The End of the Beginning

As it turned out, Darla’s overture to the Watcher’s Council was met with resistant enthusiasm. Her courier was killed, obviously, but their agreement was clearly stated on the seven page reply. 

“Oh, for the love of-” she broke off and flipped to page five. On and on, tediousness at its best, the contract outlined a temporary alliance with words that would bore a lawyer. Of course, she signed it. 

Darla wanted Buffy out of the way and there was just no getting around it. No matter how good her forces were, Nest’s were better. No matter how many minions she had, Nest had more. And no matter how she looked at it, the Council diverting the blame was perfect. She really wanted to kill Buffy herself, but if this was the better way to get rid of the human, then she’d…well, she’d betray the Council and think of something else. 

There was simply no way in hell Darla was letting the stupid Watchers get her greatest prize – the head of Buffy held high on a pike. No matter how desperately they wanted their latest slayer, Buffy wasn’t going anywhere alive.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Glory!” Buffy embraced her friend, ushering her inside the hotel suite. “What are you doing in Russia?”

“Heard some rumors, came to see you.” Glory kissed both Buffy’s cheeks, her fingers caressing the skin just below the mark that now adorned her neck. “And congratulate you on your mating.” She winked, gave a throaty chuckle. “And where is your delicious mate?” 

“Showering,” Buffy said, leading her further into the room. “So where’ve you been? What’ve you been doing the last? It’s been too long, what has it been?” 

“At least a year,” Glory sighed. “Yes, too long. Oh, I’ve been here and there. Traveling.” 

“And your new companions you refused to speak more of? What of them?” 

“Oh,” Glory waved an elegant hand, fingers sparkling with jewels and gold. “Here and there. I left them to their own business so I could visit you.” 

Buffy narrowed her eyes at her longtime friend. “Glory,” she said slowly, “what aren’t you telling me? What’s wrong? And why,” she tried for levity, figured she failed in that. “Do you insist on keeping your ‘companions’ a secret from me?” 

For a long moment Glory was silent. “Because I don’t know how trustworthy they are,” she eventually said. “I trust them with me, not to betray me, my secrets, but I’m not sure how far the relationships extend. I don’t know,” she admitted quietly as the shower stopped, “that they wouldn’t betray you.” 

Leaning back against the settee, Buffy watched Glory. “I see. Is that everything?” 

“I’ve heard rumors that Darla is planning something. Personally,” she humphed, “I think she should’ve been taken care of ages ago, but that wasn’t my decision. Nor does it matter any longer. One of my companions-” she stopped when Angelus entered the room. 

“Angelus,” she greeted him, standing. “Looking well and mated.” 

Raising an eyebrow, he nodded. “Word travels faster than even I suspected,” he said.  

“Good news and all that,” she said. Returning to the settee, she regarded Buffy once more. “Have either of you ever heard of Ripper?” 

Both nodded. “He’s a powerful sorcerer, yes?” Angelus said. “Haven’t heard much from him in the last couple of years, but he’s about the most powerful magickal being around these days.” 

“I’ve been traveling with him for a while,” Glory confessed, though it wasn’t due to guilt. Simply sharing information with her dear friend that could have long reaching consequences. “He just returned from a meeting with Darla.” 

Angelus stiffened beside Buffy, hand clenching on her shoulder. “What did Darla want with him?” 

“An alliance,” Glory said. “Ripper rejected it, but apparently part of the agreement was that no matter the outcome, he was to offer some kind of information in return.” She looked long and hard at Angelus, uncertain how he would take this. Moving her gaze back to Buffy, Glory hated what she was about to say.  

She and Ripper had argued heatedly about this when she retuned from visiting Nest and he from his meeting. In the end there was no help for it. The damage had been done, and they both knew it. Whatever plan Darla truly had in mind was already set in motion. The best Glory could do now was try and stem the inevitable war, protect Buffy. 

“He gave Aurelius to the Watcher’s.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Angelus had been hard pressed not to kill Glory. 

He wasn’t entirely sure he could kill her, but he wanted to. Then he’d start on her little friend, Ripper. Slowly, painfully, using every method he could think of, invent some new ones. He’d torture that bastard for what he’d done. Oh, not for Aurelius. 

For the danger he put Buffy in. 

“It’ll be fine, baby,” Buffy said, coming up behind him where he stood at the window, looking into the square. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing his naked back.  

He said nothing to that, still seething over the fact that she was in danger and from a source that should’ve been safer than most. Glory’s lover had put his mate in danger.  

