Pain and suffering and hopelessness and triumph and victory and absence and all those and so much more and it was all within his grasp if only his reach was a little further, a little surer, a little more, just a little. And if he could reach it, yes just a bit more, it was right there but a thousand miles away, then it would be his and he would know and it would end, it would all end.

No, it would begin, yes it would all begin and it would be new and wonderful and his, not all his, true but his, a part of him, a part of them. He would be a part of them. 

And he wanted it, wanted it so badly he could feel it, yes feel, feel the success and the confidence and the lack of need but the need of want. And taste it, yes, so close to taste it, he could taste the blood as it slid, slowly, quickly, sweet and thick and perfect down his eager throat. 

Taste the conquest and the worship and the power and it was so close, he was so close.
No, they were close. They were there, actually, and waiting for him. Why were they waiting for him? They were waiting, waiting for him to complete their circle, to complete their plans and their family.

Family.

They were his family, he was, she was, she was what was missing, she was what he had longed for and he was everything he had feared and secretly desired, they were everything and they were waiting for him, they wanted him, needed him. 

Why was he not there? 

Because he was scared; but what was there to fear? Surely not them for they accepted him, all of him and didn’t want to change him into what they wanted him to be, no they wanted him as he was and that was fine with him, he was what he was and that was that and no one could change that even though too many had tried. 

And they knew that for it had been attempted on them and look at what had happened! But they wouldn’t try that on him for they wanted him exactly as he was and he was more than willing to oblige. 

Not scared, not scared. He was not scared, he was…lost, yes he was lost. He wanted it but didn’t know how to get it.

Take it, take what you want, it’s simple; just take it. 

Yes, that’s it, why hadn’t he seen that before?

So simple, so easy, this, none of this mattered, all that mattered was them, the circle, the family, the fitting in part of his life that he had never had but always wanted. There he could, there he would. 

Why was he waiting? He didn’t want to wait, there was no need to, there was nothing left here, so why wasn’t he there? 

He was there, almost, he was going there. 

Soon, he whispered into the wind, Soon I’ll be there and it’ll be all right, yes? 

Yes, whispered the wind, a sweet laugh echoing around him, drawing him to it, caressing his fears away, making him feel wanted and safe…safe? Yes, even safe, safe from fear and lies and everything he had never wanted but somehow had because his life sucked, oh yes it sucked, and he was so close… 

