She didn't like the dress. Her father had picked it out. The shoes, too. She could feel the muscles of her calves protesting the strain of their unnatural contraction and knew that they would be sore for days.

She looked past the throng of important, influential, powerful people her father had insisted she meet and thought enviously about her partner sitting quietly at his desk this evening, possibly catching up with his paperwork. Though more likely he was hanging out at the morgue with Natalie, laughing and talking in that special way they had. Tracy suddenly felt even more jealous.

She wandered over to the darkened window and pressed her fingers against the cold glass, wishing she could be out there in that chill, clear darkness, instead of trapped inside this warm, stuffy cocoon. She set her glass down on the window sill with a rough clink and strode quickly to the hall closet.

Pulling her long coat from the hanger, she whirled it around herself and slipped out the door. Her father was going to burn her ears tomorrow for ditching his party, but the air that filled her lungs was so sharp and clean and the stars overhead were so bright, she just couldn't care.

It would have been nice to walk somewhere, but she hadn't brought any other shoes with her and the ones she had on were designed specifically for moving with all due caution between the drawing room and the parlor, not brisk outdoor strolls. She got into her car and decided to take a page from her partner's book. Nick spent hours just driving around the city, preferably with the top down. Maybe he was spending the time searching out the answers to life's great questions, but Tracy just wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet.

Peace, however, is all very well, as is quiet, but Tracy wasn't particularly good at either. Before long she found her hand drifting involuntarily towards the radio. She shrugged and let it do what it wanted. It was the last day of the year and she was letting her impulses call the shots. The softly serrated tones of the Nightcrawler drifted forth, sending a chill running up her spine; she left the dial where it was, however, curious to see what Nick found so compelling about this guy.

"...a night of celebration, of renewal and hopes begun." The Nightcrawler purred. "But as with any holiday, it is a time of tension, uncertainty and disappointment. Those of you sitting out there alone in the dark know what I mean. This one day of the year you would wish to be with someone you care about. As you slide over from the passing year into the next, you want the security of knowing someone is making the transition with you. If you are alone now, who's to say you won't remain that way all through the year to come and the one after that and ... well, you get the picture." The Nightcrawler chuckled. "But you are not alone, you know. I am here for you. Come closer and my gentle kiss will see you through the dark to the other side of midnight."

With a convulsive shudder, Tracy turned off the radio. But the damage had been done. The vast expanse of the surrounding darkness no longer filled her with a sense of limitless freedom. Now all she felt was cold and very much alone. Another impulse overwhelmed her and she turned the car around in blatant disregard of the traffic signs.

The line outside the Raven was around the block, but the doorman took one look at Tracy and nodded her through. She wasn't sure if he had recognized her as a cop, as a friend of Vachon, or as just another leggy blond in a short skirt, but his speedy acceptance hadn't given her any time to reconsider what was probably a really bad idea.

Once inside, she was completely surrounded by a seething mass of humanity. Or what passed for humanity, she thought grimly as an extremely pale young woman eyed her with a sharp, hungry stare. A small gap opened in the wall of bodies in front of her and she quickly slipped through.

In this fashion she managed to arrive at the bar, which gave her some room to regain her composure and look around. She had never seen the club so crowded. The dance floor was a solid clot of people all writhing in unison to the deep steady beat booming from the speakers. The lights, also geared to the thrum of the music, shifted rhythmically from blue to red, which gave Tracy the dizzying impression she was actually inside a human heart.

Then she saw him, swaying gently at the edge of the dancers. He was not facing her, but she had no trouble recognizing that scruffy tumble of soft, black hair and the shape of his lean, muscular back. There were arms wrapped tightly around that back, though, and a cheek resting blissfully on his shoulder. Tracy caught a glimpse of loose, golden curls surrounding a face of angelic perfection and then she was fighting her way back through the crowd. Her sharp heels now became more help than hindrance, as she used them effectively to clear a straight path to the door.

Vachon looked up and stretched his senses past Urs's sweetly perfumed presence. There, over by the stairs, he hadn't imagined it. A familiar cap of smooth blond hair making its way towards the door. He hugged Urs against him tightly and gave her an apologetic kiss as he slipped out of her embrace.

"Gotta go." He smiled as he rubbed the back of his hand against her cheek.

Urs stepped back without protest and watched as he disappeared in the crowd. The ever-present shadow in her eyes deepened slightly, but she just closed her eyes and let the forgetfulness of the dance wash over her once again.

Vachon plowed through the jam of bodies, gritting his teeth against the nearly overwhelming temptation of heated flesh and rapid heartbeats pressing against him on all sides. Some vampires got a kick from this sort of thing, arousing the beast almost past their ability to control it before backing off. Of course, accidents were bound to occur. That was part of the thrill.

Once, Vachon might have been one of those thrill-seekers, but not anymore. He wasn't quite sure what had changed. Too many years? Too many deaths? And not just mortal deaths. He thought of the Inca and the tireless pursuit that had shaped his entire immortal life. And Screed, his companion throughout those years of running, hiding and then running again.

