He remembers an arbitrary way of life. Angelus ordered them to pack up their bags and into the night they went. Mobs on their tail, murderous orders seeking revenge, jealous lovers cursing their names. Life seemed a constant hurry then, fight, run, never retreat, always racing ahead.
So how is it that now the world seems to stand still? Is this the same vampire that let the ground run crimson when Spike dared question a midnight exodus? Could it truly be Angel that said his vote would count? The idea rolls through his mind like garbled words in a foreign tongue…Vote.
His hand raises slowly from his side, eyes cast downward so that his sometime maker can’t see the disbelief in his eyes when he whispers the words, “I’m in.”