Yes, whispered the wind, Soon, my child and we shall be here, waiting.  
~~~~~~~~~~
Connor looked around him, wondering what he ever saw in this in the first place.

The constant fighting, the struggle for something he doubted very much he believed in. Why was he fighting? Because it was ‘the right thing to do’ that’s what his father had said, that’s what all his father’s friend’s had said, that’s what his one friend, Gunn, had said. That’s what the slayer – the most magnificent warrior he had even seen – had said and her watcher, her most trusted friends.

They all said the same thing. Where were they now?

Now they were what they had been fighting. Now they no longer possessed a soul, something it had taken him a long, long while to see as the differentiating factor between what they fought and what his father was...

Was. Not is, was. Was because now Angel, the warrior who had patiently guided him was gone, Angel who had had an affair with his seer because of a loneliness Connor still couldn’t even begin to imagine, Angel who, once he had called it off with Cordelia (after an incredibly short time, mind you), had told his son of Buffy.

And Buffy, small, beautiful, loving and kind...She had taken him under her wing; guiding him in the short time they had known each other when he thought it should have been the other way around for she was so small and seemingly fragile.

They were vampires now; well, vampires without souls as Angel was already a vampire...

They had done what was always feared: they had taken over, were beginning to take over the demon community. Ruling not only vampires but also other demons with an iron fist that promised both harsh repercussions and great benefits. Even in Russia, where there were still those fighting the good fight and winning, news of the couple and their family had spread, and spread quickly.

The dreams had been coming more and more frequently, though it wasn’t as if they were sporadic by any means before. Only now it wasn’t just about carnage with him as the instigator, it was about…more. 

And it was that more that had led Connor to leave Russia, travel across her barren plains and across an ocean on a ship that had never seen better days to America, determined to find either peace from his dreams or…not. 

Acceptance.

It was this acceptance that he craved, the kind that only three people had ever given him in his entire life. Angel, unconditionally, had given him that even after Connor had dumped him in the ocean without so much as a regretful thought. Buffy, though had taken one look at the even then troubled man and smiled, chasing away the shadows that still haunted his soul. 

And Gunn, peculiar as it sounded, had accepted him – though it had taken a bit of work – because he finally realized that they were kindred souls. Rough childhoods, left mostly on their own, Gunn had friends, a sister, but Connor only had a manipulative old man bent on revenge who had kidnapped an innocent child and taken him into a demon dimension. 

He was sure that the darkness in his own soul, the one he had fought his whole life was winning, and Connor no longer cared. No longer cared what was right and what was wrong, no longer cared about those who served with him and under him, those who were once his ‘friends’. No longer cared that he cared about very little anymore and that he wanted it all to stop, one way or another. 

He never wanted to be like the father Holtz had spoken of, yet once he actually met Angel, Connor realized that the ‘good fight’ wasn’t in Holtz; it was Angel. And he wanted to be like him. 

And now he was about to get that chance. 

‘Home,’ something called to him, ‘Come home to us…we want you, we miss you…’ 

‘Home.’  

It wasn’t Angel’s voice, or the echo of, that beckoned him, but someone else’s. Connor wasn’t sure whom, but, cold as the voice sounded, it was also…safe. It promised both pain and pleasure, a satiation to the hunger that permeated his soul and tranquility for that soul. Acceptance and approval. 

‘Come with us,’ it said, ‘Come to us, we need you, too.’ 

With one last look at the camp where he had spent the better part of the last few years, Connor gripped his favorite sword tighter and left. 

He never said goodbye.

He never looked back.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy smiled as she stretched her aching muscles.

Moving as gracefully as a cat, her grin broadened, equal parts delight at her night and anticipation for what was to come. It was a pleasant ache, and she relished it for a moment as she remembered the cause of it. Her mate was especially energetic last night – not that he wasn’t most nights – but last night they had taken the final steps toward destroying Lilah.

The former attorney had already acknowledged Angelus as her master and Buffy as her mistress, answering to no one but them, but this was new.

This was her first real taste of what they had in mind for her...and she was ever so receptive.

If it all worked out, Lilah would be instrumental in the breaking of Cordelia and Riley. Two more reasons she and Angelus had...celebrated last night.

But that wasn’t the reason she smiled. No, that was an entirely different reason and one she couldn’t wait to share. Angelus was still sleeping, sprawled on his back; a delicious specimen of naked male and for a moment Buffy couldn’t help but stare.

Mine, she thought, all mine.

Pressing a kiss to the patch of skin her head had been resting on, she moved to his lips, waking him with a kiss, equal parts carnal and caring.

“Wake up, love, we’re about to have company.”

Angelus immediately opened his eyes, staring into soft green ones. “What kind of company?” He asked as his hand automatically cradled her head for another drawn out kiss.

“The best kind, lover, family,” she replied when the kiss ended. 

Looking at her with a question in his eye, Angelus pulled her across his chest, settling her comfortably overtop him and asked, “Family? Whose family? Wait,” he commanded, though Buffy hadn’t said anything. He looked at her, her smile, the glint in her eye and smiled back, a smile to match her own. 

“Connor?” 

“Yes,” she said, her hands framing his face. “He’s coming, here, I might add. The darkness within pulls him to us and he no longer resists. Though if he wants to resist and is just coming to try and kill us or if he has given up the fight I don’t know.” 

Angelus stilled at her words, wondering… 

She had told him, some time ago, of the fragmented dreams she had been having about his son. Buffy had called them prophetic dreams, comparing them to the Slayer dreams she hadn’t had in a while. Unclear and disjointed the only thing they clearly showed was Connor surrounded by vampires who worshipped him. 

Much like they had planned. 

“Perfect,” he finally said, crushing their lips together. “It doesn’t matter the reasons, if he joins us, fine, if not…there are ways to persuade him. Or we kill him. I’m sure the blood of The Destroyer will rival a Slayer’s blood.” 

“I still get him?” 

“Of course, it’s only fair, I suppose. Well that and we share the same blood, anyway.” They had drank from each other so many times that it would have been impossible for them not to share the same blood. Shivering as Buffy licked the scar on the side of his neck, Angelus rolled them over, pinning her arms above her and her body to the bed. 

“He is my son, but he’ll be your childe. And such a wonderful student…” Angelus trailed off as he slipped into Buffy’s waiting body, a growl of pleasure escaping him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Lilah opened her eyes at once, smiling as she saw her Master and Mistress. 

The floor wasn’t her ideal place for rest, but there was a bare mattress there that prevented it from being completely uncomfortable. Her chains were still present, but they now allowed her a degree of a freedom of movement that was welcomed in her aching arms and legs. 

Lowering her head, she murmured back, “Master, Mistress, how may I serve you today?” 

Lilah admitted, to both herself and her mistress, for she could keep nothing from the beautiful woman, that she wanted Angelus. With a little more prodding, she admitted that she wanted Buffy, too, and was sure that her Mistress would punish her for wanting what was off limits. But her Mistress had just nodded, and said that she knew better, but that there might be a present is she was good. 

“Slave,” Angelus said, as Lilah stood, “Are you ready?” 

Not knowing what he was talking about but willing to agree to anything he said – partly out of fear, for some part of her realized that to disobey him was punishable by death, and partly because she truly wanted to please him, to please them – Lilah nodded. “Yes, my Master.” 

“Good.” He said and called to someone else in the room. 

“Trea, take Slave here and wash her, scrub her down thoroughly, and don’t forget to brush her teeth, but be gentle. I don’t want her harmed…any more than she already is. Feed her as much as she wants of whatever she wants then clothe her in the garments I’ve laid out. When you are finished, bring her to us.”

The minion nodded and unchained Lilah, leading the docile woman to the bath Trea had just prepared. 

It took an hour before Trea was sure that the slave – she had no idea the woman’s original name – was cleaned to her satisfaction. Actually, it took about forty minutes, but Trea had no desire to see her Sire and his mate angered so she took a little longer, knowing that there was no time limit on this particular project. 

Dressing the woman in the flimsy harem-like clothes as instructed, Trea took her to into a spare room in the back of the house.
~~~~~~~~~~
She had never felt so clean before. 

