Buffy sat in the chair in shock. 

Angelus had talked for the past thirty minutes and she was still in shock. She didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him. But she did know that the past thirty minutes brought them closer than the past years had, combined – separation notwithstanding. She wanted him back with her so badly that she hadn’t fully understood what the addition of his soul meant to the conscienceless demon, what it had done to him, not really, not even with their bonding. 

“And that brought you here?” Oh, she knew there was a lot missing from the story, thirty minutes did not cover over two hundred years, but she thought he hit the high points. How he met this group, going back several hundred years to when he saved Doyle’s great-whatever grandmother. Jealously rose within her, though Buffy vaguely remembered the incident, Angelus saving the human woman; how was it that he could do that, that he could save that woman, but not return to her? 

“More or less,” Angelus shrugged, leaning against the wall now directly opposite her, having moved from the window. “I didn’t want to help Doyle, but he’s useless alone, not really the fighter and…” he looked at his wife, and knew she felt somehow betrayed, with his helping here when there was so much to be done in his own kingdom. “Doyle helped me,” he finally admitted, the words coming more slowly now. “He thought I should be involved, and while I still disagree with that, he did help me realize a few things.” 

“Such as?” 

“Such as I can make it on my own,” Angelus admitted as he shoved away from the wall and walked to his wife. He missed her so much, and now, to be this close to her, it was unbearable. But he needed to explain this, at least this one thing to her, because it had taken him nearly all of this exile to realize it. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Buffy,” he whispered as he knelt beside her. “I thought of you every day, every hour of every day. I missed your smile, your laugh, your constant presence. I missed talking to you, or just laying with you, and I missed how you always knew what I meant, even if I didn’t express it in the right words.” 

Cautiously he took her hand, and was vaguely surprised when she let him. “When I was…when those gypsies…” Angelus found he couldn’t say the words, so skipped over them, hoping that she understood. “I didn’t know what to do, or what to think. All I knew was that nothing was as I thought it was, everything changed in those moments they cursed me…I wasn’t the same.” 

“You were, are, to me,” Buffy said as she looked at their joined hands, his so large and pale, and hers small and bronzed. “I wanted you to return home so much, that’s all I wanted. I didn’t care about the soul, I didn’t care what they did to you, all I wanted was you.” 

“Did you?” Angelus asked, tilting her head up so he could see her eyes. The link between them was still so newly opened he wasn’t sure he could trust it, wasn’t sure he trusted either of them enough to allow it to fully reopen. 

“What do you mean, of course, I did.” Buffy said, anger again building within her. 

“You wanted me back,” Angelus said as their hands slipped apart, neither knowing who it was to let go first. “You say you did, and I believe you, don’t doubt that. But you never tried to find me.” 

Buffy rose, eyes blazing in anger as she listened to her husband. “What? You, because I didn’t find you myself, you think it was my fault you didn’t return?” 

Rising himself to tower over her, Angelus was about to retort, though he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say, when there was a knock on the door. Both froze, knowing that their guards wouldn’t interrupt them unless it was important. 

Angelus stared at the door for a moment before crossing the floor to open it. 

Ariana never realized her hand rose to touch the wooden door, nor that it fisted to knock on it. She was so focused on trying to calm her pounding heart that she wasn’t aware of actually knocking on her father’s door until he opened it. And then there he was, oh, Priestess, he was standing before her taller than she remembered even from such a short time before. He filled the doorway with his presence, and Ariana couldn’t help but stare at him. She studied him, looking at him as she would herself in the mirror. 

Her eyes roamed his figure, comparing the things she’d imagined with the things she’d been told and the things she seen for herself in the painting of her parents that hung over the fireplace in the Great Hall. His shoulders were broad, covered in a dark colored shirt, his hair, as dark as her own, just barely brushed those shoulders. His eyes were a deep brown, so deep she thought herself lost in them as they returned her gaze. Ariana often heard her mother tell of Angelus’ eyes, the way they looked at her, into her, but didn’t truly believer her; after all, Buffy was married to the man, she loved him completely, so she was bound to see things differently than others. 

Ariana realized, as her golden gaze met and locked with Angelus’ deep dark brown ones, that Buffy had not exaggerated. Not in the least. 

Clearing her throat, Ariana forced her mouth to work, her throat to emit sounds that would hopefully sound like words, and coherent ones at that. Moving her mouth a moment, she hoped she formed a smile, and indeed she did, a wide smile that reminded Angelus so much of Buffy he was momentarily taken aback. Taking a deep breath, Ariana attempted to speak, hoping her nervousness didn’t transmit itself into her voice, though she was sure her father could sense it. 

“Father,” she said finally, and then stopped. How was she supposed to ask to speak with him? Formally, with the ‘May I,’ or maybe the ‘Hi, dad, you have a minute?’ but no, that wouldn’t work either, and Ariana was working herself into a fine panic when she felt the familiar touch of Andre. Relaxing, she smiled at her lover before turning her gaze back to her father. 

She didn’t have to say anything, Angelus stepped back, allowing her to enter the room before he closed the door behind her. But not before he caught William’s smirk – truly, he didn’t miss his grandchilde. Andre stayed outside, arms folded across his chest as he waited the outcome of this meeting; he wasn’t about to leave Ariana, and he hoped that the encounter would go smoothly enough that she introduced him. Asking permission of one’s Ancient and mother was one thing, but Andre had this strange desire to ask permission of the father she revered as well. 

