Drusilla paced the length of the room and back again. 

One, two, three, four, five, turn; one, two three, four, five, six, seven, turn. Again and again she walked around the small cabin, never alternating her route, never stopping despite the monotonousness of the pace. The boat – liner – was too slow. If she could have guarded against the sunlight with any precision, she would have been on the first plane out of Lichtenstein. 

But, no, stupid humans and their fears of what they had always thought to be mere myth and legend. Didn’t they realize that many demons didn’t care about the sun? Not only that, but they were in a war that far outstripped their need to slaughter humans. That would come later, after the battles were decided…and if the earth was once again reclaimed by her original inhabitants. 

But for now, as the ship chugged towards New York Harbor, none of that mattered. 

Fractured though her mind may have been, Drusilla was lucid enough to know exactly what went on around her. She may talk to dolls, may have long and intimate conversations with Miss Edith, the sun and moon and all the stars in the sky may have been her chosen playmates, but Drusilla knew what was really happening. 

And she knew that she was needed in Los Angeles. 

At first she had ignored the vision that crashed through her one night several weeks ago. The bad slayer had often been a part of her dreams, but this was different. It had taken her a week to realize what it was, and another several long weeks to do something about it.

But by then Drusilla had already had another vision. 

Her Spike was back, and though he had been unfaithful she would take care of that. And her Angel…though he wasn’t hers anymore. For two days Drusilla had raged at that. Her minions had run screaming in fear of her temper and any human foolish enough to venture near the townhouse soon realized their mistake. Losing Spike had been bad enough, losing Angel to the slayer that first time worse, but this…this was all too much to bear. 

Her Angel was back, naughty and evil and just as she always liked him. But he was no longer hers. The nasty slayer had taken him, she had poisoned him.

And Spike, the little witch had her blood-red claws latched into him. But he was still hers, her Spike was still hers. He always would be. 

But her daddy…how could he do that to her? The slayer had been turned, that was true, and more power radiated off her than ever before; malevolent and sinful power that Drusilla couldn’t help but want to lap up and bask in all at once. But she had still taken Angel away from Drusilla. 

Joined. They were Joined, now, completely, irrevocably; nothing could separate Angel and Buffy now. Nothing short of all time and creation ending, that is. 

And for several long days Drusilla had contemplated just that. But then she thought it all through…and realized that she had her family back. Darla was no longer with them, but that hardly mattered. Angel and Spike were there, those were the ones that mattered. And Buffy… 

Well, Drusilla was adaptable. She had survived losing her Angel, being weak and helpless, gaining her strength only to have Spike lose his, regaining Angel only to have him still clouded with the essence of the Slayer. She had survived losing Angel that second time, losing Spike, never fully recapturing either, nor the life they had once led. 

And for a bit she had thought it was meant to be, that she had been bad and this was her punishment: To never fulfill her fondest wish. 

But that was all about to change. She could live with Buffy as her new ‘mommy,’ she could live with Spike and the witch…the power coming off her was truly delicious, a virtual banquet of evil and nastiness. 

But first, she had to warn them that enemies lurked in the shadows, lurked there and threatened their happy home. Their wonderful, terrifying plans for the future, their very existences. 

It didn’t matter that they might not have considered Drusilla a member of that family, Dru did and that was all that mattered. They would see her way soon enough…but only if she warned them in time. 

Ah, and the little boy. The son, Angel’s son. He was there, too. Bright and shinning and a truly worthy addition to their happy little home. Oh, what a wonderful brother he would make… 

The whistle sounded, signaling a change in speed as they entered the harbor. Within the hour Drusilla would be off the ship and making her way towards LA. The city of Angels, the city of her Angel…no, not any more. 

But she could live with that. And maybe Buffy wouldn’t mind sharing a little, just within the family, of course. 

Humming happily, Drusilla gathered her bag, picked up Miss Edith, and went to wait on the deck. Oh, the joy of mayhem, the wonder of chaos, and the sheer delight of pandemonium. 