Or at least not that she could remember. But then she couldn’t remember anything past the last few weeks other than pain and helplessness. Those feelings she chose to forget, that sense that there was more to her than just this and that there was a reason she was being treated this way…best forgotten as she knew, or at least thought she did, how her masters reacted to disobedience. 

It wasn’t so bad, she thought now as she was draped in silks and satins, flimsy materials that barely covered. But she felt no shame for she knew this was what her master wanted and she obeyed at all times. The material covered the portrait on her torso, one she wore with an odd pride; it had been created by Master of her Mistress and she wanted everyone to see it for there was no shame in bearing the work of one’s master. 

It hadn’t always been so, but she didn’t remember that. Didn’t remember that she was Lilah Morgan, high powered lawyer for a firm that was rooted in darkness and evil and whose number one purpose was to bring about The Apocalypse; the one’s they wanted, not the ones amateurs had been trying for hundreds of years. 

Lilah had broken, completely and absolutely, at Angelus’ masterful care, her mental state no better than Dawn’s, her physical one on the brink of giving out on her as well. He had systematically taken away everything she had known, every independent thought she had and whatever will remained. 

In its place he planted several careful seeds, had built her back up, equally carefully, to what he wanted her to be. His. His slave, his to do with as he pleased. He was gentle, caring even, when she satisfied him, harsh and swift in his punishment when she didn’t. 

By the time Lilah realized his punishment she only had one thought: Please Master and Mistress. 

She was punished that once and never did anything to warrant it again. Angelus had done an excellent job with her, and now everything that remained of Lilah Morgan, her will, her brain, her strength of character…her name, was gone, replaced by Slave. 

She didn’t remember that her Master was Lilah’s primary mission, to bring him from that side to theirs, from good to dark. Didn’t remember that her Mistress was the slayer. Didn’t remember that until a few weeks ago when they had changed their plans for her, Lilah’s sole purpose in their lives was tortuous (hers) entertainment (theirs) and that there was more to their latest plan than she suspected. 

After some gentle prodding, she had admitted that she desired both Master and Mistress and that she wanted to please them in any way she could. It was the one thing they hadn’t taken away from her; they hadn’t sexually abused her, hadn’t done anything remotely involved in making her shudder from an intimate touch. 

Purposely. 

Her Mistress had smiled when she had admitted that, a bright winning smile that had told her everything she needed to know; she never bothered to look deeper into Buffy’s eyes to see her brain turning over several possibilities. 

Now, as she was led through the mansion and into yet another guest room, she wondered what they wanted with her. Never before had they shown such…tenderness. They were alternately stern and moderate, telling her what she was to do, how she was to do it, but never had they allowed her this much freedom. Not that she would even dream of escape, for she could never leave her masters, but it was nice to know that they trusted her with this. 

A trust she wasn’t going to break. 

The room was sparse; a large bed took up most of the space, the green sheets making it look like a grassy plain, the doublewide windows were opened, admitting the balmy air and slight evening breeze, and a wide cushioned chair in a far corner. The floor was hardwood, polished to a fine shine, and she could seem just off to the side, a single door leading to the bathroom. 

Angelus and Buffy were sitting in that chair, casually lounging there looking more like bored spectators than the propagators of what was about to occur, watching, expressions blank but for the speculative gleam in their eyes.  Buffy was tempted to straddle her lover’s lap for the show, but resisted that delicious temptation. This wasn’t about sex; or wasn’t about sex between her and her mate.

It was about power.

It was always about power.

Their power over Lilah; she had done well in the obedience department – very well – but they wanted more. This was her final test, if she failed there were still one or two things planned for her, but if she passed…

If she passed, then her humiliation was only beginning.

They had chosen a fairly good-looking vamp, young, true, but one not without experience. His name escaped Buffy at the moment but that was all relative, anyway; he was there to serve their purposes, nothing more.

Idly moving her hand along Angelus’ strong thigh she watched as, without words, he instructed Lilah what to do. She was good, Buffy gave her that, and she was eager to please, which was even better.

Moving gracefully if a bit shyly – something no one would have associated with the former lawyer – Lilah stood at the edge of the bed, waiting. She obviously hadn’t lost any of her smarts, for she seemed to understand that she was not to do anything until directed.

