The Tides of Change

AN: If you're curious about my take on the subject matter of this chapter, I've added an author's note at the end.
AN2: A titanium cuffed Lacroix with all necessary accoutraments to the reader who can find the stolen phrase, and tell me what movie I took it from. ::smirks::
SUSAN: Thank you for your review and your encouragement. : ) You saved this story from purgatory. This chapter is dedicated to you and your thoughtfulness.

A gentle reminder: I own nothing but the plot -- such as it is.


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Chapter Eleven
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"Oh, my God," Willow whispered, her quiet, incredulous voice carrying quite well.

Lacroix ignored her, in favor of continuing his debate with the arrogant blonde *child*. She had impressed him earlier, and unfortunately, that had led directly to him giving her his contract. Now it was too late to simply kill the girl. Lucien Lacroix did not care much for mortals, nor of mixing in their world. He did, however, view his word as his bond.

Of course, the fact that he wanted to impress upon young Alexander that he was trustworthy, might have played just the tiniest part in that. He did not want the young man as simply a meal. He wanted the incredible loyalty he knew drove the man under his control. To do that, he needed to inspire respect and then trust in the mortal. That was the mistake he'd made -- one of many, Lacroix grudgingly admitted to himself -- with his lost Nicholas.

"What?" both Tara and Alexander demanded, nearly in unison, instantly drawing his and 'Buffy's' -- Circe, but he hated that childish name! -- attention.

"He has a soul," Willow breathed in response.

Indignation stole through him. "I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed in outrage. "I have no such thing."

Eyes widening to incredible widths, Willow . . . squeaked. Unfortunately, she also nodded. "Yes, you do," she insisted -- the cheeky witch.

"He can't Willow," Buffy insisted from beside him. "He bit Xander, and he killed that woman in the park." She turned toward him, with what he suspected was supposed to be a frown, but looked for all the world more like a petulant pout. "And I'm still not happy with you about that."

"I'm a vampire," he replied smoothly, never taking his eyes from the red haired witch. "It's what we do." He did consider taking their memories, but was uncertain as to whether he could accomplish all three -- especially in the time he still had available to him. The sky was beginning to grow lighter, the dawn uncomfortably close.

"It looks different than with Angel," Tara said.

Willow nodded. "You're right. It does. Buffy, did you ever hear back from Giles?"

"No," Buffy replied. "Why?"

"Because I just think I figured out the difference between our . . . guest and normal vampires."

Lacroix bristled. He was exceptional, yes, and far above the . . . things . . . these people referred to regularly as vampires, but he *was* normal.

"What's that?" the blonde bitch asked.

Lacroix shook himself. He was allowing this inane conversation incite him to anger. He could not allow that. It was time to leave.

"I don't think he *ever* lost his soul."

"I am not a mortal with mortal concerns of souls and death. I am a vampire. I am immortal."

"Yeah, yeah," Buffy replied. "Hush it a minute."

Shock effectively silenced Lacroix -- for about ten seconds.

"You mean, it stayed when he got turned?" the blonde continued.

"Brought across," Lacroix automatically corrected, feeling utterly out of his depth for the first time in his very long life. These people were talking utter nonsense.

"Whatever," Buffy replied again. "That could be why he doesn't set off my spidey sense."

Tara nodded, bewildering Lacroix.

**Spidey sense?**

"Yes," Tara said quietly, her tone hushed. "No loss of soul equals no demon to take over."

"Which means no spidey sense tingling."

"Guys," Alexander interrupted, eyes flicking to the sky. "This is all very interesting, but I think we should get going."

"Agreed," Lacroix said firmly, stepping away from Buffy and toward Alexander.

"Whoa, slow down there, buster."

Slowly turning to face the woman he was slowly coming to loathe, Lacroix' voice quietly filled with venom. "My name, Madam, is Lacroix. I will accept no substitutions, nor 'nicknames'."

"So, beside the point," she retorted. "You leave Xander alone."

Beside him, Alexander started to reply, but Lacroix was just a shade quicker.

"You'll have to pardon me if I decline. He and I have some unfinished business to attend to. A deal was made to save your life."

