Author's notes: This was done for a challenge; I was asked to incorporate the cast of Angel, Victorian England and the theft of a sacred Indian jewel into one fairly short fic. This is my attempt :-).

These characters don't belong to me, and I make no profit from this. Duh.

A Forgotten Piece of History

1870 - London


What... what had happened? Where was he? Father...?


Sebastian Nikels opened his eyes. This room... He was in his father's house. And... there was his father's voice. And his father's chair, that he appeared to be... tied to?


"Sebastian? How are you feeling?"

He gasped and pulled his head up to meet his father's eyes. He felt... he felt sick. Something burned inside of him. Oh god! "Father? What... what did you do to me?"

His father's expression was flooded with relief. "It worked! My god, it worked. You're back, my son..."

Sebastian just stared in disbelief. In the maelstrom of his mind, swirling memories began to coalesce. "You... I..."

"It's fine." Hands cradled his face. "It'll all be well now."

"Well? I... I killed peop..."

"You weren't yourself, my son."

"I drank their blood! I'm a vampi..."

"Sebastian!" His father silenced him with a finger to the lips. "You're not that monster any more. I told you, when you left me barely alive in the snow a year ago. I said I'd find a way to get you back. I told you I'd get you away from the harpy that took you and make you my son again. And I have."

Sebastian's eyes shone with tears. He felt raw inside. "How?"

His father looked proud. "It's a long story, a very long story. And you're still... you still have... aspects of the beast. But your soul, the thing inside you that makes you you. It's there. Where it should be. I gave it back to you." The elder man smiled and gently began to remove the ropes. "You must be tired. The ritual looked like quite an ordeal. Let me help you to your bedroom. You need rest."

Limply, he allowed himself to be pulled up. "Father..."


He blinked. "I... thankyou."

His father looked grateful; terribly, terribly grateful. "It was my pleasure, my son."


1871 - London


Sebastian saw the old man start in the parlour chair and quickly shake himself awake. "Son? Are you alright?"

He glided into the room. "I'm well, father. And you've fallen asleep in the chair again."

His father sighed. "I worry still. That something will happen. That the vampiress who turned you will come back to harm you in some way for breaking from her."

"I'm a vampire, father. I heal quickly."

The old man straightened somewhat. "You're more than a vampire, my son. You're better."

Sebastian walked up behind him and gently laid hands on his father's shoulders. "Am I?"

"Of course! You have something that no othe..."

The crack was loud and dramatic, which was about par for the course when it came to the old bastard. Sebastian rolled his eyes and pushed the body casually to the floor.

The he turned to the woman in the doorway. "Right, I've killed him. Now are you going to explain how you did it?"

Marie smiled wickedly. "Did it?"

"You know what I'm talking about, you minx." He walked up to her and pulled her roughly to him, stared into her sparkling eyes. "How did you get rid of the blasted soul?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You know, you really don't sound very grateful."

"Oh, I'm grateful alright." He leered at her appreciatively. "Tonight I'll show you just how much. But for now..."

Marie smirked. "It wasn't easy."

"I gathered that from the fact that it took you a year to get back to me!"

"People kept saying it wasn't possible. But then, they said it wasn't possible for you to have gotten the...thing, in the first place."


She looked at him in amusement. "I went to India."

"That far for me? If I still had the soul I'm sure I'd be touched."

"You know I can't let you go." She kissed him quickly and then continued. "I went to India, and I found a Mystic who said he could do it - for a price, and with special equipment."

"Special equipment?"

Marie pulled back and withdrew a small wooden box from a pouch at her side. When she opened it the jewel sparkled in the light of the dying fireplace. "With this. It's very sacred, supposably. I eventually found it being worshipped by a whole village."

"Who are...?"

"Dead, of course." She waved a hand in dismissal and continued on. "You see, the Mystic couldn't remove your soul completely. He could only... displace it, into something else."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "That has my soul in it."

"I'm afraid so." She passed it over. "Be careful, it's fragile."

He frowned and lifted it into the dimming light. "Then," he said. "We'd best take good care of it."


2004 - Los Angeles

Fred looked up at Wesley as he walked into the conference room with a large wooden crate. "Wow. Is that part of the meeting? It might be more interesting than I thought."

Wesley smiled at her. "I'm afraid I'll have to disillusion you. These are some new artefacts that have just been acquired by our London division. I thought I'd look through some of them before everyone gets here."

She frowned at him. "Acquired?"

He looked innocent. "They're not stolen."

A quirked eyebrow.

"Okay, I'll qualify that. They're not stolen by us. They were, however, acquired from an auction house that has been known to get its goods by... less than reputable means. However, I thought that considering the power of some of the goods in question, they are far better off in our hands than whoever else the house would be willing to sell them to."

Fred nodded. "Okay, I guess I can understand that. Can I have a look too?"

"By all means, go ahead."

Wesley pried the lid off, and they began to rummage through a vast assortment of mystical charms, magic urns, and enchanted sticks. Then Fred pulled out a small wooden box and gasped.

"Oh wow. This is beautiful!"

Curiosity piqued, Wesley looked. A large red stone glinted in the light of the room's fluorescents. He blinked. "Oh my. You're right, it is quite stunning."

"What does it do?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. These artefacts still need to be categorised. You should be careful with i..."

The door swung open and slammed. "Hello, little sugar buns!"

"Ahh!" Fred jumped. The gem fell. Three eyes watched as it twisted through the air in slow motion, caught the end of the table, and then fell to the floor.

And shattered.

Three people held their breaths and waited for something hideous and mystical to happen.

A minute later, when everything seemed normal, they finally managed to start breathing again.

Fred winced. "I'm so sorry! Lorne just startled me and I totally..."

"Hey, it was me who did it, cinnamon cakes! I have to learn to knock!"

Wesley sighed and shook his head. "Well, nothing drastic seems to have happened. I think we can assume that this gem was one of the more minor artefacts. I'll get someone from my department to do some clean up..."

"I am really sorry."

He smiled at her as he pulled out his mobile. "Its okay, honestly. No harm done."

And several hundred miles away, the first and the latest vampire with a soul woke up and screamed.