The vamp – Sam, Scott, Shawn? Something like that– circled her, running a hand over her shoulder, across the see through silk covering her unbound breasts, through freshly washed hair that fell in soft waves around her face. Through it all Lilah didn’t move, kept her eyes lowered, and her posture submissive.

“Kneel, Slave,” he commanded using the only name he knew of, and she did so immediately and gracefully.

She didn’t mind, her Masters were there, watching her every move. She would not disappoint them, would not give them any reason to be displeased with her. She certainly didn’t care that she was about to be used for sex, she recalled, dimly, that it was something she enjoyed. And if this was what they wanted her to do then she would do it and do it well.

“Strip,” came the next command and she did that as well, slowly, careful of the fine material, but let it pool to the ground around her.

As she waited patiently for the next directive, she thought to what Master had said to her, Mistress looking on in agreement. ‘You belong to us, you know this Slave, correct?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘But when you are with someone such as you will be this night, I expect you to do everything they tell you, understood?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘If you please him and us then you will be rewarded; annoy him, hesitate in any way, or disobey him in the slightest, and we will be more than angry.’

“I understand, Master.’

So now, as she fondled her own breasts, tweaking the nipples to hardened points as instructed, she smiled to herself. She knew that she was doing as her Masters instructed. They would be happy and that made her happy.

Angelus caught Buffy’s hand as she slowly caressed his throbbing erection. Much as he wanted her – he always did – he wanted to see how Lilah preformed. Bringing her hand to his lips, he absentmindedly kissed the palm, sucking a digit into the cool recesses of his mouth. 

He could tell that she was aroused, knew from both her scent and the feelings that poured through their mated link that she wanted him and now. But she didn’t do anything about it when he stopped her, simply watched the scene unfolding before them.

The vamp – Steve, it was Steve – took her through the paces; bringing herself to climax, watching almost impassively as she gave him a blow job, smiled lecherously as he hit – but did not permanently mark – her, pounding into her from behind without a thought to her own pleasure. 

When he roared his release and sank his fangs into the soft flesh of her neck, Lilah shuddered from the force of her orgasm and collapsed, face first, onto the bed. 

Yes, her humiliation was complete, Lilah Morgan was no longer, in her place resided Slave who listened to her masters and obeyed without any thought otherwise. Their pleasure was hers. She was, in effect, a sex slave, but since it pleased her masters, she didn’t mind. 

She was theirs, after all.
**********  
Crazy, she was going mad in this tiny room with the single bed and four walls and nothing but herself. 

Herself, who was she? She remembered her past but it was as a distant memory, long ago and all but forgotten; there was really no need to remember for all that past held was pain and suffering. She knew who she was, she was… 

She was the Slayer. 

Yes, she was the slayer. She fought…fought…she fought them. She had no idea who ‘them’ were but she knew that she fought them…no, wait. Did she? Yes, yes of course she did, she fought…she fought whomever was against her, she fought them because they thought they were better than she was, thought that they could get away with things but they couldn’t because…because… 

Because she stopped them. 

Yes, that was it, she stopped them. Isn’t that was the blonde had told her? That she fought them because they wanted, still, to best her, to beat her, to take away everything she had because they wanted it. But no, it wasn’t theirs, it was hers.

So she fought them. Because she could. Because she wanted to. Yes, she wanted to, she wanted to fight, her insides all but imploded at the confinement at not doing anything.

Faith growled at the minion as he brought her a meal, the need to do…something strong in her system, boiling through her, ready to explode. She itched all over, the need to fight, to rip and tear and kill, kill, kill so strong in her system. 

Spike watched her though the monitor, the smile on his face enough to chill the minion who was cleaning the room right down to the poor sap’s unbeating heart. 

His own project was coming along nicely. Faith’s mind had indeed been overcome by the slayer and the slayer needed action. Well, he thought as he tested the titanium chain that was to be her leash for the upcoming event, he was going to give her just that. 

This was her first field test and even though he hadn’t really had time to test her as much as he would have liked, Spike really wanted to see her in action. Not that he wasn’t going to take precautions - trust wasn’t exactly something Faith had earned, but this was the perfect time to see what she had. 

Buffy had told him that when she had briefly inhabited her body all those years ago that Faith wasn’t as strong as she, Buffy, was. Mentally he already knew that, Buffy was never one to really break under the strain and stress of much, and Faith had done so with barely a little torture. 

Physically it was the same, though the two really went hand in hand. So Spike had taunted, had carefully told Faith what they wanted her to know, what they wanted her to be and hear and do. They, Angelus, Buffy, Drusilla, Spike, Willow, Giles, Paul and Saffir, were all her family, were the ones to see to her needs and address her wounds. Not the humans who had effectively abandoned her. 

It was their fault, after all that she was in this predicament. Their fault that she wasn’t appreciated for all she did, for all she had been through, and that was cause for revenge.

Faith had nodded, full of food and juice, cleansed of her wounds and bathed, had agreed in a blank almost mindless way that Spike was right and that they needed to pay, they all needed to pay. 