"Buffy, it's okay."

Buffy frowned, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. "Fine," she spat finally, "but you keep your fangs to yourself, *Lacroix*."

Smirking, Lacroix readily agreed to the condition he was already planning on abiding by. "Unless he grants his freely given consent, I can assure you that he will remain in posession of all his blood."

"What about that memory messer-upper thingy?" Willow demanded, hands firmly on her hips.

**These children and their mangling of the english language.**

He turned to face the witch, and took a step back despite himself. Her eyes were entirely black. Somehow, he didn't think that was a good sign. "Hence the phrase, freely given, young Willow. If I were to coerce consent, it would not be freely given, now would it?"

**Idiots!** Why in the fires of Memnoch's hell he was standing around *talking* when he should simply snatch Alexander and fly off, was utterly beyond him. He would have to ponder the matter later. For now, he was done talking. He closed in on the mortal and asked. "Are you ready?"

Alexander stiffened, his heart rating skyrocketing, but he nodded. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

His friends didn't have time to respond. Lacroix wrapped an arm firmly around Alexander's waist and leapt into the last of the night sky. He chuckled lowly as Alexander let out a startled scream, that cut off with gratifying speed.

"Where?" Lacroix asked, placing his mouth directly next to Alexander's ear.

Alexander shuddered and after a short hesitation -- during which, Lacroix assumed, the mortal forced himself to open his eyes -- he shakily indicated a direction.

After several false starts, due directly to miscommunication, they arrived at "Willy's Bar". Lacroix set down in the alley beside it, releasing the mortal from his hold. He shuddered, however, as he surveyed his surroundings. He did not hold out high hopes for this place if its neighborhood was any indicator.

Indicating to Alexander that he should lead the way, Lacroix followed behind, eyes open and sense alert. There was something about this place that grated on his nerves. Stepping inside the dump was an experience equal to that of arriving here in the first place. His nose flared and his ears rang. It stank and was noisesome beyond belief. Dark, and obviously illkept, the place was certainly not set to attract a very high class of patronage. All attention turned toward them as Alexander entered. The mortal pretended to ignore it, and headed straight to the bar.

Lacroix, however, glared at anyone who made a move toward the mortal, more than satisfied when none dared to challenge his obvious claim. He didn't like some of the looks they were getting by creatures he would be hard put to describe -- and in some cases wouldn't want to. Though, apparently, he was an unknown enough quantity that none of those present were willing to push. That was quite satisfactory to him. He wanted little to nothing to do with these strange . . . creatures. They were neither mortals nor vampires, consequently they held little of interest to him at the moment beyond the physical dangers they might represent.

If he were forced to stay in this forsaken hell-hole permenantly, that might change, for now, however, he saw absolutely no reason to concern himself.

"Hey Willy, how's it hangin?"

Lacroix snorted at the impertinant question, but apparently the bartender took no offense. He did wonder about a *human* tending bar in a place frequented by vampires and 'demons', however. It seemed . . . odd to him.

"Things are going good, Kid," Willy replied readily enough; though, casting a wary glance Lacroix' direction. "What are *you* up to?" Another wary look. "Got yourself into any trouble recently?"

Lacroix smirked. **Quite a lot, actually,** he thought, intentionally letting Alexander handle the transaction. He wanted nothing to do with the bartender *or* the clientele here.

Alexander snorted. "You know me."

"Yeah, Kid, I do. That's why I worry."

"Lacroix here got me out of a real bad fix, actually, which is why were here. We need you to set him up with a 48 hour supply of blood."

"I'm guessing human, by the look of things," Willy replied with a third glance toward him -- this one rather appallingly assessive. "He certainly doesn't have the look of Angel about him."

**Angel!? Oh, yes, the vampire Alexander mentioned. Strange name for a vampire.**

Alexander nodded. "Right on both counts, Willy, and. . . ." He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a supposedly confidential whisper. "I'd be keeping my mouth shut about him if I were you. Even Angelus is afraid of him."

Willy's eyes widened dramatically and the mortal shot him a very startled look which quickly darted back to Alexander. "You mean, Angel, right?"