“The first time I saw you, you were just a child,” he said, but didn’t turn around. His fingers slipped into hers, comfort. Home. Love. “I couldn’t believe a human child had not only managed to survive our world, but Nest. I remember thinking that this world never ceased to surprise me.” 

“And did I surprise you?” Her voice was quiet, soft in the fading light of the room.  

He brought a hand to his lips, kissing her warm palm. The smile was inevitable. “You always surprise me, love.”  

Silence, comfortable and contented enveloped them for long moments. Buffy’s head rested against his back; he could feel her eyelashes flutter against his skin ever once in a while. Was this was the rest of their lives were going to be like? This level of intimacy? Knowing that silence was as talking? That touching, simply touching each other was as making love? 

He could deal, with great pleasure, with that. 

“I knew you were in danger from Darla then, knew she wouldn’t let something like that go. The insult of Nest taking you as his child, of making you his heir. I should have dealt with her then,” he admitted. “Saved us all the trouble.” 

“Darla as trouble, yeah,” Buffy smiled against his back, kissed him there. “But this much trouble? I think we’re giving her too much credit.” 

“She’s dangerous because she’s weak. She strikes without thinking, grabbing the first plan within her greedy grasp.” He turned to face her then, arms tight around her. “Nothing,” he vowed, “will happen to you, baby. I won’t let it. I can’t.” 

Her mouth was warm under his, eager. Framing her face with his hands, Angelus drew her closer. Lifted her against him, felt her legs wrap around his waist. Carrying her to the bed, he laid her down on the softness, covering her body with his. His woman. His mate. His love. 

“I love you,” he whispered against her neck. Temptation. Moving from the enticing throbbing of her blood, his lips pressed hard against hers. “I love you so much, words mean nothing.” 

“I know,” she nodded, and he swore there were tears in her eyes. “I feel the same.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Quinton mentally reviewed the plan one last time. His agents knew what they had to do, knew that the chances of returning from this were slim, and followed him anyway. A powerful Order of Vampires were here and vulnerable. They were in. 

Simplistically complex, their plan was to swarm into the hotel and kill everyone. Darla, the brave, delusional vampire who first contacted him, had guaranteed that Nest would be there. And she’d offered another prize. Angelus.  

If all went as planned, or even if it only went halfway well, this was going to be a good day.  

But then they only had five minutes to cause as much destruction as they could before Darla’s forces entered the fray. When that happened, any human within a mile was dead and Quinton knew that.  

So, five minutes – in, kill as many as they could, and out again.  

“Nice of them,” he muttered to himself though he was perfectly aware that several others could hear him. “To gather in one ballroom. Makes things easier for us.” 

Twelve minutes left.
~~~~~~~~~~
Nest looked out at the gathered beings. They all awaited his announcement, and he was struck by a sense of nostalgia. The first time he’d seen his beautiful daughter, a similar event such as this was taking place in his old Sunnydale home. He couldn’t remember the event now, only the image of the beautiful child as she stood before him.  

Amazing what the mind remembered, wasn’t it? How he could see her so clearly, standing before him scared and yet not. She touched something in him even then. Tonight he was going to announce his heir. In announcing that Buffy had mated with Angelus, Nest was going to cement her place so no one could take that from her.  

It was true, he was getting old, and things weren’t as they once were. Power was everything, no denying that, but once upon a time a certain order was followed. No longer.  

He’d wanted to do everything for his daughter, make her safe in a world that was, by its very nature, unsafe. Wanted to name her his heir, wanted to find a way to make her Immortal. Alas, he had yet to locate a spell – or anything for that matter – that would do that last. Now that she was the Slayer, avenues that were previously opened to him no longer were.  

She walked in on Angelus’ arm, as handsome a couple as Nest had ever seen. Smiling, he went to her, took her hand in his, and embraced her as the father he was.  

“You look lovely as always, my child,” he said and bent to kiss her upturned cheek.  

“Thank you, daddy,” she smiled. “Have you seen Glory tonight?” 

“No, not yet, but she said she’d attend. And was bringing a friend, I believe.” 

Angelus growled and pulled Buffy closer. “Her friend,” he said in a lower voice, “betrayed us to the Council.” 

“Ah, Ripper, yes. She did say there was a connection. That does not matter,” he waved it away. “Only Darla does, and I believe she’ll make her move tonight. She’s so predictable, you know.” 

Buffy snorted, but tightened her hand in Angelus’. “I assume that’s the reason for twice the guards then?” 

Lifting her hand to his lips, Angelus kissed the inside of her wrist. “I won’t let anything happen to you, baby,” he promised in a lower voice. “But either way, Darla’s dead.” 

Turning to Nest, he watched the inscrutable face of the ugly master. Nodding once to him, he said semi-formally, “Buffy’s my mate, Master Nest. I claimed her body, soul, and blood. Her safety is my solitary concern, her life my greatest treasure.” 

“I know you’ll keep her safe, Angelus. I never doubted that.” Nest smiled as the younger vampire narrowed dark eyes at him.
~~~~~~~~~~
The attack went exactly as planned.  

