Alger stood once more beside the throne, addressing the assembled crowd. “Our Order faces peril for only the fourth time in its existence,” he announced. “Two thousand years ago, we fought with tooth and blood, claimed this ancient sanctuary as our own, and Aurelius brought us to greatness.”

Cheers rose up. Buffy began to wonder if she was at an overly-glorified pep-rally. The way Spike was rolling his eyes, she knew he was thinking the same thing.

“But, Aurelius, the Great One, left us, and chaos reigned in his wake,” Alger persisted. “From his ashes, the Master rose, and we triumphed over our foes, ripped out their hearts with our bare hands and tasted their dust on our lips.”

Buffy couldn’t help but feel that some of the eyes that looked to the stands dedicated to Heinrich’s line were accusatory. ‘Oops. Didn’t mean to kill him,’ she felt like explaining. But didn’t. What’s done was done. And, at the time, yeah, she’d kind of wanted to kill him very badly. In as painful a way as possible. The short-sightedness of youth…

“The Dark Lord crushed all opposition and sat upon the throne,” Alger continued. “And we were mighty once more, feared once more. We slaughtered the Dareians, murdered the Crimson Queen. But, once more, the throne stands empty. And we have gathered here to fill it once more, to choose a new leader who will lead us to further greatness, a ruler to match Aurelius’ millennium!”

Shouts, jeers, insults flung between lines. 

Buffy could see how this would be a big deal, if this was only the fourth ruler the Order had ever had. It begged questions, too. This place was obviously far older than that. Vampires had existed even longer. What had there been of vampire society before the Orders existed? It was an idle curiosity, and one she’d pick Spike’s brain over later.

Now, the contests were beginning.

“Those who would display their might before us, rise. Rise and fight with the glory of your sacred Golden Order!” Alger announced.

A dozen or so figures rose. One or two per line. Buffy guessed that most lines had sorted out who their representative would be before this assembly. Dru was the only one to rise from Heinrich’s line, but then their bench was by far the least population. Apparently, for all Heinrich’s might, his progeny weren’t faring so well.

“Make your challenge.” Alger gestured for Dru to start. Preference given to the line of the former Order leaders.

She cast a wicked smile in the direction of the Semadar Line. “Damian,” she announced with amusement. That wicked smile never left her lips, and her dark eyes bored into her chosen opponent.

Buffy didn’t quite know what Dru did. Did she pull a telepathic trick, invade his mind and torment him? Or was it just that she had that good – or bad, as the case may have been – of a reputation?

In either case, Damian gulped. “Forfeit,” he whispered and sat back down.

Several of his line hissed in disapproval. He ignored them all, head in his hands.

Well, that had been easy…

“Make your challenge,” Alger turned to the far side of the room, where Thanos stood, watching Damian’s easy defeat with amusement. “Caleigh,” he declared, gesturing to the proud, dark-haired female at the far end of the room. One of the few who had another contender within her line.

“I accept,” the vampiress agreed in a softly accented voice.

Excitement grew as the two opponents moved into the center of the stadium, facing off.

“Gladiator much?” Buffy whispered in Spike’s ear.

“You have no idea,” he sighed, shaking his head.

A shout from the crowd, and the battle began. It was nothing Buffy hadn’t seen a thousand times before with various fledglings throughout the world. The same, and yet so much more.

Bodies slashed out and twisted away at such speed that they were a blur even to her master’s eyes. Punches and kicks in intricate combinations, and she followed them with her instinctual sense of the fight rather than merely her eyes. And, for once, she wasn’t shaking her head and missed moves and sloppy style. No, these two were perfectly trained fighters, each move perfect and precise and entirely deadly.

Dru, Spike, and Xander had all commented that these battles weren’t to the death, but Buffy couldn’t imagine how that would be the case. It made sense, of course – the Order wouldn’t want so many of its greatest fighters being dusted – but how anyone could just maim in a situation like that and not kill was beyond her.

The first sign of victory came – as Buffy knew it would – by who maintained their speed the longest. She watched Caleigh start to slow, almost imperceptibly, but enough that she took several slices to her flesh. She didn’t lose her cool as a younger vampire might’ve, however, and she got in a good kick to Thanos’ knee that caused him to stagger for a moment.