“Ariana,” Buffy said when Angelus had closed the door. 

“Mother,” her daughter said and couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. Weren’t they all so suddenly formal. 

Sensing her daughter’s nervousness, Buffy did what she always wanted to do but never really thought she would. She hadn’t forgiven Angelus, though maybe she did understand her husband a little better now. No, she hadn’t forgiven him, not by far. But this wasn’t the time for that, they’d have their talk, quiet or loud as it might be, but now wasn’t the time. There was still the rebellion to deal with, the matter of keeping Angelus’ soul quiet, what to tell the guards and eventually her (his, their?) kingdom, and how to deal with the humans Angelus worked with. 

For the moment, however, it was Angelus’ time with his daughter, the daughter he never had the chance to know, the daughter he abandoned, but never renounced, the daughter he wanted, Buffy knew that, but that he could never accept. That changed, Buffy realized, that changed when Angelus met Ariana for the first time, face to face. 

Without saying a word, not really knowing what to say, actually, Buffy left the room, leaving father and daughter to stare at each other in silence. 

Closing the door behind her, Buffy turned to Gunn. “Report.” 

“We’re moving into this hotel, as our Ancient and Princess ordered,” the First told his mistress, “Rumor has already started on how you have found our King and he has purged the harmful magicks from his system and is ready to return to us.” 

Buffy stared at the vampire in awe at his audacity, even as her eyes narrowed in anger. “Who started this rumor?” 

Bowing his head, he admitted, “I did, highness, because the guard was restless. It was better to tell them what we wanted them to know, than what they might learn here.” When Buffy nodded, Gunn continued, “Oz is with the humans, the ones receptive to us, learning what he can about what they know. Darla,” he concluded with a nod to the vampiress behind Buffy, “Has discovered The Yggdrasil.” 

Buffy turned sharply to the vampiress, “Is this true?” At Darla’s nod, she continued, “Where?” 

“In the Watcher’s office, I don’t think he knows what he has, the book in filed with several others.” 

Buffy nodded at Darla, cast one last glance at the door, and turned towards the steps. It was time she spoke with this Watcher. “Find Oz,” she told William, “I want him with me.” 

The vampire nodded and went down the hallway, Drusilla following Buffy as the queen started down the stairs, Gunn ahead of her to clear the path. Darla followed, sure her welcome from Angelus involved the sharp end of a sword at the neck, and she and Andre never really got on. Not that Buffy was any more receptive to her, but at least the queen valued her opinion in regards to Ariana. 

Buffy took a deep breath as she neared the door to where the three males congregated. They were talking in raised voices, arguing about something, she surmised, and it seemed to be about her. Well, there was one way to remedy that, and that was to confront them directly. 

Knocking politely on the opened door, she waited a moment for their eyes to focus on her. Smiling, she entered the office, Gunn, Dru, and Darla waiting outside. Glancing around the book lined room, she wondered which volume was The Yggdrasil. There were several tomes that looked interesting, one in particular on Ancient Rites and Rituals of the Old World, but the book she sought didn’t jump out at her. 

“I’m sure you have many questions,” Buffy began with another smile at the assembled men. “I’m sure you understand,” she addressed Riley, the one who looked more military than the rest, “That there are certain things I cannot tell you, certain things that must be kept secret for security purposes.” 

Riley nodded, standing straighter as she addressed him. “Yes, ma’am,” he said then winced as Gunn took a step forward. “I mean your majesty,” he hastily corrected. “But maybe you can tell us more about these rebels you’re looking for?” 

It was, in fact, what they’d been arguing about before Buffy entered Wes’ office. Whether or not to trust the new arrivals, and if not, what they could possibly do about it. Now, Riley stared at the petit Queen and wondered at the attractiveness of the vampire. In his experience, vampires tended to be pale, not having the tanning effects of the sun, but the woman before him had a deep tan, her skin a dark bronze. Her green eyes bore into him, making him think of things Faith would skin him alive for. 

Shaking out of his daze, Riley cleared his throat. “Ah…” 

Raising an eyebrow at Riley’s obvious appreciation, Buffy turned to Wesley. She didn’t like the man, though she had nothing to base that on except that he was a Watcher and she had an instinctive dislike of all Watchers. But she needed his help, or at least his resources. 

“Wesley, right?” Buffy asked civilly, though she already knew the answer. At his nod, she continued, “These rebels are far from organized, but they are dangerous. I understand you are already fighting these…demons, and ask your help in defeating this threat.” 

Wesley looked at the woman before him, noted the power she commanded, the respect her people showed her and the affection she showed them, and her daughter. What could it hurt he thought, to form a temporary alliance with these creatures? It may prove useful, in the end, and they might have a chance at these leaders, too. 

