Beside her, Buffy couldn’t help but be impressed. Dru had barely been strong enough to walk out here on her own two feet, and her insane ramblings had gotten quite irritating as of late. Fortunately, her insanity seemed to be part of her strength. All the vampires around them seemed to be downright terrified of what their new mad mistress might do. All except Willow, or course, who sat at her mommy’s feet and nuzzled her knee affectionately. Buffy just hoped this wouldn’t come to a fight. Because, really, Spike was the only exceptional fighter among them at the moment, and they were hopelessly outnumbered…

“In fact,” Spike went on, “you’re prob’ly all wonderin’ if assassinating me ‘d be a good idea right about now.” He said it with a yawn as if this were the least concerning idea in the world. The cocky grin he gave the crowd made it appear as though he were reveling in his newfound authority. To the contrary actually he found it rather tedious to have to order these idiots around, but one of the regrettable facts of unlife was that even vampires had to worry about unfinished business. “Personally, I can’t see why you’d bother. The snooty folks ‘re gone and not about to come back. But if you’ve got some kinda suicide wish…” His eyes narrowed to angry slits and flashed gold for a second. “By all means, try it,” he snarled, flashing his fangs for an instant.

Drusilla fixed her eyes on one of Willow’s attackers at that moment. Her irises seemed to darken for a minute, like deep, fathomless, liquid pools. Her victim froze like a statue in response, body posture shifting to a distant, trance-like stance.

Dru beckoned him forward with one long, red nail, and the minion was powerless to fight her bidding. He knelt down before her, and she pointedly scratched her nail across his throat, leaving a thin trail of blood in her wake. Then, with a girlish giggle, she released him from the thrall and turned her focus back to the group at large.

Buffy couldn’t help but admit that that little display had been effective. The recently-enthralled vamp looked downright petrified, and several of the others that had been in on the attack were shifting nervously now. Buffy noticed with some triumph that Ivan wasn’t there; insignificant little git was probably too frightened to even show himself while her sire was there…

“So, as I was saying,” Spike went on as if the stunt were an every day occurrence to him…which it was, of course, “have your fun, go get a bite to eat, and let things rest. If not…well, you won’t live to regret it…” 

He paced as he spoke and froze on this final word directly in front of Jared. The younger vampire gulped, suddenly less confident in the face of this powerful elder. Buffy could almost feel sympathy for him. After all, he hadn’t done anything to her except make several haughty remarks and then stalk out. But as Spike had promised, he was leaving the worst of the gang to Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia’s not-so-tender mercies. Which left Jared the most obvious open game…

“You,” Spike acted as though his selection from the crowd were completely random. “You have a problem with the way things’re bein’ done?”

Jared gulped and began shaking slightly. However, with all other eyes on him, he really only had one choice. “A-Angelus is decimating our numbers,” he began nervously. “I-If we don’t destroy him…”

Spike raised one irritated eyebrow. “Do tell,” he said with false formality.

That shut Jared right up. “N-N-Nothing,” he insisted quickly, backing up into the crowd in hope that Spike would forget about him.

Spike had zeroed in on this example to be set, however, and yanked Jared back out into the center of the room, draping a falsely friendly arm around the other vamp’s shoulders. “So, what you’re sayin’,” he began casually, savoring the glint of fear in the minion’s eyes, “is that you can’t bloody well take care of yourselves, is that right? Need me to…babysit, as it were?”

Jared’s eyes widened at that. Caught between a rock and a hard place. “O-Of course not,” he finally stuttered out.

“So you all have the common sense, then, to keep away from soddin’ Angelus,” Spike concluded. “So ‘s not my fault if some stupid gits decide to try him on for size…”

“No, not your fault,” Jared agreed readily.

Spike gave him a halfhearted pat on the shoulder and released him. “Good to know you’re a reasonable sort of bloke. I am too, y’know? Always willin’ to respect a vamp who’s got the courage to stand up for himself. None of this sneakin’ around behind the Master’s back and botherin’ his minions during important work.” Narrowed eyes honed in on Jared.

