Buffy’s own complex internal thoughts put something of a damper on the crisp, clear night. But even she could sense that this was a night of change. The life and power of the slayer’s blood still thrummed through her veins as she prowled through the streets. Everything seemed to have a sharper edge than usual, and the lights shone as brighter pinpricks in the darkness.

She didn’t linger over the hunt, however. She spotted what she could only guess was a mugger in one dark alley, dove in, and had her quick fill. She had bigger things on her mind…

Saint Paul’s Cathedral was an elegant old church set amidst the bustle of the city. Several spotlights on the ground illuminated the foreboding façade, made even starker by the sharp shadows of night. The building seemed almost to glow with an ethereal grace as Buffy cautiously approached.

Now, there was a funny rumor among humans that vamps couldn’t go in churches. Frankly, the entire notion was ludicrous. Vampires simply didn’t enjoy going in churches because churches tended to be full of crosses and holy water and other things that burned like hell. So vampires didn’t venture inside much, in the same way that humans had a tendency to avoid knife or gun shops when they weren’t in the market.

Still, Buffy felt the urge to be cautious. One half of her was surprised that, despite the elation and feeling of invulnerability after the previous night, she was still this levelheaded. Maybe that was what being a Master meant. Keeping cool faculties about you even when the demon raged in triumph. Buffy was surprised at how easy it was.

She found one door at the back of the cathedral that wasn’t illuminated by the spotlights. A bit of darkness in an otherwise garishly bright lot. Slipping through shadows and bushes, she arrived at the entranceway. She was surprised when the doorknob turned easily in her hand and slipped inside as quickly as possible, keeping silently to the shadows.

Unlike the exterior, the interior of the cathedral was pitch black. The only illumination came from the stained-glass windows above. The outdoor lights filtered through the colored glass, creating dim, eerie colored shadows throughout the dome.

The entire place looked mysterious, arcane, and somehow magical. Which was why Buffy was so stunned when she spotted her contact, waiting patiently in one of the pews.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He turned to look at her, then, eyes and fangs glinting in the darkness as Xander grinned. “What, you expected some solemn monk of a vampire?”

Despite the circumstances of their parting, Buffy couldn’t help but be happy to see him again. She laughed. “How are you doing?” she caught him up in a fierce, quick hug. “I mean, after…” She trailed off at the sad memories.

Xander just gave her a wan smile. “I…learned to unlive with it,” he offered with just a hint of regret in his voice.

Buffy pulled away to look at him. It was refreshing to have lived over a hundred years and yet still to see something that hadn’t changed. It was part of why families and clans and orders of vampires had sprung up. Something else unchanging in the world. And Xander hadn’t changed a bit. For all the physical differences, he could still have been that fledgling, turned only a week after Buffy had been turned.

The psychological differences, however… Well, it would take a little while in his company to see just how well he had recovered from his sire’s death.

“So, what are you doing here?” she asked lightly, slumping into a seat in the pew behind him so they could chat over the back of his bench.

“Official Order business,” he grinned. “That, and I sort of volunteered on this mission.”

“So you were the skeezy pervert that snuck into the middle of my foursome to plant that letter?” Actually, it was kind of a relief to know that. She’d been in orgies with Xander before, so him seeing her like that was nothing new. Weird that the thought that it had been a complete stranger disturbed her, even after all these years.

“Getting our master-kink on?” he teased.

She laughed. “Can you blame me?”

He gave her that lop-sided grin, and it brought her back to their first real meeting. How it had always been easy to flirt with him, but he’d had hidden motivations all along. That sobered her a bit. She wasn’t about to fall into another disaster like last time.

“You and Spike seem to be doing well, too,” he commented.

Xander had left that note too, then. It made sense if he’d stayed in the area, watching her family.

“Things are good,” she agreed. “Or they will be when I see him again and sock him in the nose for leaving in the first place.”

Xander nodded, face turned away for her, staring aimlessly up at the stained glass above them and the harsh faces of the saints.

“How about…” Buffy hesitated before sticking to her curiosity, “Willow?”

He snorted. “For all I know, she’s still stuck back over the Hellmouth.”

“For all you know?”