“I accept,” Wesley said as the wheels were already turning for his eventual double cross.
~~~~~~~~~~
Xander stood to the side and watched. 

He wasn’t much for the research part of things, though that was often his duty here; then again, everyone was cornered into the research department when necessity arose. Still, this research didn’t require going through Wes’ books, looking at pictures or trying to decipher Old English, if the books were even in English. This required actually talking with someone and trying to work out just what help they could be, and what threat. 

And so he kept his attention divided between the Queen and her mean looking guards. But mostly on the Queen. He couldn’t help it; she was beautiful. Long golden hair that reminded him of the sunlight glinting off the ocean on a calm day, those deep green eyes that looked right through him as if she knew him already. She was tiny, much shorter than any of the girls he knew, but she held herself with an innate strength and pride he’d rarely seen. 

Her clothing left little to the imagination, rampant as Xander’s was. It molded to her lush curves with a softness he wouldn’t have expected from the tough looking leather. Her neck was bare, and he could just make out the chains to what looked like two necklaces. One was hidden from view, but was delicate, fine; the other carried some type of symbol that hung to just above her breasts, which brought Xander’s eyes back to them. 

They were outlined clearly under the thin loose top she wore. It didn’t looked as if she wore a bra – Xander checked – but some kind of corset, maybe. He wasn’t familiar with women’s fashions, other than the basics any man knew, but it looked as if that was what she wore. Didn’t she know they went out of style like a million years ago? Still, the undergarment gave him a nice view of her body, so he forgave her that and blessed the tight article of clothing. 

There were three things that bothered him, however, three things that kept his utter fascination from becoming complete. One: She wore Angel’s ring. Xander hated Angel, always had and knew he always would. He hated all things vampire and just because this one claimed to be different, to have a soul, meant little to him. Two: She was obviously proud of the fact that there was a prominent bite mark on her neck. The scar looked old, but that didn’t mean anything to Xander, as he was unfamiliar with mating marks. But even to him, it was obvious that she’d been marked by a vampire, by Angel, the vampire he hated more than the ones they killed on a nightly basis. 

A vamp was, after all, a vamp…except that brought him to point number three. 

Buffy was a vampire. 

It went against everything he believed in all these years and yet there it was. He was attracted to a vampire. He wanted a vampire, and not only that; he wanted one who was married to a vamp Xander despised with all his being. Buffy was beautiful, she was charming and gracious, and when she looked at Xander, she was absolutely breathtaking. 

Something dropped to his right, causing him to jerk around. One of her guards stood there flipping through a book. The bronzed skinned vamp looked uninterested in the goings on around him, even if Xander did catch his eyes darting around the room every few moments. Not as unconcerned as he appeared, it seemed. 

Oz looked up and smiled blandly at Xander. He’d seen the human male stare at his mistress, and while he couldn’t fault Xander his taste, it was entirely inappropriate. Even if Buffy hadn’t been married – which she most assuredly was – this boy was beneath her, in both caste and simple manners and grace. And one did not stare at Oz’s mistress and get away with it. Gunn stood on the opposite side of the room as Buffy chatted amiably with Wesley, his stance upright and unmoving. 

Oz nodded to the vampire First and moved to Buffy’s other side. The Yggadrasil was now firmly in their possession, with none of the humans any wiser. Xander was too busy staring at Buffy as she captured Wesley’s complete attention, and Riley, too, stared at her. For a moment Oz thought he’d been caught by the soldier, but Buffy quickly engaged the second man in her questions and Oz was free to take the book. 

Buffy quizzed the Watcher on what he’d heard about the rebel vamps, what he already knew. It turned out, not much. 

“There are several gangs,” Wesley allowed, “But usually they don’t hunt in packs, they’re loners, for the most part. We’ve never come across a group of vamps larger than, say, seven.” 

Buffy nodded, interested, though she made a mental note to ask the Slayer…Faith, her version. It was unlikely, no matter what she’d learned over the years, that this Watcher fought without his slayer, while it was more than possible that the Slayer often went out without her Watcher. 

“I see,” Buffy said slowly as she watched Oz from the corner of her eye. “Then it looks as if they aren’t as organized here as they are in the Land.” Buffy said and wondered how untrue that statement was. Oh, it was entirely possible for these rebel vamps here to be much less organized than they were in the Lands, it didn’t seem likely they were all that disorganized.

She’d heard rumors during the short time she’d been in this realm about the movement here. Many of the clan-less vamps, those with no ties or loyalty had already joined the Pretender Cult, intent on making a name for themselves. If they succeeded, it’d ruin eons of order; clan-less vampires had no name, were not trusted by anyone, and were generally shunned. Even when one proved loyalty and devotion, full rights were never granted them by whichever Order they served. 

Turning back to Riley, who was again eyeing Oz with suspicion, Buffy asked with a smile in her voice. She knew both men found her attractive and she wasn’t above using that to her advantage. If it helped her cause, and subsequently allowed her to learn more of what they thought and believed here, then all the better. 

“Riley, you said you were once a part of an army that fought these…demons?” It was hard for Buffy to refer to the things she knew and took for granted as demonic when they were anything but to her. Besides, there was something in the way the former soldier looked at her that made her skin crawl. “What happened to it, I’d think the government of this world would want something organized and militarized to fight them.” 

Puffing up with pride, Riley launched into his story, with only slight interruptions from Xander and clarifications from Wesley. Apparently they were both present when Riley met Faith. Buffy listened, honestly interested, but wondering, all the time, how it was a government could not only mess something up so badly, but why more people didn’t do something to help. 

If this ‘menace’ was as wide spread as the three men claimed, then it seemed to Buffy that it’d be more logical if the world knew of them. If they were aware of the dangers, then they could fight them. On the other hand, if they were aware of them, then it’d be the time before Lore, when the Old Ones ruled and the realms were one. 

And that, even to her people, was only a myth.
~~~~~~~~~~
Grace and Claudius moved through the brightening city as swiftly as they could manage, intent on returning to their home base before the sun rose. As an elf, the sun wasn’t harmful to Grace, but Claudius didn’t have that luxury. 