Nest’s plan.  

Kind of.  

There were things even the great Master of Aurelius hadn’t counted on.

Quinton attacked the ballroom, staking the initial wave of minions just as planned. Unfortunately for him, Nest did, indeed, know his childe well and planned accordingly. He was minutes off.  

The wave of Watchers swarmed in, stakes finding home in dead hearts, swords swinging with deadly precision in so enclosed an area, and crossbows releasing into the crowd to create more panic. But they could not get close enough to Nest to stake him, nor was Angelus any easier a target. 

Five minutes. 

Quinton shouted the order, from the safety of the doorway, that had his team retreating. He’d gone in with 73…he came out with 34. Acceptable losses. Disappearing into their waiting cars, he made sure they spend as far away from the hotel as they could before Nest’s considerable forces chased them.  

No one did.  

Laughing, Quinton relaxed into the plush leather of his seat and lighted a cherryroot. He’d done what none of his predecessor had ever managed. He’d struck in the very heart of the Order, killing significant numbers of their minions, their allies’ minions, possibly even someone higher up. Oh, it wasn’t difficult to stake a minion, but it would disrupt things immensely. 

Especially when his own dear, deluded ally marched into the fray. Even if she didn’t manage to get Nest, something Quinton had high doubts on, Darla didn’t seem smart enough to pull that one off, it was something.  