"No, well, yes, him too, but I *meant* Angelus."

A suddenly *very* nervous bartender quickly collected several bottles. "This stuff doesn't come cheap, Kid. How are you planning on paying for it?"

Lacroix watched as Alexander blanched at the total shown him. "There goes my summer vacation," he muttered as he wrote out a check.

As they exited the establishment, Lacroix smirked as he heard Willy speak into the telephone. "Summers? I got a question for you."

Shortly thereafter they were in the alley once again, and Xander rounded on him. "You owe me, Lacroix. That was an entire years worth of savings I just spent in there."

Gliding forward, Lacroix moved behind Alexander, stilling the mortal's movements when he tried to turn. He slipped an arm around Alexander's waist, like earlier. Making sure to support the blood supply they'd just purchased, he leaned close and whispered. "I'll make sure you're . . . adequately compensated once our original agreement has been fulfilled."

Alexander 'eeped' delightfully, and Lacroix was glad he'd had the foresight to secure the blood as the mortal would have dropped it in his surprise. Before the mortal could regain his composure, Lacroix lifted them back into flight. To his complete surprise, Lacroix found he was enjoying the flight, mortal warmth spreading along his body. For the first time ever, Lacroix began toying with the idea of maintaining contact with this mortal *as* a mortal, and it was then that he truly began to get an inkling of Nicholas' endless fascination with them.

TBC
Kiristeen
Feedback; I crave it. Without it, the muses dry up and turn dusty -- much like a staked vampire.
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com


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AN: Do they have a soul?

Within the series itself (Forever Knight) Lacroix has rather emphatically denied that they -- referring to himself and Nicholas Knight specifically -- have souls. Nick, himself, has many times spoken of his belief that he lacks a soul and that along with becoming human again, regaining his soul is one of his most profound wishes.

In direct contradiction to Lacroix' assertions and Nick's beliefs, we have the stories they've told of when they were brought across. In all cases, they speak of a 'near death experience' where they choose to go on or come back. This convinces me that they indeed have souls -- what else would come back? The implication being that when the soul chooses to go on, the making of a new vampire fails, and that when it chooses to return, the vampire is successfully brought across.

Nick's ability to see beyond the cravings and need caused by his physical state, are also another indicator that he does possess a soul. Why would a soulless creature be capable of such? And what about Lacroix' ability to love, and love very deeply? Soulless, empty animals would certainly not be capable of such.

They are not demons, as are the vampires of BtVS, Lacroix doesn't even believe demons exist -- until faced with one in one of the later episodes that briefly possessed Nick. Why would a demon not believe demons exist? This episode also lends credence to the differences between the two kinds of vampires. Somehow, I can't see a demon possessing another demon. Taking over and throwing it out, perhaps, but not possessing -- but this last part is mere conjecture.

So, now you know. In my humble opinion, Forever Knight style vampires have souls.

Souls, in and of themselves, do not make 'good people', I'm sure we're all aware of this fact. (On a side note, that's kind of my problem with the character Angel. He's too *nice* when he gets his soul. As Liam he was not a nice person. He was a drunken womanizer.) The damage humans do to each other is ample proof of that souls are not guarantees.

In the FK vampire, the 'viral infection' that causes the vampire state induces intense -- and apparently sometimes painful -- cravings for blood, the only food they can tolerate well. It seems, however, that substances mixed with blood *can* be ingested without ill effect, as they are well known for mixing alcoholic drinks with blood. Whether or not any added substances actually have value to an FK vampire is inconclusive at best.

They also do not have a *need* to kill, no drive that *makes* them go that far. It is my understanding, that once a FK vampire has begun feeding, it is an intense and very often sexual experience, a sharing of memories, making it very difficult to stop before their victim is dead, or near dead, of blood loss.

Needless to say, in the lore of vampire, these unique properties make FK vampires quite interesting, with a tendency to have a far greater range of personality. This is why I find them fascinating.

::laugh:: Doesn't mean I would care to become that kind of vampire any more than I would wish to become a vampire of the BtVS universe -- well, maybe a little more, if the choice were between only those two.