“I don’t think we’ll have time to gather everyone and make it back to our Ancient’s residence before full sunrise,” Grace said to her companion as they rounded the last corner. 

“Agreed,” Claudius said with a wary glance to the glowing orb, their house finally in sight.
The structure was large and heavily guarded. It was old, true, but it was easily purchased when their Queen learned they were headed to this city. The top floor provided enough room for the Queen, her daughter, their three firsts combined, The Heir to Rezov and his First, Kalman, though that vampire had a hard time actually guarding Andre Vladimir who was more concerned with the Aurelius women’s safety than his own. Kalman against his many and varied protests, was often regulated to watching over the rest of the guards when the Royal Guard was away. Claudius had a suspicion that one of these days Kalman was just going to ignore his master and go along anyway. 

The lower level was for daily activities and elfin sleeping quarters, while the newly furnished basement was for the vampires of their group. It was a sore point among the vampire guards that they were regulated to the basement, but all agreed it was for the best. Grace wondered, as they entered the house, how many rooms were vampire proof in her Ancient’s hotel. 

They entered, expecting the normal level of activity in the house, half the contingent sleeping, the other half dividing their resources between guarding the house and searching for the cult that threatened their Land. When the two stepped through the door, ready to pass on the news that their Ancient and King was once more among them, they were greeted, instead, by something approaching chaos. 

“What’s going on?” Claudius asked the nearest warrior.

Jaclyn turned to face them and smiled at Grace. “We’ve received word, Grace, that our King is coming to the Realm. He has news for our Queen.” 

Momentarily startled, Grace stared at her fellow elf. “King Rupert travels to the Mortal Realms?” She asked, though it was clear that was what Jaclyn just said. “With news?” 

“Yes,” Jaclyn said, “He travels with his daughter, Tara; the messenger appeared just an hour ago. They’ll arrive within the day.” 

Grace could only nod at Jaclyn; it was a well known fact that King Rupert hated the Mortal Realms, ever since his last consort, Queen Buffy’s mother, was forced from her home because of him. Also a well-known fact was that Prince Kynan, Tara’s husband, all but forbade his wife from crossing the portal. What news could they have that required the both of them to travel here? 

Snapping out of her surprise when Claudius cleared his throat, Grace wondered if all their news, happening now as it did, meant something.

“I have news,” Claudius announced to the suddenly quiet group. “Our Ancient and Master, King Angelus has returned to us. He has been successful in purging the harmful magicks from his system and was already making ready to return to us when the rebellion reached the place he was staying.” He repeated, nearly word for word, the information Nicholaus gave him in the hotel. 

“Not able to desert his kingdom, no matter where he was, our Ancient made ready to fight. He has allied himself with a group of humans, among them the Slayer, who were also fighting the rebels; they are temporary allies and should be treated as such. He lives in a grand house not far from here, one with rooms for all of us; though I believe many are in disrepair. We are moving our headquarters there, as soon as this sun sets.” 

There was a little grumbling over the Slayer being involved, but generally the news was greeted with delight. Normally this was cause for celebration, but there was still much to do. So the celebration of the return of their Ancient, and his reunion with their Queen would wait, but anticipation was already high; when this party started, it was bound to eclipse all others. 

And now, with King Rupert’s arrival, there was even more to do. Instantly dispersing, the group of guards began packing their things. They’d finish their guard schedule for the day, and move before setting up a new one. 

Kalman ordered several elfin guards to find the messenger from King Rupert and have him deliver their messages. One was that they were moving, and the location of their new quarters, taken from Grace and Claudius. The other was that, at long last, the Ancient of Aurelius was back where he belonged. Briefly consulting with Grace and Claudius, he mapped out the quickest and safest route to the Ancient’s residence before retiring for the day. 

He’d take point once the sun set, and intended to stand guard over Andre Vladimir no matter what his master said. Sighing, Kalman wondered just how it was he’d gotten the one vampire who believed in the safety of others first. Whatever happened to self-preservation? Not that Andre Vladimir couldn’t take care of himself and his betrothed, but the point of a First was to see to his master’s safety at all time. Halfway across town wasn’t the best way to do that. 