“I haven’t seen her since…that day,” he finished uncomfortably. “But the Order still gets reports from her. So, yeah. She’s still in Sunnyhell. Lucky her, huh?”

The last was meant as a joke, and Buffy couldn’t help but agree. Being a vampire for her had always been about the travel. New places and people. She couldn’t imagine what it’d be like cooped up in that one little hellhole of the town the whole time. Her decision to stay with Spike and Dru had really paid off for her in a lot of ways.

“No bloody, dusty murder, then,” Buffy commented softly.

“Not yet,” Xander agreed, although his eyes still burned with suppressed rage. And then, much to her surprise, the rage faded. “I’ve got more important things to worry about now, anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like getting you to the big hoopla down in Carthage.” He handed her a second letter, seemingly identical to the one she’d received earlier.

“Carthage?” she repeated in disbelief as she opened the new envelope.

Xander laughed. “You spend enough time around vampires caught in earlier millennia, and you start talking like them.”

Buffy smiled at that and glanced at the note before her. The same summons Spike had received, only with her name engraved in gold on the invitation this time. “And there was some reason you couldn’t give me these letters before Spike took off?” she inquired wryly.

“I just follow orders,” he answered cryptically, rising from his seat. “C’mon.”

“C’mon?” She tilted her head to one side in a subconscious imitation of Spike’s own favorite gesture.

“We have to catch the shuttle,” he explained.

“We’re leaving tonight?” Buffy repeated in disbelief. “I’ve still got—”

He gave her a curious look.

“—Nothing I can’t leave behind at a moment’s notice,” she conceded. Vampires just weren’t that materialistic, really. She had some clothes, but she could always steal new ones when she got where they were going. The rare reminders she kept of her past were all stored safely in vaults throughout the current peaceful areas of earth. She kept a couple small tokens on her person, but she had those now. There really was no reason she couldn’t just leave now and not look back. It was really quite liberating. “Let’s go,” she agreed, following him out into the night…

“What ever happened to Luke’s childer?” Drusilla wondered airily, frowning at the list of names before her.

Cassandra, always good for the gossip, stepped right in. “Well, Pelham meet with that dreadful situation with the Order of Nonn, you remember. Nasty business. I half expected war to break out what with the—”

“Blabbermouthed busybodies?” Spike suggested with a tightlipped smile.

Cassandra’s nostrils flared in outrage, but she held her tongue against him in Dru’s presence. “And Carver, of course, became a scribe. Although he did tell me to tell you that his family, of course, always has his utmost support,” she went on, ignoring Spike as completely as possible.

Drusilla assessed the numbers and shook her head slowly. “Thanos will not like this,” she predicted, her voice lilting.

“You have a vision?” Cassandra asked eagerly.

“He’s my only real competition,” Dru responded dryly.

Spike, frankly, was impressed. He’d seen Dru play hostess at their parties, true. Seen how she’d drawn lesser vampires to her like moths to a flame. Her madness burned bright, but her power was brighter. But, never in a million years, would he have guessed she’d be able to pull of a political scheme this detailed.

And, a hundred years ago, she wouldn’t have been able to. The madness had only slipped away for quick, lucid glimpses for so long. But she’d changed over these last years. Spike wondered about it often. Could vampire healing, given enough time, cure mental disease? Or had it been Angel’s blood in that ritual all those years ago that had given her this new strength? Or, perhaps, it wasn’t magical at all. Had Angel’s death freed her mind in a way, destroying that which had fractured her consciousness in the first place and finally allowing her to heal?

Not that she didn’t still have her episodes. Every so often, she’d still cling to him as distorted images flashed before her eyes, railing on about things which simply weren’t there. Spike knew how to distinguish visions from episodes of madness after all this time. But she was still stronger now. More independent. Finally able to really function on her own for long periods of time…

His dark-eyed beauty had finally grown up.

And for the first time, he was forced to admit that, yeah, he could see her as ruler of the Order. She had the power, the ruthlessness, and – it seemed – the support to pull it off.

Cassandra had taken the moment of silence to consider more mundane matters. “Thanos will challenge you,” she finally agreed. “We must find a way to…neutralize his threat.” Her hand moved to cover Drusilla’s in what was supposed to be a friendly gesture.

Spike growled.