Wasn’t life magnificent?
~~~~~~~~
Cordelia landed in San Diego and spent another day and a half trying to get a rental car that didn’t look like a reject from a car chase movie. She had far to travel and didn’t like the idea of not making it there…or out again should a quick get away be required. 

Her first stop was Sunnydale…or maybe she should stop in LA first since it was literally on the way? 

No, Sunnydale first, check on the Hellmouth, look for any friends or allies, or at this point familiar enemies, then south again to LA. Wait…where was that other front? Vegas? Yes, maybe she should have gone to Vegas first, then west to California. No, her immediate concern was Angelus; if he was back, as all the evidence seemed to point, then she had to stop him.

It was too late to re-curse him; it had been months, who knew what kind of damage he caused in that time? Best to just put him to his final rest and leave it at that, cruel and cold though that sounded. Besides, was there anyone left with the power and knowledge to do so? 

Could Cordelia do it? Could she kill one of her best friends? True they had had their ups and downs, their relationship not always being the best of things, but she cared for him more than anyone…could she do it? 

Hopefully, she could. He was her friend, true, but this whole fate of the world thing outweighed that. Lives had already been lost; she knew that for a fact. Angelus must be stopped, that was never a question. And she wouldn’t put Angel through the memories of two months of soullessness again. He didn’t deserve that, no one did. 

But could she do it? 

Now she understood what Buffy had gone through all those years ago when Angelus first made his appearance. It had been months before she even worked the courage up to kill him and that was only because he was opening the mouth to hell. But she did, she killed the man she loved. And then she had run away, lost in grief and rejection and heartache that had never truly gone away. 

First stop, then, Sunnydale. She needed to see for herself that the mouth to hell remained closed and guarded. Or at least closed. And whose stupid idea was it to build the new high school on it? One ruined building wasn’t enough, they needed two? Well now they had it. 

As Cordelia pulled onto the freeway, heading north, she wondered what she would find there. And hoped that her worst nightmare – vampire Buffy and Angel – wasn’t about to come true.
*********
They purposely arrived fifteen minutes early for their midnight appointment with Paul Stewart. The five stood just inside the door, but far enough away from the new arrivals, to scan the area, getting a sense of the layout of the room.  

The interior of the club combined at least several worlds – though whether it was the best or worst was anyone’s guess. The gothic that seemed to resurge every now and then, classic vampire themes that were more invented than traditional, though several aspects of true mythological vampire themes were visible. The modern era shone clearly through in the lights, music, and cameras, both visible and not, scattered around the dance and bar areas. 

The scent of sex and sweat and pounding pumping blood made Buffy both hungry and horny but she resisted the urge rub against Angelus. They both stood there, side by side, warrior eyes looking around them, noting details and scenes and schematics, taking what Giles and Willow told them and superimposing it onto the room before them. 

Several fire exits were visible, no doubt serving the duel purpose of complying with city inspections and a quick escape should anyone take it in their heads to rid the city of several hundred vampires by setting the place ablaze. Windows, high and clear, sat twenty or so feet above the floor, showing the night sky, the high moon, and the scenes of the city. 

The dance floor was not yet packed, but that could be attributed to the earliness of the hour. The bartenders looked not only competent in their drink mixing skills, but also as bouncers though there were plenty of those as well. Doubtlessly Paul wanted as little trouble as possible. Though that could be for the city officials he compensated rather than any real threat of violence; his reputation was such that even those who hated him respected him enough to leave his place of business alone. 

Silently the group turned to each other, nodding in unspoken agreement. They had discussed their plan earlier, agreeing with Angelus as to the best way to start their take over. Business was important, that was true; the contacts and money alone were worth it, and Paul seemed to have one of the most successful outfits on the western coast. A simple partnership, one that was sure to flourish into so much more. 

Still, Angelus had enough money to fund most of their plans himself; no this was more a networking venture than anything else. Paul, on the other hand, had to be assessed. 

By nature, vampires were untrustworthy, alliances born of necessity and circumstance and mutual goals rather than any real desire to commit to another. Angelus was more than willing to form an alliance with Paul – for the time being of course – to ensure his loyalty and cooperation. The other vampire’s ultimate fate could be determined later just as easily as it could be sooner. 

Turning for the stairs as one, they climbed the polished wooden steps to the second floor and their meeting with the owner. No one stopped them; obviously already knowing who they were – or most of them at least – and that they were expected. The second floor was much different than the first. Here the theme was toned down, muted colors and fine paintings as opposed to the dark and heavy shades that adorned the main area. 

There were three rooms for meeting and at least two others for more private parties. The guard here was a Trashla’yk Demon, known for their loyalty to both their clan and honor and their fierce hatred of cowards and humans. Which, in their opinion, were one and the same. 

The imposing seven foot tall blue skinned creature looked over the group impassively. When his eyes – both of them though they rotated separately – rested on Buffy, the demon let out an uncharacteristic gasp of surprise. 

Recognizing the scent of a slayer, no matter how infrequent contact may have been with her kind, the demon took all of three seconds to assess the situation. In the first second he realized who and what she was; both a slayer and a vampire, a strong one at that. In the second, he realized who Angelus was and what the connection between the two were. 

In the third and final second he decided that though he was loyal to Paul, loyalty was meant to be stretched. He would never break his oath to the vampire; such things went against everything for which he stood. But that loyalty could be expanded. 

As protector to the slayer, his own reputation would increase in unlimited ways. Not to mention the fact that whatever plans they may have had with Paul were sure to be more interesting than anything he had seen in the last thirty years or so. 

Bowing down on one knee before the diminutive (former) slayer, the demon rumbled, “Great warrior, I humbly beseech your blessing upon me, Toga’sha and my clan, the Sct’o’yz.” 

Buffy looked first at Giles then at Angelus who both shrugged at such an uncharacteristic display from a race that held themselves so far above all other demons and smiled back at the bowed demon. “Toga’sha,” She said, mangling his name not at all; wouldn’t do to insult the being when they had only just met. “It is an honor,” And she bowed at the word. “Blessings upon you and your great clan.” 

Buffy had no idea who he was, what sort of demon the seven foot tall being was, nor anything about his clan. But he seemed to think she was capable of giving her blessing over such things, so who was she to disappoint? Besides, who knew when he and his clan might come in handy? 

The giant stood, bowing his head once before opening the door behind him. As he stood off to the side, head still bowed, he waited until all five walked into the room before saying in his low gravely voice, “Honor to you, great warrior.” 

Paul was old, not as old as most masters but old enough and cynical enough to have seen an inordinate amount of things; nothing much surprised him any longer. He had seen great wars between nations and minor battles between families, plagues and famines and had been the cause of more than a little destruction in his time. It was said that he witnessed the great meeting between the devil and Daniel Webster, but that was mere speculation. 

No, nothing surprised him…except this. Toga’sha had been with him for more than a century, since his foray to California. 

And never in that hundred and five years had he seen anything close to respect on the demon’s face and downright admiration in his voice. Or anything at all, really, the demon preferred to say as little as possible and his face never betrayed his feelings. 