Wrapping himself in one of the soft woolen blankets his Queen, Buffy, procured for all her guards, Kalman vowed to ignore Andre Vladimir’s insane orders to see to the army they’d amassed and see only to his charge. After all, what kind of First would he be if he did otherwise?
~~~~~~~~~~
As far as Rupert, King of Elves, was concerned the only good thing the Mortal Realms produced was the mother of his only daughter. 

Since taking Buffy’s mother from her people, the ones who cast her out and rejected her when they learned of her dalliance, not only outside of marriage, but with an elf at that, Rupert hadn’t set foot in this realm. He’d taken the pregnant woman to his kingdom, married her in the simplest of ways, and kept her with him until her death. He hadn’t mated with her, had preformed no Rituals with her, and that was fine for the both of them. He’d held her as her mortal life ended, promising to see to their daughter’s safety and well-being, and promising that, one day, he’d allow Buffy to visit the Mortal Realms and her mother’s people. 

And look what it got her, Rupert thought now as they crossed the portal into the Mortal Realms. It was in this realm that the fateful meeting between Buffy and Angelus occurred. Would they still have met, Rupert wondered, had he not allowed Buffy to visit her mother’s family? Or was it meant to be, as his daughter tried, repeatedly, to tell him? 

Well, it was unimportant, as they had met; they married, mated, and joined, in every way conceivable. Rupert wondered if she’d found her husband here, if she’d finally tracked him down from wherever he was. The king never believed the reasoning she gave for Angelus’ abandonment, but he’d never been able to get the truth out of either Buffy or Tara. And Oz was about as tight lipped as Firsts came. Between him and Gunn, it was a wonder Buffy spoke with anyone. Which was a good thing, Rupert thought with a smile. A very good thing.  

“Daughter,” he said to Tara as they boarded the vehicle that would take them to where Buffy was. “Are you sure this is safe?” 

Tara looked at her husband’s father with the same confusion he felt. Magick was often used in place of many things, but to transport a group their size from the Portal Home to this Los Angeles, it’d require several of their best mages, mages who couldn’t be spared. Scouting an alternate plan had seemed best, and when she learned Buffy intended to travel to the Mortal Realm to root out the Cult, it was William who suggested this method of transportation.  

“William of Aurelius suggested it, Father,” Tara said as they eyed the large vehicle, which was called a Plane of Air. No, that wasn’t right, an Air Plane? “William swore he used several things like this and they’re perfectly safe. I believe it’s also how Buffy traveled to the continent.” 

Looking again at the strange looking metallic bird, Rupert climbed up the stairs, Tara following him. Once they were settled, their First assured of the safety of this means of transportation, and in the air, Rupert released his death grip on the arm of the chair. Remembering he needed to breathe, the king did so, taking deep breaths that did nothing to ease his…discomfort. 

“This is normal?” 

Tara, looking pale and wide-eyed at him nodded. “Apparently, yes. Or, well, I hear no alarms going off, so I hope so.” 

“One would think that if one’s civilization was using such technology, they’d invent something not quite so…” Rupert trailed off and looked again at Tara. 

Together they finished, “Unstable.” 

Accepting a glass of wine from a servant, Tara turned to her king. They were alone now, their guards giving them the privacy their stations required; not that it mattered in the long run, because if one couldn’t trust one’s First, then one had more problems than privacy. Still, for some things, this was best. 

“Do you think she’s found him?” 

Rupert looked at his eldest son’s daughter. He loved her as if she were his own, loved her gentleness, her kindness, qualities she possessed in abundance, which he sometimes lacked. Tara rarely had a harsh word for anyone and always tried to think the best about people, even in Elfin Court where treachery was rampant among the long-lived and oftentimes bored courtiers. 

“I’m surprised she hasn’t already,” Rupert admitted. “It’s been decades, longer here, and yet Angelus still remains missing. I know,” he said as he took a sip of the wine, “What she told everyone, including me, but I also know my daughter. If Angelus was simply cursed with harmful magicks, she’d have found a way, long ago, to purge him of those and return him to his kingdom.”  

Tara said nothing to that privy to things she wasn’t permitted to speak of, not that she ever would. Even her beloved husband, bound as they were, didn’t know the extent of Buffy and Angelus’ problems. It was hard keeping it from him, but Tara was confident that she had; and if she hadn’t, if Kynan somehow discovered Angelus’ secret, he’d yet to reveal that fact. By the Priestess, she loved that man, Tara thought, smiling at that display of trust. 

Instead she asked, “Do you think this powerful aura will be a danger to Buffy?” 

Rupert shrugged, setting his empty glass down. “You were the one with the vision, Tara; you were the one who insisted we journey here immediately. You tell me.” 

“I can only tell you what I felt, father,” Tara replied, “And all I felt was power. Untamed, mostly untapped power. It called to my own, complemented mine. But in the background of this vision,” Tara continued, still in awe she’d had a vision when she’d never had one before, “The Elfin People stood.” 

Rupert looked at her for a moment longer before leaning back and closing his eyes. He didn’t entirely trust this contraption, but they were stuck on it now, and he wasn’t sure his ability to survive should he really open that door and exit the Air Plane. “Rest, daughter, I’m told this trip will take several hours, at least. There’s nothing more we can do until we get there.” 

Tara agreed, and leaned back in the plush leather seat, wondering if it tilted backwards into a reclining position. Several frustrating moments later she discovered a small silver button with no writing near it. When pushed, however, with her also pushing the seat backwards, she could, indeed, recline. Strange human toys, Tara thought before drifting off to sleep. Her last thought was not of her beloved husband or their children, nor of her sister, Buffy, but strangely enough, of Buffy’s First, Oz.