“You’d best muzzle that boy of yours before he gets you into trouble,” Cassandra sniffed haughtily, but she pulled her hand back.

Dru shot Spike a quick warning look and kicked him under the table. “Snips and snails and entrails,” she giggled with wild delight. Taking his hand, she rose gracefully to her feet. “Dawn whispers its will to me,” she announced to the hall as a whole, before dancing away on feather-light feet, Spike in tow.

Cassandra rose as well, displeased to see their gathering cut so short. “We’ll keep an eye on Thanos’ movements for you, of course,” she offered with false graciousness. “After all, I have no doubt you’d be a queen who would offer her loyal followers…precious rewards…” Conniving eyes alighted on Spike for one second.

“No doubt,” Drusilla echoed, but Spike could already tell her mind was elsewhere.

He swore as they escaped into their quarters, and Dru continued to dance about the room as she made ready for bed. “Dru?” he asked, hoping some of that lucidity was still there.

“Snow-white blossoms shine in the darkness.”

Spike sighed. “Dru, we need to talk.”

“My sweet William was so very good tonight.” Her final pirouette ended up right in front of him as he sat on the bed. One slender-fingered hand reached out to cup in chin, and she placed a quick, affectionate kiss on his brow.

A purr rumbled through him, unbidden, and he let his eyelashes flutter shut for a minute. Smiling, Drusilla kissed the closed lids, caressing his face gently at first and then digging her nails in, drawing blood and lapping up the sweet nectar of his flesh.

“That bitch is no good for you.” He managed to move past his pleasure to speak once more. “She’s always got angles, luv. You know this.”

She ground her teeth in distaste and pulled away from him. “She is necessary,” she answered simply. She turned and approached the vanity, sitting down primly before the empty mirror and slowly brushing her long, dark locks.

“She’s going to ask a hefty price,” he countered, rising as well and coming to stand behind her. He watched the brush move in the mirror’s reflection, guided by an invisible hand through invisible hair. “More than you’re willing to pay, ‘d wager.”

“She’s too enamoured of me.”

“She’s too jealous of you, is what she is,” he insisted with a sudden rage at her stubbornness. He swung about angrily, kicked the vacant chair to shards of wood with a roar.

“It was working against us, too?” Dru asked with false innocence.

Spike growled but held his tongue. He actually managed to calm his temper down, which was quite a feat, really, and something he could only manage with his two girls. Even if both of them seemed to be drifting rather far away from him at the moment.

“’S not worth it, pet,” he finally whispered softly, coming up behind her and burying his nose in the perfume of her hair. “You’ve seen how the Order sucks our kind in. There’s dark magic there, stuff you don’t want to get mixed up in.” He shivered at the thought. “They’re moving against you right now out there.” He gestured in the direction of the main hall. “You do get that, right?”

“I’m not a childe anymore,” Drusilla’s voice answered, cold and remote.

“Would it be so bad just stayin’ with Buffy and me?” he countered. “We don’t need this. We don’t need them.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. Just a name, but one that made her entire body thrum with desire for this beautiful mate of hers.

“You don’t need this,” she finally said reluctantly, pulling away from him and rising to her feet. “This has never mattered to you.” Her palm cupped his cheek. “Have I asked so much of you over the years that you would deny me what I desire most in all the world?” she pleaded with him softly.

His eyes lowered, and he sighed. “Stubborn dove.”

Drusilla smiled. A compromise; it was really all she could hope for. She walked past him and slid into bed, yawning so that her canines sharpened to points for one second.

He watched her, looking terribly lost and alone.

“Come to bed,” she encouraged, patting the mattress beside her.

With a sigh, he stripped and slid into her arms. Cold comfort for now, but it was all he had…

“Could you try to cut things a little closer? We almost left without you!”

Those shrill tones were the first thing that met Buffy and Xander as they entered the shuttle car. Apparently, the Order kept up a regular presence on the over-seas transport because they had their own personal little room, free of any windows that could endanger them during the daylight hours.

Buffy sat down on the bench opposite this new vampiress, looked up, and did a double-take.

Now, it wasn’t uncommon for her to get the strange feeling she’d seen someone before. Faces blurred together over time, so that eventually everyone and everything had a sense of familiarity. In this case, however…

Buffy’s brow furrowed.