Admittedly, Spike hadn’t done as good a job on Faith as Angelus had done on Lilah, but they were being remade for two totally different reasons. Lilah was to be submissive, Faith brutal, an assassin, a killer. 

Angelus had agreed when Spike proposed that Faith’s first battle should be against former friends and allies. Neither had missed the irony. 

Now, as they waited for the sun to set on the final day before they finally rid the city of her last saviors, Spike couldn’t help the laugh. Who ever would have thought several months ago that his unlife would turn out like this? He was screwing Willow and fighting that never-ending battle for good. This was better; this was…family. 

Just then, a resounding crash shuddered through the lower parts of the house. 

Drusilla, giggling like a schoolgirl, walked in and Spike wrapped an arm around her, eyes still glued to the monitor but ears listening for more sounds of battle…or whatever that noise was. He wasn’t overly concerned with an attack, they had more than enough fortifications, both magickal and not, to guard against that. Still, it was an unexpected noise. 

“What was that, pet?” 

“Mummy and daddy,” she answered, her tongue idly running over his neck. 

Maybe not that unexpected then. 

“They’re fighting? That’s odd; they rarely fight now that they’re together because they are together.” That only made sense, Spike reflected as what sounded, now that he knew what to listen for, like two bodies crashing into a wall, if one knew the story of Buffy and Angel. 

“Oh, they’re not fighting, they’re…sparring.” Dru laughed again as she watched the slayer on the screen. “She’s almost ready, my Spike, she craves the hunt, needs the action. She can’t be trusted, but she’ll do what we want of her. She always will, her mind is ours, she won’t ever know anything else.” 

“Well that’s good to know, pet,” Spike said, kissing her crown. He had hoped for as much and was gratified that he had it…and that they would never know what hit them until it was too late. Another crash, this time sounding like a table splitting in two, echoed and Spike suppressed a laugh. 

Whatever else could be said for Spike’s sire and his mate, lack of energy wasn’t one of them. He knew that they never fought, as such, any more now that they were together, but Buffy had often complained of missing the hunt. Humans apparently didn’t hold the same amusement in the chase as vamps did. 

Must be working off that excess energy. 

Still watching Faith, though Drusilla was doing incredible things to him, Spike’s last two coherent thoughts were that he couldn’t wait for the upcoming battle and that it was so much more fun when Buffy was on their side and Angelus wasn’t trying to destroy the world.
~~~~~~~~~~
Paul watched as Willow drank dry a random human, one she had literally pulled into the darkened alley as they were walking down the street. 

He had to admit to a certain affection to the black haired vampiress, in addition to the attraction. She was quick and lethal, smart and passionate, strong in both physical strength and magickal power. As a true consort, she was loyal to him not taking any lovers unless they both wanted and participated, and always made him laugh. 

As he watched her lick her bloody lips, a seductive smile on her face, he wondered how this whole situation came to be. It wasn’t that he minded, quite the opposite in fact, but it had all happened so fast that he sometimes had to pause, just to let it all sink in. 

“So really,” she continued their conversation as she rejoined his side, raising her lips for a quick, hard kiss. “You never thought about taking over the world?” 

“It wasn’t that, Willow,” he answered as they just walked, taking in the night air, the city somewhat dimmer than it normally was thanks to their plans; Angelus had already insinuated his presence in the human populace and Paul had taken over several strategic businesses. 

People knew, on a subconscious level at least, and were scared. 

“Every vampire talks big, we’re demons, I think it might be in the bylaws; but to do so, to organize something like that, it requires more energy than I’m willing to expend. Being a part of the family that does so is easier than being the leaders, than being Angelus and Buffy. I don’t mind running my clubs, I don’t mind taking over new ones and new areas of business, but I truly have no desire to take time away from my pleasurable pursuits to make sure this Order is following me and the rumors about that group of demons are true or not.” 

“Yet you think that Buffy or Angelus can do it? Isn’t that why you agreed to join us?” Willow didn’t fully understand; she was full of energy and ambition and knew all of their plans; she didn’t think that just two vampires or any two beings, really, could accomplish this grand a scale, but they weren’t alone, they had help…they had family. 

“They have the ambition, the drive, but more importantly,” he said, echoing her thoughts as he trapped her between the brick wall and his hard body, “And they have help. They have Giles and Saffir guarding the Hellmouth and working north from Sunnydale, they have Spike and Drusilla keeping track of human sympathizers and picking off any renegade demons not with the program. They have you and your incredibly strong magicks and me to run several dozen businesses.” 

“It’s a family effort is what you’re saying, without the help they wouldn’t be able to pull it off.” Willow moaned as his sharpened teeth scraped down her neck, his hand playing with one breast.

“Partly, help is always nice but they’d probably find a way to do so on their own, I’m sure. They’re resourceful and possess a certain charisma that many who talk big usually lack.” 

Willow just nodded; it wasn’t that she wanted to be the one ultimately in charge of this world conquering; she much preferred to have her fun as well. Not that she minded, of course but she was, by nature, a curious being and she had wondered why a vampire obviously as respected, powerful, and long lived as Paul hadn’t at least attempted something like this in the past. 

Well, if all went according to plan – and there was certainly no reason to think otherwise – within a year or two they’d be in charge of half the world. Something to aspire to if ever there was.
~~~~~~~~~~
Several hours later, as the sun was beginning its daily ascent over the land, Paul looked through the papers piled on his desk at The Infinity. 

