Ok guys, this is my first post to the list. My second fanfic and
I would really love feedback, constructive crits DEEPLY appritiated.
Hopefully the formatting on this thing is right this time. :) And if
you couldn't tell, my spelling is dreadful.
   I have absolutely no idea which faction this would be well-recieved
by, if any at all. Well, N&N packers is a given, but any others?
Anybody? <shrugs> This was just a strange little bit that came to me
in the wee loopy hours of the morning. Now my schedule is all screwed
up again. I just had to get it out.  Very little editing was done
here. I might add more to it later, don't know. If anyone likes this
or knows how it could be improved or expanded, please let me know. A
little too sappy? A little too strange? I can take it, just don't be
rude.
   Eagley-mobum bojum: I don't own them, they are too dramatic for me
to want to own them. However fun they may be to fiddle with, Nick, Nat
and blah blah blah are not owned by me. Nor is FK or any of the other
retarded companies that don't produce or run FK anymore. 'Scuse me, to
be PC, the mentally disabled excutives of said companies, owned by me.
I get nothing but lack of sleep from writing this, I make no money
from them. That said. Enjoy.
                       Sing To Angels
pisshead

Augeries of Innocence



To see a world in a grain of sand,
And heaven in a wild flower,
To hold infinity in the palm of your hand, 
And eternity in an hour.
---  William Blake



She was floating. High above the room, Natalie Lambert looked down and
saw Nick caressing her still face. Blood droplets fell onto her
eyelids and it looked as if she was weeping with him. Even though she
was dead.

She didn't really mind anything right now. The fact that she was no
longer among the living was viewed with a sense of detachment. What
was left of Natalie was only her spirit. Without her body she didn't
feel anger or sadness, only love was left, and that could barely be
felt anymore. 
 
The scene below her was changing. Swirling around with lovely colours.
Bright yellow.  Natalie was being pulled toward something she couldn't
see.  Serene blue.  Awareness was slowly returning, the detatchment
fading. Chestnut brown.  The love was becoming more intense. A slash
of pale pink. What was happening? Red bled through the area. Pure
emotion was overwhelming her. White mixed with a delicate cream.


Nick was there, in front of her. Natalie reached out to touch him but
couldn't. It was like he was on the other side of a mirror. Is this
how Alice felt? Nick stepped back and looked at her. Reaching out with
his paintbrush he dabbed a bit of green paint over an area to her
right. For the first time she noticed her surroundings.

A large tree was behind her. A live oak crawling along the ground,
weaving it's way between earth and sky with spanish moss dripping off
of every limb. And what a sky, swirling shades of yellow and orange.
It reminded Natalie of a painting by Van Gogh.  As she reached up to
touch this magnificent tree, she noticed her clothing. Soft white
sleeves flowed from her like an angel's wing. The skirt swept the
ground behind her.

"What is this place?" Natalie asked to no one in particular. No one
replied, not even her echo.



"The painting is a marvel, Nichola."

That voice! Natalie knew that voice. It was Janette. Turning her eyes
from the ground where they had been studiously fixed upon her shoe,
Natalie looked up in surprise to see Nick in an old-fashioned costume
with Janette. She was similarly attired and they were both staring at
her.
    
"Nick!" Natalie shouted, banging her fists on the glass-like material
that separated them. 
Janette reached out to touch Natalie but Nick pulled her hand back.
"Janette," he admonished, "the paint is still wet."
 
"Oh, forgive me mon coeur. She is just so lifelike that I wanted to
see if she was real." Janette stepped back and looked at Natalie,
musing. "But why did you not make the rest of the painting true to
life?"
 
Nick shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't even planning on making a woman
be in the painting, but for some reason, I did." 	

"Well it is certainly an unusual style, I've never seen anything of
the kind. It reminds me of an opium dream." Janette quipped.

Coming behind her, Nick put his hands around Janette's waist and
nuzzled her neck. "Forget about the painting, let us go and hunt. The
night is waning."

Turning slightly, Janette pecked him on the lips. "Oui, let us give
into our passions for art later."

As they left the room, Nick glanced once more at the painting before
blowing out the candles and joining Janette.



Natalie didn't know how long she had been in the dark before she heard
voices again. Perhaps it had been only a moment, maybe days. Time
seemed to have no logic in this place.  Nick's life literally passed
before her eyes. People came and went. The clothing changed. Nick was
always there but he never saw Natalie, never gave the portal she was
trapped in any mind. Try all she wanted, Natalie could not make him
hear or see her.
 
One night, Nick did talk to her though, in a way.

"I am so sick of this guilt, this horror. Every night I am surrounded
by death, most usually the source of it. God has forsaken me to this
dark and lonely place." Pacing around the room, ranting about
forgiveness and guilt. Natalie had heard his tirades so many time in
the past, or was it the future? It almost brought a smile to her lips,
remembering times they had had together. She was startled out of her
thoughts when Nick suddenly turned and addressed her.