Who was this girl? 

“Angelus,” He said, greeting the other vampire with the respect due. “I hadn’t expected to ever see you again.” 

Which was true, while not initially well known, Angel’s soul story abound in the underworld once the vampire (the souled version at least) moved to LA and began to ‘help the helpless.’ Still, they had stayed out of each other’s way for the time that they shared a city and this was their first meeting in close to one hundred and fifty years. 

“Paul,” Angelus replied as he shook hands with the vampire, equally polite. The edge was still there, sharp and brutal but it was covered for the moment: business first and all. “I’d like to introduce my bonded mate, Buffy.” 

Angelus didn’t say she was the slayer as Buffy glided up to his side, assessing the older vamp with predator eyes, he didn’t have to; Damon may not have known who she was, but he was an idiot. Her name was well known throughout the demon world, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But she had branched out, adverting apocalypse after apocalypse after demon after vampire and even death could not stop her. 

She was the strongest and most famous slayer in history and her name (odd though it was) struck dread into the very depths of any demon who heard it. It was said with reverence and fear and more than a little respect for the warrior she was, sprinkled extremely liberally with loathing and hatred. No one made fun of it any longer. 

Paul was no exception. 

For a moment his stolen blood ran ice cold, surprise covering his features as his mind frantically tried to work through its sheer astonishment to process any set of words that would sound coherent. But it was only for a moment and he quickly recovered, his expression melting into one of amusement. Not because he doubted Angelus’ veracity no not at all…but because he didn’t. 

His smile was almost warm and friendly, well, close enough for a vampire without his soul, and he took Buffy’s much smaller hand in his, kissing the back gallantly. “My dear, a very great pleasure. I’ve heard so much about you of course, but this is an unexpected and most welcomed surprise. No wonder Toga’sha bowed before you.” 

Inclining her head gracefully, Buffy smiled up at him. She had matured in the last years, growing into her body and calling, always exuding a sense of fluidity that came from knowing her body and how it worked; but since becoming a vampire, her sense of gracefulness and elegance had multiplied exponentially. She smiled again as Paul released her hand and gestured to those behind her. 

“I know you’ve already met my childer, Willow and Giles, and I’m sure you remember Spike…” She trailed off, the slight challenge in her voice enough to indicate her desire to see him shun the remaining members of their group. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the other man – okay, she didn’t – so much as she wanted to gauge his reaction. 

Smoothly, Paul turned to Giles, “Ah yes, your watcher was he not?” Now he remembered where he knew the name from. The words had no impact on the assembled group other than a slight sharpening in the watcher’s eyes. Protective even in their new life it seemed; how utterly fascinating. “And Spike, of course,” He didn’t see Drusilla but wisely chose not to comment on that little tidbit. “But Willow, it is indeed a pleasure to see you again. The way you handled that little ruckus last evening was truly an inspiration.” 

Angelus smirked at Paul’s words; so he was attracted to the little witch. That could work in their favor. He knew that neither Spike nor Willow were overly concerned with fidelity, to a point of course, and neither objected to his plan when he first proposed it as a possibility – not that they had a choice. Still, Angelus knew that Spike, at least, was a bit put off by the prospect of his new consort being used this way; Willow, still new to the wide variety of vampire desires, much less so. 

But this could have possibilities. Those possibilities ran through his mind as Paul offered them wine, promising more suitable refreshments (fresh humans though he didn’t say it in so many words) later after their business was completed. 

It was the old ways that he adhered to, in this at least; some traditions were more binding than any modern legal agreement could possibly be. Blood was not shared until and unless the deal had been agreed upon. It was a kind of binding agreement that was sealed over the sharing of a fresh kill. 

Having some idea what Angelus wanted to discuss, the feud between Damon and Angelus was well known, Paul opened the floor. “So, Angelus, am I to assume that you’re…back?” His words implied what would never be openly said. Another tradition that Paul was beginning to think was in his best interest to adhere. Any vampire who could not only mate with but go through the Union Ceremony with a slayer was definitely one to respect. 

The smirk changed from knowing and cunning to downright feral. “You assume correctly, of course. I have some old business to take care of, first.” At Paul’s raised eyebrow, Angelus continued. “How binding is the agreement you currently hold with Damon?” 

“Legal,” Came the immediate answer, “Completely legal in the law abiding sense. I would never go into business with a being as weak as Damon any other way. He’s vulnerable and defenseless but thinks himself powerful due to our alliance and his heritage.” 

All things that Angelus hoped to hear. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I killed him.” 

The bark of laughter that escaped Paul’s mouth held no humor. “Of course not, in fact I’d be most grateful. Our ‘legal’ agreement stipulates that I not try the same, but mentions –only vaguely of course – protecting his life should he find himself in danger. I would, of course, need to warn him should I hear anything concerning a threat to his life, possibly even try to help in some small way, but as for a…rescue? I’m afraid that I just don’t have the time, nor the resources to do so.” 

“Nor the inclination?” Buffy asked though the implication was clear, as she raised the flute to her blood red lips, and Paul was once again forced to admire not only her for who she was and what she accomplished, but Angelus for all that he had in regards to the slayer. 

“Quite right, my dear,” His Scottish accent having been diminished only slightly over the years. It was quite charming and Buffy found herself briefly wishing that Angelus hadn’t lost his Irish accent. Still, it was of little consequence. 

“Good,” Angelus said as he sipped his own wine. Excellent choice, but he expected nothing less from Paul. “Then I suspect you’ll need a new partner once Damon’s disposed of.” The words had their desired effect. Paul stiffened but the jovial look on his face never wavered. Obviously he hadn’t wanted a partner to begin with, let alone a ‘new’ one once his current pain in the ass was removed.

But Angelus didn't let him comment one way or another. “Completely silent of course, I know how you operate, Paul. I’ve been out of the game a good while and merely want to expand my business interests, have a bit of ready cash flow available, move back into the game.” Two concessions in Paul’s favor…what was Angelus going to ask for this? “Maybe some expansion into Europe and Asia as well.” Still nothing that Paul hadn’t already had in the works. He was merely consolidating his cash and working on a way to rid himself of his unwanted partner. 

So why bring his whole entourage with him? 

He could see no reason not to agree, but something in him, besides the obvious generalized mistrust of others, just didn’t trust Angelus. But Paul found himself nodding, if, for no other reason, than he had been bored recently and this could prove to be an interesting diversion. “Agreed. The normal contracts apply?”                       

“Of course, Paul, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

The struggling bodies of three humans were brought up scant moments later, taken from the club area below. It was tradition to have two – or one for each member of the agreement – but a bonded mate was something that must be honored, so a third was brought for Buffy. As Angelus’ mate, she was his heir as well and must be respected as such; to do less was more than an insult, it was tantamount to signing one’s own death warrant. And as they drank from the humans, who only now realized that being ‘bad’ wasn’t what they thought it was, the bargain was sealed. 

And Paul couldn’t help but wonder if he had just made a deal with the devil.
~~~~~~~~~
Everyone but Willow had left the meeting area, intent on enjoying the hospitality of their new club. She knew what she had to do and found herself intrigued by the idea. She was essentially going to whore herself to further Angelus and Buffy’s – as well as the rest of their group’s –plans.