He had been completely honest with Willow earlier as he explained why he didn’t want the stress and responsibility of taking over more than he already had. But he had forgotten to add one important fact: He hated paper work. He hated the keeping track of numbers and monies and the drain on his time. 

Granted, Angelus never bought – or simply took – anything he hadn’t first consulted Paul on, he being the one to keep track of most of the businesses, but when they owned just about a fourth of the city, it was probably time to find some middle-management help. 

Paul laughed quietly to himself so as not to wake Willow who was sleeping in the next room. 

If he thought about it, it was a pretty tame reason, rather silly, but it was the truth. He knew exactly what was required in running his several clubs, who to buy from and what not to buy. Taking over businesses he had never had an interest in before required him to spend more time going through the paperwork, inventory, spreadsheets and the like. 

He was scowling at one such inventory sheet before him, wondering why Angelus wanted to purchase such a place. Well, okay, he hadn’t minded at the time. It was an exclusive lingerie boutique that both Buffy and Willow, along with Drusilla and Saffir when she had been in town, frequented, and at the time he had been in favor of the purchase. 

Now, as he wondered at the myriad styles and fabrics, he thought again that having someone who knew more about such businesses would be helpful. 

“Come to bed, baby,” Willow said as she sleepily walked over to his chair, deliciously naked and rumpled. 

Running her fingers through his hair, she straddled his lap, kissing him roughly, once, hands roaming his bare chest. “All this can wait until later, we have a big night tonight, and Buffy wants us over to the mansion a few hours before hand. Angelus finally broke Lilah and I want to see the bitch crawl before we attack.” 

“I’m coming, but when we’re done,” he added standing up, locking Willow’s legs about his waist as he did so, “You’re going to start helping with this paperwork.” He bit down on her breast, suckling the nipple. “I know nothing about lingerie, or rather the running of such a store, and you’ve just been elected to help.” 

As he switched breasts, Willow nodded, a purr of satisfaction escaping her lips. “All right, Paul…” she trailed off, forgetting their conversation in favor of the wonderful sensations her lover was creating. Whatever they had been talking about could wait she was sure.
~~~~~~~~~~
Giles and Saffir stepped out of their car, instructing the driver on where to wait before making their way through the garage and covered walkway, and into the house. 

The sun would set in an hour, but there were still some last minute details to discuss. Plus Giles had missed his charge, though she was no longer such, and they had much to discuss. Buffy was waiting for them the moment they walked through the kitchen. 

“Giles,” she greeted with a genuine smile as she stepped up to him, hugging him for a long moment. “So how are things in the good old Hellmouth?” 

Laughing at the old joke, one they had used for years to alleviate the tension and stress that life fighting the Hellmouth had created, he said, “Better, actually, now that I’m not fighting everything. You’d be amazed,” he continued somewhat sarcastically, as they moved into the library with the rest of the group, “At the demons who will follow you once they realize that you can still kick their asses.” 

Buffy laughed, missing him slightly more even though he wasn’t really that far away. She was used to seeing him everyday, used to having him to talk to and fight by her side. Then again, Buffy thought as she walked across the room to her mate, the feeling of comfort Giles always brought still present, they were about to fight side by side again. 

“So, Angelus,” Giles said as he accepted a glass of wine from a minion, a smile on his face for his family – though he was loath to include Spike in that description. “I hear that your project went along nicely.” 

The smirk he received told Giles exactly what he wanted to know. Five minutes later, they were watching Lilah as she obediently licked Angelus’ boots – the only feat Giles actually wanted to see; he cared nothing for the woman, hadn’t known her before her lessons, and didn’t care – with the added degradation of having to pleasure herself. 

Buffy sat on the edge of the desk, an amused smirk on her face as she watched Lilah’s tongue run around the edge of Angelus’ boot. Resting a hand on the one lightly massaging her thigh, Buffy listened as Giles told of their progress. 

“The mansion is coming along quite nicely, the first rooms are completed and the walls surrounding the Hellmouth entrance have been reinforced with both steel concrete and magick.” Giles paused, sipped from his glass, “We now control about a hundred miles north of the Hellmouth and just about that to the east. There has, of course, been a strong influx of demons into the town, but that was expected.”

“They obey?” Angelus asked as Lilah screamed her climax, a soft smile on her face for her master and mistress as she met their eyes, her own clearly showing her adoration and devotion, Angelus’ boots now clean. “You may leave, Slave. Do not exit your rooms until I call for you.” 

Giles waited until Lilah had closed the door behind her before answering. “Naturally. There are, of course, a number of reasons they’ve allied themselves with us, but I believe that the strongest are the mere mention of you and Buffy’s name and the fact that I’m widely recognized.” 

Buffy cocked an eyebrow. She knew how formidable Giles was in a fight but most vamps and other assorted demons considered a Slayer’s Watcher to be nothing more than fodder. “The thought of a turned warrior makes them all believe?” 

Giles nodded, but it was Saffir who answered. She wasn’t really of many words, preferring to listen and take everything in first, but when she had something to say it was worth it; or just plain funny. “That or the little demonstration of his powers he gave them our first day.” 

General laughter greeted that and Angelus reflected that this was, indeed, his family. Only one was missing, but he knew for a fact that Connor was going to arrive and soon. He was close, both Buffy and he could feel the child’s presence, but the link wasn’t exactly specific in location. 

He had gotten here quickly, Angelus thought as the family of eight left the building the moment the sun set in a beautiful blaze of crimson red. He had Buffy led the group towards the cars that awaited, a few dozen minions following. The house was still protected, that would never change, but they wanted as many underlings as possible.

The better to spread the word of their magnificent victory. 

Connor hadn’t left Russia all that long ago and Angelus doubted his son had taken conventual methods of transportation. Still, it didn’t matter; his son was here and would soon be the ninth member of their family.

Then the real fun would begin.
~~~~~~~~~~
Riley looked at his team, the few that remained. 