Drusilla caught a breath in brief hope, but then it was over.

Thanos, with a violent rush, tackled his opponent back to the floor and plunged his hand into her chest. Caleigh screamed as his fingers wormed their way through flesh and bone to her heart, still struggling and flailing and hoping to pull off a victory.

Finally, a whimpered plea escaped her mouth. “I yield…”

“It is over,” Alger announced.

Thanos, not quite done, ripped apart her shirt as he rose over her, displaying her gruesome wound and helpless female body before them all. Her pants were next to go. Bare, open humiliation.

“He’s not going to—!” Buffy began in protest.

But he wasn’t going to get a chance. Several of her childer had rushed onto the field the instant the battle had been declared over, and they bared their fangs at Thanos, causing him to back off from their sire. With proper reverence to a fallen warrior, one of them draped a cloak over her body and they carried her gently from the arena.

“Tricky, tricky boy,” Drusilla commented ruefully, one fingertip pressed against her lips. “Shows how he’ll shame all who dare even accept his challenge…”

“Dru…” Spike pointed out nervously.

“I have my ways as well,” she assured him, patting him lightly on the cheek. “I’ve still taken less damage.” She winked at Buffy.

Dru had a point there. As long as she could get more opponents to back down than Thanos did, she’d be in better shape when the two of them faced off.

Several battles of lesser consequence followed. Violent and bloody, true, but no one seriously considered the winners for the throne. It was anticipated that they would all fall later.

“Too bad Willow’s not here to see the festivities. She’d love this sort of thing,” Buffy commented, watching two badly maimed opponents from the same line scamper out of the ring.

“Red pixie will have her own moment to shine one day,” Dru commented dreamily, her eyes distant.

Buffy and Spike exchanged a look. A vision? They didn’t have time to pursue the matter because the list of contenders had gone full circle, and Drusilla was up to make her challenge again. She was still for a few moments, still caught in her ethereal haze.

Across the room, Thanos rose, about to suggest that she was forfeiting…

She snapped to just in time. “Has the one-armed puppy removed himself yet?” She pointed with a giggle.

The ‘one-armed puppy’ in question was the so-called victor of the last battle. His arm was being stitched back on even as they spoke. It would probably grow together again. Probably.

It was a no-brainer. Another forfeit.

Thanos got one, too.

It seemed that the challenges did more to beat the fight out of the lesser contenders than challenge the power of the greater. The final battle, though… That would be bloody.

“How long does this go on?” Buffy complained, growing weary of the bloodshed. Which, for a vampire, was fairly impressive.

“Forever,” Spike grumbled gloomily.

Drusilla patted his head absentmindedly. “They will adjourn shortly, I think…” she concluded.

‘Shortly’ was relative, of course. They ran through all the remaining competitors a second time. Alger gave Drusilla a nod that she wasn’t needed to challenge again when her turn came back up. A fine swath cut through the power-hungry that day. Only eight challengers remaining. It was a good day’s work.

Spike was out of his seat before Alger had even officially ended the assembly. Disapproving murmurs followed him, but he didn’t seem to care. Dru, Buffy, Xander, and Harmony followed more politely when the meeting had finally been broken.

They found Spike back in their rooms, scowling in the blood in his glass as he sipped at it. “No telly,” he complained.

“I’m amazed they’ve got as much as they do out in the desert,” Buffy commented, flopping upon the bed and watching him over her folded arms. “But they do seem to be a few centuries off.”

Spike snorted. “At least they finally got rid of all the bloody candles. Death trap just waiting to happen.”

Drusilla shook her head at her childer and their uncultured ways. No respect for the old and venerated… Ah well, if that was the worst mistake she’d made in their fledgling days, she could consider herself quite an effective mother.

Turning back to the door, she beckoned for Xander and Harmony to enter. Invitation Magic was one of the three hallowed principles of this building, and none could enter a line’s room other than their own without invitation upon each occasion. It saved quite a lot on backstabbing.

“If you need anything…” Xander began nervously.