"And what do you think, my lady in white? Trapped in your land of
eternal fantasy and light. Are you lonely? Do you ache for someone to
hold you in their arms and kiss your rosy mouth?" Nick bowed his head
and sighed, a single red drop inching it's way down his nose and
dripping onto the floor. 

"Well I do." Nick's voice cracked.  "I wish to hold someone that has
warmth and passion. Someone that actually feels things, instead of
just observing it from a distance. I want someone to love and feel it
returned to me."

Natalie pressed her hand to the crystalline surface and wept. She
wanted to say 'Yes, Nick. I want someone to hold me. I know how you
feel. I wish that I could be there with you now.'  But she didn't say
anything, the breath escaped her. Nick couldn't hear her, or see her,
so it didn't matter.

Eventually, he wore out. Wrapped around a bottle of blood-wine, Nick
fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The darkness came back and enfolded
Natalie in it's tender embrace, once again passing years like minutes
and seconds like centuries.



The painting was cracked and faded. It sat in a lonely corner, all but
forgotten by the master that had created it. Nick walked the crumbled
hallways of his ancestral home, seaching for peace. Natalie had died
more than five years ago but he still couldn't forget the trust in her
eyes, her faith in him, the love shining like a beacon in the night
calling him home. It should never have happened.  He had begged
LaCroix to kill him, to end his misery. He refused of course.

Nick had quit his job with the Toronto PD and wandered the world
alone. He shunned the community as he now shunned mortals. His only
companion was Sidney. Natalie's cat had been in her apartment for
three days before anyone had thought to go there and put her affairs
in order.  Nick actually thanked God for that cat, it had seen him
through dark days and lavished him with affection that he had never
shown to Nick while Nat had lived. It was almost as if Sidney knew
that they needed each other now that Natalie was gone.

Ghosts assaulted him at every corner. Every memory replayed itself
relentlessly.  "Why do I torture myself?" Nick pondered aloud.  "There
is nothing left for me here. There hasn't been anything here for a
long time."
Tears ran down his cheeks as he took another drink from the bottle
that had almost grown attached to his hand.

Stumbling up the stairs, he went to his long disused bedchamber. The
bed had fallen into rotten splinters long ago, the coverings almost
dust. Nick didn't care. He flung himself onto the heap and lay there,
remembering again the softness of Natalie's skin and the perfume that
rose from it, calling to him. The blood, tasting of rose petals rubbed
against his skin and cinnamon powder blowing in the wind, biting him
with it's spice and sweetness. Her wide, innocent eyes haunted him.
    

 
Knowing that he was to have no rest, Nick gently picked up Sidney and
walked around the room, stroking under the cat's chin absentminded.
There were canvases propped up in the corner. The last time he had
been here was with Janette, centuries ago. During the reign of one of
those crazy Tudor brats. Was it Elizabeth or Mary? It didn't matter.
Once again, that was long ago. 

Flipping through the paintings, Nick stopped. All breath left his body
as his knees refused to support him anymore. Sidney jumped away from
him with a discontented meow and found a dust bunny to play with.

Natalie was there, standing in front of him as if she lived. A soft
white gown wrapped her in it's folds. Gently accenting her curves.
Behind her was a tree upon which she leaned.  Sad eyes looked at him,
a small pouty mouth invited him. 

Shaking with awe, Nick touched the cracked surface of the canvas.
Caressing the figure painted there He wept. The tears dripping onto
the dusty stone. He bowed forward, prostrate with grief and his head
touched the floor. Tremors racked his prone form. 



Lacroix felt strange vibrations hum along the link to his son.  Joy?
Had Nicholas finally found something to lift his perpetual gloom? To
feel it half-way across the world...  Lacroix rose into the night and
headed west.	



Walking into the ruins of the castle De Brabant, Lacroix immediately
homed in on the location of his son. As he entered the room, he was
shocked. Nicholas was kneeling under a painting that hung on the wall.
Candles were on every surface and flowers piled around the canvas. It
was like a shrine. Nick looked up at Lacroix with joyful eyes.  "Isn't
it wonderful, Lacroix? She has come back to me." 

Lucian Lacroix stared at his son. "Nicholas, your doctor is dead. She
isn't here."

"No, you don't understand!" Nick protested, "She is right here. In the
painting. Look." He pointed up to the painting.  Lacroix realized that
his son must be mad. Kneeling next to Nick, he put one hand on his
shoulder and quietly said, "My son, there is no one in that painting.
It is only cloth and paint, not flesh and blood." Nick jumped up and
shouted, "Yes there is! Look into her eyes! She is alive and she is
waiting for me!"
 
Lacroix was suddenly angered. Even in death, the lady doctor was
interferring with his son's life. "Enough of this Nicholas!" Lacroix
roared. Grabbing a candle from the floor, he put the flame under the
canvas. The fire was easily fed by the ancient, crumbled cloth.