For a second, the younger vampire looked like he was about to bolt. But he saw that a circle had formed around where he and Spike were standing, the faces in the crowd taunting him for his own cowardice. Not that they weren’t just as afraid, but it felt safer to play along with Spike’s scapegoat for the moment.

“You,” Spike pointed directly at Jared’s childe and one of his chief supporters, “and you,” he gestured to one of the elder females from the old Order regime. “I think we need to show our dear friend…” Spike looked questioningly at Jared, even though he knew his name perfectly well.

“J-Jared,” he managed to gasp out.

“Jared,” Spike continued matter-of-factly, “a lesson.” His eyes drifted to the far wall, and the chains, spikes, and various weapons the previous administration had left there. “Let him enjoy our best hospitality,” he added with an evil grin.

Instantly, the two vampires obeyed his command, ignoring Jared’s protests. Spike watched disinterestedly as they dragged him across the audience room and shackled him to the wall. The female, in particular, was at her most brutal and yanked on the chains until Jared was left dangling in mid-air.

Spike studied the effect with his head cocked to one side before he spared the female a small smile. “Enthusiasm in one’s work is most encouraged,” he said approvingly.

She let out a submissive little purr in response.

“Now,” Spike turned back to the group at large, “if any ‘f you are havin’ difficulty getting food, Jared here’s been so kind as to volunteer his blood for the night.” He fixed Jared with an icy blue stare as if just daring him to contradict this statement. Satisfied when he saw all fight go out of the young troublemaker, he amended his sentence. “But no one’s to drain him dry, right? He just said a few stupid things, didn’t act to undermine my authority…” Calculating eyes scanned the crowd at the word act, and none of Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia’s attackers dared to meet his eyes. 

Buffy smirked when she noticed the greasy vamp that had taken her from behind was practically pissing himself with fear. Good. Let the terror build up in him until he was jumping at his own shadow. And then, just when he thought he was finally off the hook, she’d strike…

“Right then, if that’ll be all,” he concluded nonchalantly before turning back to his family. He picked Dru up in his arms, and she let out a little squeal, clinging to him dotingly. 

Another smart move. Drusilla probably wasn’t strong enough to walk back to their room by herself at this point, and all Spike’s theatrical posing would lose its potency if she took a stumble. Buffy was beginning to appreciate her sire’s flare for the dramatic more and more every second. God, she just wanted to strip him down and lick him from head to toe, taste the sweet tang of power on his naked skin…

Turning away from the curious crowd, Spike carried Dru back to their room. After all, there was a late night ‘Night Rider’ marathon tonight. “Oh, and one more thing…” He paused and turned back with a deadly little smirk. “Don’t interrupt me while ‘m watching TV. Makes me…cranky…” He fixed his eyes pointedly on Cordelia’s attacker before vanishing into his rooms.

With a long, contented stretch, Buffy rose as well. Not sparing a look for any of the other vamps present, she followed after her sire, Willow and Cordelia swiftly on her heels. Only when the door had closed behind the lot of them, did she allowed herself to break character, and a little giggle escaped her lips.

“Did you see the looks on their faces?” an equally bemused Cordelia fought back her own grin, tossing her dark hair back over one shoulder as she collapsed onto the couch next to where Drusilla was resting.

“Yellow swirling gnats flying all around their ankles,” Drusilla giggled in agreement before her eyelids drooped shut. She slid over to rest her head on Spike’s shoulder, feeling an oppressing weariness take over her. “Mommy’s little boy was so pretty,” she murmured against him.

“But nothing compared to my princess,” he countered fondly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. 

For a second Buffy was overcome by the amazing tenderness in his eyes when he looked upon his sick mate, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than to do whatever it took to make everything all better for him, even if it meant losing him for herself… Her demon quickly shook off the silly sentimentality, but when she settled beside him, she still spared a small stroke for Drusilla’s hair.

“You were amazing,” she purred in Spike’s ear, nibbling at the lobe.

He managed an amused grin at that, putting aside his worries for his sire for the moment. “And that’s before I even got you in bed,” he teased, leaning in to her and stroking his tongue seductively up her throat.

She growled in response and leapt into his lap, miniskirt pushing up as she straddled his thighs. “Spike…” she groaned, head thrown back, grinding her wetness down against his stirring erection.