Drusilla cooed and ran one hand through his dark locks. “Pretty, pretty boy,” she sighed, nuzzling his neck.

“’m not in the mood for an orgy, Dru,” Spike cut in, annoyed. He raised one suspicious eyebrow at where Harmony was openly ogling him.

Her expression dropped in response, and she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “You don’t have to be mean about it,” she huffed.

Spike just rolled his eyes.

“No time for play?” Dru pouted as well but released Xander. “Pity, pity, but true.”

Xander sat on the divan across the room from the bed, and Harmony joined him, pacified when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Still not seeing why you want us here,” he pointed out.

Buffy turned to look at Dru, equally curious.

“Someone’s playing tricks,” Dru announced in a little sing-song. “And I’ll know who.” She landed on the bed beside Buffy, sitting up straight and proper like a true lady. The effect wasn’t at all ruined when the younger vampiress rested her head on Dru’s thigh. Really, it wasn’t.

“Someone’s always playin’ tricks in this hellhole,” Spike commented from where he lounged on the armchair, lighting up a cigarette.

Drusilla gave him a knowing smile. “But this time they’ll not be on me,” she concluded, turning back to Xander and Harmony. “You brought my childer to me. Tell me all of it, every last whisper…” Her own voice dropped down to an excited whisper with the last word.

Xander gave Buffy an accusing look. She shrugged. If he didn’t want Dru and Spike to know all this, then he shouldn’t have told her.

He sighed and took another of the blood-filled wineglasses from the silver tray, sipping slowly as he considered his position. “I’m not supposed to tell you…” he began.

Drusilla clucked disapprovingly.

“But, even more important,” he added, “I don’t know much.”

“You’ll tell all your secrets,” Dru decided. “Not hold them in like worms festering in your belly until they eat your heart alive.”

Xander winced. He apparently got the analogy to what had happened to Cordelia all those years ago. “I’ll tell you,” he agreed easily enough. “They can’t hear us here.”

“Or so they want us to believe,” Spike retorted, looking around the room suspiciously.

“They cheat and I’ll know,” Dru promised with such conviction that Buffy believed her.

She’d never seen any evidence that Dru could pick and chose her prophetic insights, but she’d bet that wasn’t a generally known fact among the Order. And those who would spy wouldn’t dare risk the stigma of their treachery being brought before the assembly.

Xander nodded, considering similar issues. “I was sent for Spike,” he finally answered. “And not Buffy. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Or, not until after the challenges, at any rate.”

“Why?”

Xander shrugged. “Good question. I mean, they wanted Spike here pretty bad. No clue why. It seems to me that if they want Dru to lose, they should’ve kept all of you away.”

“The stain must run deeper than that,” Drusilla considered thoughtfully.

“Who nixed Buffy’s entry?” Spike asked, the point still obviously grating on his nerves.

That, Xander had an answer for. “Alger. He was very specific. You not showing proper respect and her not having proved herself, and blah blah blah.” He shook his head. “It made no sense. He let in two ninety-year-old vamps from Celeste’s line only two months ago. Both of them got taken down by demon hunters only a month later. That they got in, and Buffy didn’t?” He shook his head again.

Harmony’s nose turned up in distaste. “I don’t see why she’s such a big deal,” she pointed out rather rudely. “I mean, you sucked up the cheerleading squad, and you’re not that impressive. No offense,” she added sweetly, as an afterthought.

Xander laughed nervously and gave her a pointed look. “What she’s trying to say,” he offered to the three very powerful and dangerous master vampires, “is why would anyone single Buffy out? Over all the other new Order members, I mean…”

“Alger wants Buffy out…” Drusilla pondered. “He’s backing Thanos,” she decided. “But, oh, so secretly…” She frowned. “So who wants Buffy in?” She turned back to Xander.

He grinned at last. Apparently this was one fact he was allowed to spill. “Dalton’s never been a big fan of Thanos’. Or Alger’s.”

“And he’s a fan of us?” Buffy asked in disbelief. “We’ve threatened to kill him more times than…” She trailed off. “Ever,” she finished lamely when she couldn’t come up with a suitable metaphor.