While the words might have been somewhat offensive once upon a time, now she found herself not at all caring. It was only a word and not one that applied in this particular case. To whore one’s self meant to exchange sexual favors for something, money or information or the like. Despite the fact that she was also spying on Paul, Willow believed that it would be mutually beneficial. 

A complacent partner was a good partner, in business at least. Willow fervently hoped that he was not so in bed. She waited silently as Paul took care of several matters, shipments and such, taking the opportunity to look around his offices on the third floor. 

Stylish, the colors tended towards the darker shades, but the far wall was done entirely in a fresco that intrigued her to no end. It was of a royal court, that was obvious, but Willow could place neither the time period nor the location. If she had to guess, she would have thought Scotland judging from his accent and what Angelus had told them of his heritage.

Still, it was interesting that he had chosen to remember it so well, given the time and distance from his roots. 

Wandering back to the office, Willow looked over the man she was eagerly looking forward to seducing. He was tall, just over six feet red hair that probably, once upon a time, would have looked long and wild on the highland moors. His eyes were a crisp blue, not the same as Spike’s, but deeper, almost like the depths of an ocean. He kept himself in shape; she could see that even through the suit he wore. 

“Are you going to work all night?” 

He looked up, a calculating gleam in his eye and shut the folder he had been reading. “No, as a matter of fact, I find myself free for the foreseeable future.” 

“Good,” she purred as she wandered over to his chair, straddling him. 

“Why are you here, Willow of the Order of Aurelius?” 

“Because I want to be,” Willow answered honestly. Angelus and Giles may have both agreed that this was the best way to keep tabs on their new business partner, but that didn't mean she couldn’t enjoy herself, too. And while spying was technically what she was here for, should things work in all their favor, certain things always had a way of slipping. 

“Good answer.” Paul replied as he caught her mouth with his, vamping out as he did so.
***********
Saffir Adenydd late of the de Chaworth Family of Kidwelly Castle in what was formerly known as the Sovereign Country of Wales, wondered at her change in status. It wasn’t so much a change of status as…well; she wasn’t sure what it was. Saffir had no qualms about obeying her Sire, furthering his needs and desires; no that wasn’t it at all.  

She was loyal to her sire and had been since her creation. He had never asked more of her than he was willing to do himself and always allowed her free reign whenever she wished. But she was his most trusted childe and that meant being his eyes and ears as it were in certain situations. 

It was her current assignment that irked her so very much. 

Damon was an ass. He had no respect for anything or anyone except himself, he was annoying and demanding and he had no idea what he was talking about during any one of his endless rambles of this or that. And to top it all off he was horrible in bed. 

All but the final sin could have been tolerated, and even his utter lack of sexual performance could have been accepted if the stupid vampire had at least allowed Saffir to explore outside interests. But no, not only was she forced to endure endless hours of listening to his prattling about ‘the good old days’ which changed with every telling, but she was forced to remain in a monogamous relationship with a vampire she held no respect for and contemplated, on more than one occasion a night, staking.  

The one thing, the only thing that stopped her was the wrath of her sire. And even that threat was waning the more she had to endure Damon’s presence. At least he had decent taste in opera; even if he was sullen and withdrawn after intermission during the production of Aida a week or two ago, Saffir had enjoyed herself. 

May the Dark Lords shine down upon me; does this man never shut up? 

“Saffir, Saffir, are you paying attention, my dear?” Damon’s voice was deceptively soft yet there was an undercurrent of malice present. 

Great, he couldn’t even get that right. His idea of punishment was something that a child did to an insect. What a worthless piece of vampiric flesh. But Saffir smiled dutifully, bowing her head slightly as a sign of respect she did not feel and murmured an appropriate response. 

Damon resumed his pacing, agitated more than he was willing to let Saffir know. She had given her oath of allegiance to him, true, promising him her life, loyalty, and silence. But there were some things that even Damon didn’t fell like sharing. 

