Ok, my new story! I have no clue how it's gonna turn out, so lets find out!

I do not own Angel, or Phantom of the Opera.

Rome, Italy

1765

Snow was falling gently on the streets of Rome. Fresh prints dotted the white ground, evidence that a struggle had just taken place. Three forms lay motionless in the loose drifts, their faces pale and devoid of any evidence that blood had pulsed through their veins. Three people stood nearby, two of them looking at the prone forms, the third standing off to the side.

“What a shame,” said a small, blond woman as she stared impassively at the corpses. “They were so lovely. It’s a pity they didn’t last longer.”

“Ay,” a dark-haired man agreed. He was very tall, and his accent was Irish. “They gave a good struggle, though; lots of screaming. I love it when they beg for mercy.”

“You love lots of things, darling boy,” the blond woman replied with a smile. The couple started to leave, but the man stopped, remembering the third person.

“Morana,” he said softly to the third person as he turned back.

“Mine tasted funny,” Morana replied with a look of revulsion on her face. “I can’t get the flavor out of my mouth.” She then proceeded to reach two fingers into her bodice and pull out a small packet wrapped in black silk. Inside were several dark green leaves. She inhaled the sharp scent of the leaves with delight as she broke off a piece of one and placed it in her mouth. Smiling slightly as she chewed the mint leaf, she tucked the packet away again.

Morana was a tall, raven-haired woman with a childish air about her. She was far younger than either of her two companions, she was treated as such. Her eyes were a pale brown, the same color as sandy earth that had just been soaked in water.

“They do that sometimes,” he replied, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Come now, it’s time to go home. We don’t want to get caught out here come sunrise, now, do we?” Morana didn’t answer, but instead strolled over to the corpses. Nudging the body of a particularly fat man with her foot, she said “I don’t like the fat ones.”

“They never taste right,” the blond woman stated. “You should know that by now, girl. You’ve picked one every night for the last month.”

“Now Darla,” the man said. “She is young and has yet to learn everything of our world.”

“She has run with us for almost a year, Angelus. I think she’s learned enough.”

“You mean to leave her behind?” Angelus asked incredulously.

“She slows us down. Maybe you forget that we have Holtz following us now, and this girl is not helping in our escapes.” Angelus paused to ponder the older vampire’s statement. It was true; Holtz’s last attempt at revenge had left them both half dead. Well, more dead than they already were. And all because little Morana had gone and become distracted by a bit of music that had floated from a nearby house. The sound had made the girl act like she was on some sort of drug; she had been trying to catch something in the air that apparently only she could see. Angelus had had to drag her away from the music in order for them to get away in time.

“That was just one time…”

“I can hear you, you know,” Morana’s voice cut into their argument. She hated when she was talked about like she wasn’t there. People had always done that to her, even when she was still nothing but a simple kitchen maid in Britain not eleven months before. She was strange, she knew, but that was something she couldn’t help. As a human, it had been ‘Let’s make fun on Marian because we know that she can hear us but we don’t care because she won’t do anything about it.’ As a vampire, it was ‘Let’s argue about what Morana will do with the rest of her eternal life behind her back.’

“If you want me to leave,” she continued, “just say so, instead of gossiping about it like old noblewomen who have nothing better to do.”

“Alright,” Darla obliged. “I want you to leave. It would be in both of our best interests.”

“I never said I would actually go.” Morana’s voice was laughing slightly, but her face was deadpan.

“You do not have to go, love,” Angelus said, caressing Morana’s face. The skin beneath his hand was soft, it’s normally pale color flushed a delicate shade of pink from the recent feeding. “You can stay.”

“I know,” Morana replied as she drew back from her sire’s touch. “But Darla speaks the truth. I have nothing more to learn from you. I can hunt and kill with the efficiency any vampire has. I know the best places to hide. I can find my way around, even when there is not a single light to guide me. Besides, I think it’s time I take on my own path in the undead world.”

Angelus was surprised by his fledgling’s sudden maturity. Although, he should have come to expect it; Morana wasn’t exactly what you would call ‘normal’. She acted as though she were two different people. One half was childish and reckless; the other half was conservative and knowledgeable. This was the second half he was looking at. This was her human self showing through the demon within.

“I will go,” the black-haired vampire decided with a slight nod at nothing particular.

“But where?” Darla couldn’t help inquiring. The blond vampire didn’t like the child, but she just had to ask.

“I do not know.” Morana paused. “I think I’ll try France for a while,” she mused. “I hear they have lovely music halls.” The childish half of her returned and she started babbling about the pretty, pretty music that floats around her like tiny moths around a lamp.

“She truly is a strange one,” Angelus pointed out. Darla smirked, and grasped the male vampire’s hand. She led him away from the babbling girl, back to their home where they would stay until sunset the next day.

Morana, on the other hand, stayed behind, and didn’t even notice they were gone until she stopped her ranting some ten minutes later. The rational side back, she set herself a swift pace, and hurried to get inside before sunrise.

Please review! And this is my first Angel fanfic, no flames. Thank you!