Cordy rolled her eyes. “Can’t the two of you lay off for all of five minutes?” she exclaimed in annoyance. Her exasperation increased when Drusilla decided to use her lap as a pillow instead of Spike. She looked down at their mother’s head and sighed. “Why me?” she wondered rhetorically.

Willow giggled at that and tilted her head to one side curiously as Buffy finally pulled Spike out of those yummy tight jeans he always wore and impaled herself on his thick cock with a gasp and a moan. The redhead licked her lips at the delectable sight. “Feeling…inspired?” she suggested to Cordy coyly.

The other vampiress just gestured to the sleeping Drusilla in her lap with a slump of her shoulders.

Spike’s grunts and Buffy’s gasps increased on the far side of the couch, but Spike managed to clear his head from the pleasure of being one with his childe for a moment’s time. “Red, go out and wait for Dalton to get back,” he instructed, thrusting up harder into Buffy as he did so. “We might have some good news coming…” He grinned up at Buffy.

“Not coming as quickly as I am,” she quipped, tiny little fingers caressing his face, tracing his lips as she rode him at a wild gallop.

He growled at that and grabbed roughly at her shirt, ripping the fabric in two with a triumphant roar. Eyes yellowing, he leaned in and scraped razor-sharp fangs across the pale flesh of her chest, drawing forward round, sweet droplets of blood. Little perfect red spheres that exploded like concentrated ecstasy on his tongue as he lapped them up.

“Fuck!” Buffy screeched at an octave higher than her usual voice, her own demonic features emerging. “So strong, so powerful… Drink me, take whatever you want… God, I’m yours. I’m all yours… Yes, right there, yes! Yes! Oh, Spike… Gonna do you proud, gonna…” And then words failed her as white-hot flickers of pleasure raced up her spine, numbing her, freezing her in place, her fanged lips parting wide for a ear-piercing orgasmic scream…

“Already do me so proud, baby,” he whimpered against her flesh, coming deep inside of her, clutching her body to his as he filled her with his essence, marked her as his…

Willow watched them, fingers lightly brushing over one hardened nipple through the fabric of her shirt, until they collapsed together. Then, with a final blown kiss to Cordy she was out the door.

Cordy merely sighed as the blond couple began rocking slowly together.

“Again? Already?” Buffy breathed in contentment.

Cordelia seconded the words, but she would’ve inflected them with aggravation. And the fact that didn’t have a tasty male vamp of her own for a night of wicked carnal pleasure had nothing to do with her short temper. Really.

“You better believe it,” Spike countered with a feral grin. “My naughty little Slayer…”

As Buffy’s gasps increased in tempo, Cordelia sighed at the flickering images on the television screen before her. “Look, if Dru’s asleep and you two are going to be going at it all night, can I at least watch something good?” she asked with a bit of a whine.

Spike spared her a momentary look and growled possessively.

“Fine.” With a bored sigh, she propped her cheek up on one fist and watched that damn nerd show for yet another night, occasionally sparing a pet for Drusilla’s sleeping head…

Dalton had never been one for excitement. He’d been a priest and a scholar when he was turned nearly eighty years ago. The most unlikely candidate for vampirism there ever was, really. But Luke had known what he was doing. The Order had needed a new scribe after the Slayer – some girl in Stockholm, if he recalled correctly – had somehow gotten her hands on the previous one. Probably when he was stuck doing something dangerous like this.

Pushing his glasses nervously up his nose – they never did fit properly with his demonic features – he glanced around cautiously. All seemed to be clear, but then his senses had been dulled by lack of training and nearly a century of being kept cooped up in libraries. The two guards Spike had sent with him for protection didn’t seem to sense anything amiss, however. He tried to take some comfort in that.

“W-Wait out here,” he stuttered nervously. “I should just be a moment.”

The two vampires didn’t reply in the slightest, not unusual treatment for a scribe, and Dalton was left to take a deep breath and duck into the crypt.

On this moonless night and in the cold stone confines of this crypt, it took even his eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark. The tomb around him looked older than it had any right to be. Although only scarcely two centuries old, the stone of the inner walls was already crumbling away, almost as if it were aging prematurely just by being so close to this powerful place.