Angelus was back…Angelus was back and there was no doubt in Damon’s mind that his days on this earth had just gotten shorter. And the slayer turned vampire. Buffy…yes Damon had indeed heard of her. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, always said like it should be in big bold letters atop a marquee or something. 

Her name inspired fear and hatred and respect just by the mere utterance. She had taken down more vamps and demons, stopped the destruction of the world more than a dozen times, had lived longer than any slayer in time immemorial and now she was the mate of Angelus. 

There really wasn’t anything the two of them couldn’t do, he was sure of that. 

Saffir watched as he resumed his pacing, wondering what was happening that had him so troubled. He wasn’t telling her, for once, and he had told her a million things over the years – some useful, others not so much so. And Paul had told her nothing either; at least not in the last few days. 

What on earth was going on here? 

Damon was too immersed in his own woes to see the wheels working in Saffir’s mind. He was busy wondering what Angelus had planned for him – though it didn’t take a genus to figure that out – and what, if any, support he could expect from Paul. 

As if the other vampire had heard him, the phone rang. Damon stopped cold in his pacing and stared at the phone as if it were the First Evil itself. Saffir looked at him strangely before moving to answer it. It was her house after all; her ‘lover’s’ reluctance to see who was on the other end meant nothing to her. 

“Yes?” 

“Saffir, darling. I have a message for Damon. I assume he’s there; just tell him that I’ve recently come into possession of some information regarding him. Angelus wants revenge, he’s looking for Damon and it doesn’t look…promising.” 

Well wasn’t that interesting; so this was what had Damon so agitated all day. “I’ll tell him, Sire.”
Saffir deliberately used the proper title for her sire while Damon was giving her such a fierce, yet frightened, look. He may have thought it was out of respect due the one who made her, but Saffir always used it in his presence because Damon was just the slightest bit scared of Paul. They were small yet immensely gratifying points in her favor; anything to get back at Damon and his lack of anything in this farce of a relationship. 

She hung up the phone, taking the briefest moment to compose her face into a mask of blank concern. Not hard to do, she had perfected it long ago; still, best to always make sure it was there. However, Saffir couldn’t bank the joyful malice shining brightly behind her eyes. Just as well Damon had other things to worry about than that. 

“Damon, that was Paul. He said that Angelus is looking for revenge against you. He didn’t have much more information, but he’s looking into it.” 

Okay, so he hadn’t said those words, but after centuries together, Saffir knew her Sire well enough to know that even if it was minimal, Paul would look for just one more tidbit of information. All so that his end of the bargain was satisfied. 

Damon swallowed compulsively, though he hadn’t had to do so in a millennium, and nodded. Straightening his spine, his face took on a determined look and he nodded again. So this was it, then. Good, good. The final battle between the two was something that Damon had no intentions of losing. 