What did her Clan-Member have to do with this trip?
**********
The silence in the room was deafening. 

It was a strange saying Angelus thought as he tried to think of one of the thousand questions he had for his daughter, but it was true. The silence between father and daughter was anything but quiet. It was filled with untold stories, unvoiced comments. It was heavy with regret and hope and love. Despite the fact that they’d never met, Angelus did love his daughter and hoped she felt some kind of affection for him as well. 

And still he didn’t know what to say to Ariana. What did one say to a child they’d never met? How did one explain to that child that the reason for his absence wasn’t her fault?

So Angelus stood there, leaning against the same wall he’d leaned against while talking to his wife. And watched his daughter, who looked so like her mother to him, as she sat in the same chair Buffy had. 

Ariana couldn’t think of a thing to say. For her entire life she’d wanted to meet her father, wanted to see his face, wanted to hear his voice; specifically, wanted to hear his voice say her name. Her mother often told her of how it was Angelus who picked her name, he who wanted to name her after his wife. Whenever Buffy told that story, of how Angelus named her his Golden Princess, Ariana always felt closer, somehow, to him. 

And now, now that she literally was closer to him, now that she was in the same room with him, mere paces separating them, she had nothing to say. 

The thousand questions she’d had over the years, the hundreds of stories she wanted to tell him, the little tidbits of her life she wanted to share. All that occupied such a large portion of her life, all that made her push herself harder, faster, trying to be the best daughter, best Princess, best heir she could be, just so he’d be proud. 

And she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. 

It was funny, actually, and Ariana couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. She caught Angelus’ eye and laughed, just a little, watching in fascination as his lips lifted and a small laugh escaped those half-smiling lips. Letting the humor of the situation echo around the room, Ariana finally relaxed. 

“One of us should probably say something, eh?” Angelus asked as he straightened from the wall and walked to the ottoman at Ariana’s feet. Silently gesturing to the footrest, he sat down opposite his daughter but refrained from taking her hand in his. 

“I’m sorry,” Angelus said, looking into her golden eyes, an inheritance from him, no doubt, though the shape was all Buffy. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you…Ariana.” 

Her name sounded as sweet coming from his lips as Ariana imagined. She wanted to ask him to say it again, wanted to hear him repeat her name, and only her name, over and over, thinking she’d never tire of the sound. 

“Why…” Ariana licked her lips and tried again. What to ask first, she wondered now that all her previously forgotten questions once again clamored to be heard. The whys, the wherefores, or maybe the what’ve you been doing lately, dad question that seemed stupid and pointless? 

“Was it me?” She asked instead, the words leaving her lips before she had a chance to think on them and then it was too late to take them back and they were hanging between them, bold as you please, begging, yes begging, for an answer. Her voice was small as she asked, desperately wanting to know the answer. Oh, her mother assured her Angelus’ leaving had nothing to do with her, but Ariana knew her mother, and there were only two things Buffy was overprotective of in the extreme: her daughter and her husband. 

“The reason you left, was it me?” 

Shocked, Angelus could only stare at the beautiful woman before him. “What makes you think that?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he asked, “What have you heard, Ariana that makes you think that?” 

“I know you left the kingdom after you learned of my existence. I know you traveled here and that Darla followed you-” 

“Darla,” Angelus snarled, “What do you know of her?” He’d thought for sure Buffy killed her by now, knowing his wife’s temper and her hatred towards the vampires and could only wonder at the reasons his wife hadn’t. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about her…” should she call him dad? He was her father, but Ariana only knew him for a couple of hours. Yet ‘Angelus’ seemed disrespectful and wrong somehow, especially when referring to the man whom Ariana revered for so long. She settled for calling him nothing and continued her explanation. 

“I know a lot about what happened, Darla once told me. I won’t say she’s changed, but she is different. I truly believe she cares for me,” and again she didn’t know how to address him. “We have…not a connection, but there’s a friendship between us that I know she’ll never betray.” 

“Your mother once believed that as well,” Angelus said but said nothing more on the matter. It wouldn’t do to argue with his daughter on their first meeting. 

“I know,” Ariana admitted and again the two lapsed into silence. 

Now what, she wondered. Now what did they talk about? Their first foray into conversation hadn’t worked well. Of all the scenarios she’d envisioned, of all the ways she’d imagined meeting her father, Ariana never thought of this one, sitting in his room in a hotel he owned, while there was a rebellion to crush that threatened his kingdom. Nor, she noted, did she imagine a scenario where they sat in uncomfortable silence with nothing to say. 

Sighing, she admitted as much. “I’ve always wanted to meet you, you know, and now that I have, now that we’re here, together, I have no idea what to say to you.” She stood, aggravated both with this lack of conversation and her nervousness at the situation. She’d never been one to back away from a challenge, never shied away from anything or anyone and now, when it mattered most, she did just that. 

Pacing to the window, she flicked the curtain back just enough to look into the city without letting the rising sunlight in; it wasn’t long past dawn, but the light still reflected off the street below in brilliant color. Why, she wondered, had her vampire father chosen an east-facing window? They’d discovered on their first day here that the sunlight in this realm wasn’t harmful to her; it was a fear her mother had, as she relied on Ariana to be available at all times during the day, not just at night, and one thing she’d hoped Ariana hadn’t inherited from her father. 