Now both were gone. His brother-enemy and his brother-friend. There was no longer any need to run and he wondered if he really knew how to do anything else. Then he gave a bark of laughter as he realized what he was doing. He was still running, but now he was the one doing the chasing. For a moment he wondered how this pursuit would resolve itself, but decided that it didn't bear thinking about.

He burst through the door of the Raven and caught the trail of Tracy's warm scent hovering in the cold, still air. Slipping out of sight of the crowd, he floated up to the roof and looked in the direction she had gone. He saw her moving along the sidewalk, teetering precariously on a pair of ridiculously high heels. Her car was parked on an empty section of street, so he flew overhead and landed silently next to it. She had taken out her keys and was about the step off the curb to walk around and unlock her car, when a dark shape detached itself from a light pole and spoke to her in a soft, husky voice.

"I thought you were supposed to be at that fancy party your Dad was throwing."

"Ah!" She exclaimed and dropped her keys. "Agh!" She cried again as they slithered through a sewer grate and disappeared into the darkness below. "Great, just great! Thanks a lot, Vachon!"

She stepped onto the grate, hoping to get a glimpse of her keys, but her narrow heels slipped right through the gaps. Her arms began wind-milling as she teetered helplessly, but Vachon appeared behind her and pushed her back upright.

"Okay," he said, looking down at her shoes which were now hopelessly jammed in the grating. "Now what?"

Tracy glared at him suspiciously, wondering if she had caught a hint of a smile in his voice, but the eyes he turned on her were wide and mildly inquisitive. "Get me out of these ridiculous things and help me over to my car," she instructed through gritted teeth. "We'll have to break in and hot-wire it somehow."

"I have a better idea," he offered and promptly scooped her up in his arms. "Why don't I just take you home?" And he lifted them both into the air.

"No! Vachon, don't!" She gurgled and pressed her face against his shoulder.

"What's the matter?" He asked. "You've flown with me before, remember?"

"Not while I was conscious!" Her words were muffled by the fabric of his shirt. "I don't like heights!"

"Shhh," he murmured into her ear, forcefully restraining himself from nuzzling it. "It's all right, I've got you. Come on, take a look."

The arms that held her were gentle, but still implacable in their strength and she knew that he would never drop her. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she looked up into a brilliant sea of stars.

"Ohhhh," she breathed. "How beautiful."

"We're above most of the light pollution," he explained, basking in her wonder and delight until he could almost feel it himself. "Now look down."

"Ahhhhh," her voice trembled.

"You can see the whole city from here, spread out like a bright carpet. Look! There's the CN Tower!"

She laughed. "You know, I've lived here all my life and I've never been all the way to the top."

"Well, we can fix that." And he swooped down at such a rate that Tracy shrieked and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"Uhh, Trace?" he rasped hoarsely, closing his eyes against the fire he knew was starting to burn in them. "Could you not dig your nails into my throat like that?"

"Oh, gawd, I'm sorry," she apologized, loosening her grip. "I didn't mean to choke you. I'm just not used to power dives yet."

"Hey, no problem. My fault," he said a bit thickly. "I should be less abrupt. Here we go." And they dropped gently onto the observation area of the CN Tower.

"You can put me down, Vachon." Tracy emphasized with a distracting wiggle.

"But your feet, you don't have any shoes on," he protested.

"Ah, it'll be okay. I don't care if I ruin these nylons, anyway. They bind something terrible."

He let her down and immediately missed the warmth of her in his arms. But he watched her leaning against the rail, squinting out against the stiff wind with a wide smile splitting her face and felt a new warmth spreading through him.

"So, why did you leave your father's party?" he asked, joining her at the railing.

Her smile dimmed somewhat, but her chin tilted higher. "I didn't belong there."

"So you came to the Raven?"

This time her head dropped and she looked away from him. "I didn't belong there either. That's why I left."

He released a long, invisible breath. "Where do you belong, then, Tracy Vetter?"

She turned her head slowly and looked at him for a very long moment. Examining his eyes, the shape of his mouth, the straight line of his nose before she gazed back out over the city. "I don't know."

A faint noise rose up from below; the sounds of cheers and horns blaring.

"It's midnight." Tracy announced.

Vachon agreed by tilting her face so he could press his lips gently against hers. "Happy New Year, Trace."

A slow smile spread across her face. "Happy New Year, Va-- Javier." Then her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I'm surprised you bother with this sort of thing anymore."

He shook his head in bemusement. "I don't." He looked at her, letting his eyes play over her features. "But for the first time in a very long time, the year really does feel new."

"Yes," she smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder with a sigh. "And who knows, maybe it'll actually be happy."

He slipped an arm around her and pulled her closer. "Anything is possible, Trace," he murmured into her hair with a smile. "Anything at all."