“Is she always this rude?” the vampiress demanded, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder haughtily. “Hello? Staring?”

“Do I…?” Buffy began slowly, her mind unable to place this other.

“Buff, you remember Harmony, right?” Xander asked awkwardly, sitting down as well.

Harmony instantly sidled up to him. “Buffy?” She squinted at the dark-haired vampiress. “Huh. Guess that just goes to show how quickly we forget the losers—” Xander jabbed her thigh pointedly. “Ouch!” she squealed. “That hurt, you—”

Xander gave her a pointed look.

“Oh, er, right,” Harmony suddenly remembered that Buffy was sort of a VIP and they were just Order gophers. “How quickly we forget our high-school years.” She let out a false, sharp laugh.

Buffy just stared at her in disbelief.

“Harm was in our class back at Sunnydale,” Xander reminded her.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to remember that…” Buffy trailed off, puzzled. “Why is she a vampire?” she suddenly demanded, turning pointedly to Xander. 

“Dangerous town, Sunnydale.” He held up his hands helplessly.

“Is there anyone in our class who isn’t a vampire?” Buffy insisted.

“Well, what with Willow turning most our class to take out the Mayor at graduation…” Xander began sheepishly.

A little whimper escaped Buffy’s lips. “Our high-school’s going to live forever.” It was a horrifying thought.

“Nah. Most of them got knocked off by the Initiative, anyway.” Xander sighed nostalgically. “Oh, the screams those soldiers made. Good times…”

Buffy gave him a skeptical look.

“Right. You were off roaming the world back then,” Xander straightened up.

“So,” Buffy turned back to Harmony, “you were around for…my last visit?” She cut herself short of mentioning Cordy’s death. “I must’ve missed you.”

“Ugh.” Harmony’s nose scrunched up in distaste. “Like I’d get stuck in that hellhole. Puh-lease. I was totally in LA, living up the unlife.”

Buffy wondered, belatedly, if her speech patterns had ever been like that. She vaguely remembered human days when she was convinced that southern California was the epitome of culture. Dear god, they all should’ve been shot before the Valley Girl had been immortalized…

“So, how’d you end up with Xander?” It was clear from the way that Harmony had latched onto him that the two of them were together in some capacity. Buffy tried not to think about the strangeness of that too much.

“I ditched LA to work for the Order,” Harmony answered. “You can’t get benefits like these anywhere else. Especially given how prejudiced everyone is about undead employees.” She grumbled under her breath. “I mean, they were only temps. And they were tasty temps! Did they really have to fire me? No, I don’t think so…”

“I see.” Buffy sat back in her seat and fought back her instinctive headache. “I think I’m going to get some sleep,” she explained, lying down across the bench.

“Good plan,” Xander agreed, gesturing to Harmony so that the two of them were lying down together on the opposite bench. They didn’t go to sleep, though.

Which was well enough, because neither did Buffy. She did keep her eyes closed and stilled her motions, however, because after Harmony’s first comment, she grew very interest in their topic of conversation.

“So, she’s on Dru’s side against Thanos, huh?” Harmony whispered. Which really was quite pointless, given that they all had super hearing.

Xander looked over at Buffy, incorrectly determined that she was asleep, and continued the conversation. “Not sure. She had some issues with Dru when we last met.”

“Aren’t they, like, sisters or something?”

“Dru’s her grandsire.”

“Same diff.”

“She helped me try to off Dru. Well, until she kinda…didn’t…”

“So, she’s one of Thanos’ then?”

Xander sighed. “Look, I have no clue, all right. I haven’t seen her for over fifty years.”

“No need to be rude,” Harmony insisted sullenly.

Xander’s voice sounded tired now. “Someone obviously had some agenda in splitting her off from Spike, and making everyone jump through hoops,” he agreed. “But hell if I know what it’s about.”

“What if—?”

“Harm?” he cut her off.

“Yeah?”

“I want to get some sleep, ok?”

She sulked. “Party pooper,” but remained silent.

And Buffy was left to her own thoughts, trying to puzzle through what she’d heard and what it meant to her – and her family – when she finally arrived at the home of the Order of Aurelius…