“Scared him onto to our side,” Spike chuckled, feeling proud of himself.

“Perhaps,” was all Dru said to that. “Perhaps.”

“I see him all around you, you know.”

Buffy turned and was surprised to see Dru there. She’d felt the need to retreat from the cloistered feel of the Sanctuary and had ventured out into the cool desert night. She’d found a path worn into the cliff wall, followed it up out of the canyon, and found herself on a high plain. The desert stretched out for what seemed like forever there, an infinite wasteland. Overhead, the full moon shone bright, creating ghostly shadows across the landscape.

Drusilla seemed to pick up on the effect as well. “Like a ghost, he haunts your every step,” she commented, sitting beside Buffy on the rocky ledge. “Pain and agony wrapped around you like a tight, invisible bow…”

“I didn’t think anyone would find me out here,” Buffy commented casually in response, still staring up and the moon and the stars.

Dru tisked lightly. “Mommy will always know where to find you. Thin threads that lead through the night and bind up together. Even in death…”

“That’s not true,” Buffy insisted. “I felt that thread snap when Parker died. It was just…gone. Like a piece of me. Dust.”

“Our boy has a name,” Dru’s lips quirked for a moment. “If the thread has snapped,” she retorted, “then why does his shadow hang over you?”

“Because I miss him,” Buffy retorted in a ‘duh’ voice. “Because I’m sad and alone.”

The elder vampiress sighed. “You see only the moon, but never the stars,” she said cryptically.

Buffy frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Dru said, her voice very quiet and still in the night, “that your boy is dust. But what was your boy? Naught but a fragment of your demon given to a childe. What, do you suppose, happened to his demon when he perished?”

“It’s in hell.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Great pep talk there.”

Drusilla shook her head, sending dark locks cascading over her shoulders. “But his demon lives,” she retorted, “for it’s part of your demon…”

Buffy opened her moment to protest, stopped, and considered.

“You feel him inside you – as do Spike and myself – and he rages that his form has passed. But he’s still there,” Dru’s hands came up to caress Buffy’s temples, “inside.”

Buffy shivered at the thought. It was both comforting and alarming.

“I have never lost a childe,” Dru’s voice turned soft and ethereal. “But I felt the thread snap, felt my sire’s last gasp…”

“I thought you hated Angel?”

Drusilla laughed wryly at that. “Hated and loved… Wound so close together, they’re almost indistinguishable.” She sighed. “I hated him,” she agreed, “but one can’t help but love family. They’re always within us, whispering of greatness and failure…”

Buffy considered that. She hadn’t really known Parker – certainly not like she’d known Spike or Dru – yet she’d still come to love him so quickly. I had no choice, she realized. In some way, he was a part of me…

“Such a great secret and so simple,” Dru commented philosophically. “It is true immortality. Being passed down through childer, grandchilder…” She sighed contentedly, looking up at the stars above. “Forever and ever.”

Buffy turned to look at her. “You’re worried you’re going to die,” she guessed with sudden insight. “You think Thanos plans to kill you.”

“He may try,” Dru conceded blankly.

“And he wants to kill your childer, too?” Buffy frowned. “No, wait, that makes no sense. Then why wouldn’t he have wanted me here?”

“The Order is old. Older than anyone has ever guessed. I can feel it in my bones…”

“Aurelius was born—”

“Aurelius is a name,” Dru insisted. “He is not the Order, merely its modern face. No,” she shook her head, “we are as old as this desert. As immortal…”

“Maybe.” Buffy didn’t know one way or the other at that point.

Drusilla stared off into the distance for another minute. “Thanos doesn’t mean to kill me,” she finally stated, her words slow and precise as if she were considering each one very carefully. “It is too simple, too mundane. No… He has something else planned. Something hidden in the darkness between the stars.”

Buffy felt the strange urge to follow her gaze. She didn’t see anything, of course.

“Something we have not seen yet,” Dru concluded. And then, with a laugh, she shook the melancholy off and caught Buffy’s hand, guiding her back to their temporary home.

And Buffy was surprised to find that, despite the political battles that hung around them, she felt lighter than she had since before Parker had crumbled to dust.