Dalton shivered and flicked on the flashlight he brought with him. Just because he was a vampire didn’t mean he liked to squint around in the dark. He was used to safe, well-lit libraries, and even though this place was as far from that as he could imagine at the moment, he wasn’t about to make this experience even more unpleasant.

A thick layer of dust and cobwebs coated the twin sarcophagi before him. He glanced briefly at the names and dates there, but knew instinctively that they were not what he sought. Mere apprentices, most likely. Honored to be buried – Alive? He wondered with a shiver – in the same crypt as their powerful master.

He coughed unnecessarily as he walked through a cobweb, pushing blindly at the sticky strands and brushing them off of him. Only when he was through this layer of spider webs, did he finally see his goal, however. 

It was clear that no being – demon or human – had dared to visit this place in centuries. Dalton could practically feel the power radiating off of the cold stone that was the final resisting place of DuLac. He approached the niches in the rear wall of the crypt cautiously. They rather reminded him of the catacombs in Rome, another place he had less than enjoyed visiting. He was on Order business, however – for as long as it took someone with some knowledge of Order successions to challenge Spike’s position, that is – and he wouldn’t dawdle while performing his duties.

The cross itself was blessedly easy to find. He’d brought appropriate towels to swaddle it up in, of course. Eyes squinting through thick glasses, he could just made out the faded inscriptions. The key. Good, he’d gotten what he came for.

Wrapping up the cross carefully and clutching it to his chest like the unholy relic that it was, he moved to leave…and froze.

A crash sounded outside the crypt. Definite sounds of a struggle.

Nervously, Dalton hastened to the door, peered outside, and swore. As he watched, the traitor Angel caught one of the minions Spike had sent to guard him by the throat, pinning the vampire in place while he staked him through the heart. As the first minion crumbled to dust, the second rushed Angel with a furious cry.

Dalton knew that all too soon his second guard would be dust. With an impressive fight-or-flight instinct that even he hadn’t known he’d possessed before, he clutched the cross tightly to him and ran for it while Angel was still distracted with the other guard.

He’d only made it twenty paces before something hit him hard in the side, however. The stone cross tumbled from his arms as he fell hard to the ground, kicking wildly at whatever had attacked him. He heard a cry of pain, registered with surprise that it was a middle-aged human man that had knocked him down, and quickly scrambled back to his feet. 

He ran to where the cross had fallen, swearing when he saw that it was broken in two. Ah well, the text should still be largely readable and…

A sharp pain in his shoulder, and he pulled back with a hiss, somehow clutching the fractured pieces of the DuLac Cross to him despite the pain. He looked up to discover that he faced a young human boy now, one who held a cross out before his chest defensively. Obviously the cause of the smoking burns to Dalton’s shoulder.

He froze for a second, skittish at all these crazy humans he kept running into, and then he heard Angel’s victory roar back at the crypt, and all caution was thrown to the wind. Knocking the boy to the side, he made a mad dash for the trees, praying all the while that more obstacles wouldn’t rise up in front of him. They didn’t, and he vanished into the night.

With a groan, Giles managed to sit up from where the escaping vampire had kicked him into a nearby tombstone. Instantly, Xander was at his side, putting down his cross beside him as he inspected Giles’ wound. Only a few seconds later did Angel finally arrive on the scene.

“There was a third?” he asked grimly, trying to ignore the smell of blood on the cut to Giles’ head.

“He got away,” Xander agreed apologetically.

Angel looked off into the woods for a second, trying to pick up the fleeing vamp’s footsteps. A soft rustle in the distance would’ve been his starting point for pursuit if leaving the two humans alone weren’t so dangerous. “I think he was inside the crypt when I took out the other two,” he finally added simply.

“Yes,” Giles managed a tight-lipped smile, accepting Xander’s hand up, “and thanks so much for your concern…”

“You’re all right?” Angel asked belatedly.

“Quite fine.”

“The vamp who got away had something,” Xander provided. “He grabbed it and ran off. Some kind of stone, I think…”

Angel scanned the cemetery around them. All seemed to be clear now. His gaze landed on the crypt the escaped vampire had been within. “DuLac…” he read the name with growing realization.