"No!" Nick screamed. "Natalie!" He raced over and tried to put the
fire out. Strong arms grabbed him as he desperately tried to reach the
painting. "Let me go! Let me go! Natalie is burning!"

Once the painting was ashes and cinder, Lacroix let Nick go. Weeping
on his knees, Nick sifted the ashes through his hands. "I suggest you
leave that and come with me. I have humoured you for long enough,
Nicholas. Grief and regret is for humans, and you have not been that
for a long time." Nick didn't hear him. Eventually Lacroix left to
find more suitable quarters to reside in for the day. 
   


Nick didn't move as he felt the first golden rays of the sun touch his
hand. Lost in time and grief he let himself become engulfed in the
flames that inevitably consumed his body.



Natalie sat under the shade of the twisted live oak tree. Resting her
head against the cool bark she sighed. The mirror had gone dark but
for some reason, it was still light here. Her link to the outside
world was gone for good it seemed.  

Remembering the look of anguish on Nick's face as Lacroix set fire to
the painting filled Natalie with anger and unshed tears. Nick had
finally realized that she had been here, all along. Then Lacroix once
again took him away from her. There was nothing to be done, nothing
that could be done. 

Suddenly there was a shadow falling in the grass in front of her. Two
hands placed themselves over her eyes and warm breath in her ear
whispered. "Guess who?"  

Natalie's startled reply was muffled by a sudden kiss. Familiar lips
sought her's and she gave into the joy that radiated from Nick's every
pore. When they finally decided to breathe again, Natalie gasped out.
"My love, I thought that you would never get here! I've been waiting
for you ever so long!"



Lacroix awoke and screamed from the searing pain that raced along his
skin. "Nicholas!" The link suddenly went silent and Lacroix jumped up
to rush into the room where his son's remains lay on the floor.
Grabbing a blanket, Lacroix quickly hung it from the window to block
the deadly light. 

Turning around, he saw the ashes of his son mingled with those of that
detested painting on the floor. Lucian Lacroix wept bloodtears. But
through those tears, he caught a glimpse of colour on the floor, under
the ashes.  Bending down to pick up the large scrap of burned canvas,
Lacroix stood with a puzzled look on his ancient face. There on the
cloth were two figures where there had been one. His Nicholas twirled
the doctor around in circles, the joy on their faces showed the love
that had some-how found a way to endure. 



Lacroix decided to keep that little piece of burned cloth. Putting it
into a locked wooden box, he kept it on his desk. Many of the vampires
summoned into his office wondered what was in that box. It was a
curiosity among the community. Many speculated that it contained the
ashes of his late son. Others said that it held a rare artifact of
power given to him by the Elders. Some even said that it was nothing
more than a fancy cigar box. But the fact was that no one knew the
truth. Over the years, it became a story to tell their fledglings.
"You must obey me or the demon that lives in Lacroix's box will claim
you and take you to hell." Much like a mother would frighten a child
into obedience with tales of a boogey-man.

Janette was the only other vampire to know what it contained. 

Late one night, as Lacroix was sitting in his office she caught a
glimpse of him putting what looked like a burned piece of cloth? Into
the box and shutting the lid. Locking the top securely, Lacroix
retired for the day. When Janette heard the sound of his deep
breathing down the hall, she crept out of the shadows and opened the
door.

Smiling to herself, she pulled the key from under the desk where it
was taped and opened the lid.

Pulling out the scorched scrap of canvas, she was puzzled. As she
gazed upon it her puzzlement gave way to wonder. There before her eyes
Nicholas lived. 

Nicholas and his Natalie were under what looked to be a tree, making
love in the sunshine. The wind blew her hair all about and the light
gleamed off of every plane and angle of Nick's back.  Janette, quietly
awed, closed the box and locked it back. Placing the key where it
belonged and slipping back into the night.



"I'm telling you Alma, that box has the Abbrat in it! What else could
it be?" Miklos the bartender exclaimed as he poured a drink for a
customer.

Alma scoffed and retorted. "Don't you think that it is a little small
to hold a book like that? I'm sure that it is nothing more than
illegal cigars. Wouldn't you feel stupid?" 

Janette sat quietly beside them, listening to the banter before she
spoke up. "I have seen what it contains. And you are both wrong."

Alma, Miklos, and every other vampire within range listened with rapt
attention. A young looking vampire girl, newly brought across spoke
first. "Tell us please, what is in the box? My master says that it is
a demon that...."

"That will come out and take you to hell if you don't obey?" Janette
snorted softly. "It isn't anything like that."

"Then what is it?"

 Janette smiled and looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the
bar. The smile somehow stopped before it reached her eyes and faded.
Blood welled in there and threatened to fall down her snow white
cheeks.

"It contains everything that any of us have ever looked for in our
lives, that we have searched for in the hearts of those around us."
Janette paused and took a sip from the glass in front of her. "It
contains true love."