“So Angelus is out for revenge…how interesting.” He said those words aloud, but secretly he wondered just how he would fare in such a fight.
~~~~~~~~
The ancient oak tree sitting in the middle of one of the many parks that dotted the Los Angeles landscape had seen numerous things over the years. Peace and quite, reverence, flood, drought, change, humans, advancement. 

Should it have been able to speak, it could have told of things even the oldest of the creatures littering the streets of its once clean land wouldn’t have believed. The two currently using its rough bark as an anchor for their frantic coupling didn’t care what the tree had seen, nor yet what it would see in the years to come should it survive that long.

No, all they cared about was the fact that they needed each other; flesh had to be touched and teased. Mouths tasted and blood sipped. The bark scraping against Buffy’s silk covered back was only one more sensation added to the delicious mix that combined whenever she was around her lover. 

Angelus pounded in and out of her, their pace too fast for any being to witness; yet intimately satisfying in the flesh rubbing flesh, the deepness with which he was seated, the absolute feeling of belonging his mate aroused. Her hands, small and quick, gripped his shoulders, nails elongating into claws as she neared her climax. 

Blood ran freely from small crescent shaped wounds, urging them both faster, more, yes, ah yes, now! With a final growl, Buffy bit into Angelus’ throat, the same spot she had long ago marked though no scar adorned his smooth neck. Feeling the fangs of his lover pierce him, Angelus threw back his head and released his cold seed into her body. 

His face, long since transformed into that of the demon, showed fierce pleasure, adoring desire, love if one had looked, and possessiveness that would have rivaled the most domineering of creatures. His own fangs found the brand that had always adorned Buffy’s neck and re-pierced the skin there. 

They took only a few deep sips each, not enough to weaken them in such an open and exposed area, but enough to add so much more to their joining. To combine their essence and reaffirm their Union. 

For long, long minutes they leaned against the tree, senses filled with the other though they also were aware of outsiders’ presences. Not that there were any this night, dawn was hours away yet and only the foolish or desperate ventured out at this hour, but it was always prudent to know one’s surroundings. Finally Buffy’s legs unlocked from around Angelus’ waist and he gently set her to the ground. 

The buttons of her top had been ripped away in their haste to touch, so she tied the ends together just under her breasts. Damn, she had really liked that top, too. The emerald pendant lay between her unbound breasts, drawing Angelus’ gaze and appreciative smile; with a flick of his fingers, he set the necklace in motion and the emerald swung heavily under his heated gaze. 

Her pants, tight leather though Angelus had argued against such a display of what he considered only his, were in a little better shape, though they, too, would need mending. 

“Those minions in the basement, they should be awake by tomorrow, right?” At his nod, she continued. “We’ll have to send them shopping, or at the very least, have them start mending our things.”

Angelus nodded again as he tried to put his shirt back on, it was hopeless; Buffy had shredded it beyond repair. Buffy laughed at the sight before jumping back into his arms and attacking his mouth with hers. “Hmm, half naked Angelus, almost as good.” 

He laughed into her mouth even as he started walking towards the parked car, still carrying her. They had driven into the city, the five of them. Willow was with Paul at his club, Giles and Spike had stayed at the Infinity, though both Buffy and Angelus were willing to bet that they hadn’t seen the other since they descended the stairs. Giles may have been willing to tolerate and even help Angelus because of his strong affection for Buffy, but Spike was an entirely different story. 

As they drove back to the mansion, Buffy began a list of things they needed their new ‘volunteers’ to do. “We’re in desperate need of new sheets, I think we’re either down to our last pair, or very close. It was nice of the previous owners to have stocked up on so many, though one wonders why, but with the way we’ve been going through them…. Most are either blood stained or…okay, they all are, still as none of us do laundry, we’ll have to get the minions to do it.” 

“They’ll need a place to stay,” Angelus added as he turned onto their street. “So far there’s only the three and they can sleep together in one of the basement rooms, but that’ll change soon. Either Giles and Spike and Willow will have to move into our wing, or we need a bigger house.” 

“Bigger? This one’s got something like ten rooms.” Buffy shook her head and laughed again, taking his hand in hers and playing her lips of his fingers as she continued. 

“Still, I see what you mean. Maybe we could start building one to specifications; a nice sprawling castle like structure.” She nodded as visions of a palace to rival Versailles started filling her head. “Hmm, that’ll take a long time, though. Okay, well, there’s still the guest house – which has something like four rooms itself.” 

“The fledglings should rise come sunset -” 

“Unless they were too stupid in life to really make it as vampires.” She grinned, unrepentantly at that reminder of their conversation from several days before.

“You’re funny, still, we need to take them hunting. No sense in losing them before we put them to work.” 

Angelus turned onto the drive, pressing the remote to open the gates as Buffy uttered the words for the spell protecting the house from outsiders. The magickal field shimmered once before creating a small opening, just large enough for the car to glide quickly through. The opening only lasted eight seconds; allowing the car an extra three seconds to make it though before closing. They had timed it carefully numerous times before adding the eight second limit.
***********
“Just how many underlings does one have? I mean I know they do the grunt work; or, in our case, the cleaning and such. And as foot soldiers, cannon fodder as it were, but what else are they used for?” 

They climbed out of the car, putting the top and tinted windows up before walking into the house. They didn’t bother with such things as locks, on either the car or the house, as magick was the much more expedient way to go and allowed only the five of them access. Only they knew the incantation, one Willow and Giles had written themselves. Even if a magick user stronger than their combined force tried to override it and was successful, the backlash would kill them before they ever gained access. 

The only draw back was the slayer; Faith had passed through the forcefield unhindered because she was the ultimate tool for good. However, since she was in a position to neither realize this, nor do anything about it, it didn’t matter. Plus she was now chained in the basement, no harm to anyone but such a wonderful source of fun and entertainment. 