They weren’t that many to begin with, only a handful had survived South America and returned here with him, slightly more had survived here and were willing to join forces, that old saying strength in numbers. 

That old saying was wrong. 

Or maybe it never took into account the other side could have more numbers. 

They had changed the location of their headquarters several times, but with the growing number of both volunteers to their cause and refugees, those who had no place else to go in a war that was losing whatever media (underground though it was) coverage it once had thanks to Angelus and…Buffy, this was it. 

The warehouse was huge and the underground tunnels an addition that was perfect for their needs, but it was huge and therefore hard to defend. 

He watched as Cordelia studied map after map of possible locations both in LA and outside the occupied city. He doubted she was having any luck, but it was worth a try, anything was. 

“This is pointless!” She cried as she slammed her fists down onto the paper covered table. “You realize that with the amount of causalities we have and the sheer number of civilians that the possibility of us ever fighting with any effectiveness is slim?”

Riley nodded, he had already thought of that, but hadn’t any real idea on what to do. Or where to send them. “Yeah, I know. But if we send them away, we have to send them someplace protected. I’m not going to force them to leave when they came to us for help in the first place.” 

Rubbing her temples, wondering why she still hadn’t received a vision about Angelus and Buffy, Cordelia agreed. Her visions, after all, had centered around the truly helpless, the desperate, and now most of them occupied spare rooms and abandoned tunnels in this warehouse. 

“North to the remainder of the Army or East with the hope that the army out there is doing better than ours. I think I heard that Philadelphia and most of Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland are clear. That’s better than here. Farther, but better.” 

“Can they make it there?” 

“No, probably not, but what other options have we? Our ranks are stretched thin, medical supplies almost nonexistent, the fact that no one really bothers us here? Scary; and the fact that we haven’t been caught, tortured and…well, tortured some more? An unlikely coincidence. Something’s up and I don’t need a vision to tell me that.” 

Riley thought the same thing on that, too. “I know, I know, but…okay, we’ll send out as many as we can while the sun is still out. That gives us…” He checked his watch, not used to calculating daylight hours by the position of the sun no matter how long he spent hunting demons. 

Cordelia, on the other hand, already knew. Too much time spent with first the slayer then Angel, then both, then in a country where you couldn’t exactly buy batteries when your time piece died. 

“About two hours. It’s going to take that long to round most of them up. But I’m afraid that if we wait any longer…” 

