked kind of lumpy and gave a metallic clink when she shook it. Curious, Sarah dumped the contents into her palm; two gold bands and a small sapphire solitaire glittered up at her. Wedding rings.
She stared at them for a moment, studying the intricate Celtic design circling the bands, debating on whether or not to put hers on. Wives weren’t supposed to put their rings on their own fingers the first time. Sarah mentally shook her head.
/stop being stupid/ she commanded herself and pulled off the promise ring her mother had given her on her thirteenth birthday, replacing it with the sapphire engagement ring and the golden band. She fanned her fingers and admired the rings for a moment.
/I do/
“Nice,” Connor said.
Sarah looked over at him and smiled then looked around and frowned.
“How the hell far out do we live now?”
“About ten miles.”
“Crap,” was her reply.
Connor grinned.
“That’s what I said. So, what’s in the other envelope?”
“I haven’t looked in it yet. Got a little side tracked.”
She wiggled the fingers of her left hand at him and Connor put up an arm, mock blinded by her rings. Sarah rolled her eyes at him and opened the other envelope. It was filled with photos. She knew that they had a special name; dogotype or daguerreotype or something like that; the really old kind where the photo was in shades of brown and the subjects had to sit still for like an hour. The top one was a family portrait of sorts of Spike, Drusilla, Darla, and apparently Angelus, judging from their clothing and the date on the back. October 31st, 1885.
“Oh my God,” she laughed.
“What?” Connor gave her a strange look.
“October 31st, 1885.”
“So?”
“This picture was taken one hundred years to the day before I was born.”
“You were born on Halloween?”
Sarah nodded. “Eleven fifty-five p.m. 1985.”
“Weird,” he said and she shrugged.
“It’s just a day,” Sarah said and turned back to the photos, flipping through them until one caught her eye. The Master, in all his bat-faced glory, stood in the center with Darla and Drusilla seated demurely on either side. Angelus and Spike stood behind Dru and a dark haired vamp stood behind Darla with Luke beside him. There were several others on the peripheral but Sarah only recognized three more as James, Elizabeth, and Penn which just went to show that she watched *way* too much television.
One other figure in the photo caught the Slayer’s attention. A young girl stood in front of the Master; at least she looked young, maybe twelve, but exuded such an aura of power, even through a photograph, that Sarah knew that she was much, much older. The Slayer suppressed a shiver, child vamps always creeped her out so much more than the ones turned later in life. Sarah frowned, when had she met a child vamp? She closed her eyes and thought hard, almost forcing the memories. She remembered a book her grandfather had given her for her ninth birthday about master vampires and this photo had been in it. That was also the year her best friend Victoria had been turned…and tried to turn her.
“Whoa.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Bad memories.”
Doing the prerequisite shuffle through the photos Sarah came across some newer portraits. Putting the daguerreotypes back in the envelope the Slayer looked at the new photos. There was one of Angel, Darla, and Connor looking like a family, one of she, Spike, Angel, and Connor, and one of her and Spike in wedding attire.
“This guy went the whole nine yards and then some.”
“What do you mean?” Connor asked and Sarah showed him the pictures as they passed the ‘Welcome to’ sign. Tuscany, Montana. Sarah had never heard of it.
/I thought Angel was in Missoula during the Depression? /
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