“Hell, I don’t even know what to call you!” She finished, annoyed by her indecision. 

Rising as well, Angelus didn’t approach his daughter, but asked in as neutral voice as he could, “What do you want to call me?” He’d never thought of that, assuming Ariana would just call him father or dad. It was, he admitted, something he wanted and he still knew so little about his daughter to know what she wanted. 

“Do you want to call me father or dad? That’s fine,” he told her back, “And I’d…really like it if you did. But,” and this was harder to admit as he stumbled over the words, “If you’re not…comfortable with that, if you want…if you want to call me Angelus, that’s fine as well.” 

“Is it?” 

Smirking at her directness, again thinking it was so like Buffy, Angelus laughed, causing Ariana to turn around and face him. “No, I’d really prefer to hear you call me dad, but if it makes you uncomfortable, then I understand. I don’t want to push.”

Really, he didn’t, but that didn’t prevent him from wanting Ariana to call him that. Dad was such a simple word, so easy; to most children, he’d learned over the years, it was one of their first words. Simple, easy, and yet it was a topic of conversation between he and his daughter. Granted, there were extenuating circumstances between them, but maybe, Angelus thought as he watched Ariana, maybe if they agreed on this one thing, the rest would come easier. 

“Dad,” Ariana said slowly, as if trying it on when for her entire life that’s what she’d called him. But it seemed different now, standing in the same room with him, actually facing him for only the second time in her entire life. Nodding in agreement as the word flowed from her lips, she said it again, “Dad.” 

Angelus thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. 

Smiling at her, he asked the next question she had, “What do you want to know?” 

“What?” Ariana asked, still trying the word on for size, nearly giddy that she got to call him ‘dad’ face to face. 

“You said you didn’t know what to say to me. What do you want to know?” He was no good at this, Angelus thought when Arian didn’t answer. He used to be, he’d never had a problem before talking about things…except with Buffy. Maybe when it came to emotions, he was as adrift as they were. Somehow, he wasn’t sure that made him feel better. “Do you want to know how I met your mother, though I’m sure Buffy told you that already. Do you want to know why I left home? Why I left your mother and you?” 

Shocked Ariana whispered, “You’d tell me?” 

Curious Angelus tilted his head. He changed a lot over the years, doing things he’d never thought he’d ever do, he’d turned into something not quite good, yet not as conscienceless as he’d been. Oh, he still fed from humans, but took care not to drain them and to use only the dregs of society. Oftentimes that resulted in tainted blood, blood full of misery and anger, pumped full of drugs of one kind or another, but he survived. 

That’s all he’d been doing these last years, surviving. Not living, not thriving, merely existing. Surviving, and barely at that. Would he tell her, could he? Maybe. He’d try. 

“There are some things I can’t,” the vampire admitted, “Some things that are between your mother and I only, but I’ll try my best.” 

“Why?” 

Shrugging, Angelus turned to look around the room, not sure why he was doing so, what he was looking for. “Why will I tell you? Because you have a right to know, Ariana, you have a right to know who your father is even if I’ve been a lousy father.” 

“Absent,” she corrected, “You were an absent father, kind of makes it hard to be a lousy one when you weren’t even there.” And where did that bitterness come from? 

“Agreed,” Angelus said with a grimace, “Which makes it even worse, don’t you think? I had a chance, I had a chance to be a father and I wasn’t. So I guess one of those questions should be: why wasn’t I there?” 

“And why weren’t you?” 

“Because I…well, there are several reasons, and none of them are the best,” he admitted. “I originally left because your mother and I were fighting. We couldn’t get past one point, neither could admit wrongdoing, or at least admit that there might be wrongdoing on both our parts, and so we fought. Things…happened,” he hedged, thinking of Darla and that curse Buffy placed on her. Whatever happened to that, Angelus wondered, trying to remember the specifics of the enchantment. 

“I left the Lands.” Closing his eyes, the vampire remembered that argument vividly. There were some things, such as Darla, that were fuzzy, but his fight with Buffy, his orders to Gunn, his actual leaving of the kingdom; they were all clear in his mind. 

“I traveled this place for a while, but Buffy…your mother and I worked something out, I was returning to her. I wanted to, and she was ready to talk with me over the problems we had.” 

“Was that when,” Ariana asked when he fell silent, obviously caught up in the past. “When the gypsies cursed you?” 

“You know of that?” Angelus asked, not really surprised. At her nod, he nodded back. “Yes, I was a night’s travel at best from the Portal. I am,” he admitted with a rueful smile, “A little fuzzy on the details, but I remember them circling me afterwards. I don’t know how they found out it was me, or how their magicks found me when I wasn’t in the immediate area.” 

“Mama said it was because someone saw you,” Ariana told him, hesitating in doing so. Should this be something Buffy spoke with him about? “She said one of the girl’s younger brothers or something saw you and Darla. That’s how they knew it was you who killed the girl.” 

“Ah,” Angelus said with a shrug. “Figures.” 

“And then…? Afterwards, why…you say you didn’t leave because of me, but you didn’t return because of me, either.” Never would she have suspected this would be so hard, Ariana thought. Yet it was, still, she wanted answers and her father was providing them. She felt almost like she was in a dream. 

“I never left because of you, Ariana,” Angelus said. “I left because of things between your mother and I; but it wasn’t because of he, either. I always intended to return to her. I never left because of you, believe that.” At her reluctant nod, Angelus added, “I didn’t return because I wasn’t sure who I was. There were so many things inside of me, and a lot of those things were new. I was,” he laughed sarcastically at himself, “One of the most feared Ancients in the Continuum. I did what I wanted when I pleased to do so. Marrying your mother, though one of the best things I ever did do, didn’t change that. I never thought of her soul, I loved her, and it wasn’t because she did or didn’t have a soul that I did. Do.” 