“Witnesses to punishments, to spread the word about a certain event, to gather followers to our side. Though that last only results in the gathering of more minions, it still adds to our strength and numbers.” 

Angelus stopped in the foyer, turning to his lover and silently inquiring as to the direction she wished to head; upstairs to their rooms or down to the basement to spend a little quality time with their guests? 

The wicked grin on her face clearly told him which direction she wished to go and they moved, hand in hand, towards their visitors.

Her ring sparkled in the moonlight as they walked passed the large dining room windows. Buffy glanced down at the band of emeralds circling her finger. Earlier she had noticed Paul eyeing the ring but neither had said anything about it; obviously though he knew what it symbolized. And what it meant; that in any world Buffy and Angelus were together. 

She smiled at that thought: Together. Yes, they most definitely were. And nothing short of the end of everything was ever going to tear them apart. 

As predicted, the three newly created vampires were lying on the basement floor, cold and still dead. They hadn’t moved from their original position and Buffy resisted the urge to take them outside and bury them. There was just something about dead bodies lying around that assaulted her sense of decorum. 

Dawn was, as usual, out in her own little world where it was most assuredly better – to her – than the one she truly inhabited. Faith’s injuries forced her to sleep most of the time and that was just fine with them; the better rested she was, the more she could withstand. But Lilah was awake and certainly not happy about it. 

Her ‘hosts’ had been out for a while and for one brief insane moment she had the hope that they had forgotten her. That nothing they had done to her, that the ice pick Buffy had only slightly gouged her with earlier, that the leeches Angelus had attached to her breasts that morning – or was it evening? So hard to tell in the damn basement – that everything she vaguely remembered having done to her was never really done at all. Too many years working for Wolfram and Hart had given her nightmares and that was all this really was, a nightmare. 

That lasted until full consciousness arrived. 

No, it wasn’t likely that something like this would slip their minds, just not something that seemed liable to happen. They had gone through a lot of trouble to capture several of their new family; Dawn included though the poor girl currently hung from the same wall as Lilah. Faith was a stroke of luck – for them at least, Lilah was sure the slayer didn’t think the same. And herself…it was her own damn fault. 

She had thought that by turning Angelus to their side, by having Buffy as a vampire, then everything Wolfram and Hart had worked for since the beginning of time on this planet would finally see fruition. And it was, Lilah was 100% sure of that. 

But no one at Wolfram and Hart were going to live to see that. She wasn’t stupid; okay, so maybe a little naïve when it came to the recruitment of Angelus and Buffy, but no, stupidity wasn’t really on her list of faults – which were growing every second as far as she was concerned. 

She was about to seriously fall into a pit of despair and pity when the basement door opened… 

…And the objects of her thoughts stalked in, looking more than ready to continue with her…what had they called it? Reeducation? Punishment? Lessons? Probably all of that and more. They were really into an eye for an eye retribution. 

“Ah, Lilah, you’re awake, good; ready for more then?” Buffy left her lover’s side and walked the few remaining steps to Lilah. 

Angelus had told her of everything the lawyer had done to him, to Connor, over the years. The mental torture, trying to destroy the soul and unleash the demon, seduction, threats, and finally both their suspicions that she had been the one in charge of the Belinda plot, poorly planned though that was. It was amazing to Buffy that the one tried and true method hadn’t been retried – Buffy and Angel making love was the one thing guaranteed to destroy the soul and bring Angelus out to play. 

But at the moment, when Buffy had everything she had ever wanted and more besides, all she could focus on was that Lilah had always wanted Angel. What could she say? When it came to her lover, Buffy had a definite one tracked mind. 

“Not that I fault your taste in bed partners, though I understand that you had a thing going with Wesley and I’ll never understand that, but you failed to realize one very important thing, Lilah: Angelus is mine. With all that research you claim to be so good at I’m surprised you didn’t realize that.” 

Walking the few steps over to the tray of implements that no one had bothered to move – they were being used entirely too often for them to actually be put away – Buffy selected a long wicked looking scalpel. She moved back to the weakened woman and looked her over for a few moments. Her hair was dirty and limp, her face streaked with sweat and grime, her once impeccable clothes hung in tatters around her thinning frame. 

“What do you think, Lilah?” Buffy asked conversationally as if the woman’s opinion actually mattered in this. “Carvings on your skin? I’m not much of an artist, but Angelus is a true genus when it comes to the artistic. Hmm, no, not really into the art world? Okay, how about a little blood letting, then? No, no, we already used the leeches, which, baby,” Buffy turned her head to look at her lover, “were truly inspired.” 

Walking backwards to better contemplate Lilah’s sagging frame, Buffy tilted her head to the side and continued to make suggestions. “Electric shock? That’s not something we’ve tried yet, though I find the old-fashioned methods more enjoyable. Crucifying, maybe? Those Romans were so good at the public punishment aspect of crime, weren’t they? Boiling water, hot irons, hot coals, freezing water maybe?” 

Buffy already knew what she was going to do to Lilah, but toying with her was almost as fun as actually torturing her. She couldn’t wait until they got around to Cordelia – every single punishment Buffy could think of, and any suggestions anyone had, were to be used on the bitch seer. 

“What about…” she trailed off for a moment, as if considering her options before smiling at the hanging woman. Turning back to Angelus she offered him the scalpel and said, “It’s been done already, true, but I’d like a portrait, Angelus.” 

The smirk he sent to Lilah was all the more contemptuous for the fact that his eyes never left Buffy face; he couldn’t even be bothered to look at the other woman. Leaning down to capture her lips with his, Angelus took the blade from her hand and moved to the wall. Gently, almost lover like in a perverse way, he opened the few remaining buttons of the once pristine silk top Lilah wore to reveal a smooth expanse of stomach. 

“Now hold still, Lilah, this is only going to hurt for a little while…before you either pass out or I finish.” 

And, looking once more at Buffy, he began.
~~~~~~~
Her jaw had mostly healed. 