“Yeah,” Riley said, nodding his agreement in her unspoken fear. If they waited much longer than Buffy and Angelus were sure to find them. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.
~~~~~~~~~~
To a dispassionate eye they were truly a sight to behold. 

Beautiful and strong, they walked with a confidence that most only dreamed of someday possessing. One small and light, the other tall, foreboding and dark, they were the perfect compliment, seeming to read each other’s minds, know the other’s thoughts and plans and desires before the words were spoken aloud. 

Angelus and Buffy walked down the street, their movements stalking, predator, swaggering in their assurance that they were the strongest, the fastest, the best there was and no one dared challenge that. 

Six flanked them, an entourage of family, equally self-assured, equally unchallenged. None dared stand before them; none dared stand in their way. 

They entered the warehouse, any magickal wards dismantled with a quick spell by Willow and a blow of fierce wind. 

Minions scattered to find stragglers, escapees, any who the family had missed. There weren’t many. 

They cut a course through bodies, a single sword in hand; there was something almost graceful to their movements, swift and sure. Buffy moved like a ballerina, her actions complimenting her lover’s each guarding the others back as they led the assault…which was more a massacre than anything else. 

“Looks like they’re together, love,” Angelus said as he joined his mate, leaving the rest of whoever remained in the more than capable hands of their family. 

“Smells like it, too. Well, whatever, Cordelia never did have any taste and Riley was always such a weakling. I’m sure Slave will be more than happy to entertain two at once.” 

Running a long finger down the pale curve of her cheek, flicking away a few speckles of blood that dared mar her perfect face, Angelus smiled. “I doubt either will survive the experience, my love. Any last words for the hopeless pair or should we just take them now?” 

Shrugging, her eyes holding both mischief and carnal hunger, Buffy smiled. “May as well do so now, there’s still plenty of moonlight hours left and I’m hungry. The food here is stale, not at all to my liking.” 

Kissing her briefly, a romantic and sweet scene in the midst of a waning battle, Angelus added as they, in unison, moved to where Cordelia was desperately trying to hold off three minions and Riley wasn’t having any better luck with the ones attacking him, “Maybe a nice chase, what do you think? It’s been forever since we’ve had a worthy opponent.” 

Buffy didn't answer as they pushed their own minions out of their way and homed in on their respective prey. But the smile she sent her lover told him all he needed to know.

It was going to be such an entertaining evening…
~~~~~~~~~~
It was amazing, Connor thought now, at the lack of conflict that he felt.

After a trip that he thought would take a lot longer than it had he desperately needed a bath, some decent food and more than a few sips of water from a stolen flask. But he was drawn here, to this seemingly deserted warehouse that hid what remained of an army that spanned the globe.

They cut a large and bloody swath through the ill prepared fighters and the humans knew, Connor could tell, that their fight, their lives, were over. Some didn’t seem to care, others, and there were only a handful, fought as if it were…personal.

Maybe it was, Connor reflected, leaning against the building’s brick and mortar exterior. Maybe they knew one or more of the vampires they were fighting or maybe they knew of what these vamps had once been. Whatever the reason it was clear that there were a few who knew what to do and how to do it.

It wasn’t exactly their fault they were seriously out-manned and outgunned.

Hmm, wasn’t that Cordelia? Yes, yes it was; she didn’t look bad, he thought with a detached eye. Well fed, clean, well, clean minus the signs of the current battle. She had obviously made it to LA safely and was trying to help the army here. She wasn’t bad in a fight; Connor seemed to remember Angel, and later Gunn, teaching her how to handle herself in a fight.

And she was doing well, holding her own.

Against the minions that was.

But Buffy was zeroing in on her and honestly Connor wasn’t in the least surprised.

What surprised him was that the seer was still alive if she had, indeed, been in the city for as long as Connor suspected. Then again, from the rumors on the street and the ones that had made it to Russia, Buffy and his father had been busy.

The fight didn’t last much longer, frankly it was more a slaughter than anything else, but Connor didn’t feel the need to join in. He was perfectly happy watching from where he was, knowing that his father and his father’s mate knew he was here, just as he, Connor, knew where to find them.

They were simply waiting for him to make the first move. He was fine with that, too. He wouldn’t be harmed here, by either side. Most in the demon community knew he was Angel’s son and the consequences for harming their leader’s son had to be painful. Most who fought with the Army of Light knew he was Angel’s son and a formidable warrior for their side.

They couldn’t know that he no longer cared and that whatever ‘help’ they thought they’d get from him was nothing more than a delusion quickly evaporating in the wind.

For years he struggled between the two halves of his soul, the darkness Holtz insisted he came from, was rooted in, tried, more than once, to beat out of him. The light that Holtz insisted he fight for though the old man’s own dubious affiliation with that side of the coin was blaringly obvious for all to see.

The fine line his father, his real father, always walked the line between doing what was right and not, soul or no. Having a soul, Connor knew, wasn’t a precursor to doing good. It just made it easier. It also separated his father, made him an outcast in the vampire world and just as much of one in the human world.

But now, watching from the shadows of a building that had probably seen more than its share of death and destruction, Connor noticed that there was no hesitation in Angel…Angelus. The vampire knew exactly what he was doing, where he was going, who was watching his back and how effective they were at it. Then again, it was Buffy doing the watching, so there was no chance that she’d somehow mess up on that task.

They were effective; he’d give them that. 

In less than thirty minutes they had the building under their control and watched with triumphant faces as the survivors were marched out of the building. Minions chained the humans together, hooking ankles to ankles, wrists to wrist and waist to waist. No chances here. 

They were marched into a large waiting van with steel bars on the one window and, from the brief glance Connor had of the interior, more bars crisscrossing the space between the driver and the holding area. 

Fifteen survivors were ruthlessly pushed into the space, not nearly big enough for all of them to fit comfortably but no one seemed to care. Cordelia was uncharacteristically quiet, he noted, but that could have had something to do with the gag in her mouth. Another man, tall, blonde, was glaring at Angelus, hatred clear in every line of his body. 

Wouldn’t do him any good, Connor wanted to say, a smirk much like his father’s on his face. No one beat Angelus and Buffy. No one.

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