Running his hands over his face, Angelus suddenly felt tired. This was more emotion than he’d dealt with in a long time. “Having my own soul changed things for me, but didn’t. It’s hard to explain, I didn’t suddenly become ‘good’ because my soul was returned to me, but the thought of doing what I did before…I couldn’t.” 

For a long while Ariana was silent, digesting all Angelus told her. Finally she nodded, “I never really thought of that, dad,” she admitted, still reveling in the use of the words ‘dad.’ “I never thought of what that would do to you, and I don’t know why. I just assumed that you’d…well; I’m not sure what I assumed. What I do know is that mama still loved you. She still wanted you to return.” 

Angelus nodded but said nothing to that. He’d had that discussion with Buffy – argument was maybe a better word for it – and whatever remained to be said was between them. He didn’t, however, want his child to think it was because of her. It wasn’t, it was because of a lack of trust between her parents. Trust that even a decade of loving marriage hadn’t forged, it seemed. 

“I don’t want you to think,” Angelus hastily told Ariana, “That the reason I left was because of Buffy. It wasn’t, I left because we both needed space. Darla was a tag along who knew she wasn’t welcomed. Actually,” he scowled, remembering that day, the last one where he’d felt himself. “I tried to kill her after she brought the girl to me. I’m amazed she survived. Especially given your mother’s temper.” 

“Mama rescued her, she said there were reasons, but she never told me what they were.” Ariana divulged with a smile on how well her father knew her mother. 

Angelus just nodded, wondering himself. There was something tickling the back of his mind, but he didn’t know what that something was. Oh, he realized it was his bond with Buffy, realized it was the reopening of it, but it was something else, he thought, something to do with Darla, though he didn’t know why he thought that. 

The silence this time wasn’t as oppressive, Ariana noted with a relieved sigh. It wasn’t stifling and tense, filled with unspoken needs. Oh, there were still things that needed to be said, but now that the dialogue was opened, Ariana felt better. As if all her preconceptions about her father were true, and he really was the man everyone told her about and the man she’d dreamed of. 

“I understand,” Angelus said slowly, “That you and Andre Vladimir are…betrothed?”

He wasn’t about to say that he could smell the other vampire all over his daughter; that seemed a really good way to anger her even if she knew the extent of vampiric senses. But it didn’t seem as if the Heir to Rezov would sleep with the Heir to Aurelius enough to cause such a…link without some kind of promise. 

Glad he asked when Ariana’s face split into a wide grin, Angelus listened to her expound on Andre. It seemed she was taken with the man from their first meeting and the vampire had no choice in the matter. Actually, Angelus knew how Andre probably felt. It was the same with he and Buffy. 

“He’s outside the door,” Ariana said again shy. “Would you like…to meet him?” 

Angelus nodded, wondering if the overprotective feelings he had towards his daughter were natural. And if wanting to interrogate his daughter’s lover was as well. He said nothing as he waited for her to open the door and bring Andre inside, vowing to ask Buffy about her feelings on the matter the first chance they got. 

“Daddy,” Ariana said with a shy smile, holding Andre’s hand as if he was her lifeline, “This is Andre Vladimir, Heir to the Rezov throne.” 

Angelus looked at the tall vampire, noting the way he held himself stiff next to Ariana, though he held her hand just as tightly. It wasn’t, Angelus assumed, because Andre was afraid of meeting his lover’s father, so much as giving support to that lover. He cringed at the thought of his daughter with a lover of her own. He’d missed so much of her life, too much. 

“Andre Vladimir,” Angelus acknowledged eventually, nodding once to the other vampire. 

“My Ancient,” Andre bowed.

Impressed, Angelus looked to his daughter, noting the apprehension coloring her eyes. He nodded to her as well and bowed back to Andre. 

Ariana breathed a sigh of relief. She so wanted her father to approve of Andre, not that she’d give him up if Angelus hadn’t. But that wasn’t the point; she wanted her father’s permission as much as she did her mother’s. 

Angelus gestured for Andre to sit and did so himself, watching the interaction between the couple. They were affectionate towards each other, and Angelus recognized the beginnings of their bond as well. He wasn’t sure that was possible until their marriage, but it looked as if they already knew all about each other. Angelus hoped that was the case and that whatever unintentional secrets they had, were already known. 

It surprised even Angelus when the three of them spent the next hour talking. Ariana filled her father in on many of the things she wanted to tell him over the years, how she met Andre, the alliance between their kingdoms, the Continuum recognizing her as the Heir to Aurelius though she was only half-vampire. 

Angelus listened in fascination through her tales, laughing when she described her first bow lesson, and imagining the looks on Gunn and Oz’s faces when the arrow went, not straight, but backwards, somehow. The subject of his soul wasn’t brought up again, and Angelus wondered just how many knew of it. 

He hoped Ariana told Andre, though he hated to think another vampire knew of it. It was something he worked hard to keep from the clans and rogues he’d met during his time here, knowing what Buffy told the kingdom and what she continued to tell their world. But on the other hand, Angelus hoped his daughter never went through what her parents did, hoped that she shared everything with her soon-to-be husband. 

Laughing at Andre’s story of Buffy’s pet gryphon attacking one of his guards, Angelus wondered if it really was this easy to join Ariana’s life. And if he could do the same with Buffy’s.

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