Giles paled at that as well. “Oh dear, that cannot be good.”

Xander looked back and forth between them confusedly. “What’s a DuLac?” he inquired…

“The DuLac Cross,” Dalton said nervously, unwrapping his bundle on the table of the makeshift study, “only slightly damaged…”

“Damaged?!” Spike exclaimed with a roar, grabbing Dalton by the lapels of his tweed jacket and dangling him in mid-air.

“I-It wasn’t my fault!” Dalton let out a frightened little squeak. “Angel attacked. He killed the others. I-I barely escaped with the Cross at all, and—”

“Can it still be used?” Spike demanded, each syllable clearly and angrily articulated.

“Y-Y-Yes.” Dalton nodded so vigorously his glasses fell off the bridge of his nose.

With lightning-quick reflexes, Spike caught them in mid-air. “Well, that’s a bit of all right then,” he said perfectly calmly, releasing Dalton and giving his lapels a light pat before handing the scribe back his glasses.

Dalton breathed a visible sigh of relief. “I’ll need to take a few hours to work out the coding system…”

“And then you’ll have the cure?” Spike demanded.

“I…think so?” Dalton trembled in response.

“You think?!” Spike’s wrath rose once more.

“I-I’ll know in two hours!” Dalton promised. A growl deep in Spike’s chest. “One!” he hastily amended. “One hour!”

With a reluctant nod, Spike turned and left the study, his entourage of Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia following after.

“Mommy’s coming back,” Willow whispered excitedly as they entered the audience chamber. “I can just feel it.”

“Can you, pet?” Spike commented curiously. The little redhead had a bit of the occult about her and, since he didn’t have Drusilla’s visions to rely on at the moment, he’d settle for whatever hopes he could get.

“Very much,” Willow agreed confidently. “We’ll paint the whole town red.” She sighed…

…And grinned when she saw the commotion in the audience chamber. A dozen or so agitated vamps were gathered in a circle, all staring intently at something in the center.

“Oh, what now?” Spike grumbled, rolling his eyes heavenwards. “Angelus again? ‘m beginning to think I’ll hafta do the poof in after all, if this keeps…up…” His sentence trailed off as the circle of minions parted for him like a school of fish for a shark. “What’s this now?” he breathed in surprise. “Certainly not Angel’s work…”

The vampire in the center of the circle was huddled on his knees, face twisted up in agony. Spike’s nostrils flared at the scent of gushing blood, something rare indeed for a creature with no circulation. But this vampire was mutilated enough that circulation wasn’t required for copious bleeding. The minion’s hands were clutched over his crotch, where his member had obviously been completely severed from his body. Also gone were the thumbs on each of his hands and, as he tried to cry out in pain, the source of the blood dripping from his lips also became apparent. Tongue cut out as well.

Buffy’s eyes widened at the mutilations before she belatedly recognized the minion as one of the three that had held Willow down. She turned to look at the redhead, and got an innocent, pixyish smile in response. Buffy caught Cordelia’s eye, and the dark-haired vampiress shrugged. Both their attentions turned back to Willow.

And the enigmatic smile grew into a wicked grin. Oh, vengeance was sweet indeed…

“Save whatever blood you can,” Spike ordered coolly, as if this were an everyday occurrence, “and then toss him out into the morning sun. An act of pity, that.” Turning disinterestedly from the drama before him, his eyes met Willow’s and came to the same conclusion Buffy and Cordelia had. “Come on, pretty poppy,” he cooed, wrapping one arm affectionately around her waist. “Let’s go to bed…”

Buffy felt a momentary pang of jealousy at the favor Willow had just won. But then her eyes alighted on Ivan’s – hidden far at the back of the crowd – and a grin lit up her face. Giving him a falsely benevolent smile and a little wave, she turned to follow Spike.

The wave of terror has begun. Soon, you’ll all be begging at my feet for mercy. And you will find none. And once I have put immortal fear into the unbeating hearts of any who dare to cross my sire, I will have him, heart, mind, and demon. Forever…