Faith still couldn’t actually speak but as she had nothing really to say that was probably just as well. Those who would listen to her weren’t present and those that were present would most likely break her jaw again before listening to her. Not that she minded, the pain helped her to focus on something other than the world around her; of course that world was slipping away from her almost as quickly as her life’s essence. 

But they fed her, gave her water and fortified juices so obviously they planned on keeping her alive for the foreseeable future. Probably wanted the pleasure of making her suffer all the more; they seemed to enjoy it more than she ever had. Of course there was the new slayer aspect; if Faith died then another would be called and that would definitely put a crimp in their plans.

If she could have found a way to kill herself, Faith would have just to foil their plans. Okay and maybe end her own suffering. 

As it was, she couldn’t do anything but suffer and endure. And hope that whatever they had planned for her next would finally overtax even her slayer healing abilities and she could find some measure of peace. 

Lilah screamed again as Angelus bathed the blood away from the portrait of Buffy he was creating on her skin. Faith wondered if she could do even that; she was so tired and so weak and could only thank whatever gods or goddesses were listening that they weren’t focusing on her at the moment. It made her weak, she knew, but she was helpless to prevent the thoughts.
~~~~~~~~
Giles and Spike had indeed split up after leaving the club and now the latter found himself standing in front of what was once known as the Hyperion Hotel. It had been leveled in the days just after they had learned the final battles were here and nothing was going to change that. He had no love for the place, had never even been inside its structure, but something drew him there this night. 

Turning in a slow circle, Spike wondered what force could have possibly made him want to come to a place he had never entered much less ever wanted to. Maybe he was just angry over the whole Willow/Paul thing; the fact that it was best for their long term plans was, again, neatly forgotten in the face of his jealously. 

“Don’t worry, William, my love, everything will work out.” The voice floated from the shadowed rubble that had once been Angel’s hotel. 

For a moment less than a human heartbeat Spike froze, positive that he had imagined the voice, positive that he had lost his mind or had finally found final death and her voice was his guide. Thousands of thoughts raced through is mind in that time less than a heartbeat but nothing rooted that made sense. 

“Drusilla?” He said her name, not entirely sure that he was going to receive an answer, but as he turned in the direction the voice had drifted from, she walked out into the dim light.
***********
To say that he was surprised would have not been wrong. To say that she was possibly the last person he expected to see walking to him in the shadows of the half moon barely registered as Spike looked once more upon his black beauty. And she was beautiful, more so than ever. 

Her hair was longer, straighter, she no longer wore it coifed in curls and braids and intricate styles that had taken her minion sometimes hours to fix. Her dress was the same, long and feminine with lace and satin adorning the sleeves and hem. As Drusilla swayed towards Spike, he wondered, briefly, what brought her here; no one had heard from her in years and it was assumed, though neither he nor Angel had truly believed it, that she had been killed in the beginning of the end days. 

But no, here she was, walking towards him as if it had been hours instead of years since he’d last seen her and everything was as it had been. Well, maybe that could be arranged; no, things were different now, too much had changed, he had changed. But he still wanted Drusilla as he had very little in his long life. 

“Drusilla,” Spike said, dragging out her name as he often had in the past. “What brings you to LA?” 

“You, my William, and daddy of course.” Drusilla was hesitant to bring up the mean slayer’s name, she wasn’t at all sure of her own reaction let alone his. 

“Naturally, Drusilla, naturally; so why now? No one’s heard from you in years and you chose now to visit? What’s changed?” He walked towards her, slowly, as if still afraid that she’d disappear if he touched her. But he did, placing a hand on her arm and it didn’t pass through her, she was real and solid under his grasp. 

“Things are happening, Spike, things have already happened.” She swayed again, this time to the tune of her inner voice instead of the planned seductive movement of a moment earlier. “Change comes to all and our family is no different. Daddy is back, but he is no longer my Angel; he’s her Angel. The witch has her scent in you and doesn’t want to let go despite her new playmate.” 

Stiffening and growling at the mention of Willow and Paul, Spike tried his best to ignore the pounding of his blood at the thought. Turning his attention back to his former lover, Spike asked instead, “So you came back to….what, exactly? See if you could rejoin the happy little family?” 

“Joined, yes the Joining,” Drusilla smiled this time and draped herself over Spike. He grabbed onto her hips – only for balance he assured himself. “Union, Angel and the slayer went through the Union Ritual. She’s a part of the family now, Spike. Our family.” 

Oh, Buffy was just going to love this. Spike was willing to bet that if the former slayer had her way then the vampiress in his arms would be dust before the dawn. Still, he couldn’t let that happen; his feelings for Drusilla had never really faded despite that little mishap involving her and Buffy from a few years ago. 

“Come on, ducks,” Spike said, urging her to follow him back to his waiting car and reverting to endearments as he did so, “Let’s get you back to the house. I’m pretty sure Angelus will want to see you…and I can guarantee that Buffy will just love that visit.”
~~~~~~~
Cordelia should have listened to her instinct and stayed away. But no, she had to fly half way around the world to check out the possibility – probability – of Angelus’ return and Buffy’s…conversion. 

There was nothing in Sunnydale.

And by nothing, Cordelia meant just that…nothing. There were buildings, houses, businesses – the Bronze, against all odds, was still standing and thriving, relatively speaking. People moved from house to car to work or play and back again with the same carelessness they always had shown in the blatant face of the evil that permeated the town. But there were less of those people; less of just about everything, actually; why the dwindling population of Sunnydale chose to stay in such a war zone was beyond her. 

And there was no sign of anyone familiar. Willy’s was closed, burnt to the ground by forces unknown to Cordelia; the new high school was just as destroyed as the old one – wonder who blew the new one up. Cordelia could only be glad she hadn’t been around for Fun with Fire on Graduation Day, Part II. Buffy’s house had been leveled – hadn’t she heard that a Cyclops had done that? Man these End Days sure brought out all the mythological characters, didn’t they? 

Xander’s apartment and his parent’s house, Cordy’s old house and her mother’s new apartment, Willow’s house…they were all gone. Cordelia had no idea what had happened to the inhabitants of said places, but she was sure it wasn’t a pretty sight. Giles apartment complex had been burnt recently, Cordy remembered hearing about a group of rampaging demons tearing through several neighborhoods in search of the Slayer’s headquarters; they had arrived at Giles’ too late for their purpose, but the damage they had inflicted had been tremendous. 

There was no one left in the town to answer her questions. Indeed, the more she looked, the more she realized that there weren’t even demons in town. Now how weird was that? The whole situation made little to no sense and Cordelia had a sinking suspicion that she would have to travel the two hours back to LA. But not tonight; tonight all she wanted was a hot bath, a soft bed, and at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep. All things she had lacked in the years between the beginning of this war and now. 

Funny, whenever she thought about the final battles Cordelia either assumed that she wouldn’t be around for them – an admittedly faulty assumption considering she was working for the biggest walking anomaly in the world and that the only slayer to break all the rules and die at least twice had been her classmate. Or that they would be over in a matter of weeks. 

Then again, everyone thought the Civil War would last two months, max. Look where that got them. 

“So, back to LA it is. Lucky me, I get to relive not only my depressing high school years, but the ones afterwards that led me to this place.”

She turned back to her rental car and climbed behind the wheel. Pulling away from the curb as recklessly as she had ever driven, Cordelia made her way to the only remaining hotel in the town. At least she was pretty positive that they had running hot water and a bed.

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