Though he never did manage to learn the name of the new Slayer.
~~~~~~~~~~
Darla entered the chaos with a confident sway to her leather-clad hips. Her most loyal minions were behind her, the thousands who rallied to the Milei cause behind them. 

And still they were outnumbered 3:1. Well, closer to 2.7:1 now that the Council did their usual inept job of culling. Still, it was better than nothing, and did give her some room. Not everyone present was loyal to Nest. That was enough. 

She missed Doratoya, who stood still and waited in the shadows, her own followers behind her. Darla was now outnumbered 5:1. 

Walking to the center of the room where Nest stood with Buffy and Angelus, she smiled. Three birds with one stone. Life was almost perfect. “Nest,” she nodded to him. It was the first time she had called him that, the first time she hadn’t bowed to him as Master. Felt kinda liberating, actually.  

“Ah, Darla. Making friends with our enemies, are you?” 

“Just doing what I have to to survive,” she shrugged. She didn’t bother to look behind her at the dead humans mixing with vampire ash. “Isn’t that what you preached? Survival of the fittest?” 

Nest laughed, a booming sound that echoed across the room. The hush that fell was nearly instantaneous. “You never were one for lessons, Darla. I’m surprised you learned that one.” 

Face hard with anger over the words of her own Sire, Darla managed a tight smile. “It’s been too long,” she said loudly into the silence that stretched across the room. The speech, written by Lothos and his cronies, was admittedly rehearsed. It was meant to rouse those not already on their side to their flag. And give their minions time to encircle the revelers.  

“Too long that we’ve lived under the rule of Orders out only for themselves. Too long that we’ve been forced to do the bidding of these Orders with no sense of betterment of Vampires. Only of the Orders. The Vampire Council, once so powerful, saw to the rise of our race. It saw us rule this world, saw us as the most powerful creatures on this planet. 

“Now we’re weak. Living underground, hiding from the humans. They don’t fear us as they once did, they don’t hide from the shadows, cower in the darkness. They’re bold. And we’re dying. It’s time to resurrect that ancient Council, the assembly that once held so much sway over these lands. 

“Under the banner of Milei we will once again be the rulers of this land.”

In the immediate silence of her speech, where Darla smiled triumphantly and Lothos looked smug and victorious beside her, Nest mockingly bowed. Clap….clap…clap… 

“Nice show, Darla,” he nodded. “Good speech. Lothos write it for you?” 

Rage flashed over Darla’s features and Nest’s grin broadened. “The Vampire Council,” he said in a strong voice, “was corrupt. They had a treaty with the Watchers. They weren’t about ruling the planet; they didn’t care about their minions or the castes that kept them up. They cared nothing for their warriors, house favorites, or teachers. They were out for themselves. Power, glutton, greed. That’s why they fell.” 

Without looking at Darla, he gestured in her direction, a direct insult. “My dear misguided childe believes she can rule the Council. She couldn’t even quell one rebel Order. And now she’s in league with the Milei, their spokesperson, their instigator.” 

“Nest,” Lothos sighed. He turned to the side and signaled his minions. “You know little of the real world now, corrupted yourself by your human daughter. She’s a taint upon you that needs to be removed.” 

Angelus growled at that, eyes flashing golden. “Never speak of my mate again, Lothos,” he warned. “Human or not, she knows more about our ways, about our society than you. She can also take you down without breaking a sweat.” 

And then he attacked, intent of ripping Lothos’ vocal cords from his cowardly neck so he could never utter one word again. 

Nest turned to Darla, shaking his head. “Once so promising, my dear. Now nothing more than the puppet of those weaker than you.” 

He turned around, dismissing his childe with a negligent wave. And Buffy stepped in. With a feral smile, she beckoned Darla closer.  

“I’d say this little fight is long overdue,” Buffy challenged, more than ready to take down the bitch. 

“I’d say that’s the one smart thing you’ve said in the last fourteen years.” 

Buffy didn’t know how it happened. She and Darla were circling each other, a punch here, a kick there; mainly Buffy was toying with her enemy. One minute she was bored and about to stake Darla, the next she was tackled from behind, stabbed with a sword. Darla screamed at whomever had run the short sword through her. 

“The bitch is mine,” she growled, dismissing Buffy for a moment to behead the vampire who’d wounded her. “That was part of the agreement.”  

“Never trust a vampire,” she grumbled as she pushed herself to her knees. “They’re all stupid.” 

Buffy’s side ached, but when she pressed a hand to the wound, there wasn’t as much blood as she’d feared. Angelus’ roar reached her, however, and she turned to her lover. She was fine. Really. Except for the slight blood loss and pain, all was right with her. 

“Darla,” she sneered, “it only makes it more fun when you cheat.” 

“Oh, shut up, child,” Darla shot back.  

That’s when it happened.  

She snatched a crossbow from the ground where Buffy’s unlucky attacker lay dusted. Buffy smiled and waited for the shot, planning on dodging it at the last minute. She didn’t trust her reflexes enough, with a bleeding side, to stop the bolt before it reached her heart. And she had no doubt Darla intended to aim for the heart. 

It didn’t happen like that. Angelus was suddenly there, whisking her away. Sweet, but highly annoying. Damn it, she wanted to kill Darla. She heard her father call them.  

“Angelus,” Buffy said in a hard voice, “put me the hell down or the next time you touch my body will be 200 years from now. I’m going to kill Darla and I’m going to do it tonight.” 

“Not now, baby,” he said, but looked at her. Buffy smugly smiled at the worried expression on his face over not having her. “Doratoya brought reinforcements and plans to blow up the building.” 

“When the hell did this happen?” she demanded. 

“Thirty seconds ago when she told me.” 

“I’m still going to kill Darla, so make sure she lives.” 

Angelus laughed and agreed with a hard, quick kiss. 

Darla’s bolt shot free of the crossbow. Angelus dodged. Buffy turned to sneer at Darla, but, for reasons she’d never understand, looked ahead, instead. And saw something that made her heart stop. Nest was fighting several vamps, carelessly toying with them, tossing them back, staking one or two.  

The bolt hit him square in the chest. How it did that, Buffy would never know – he was much taller than she, their hearts weren’t at the same level. He was so old, she always doubted a mere sliver of wood was enough to penetrate his heart. To dust him. 

Yet that’s exactly what it did. 

“Daddy!” 

Struggling out of Angelus’ arms, she punched him, hard, and leapt down. Ignoring him and her side, Buffy ran to her father. “Daddy!” she screamed again, arriving just in time to see him turn, face her, smile. 

“I love you, Buffy,” he murmured. 

And turn to dust. 

Once more, silence descended on the gathering. Buffy stared at the ash that littered the floor around her feet. Her father. Her father was now nothing more than the ash from whence he’d come, scattered around her. Nothing more. Nothing more. Nothing more… 

“Daddy…” she whispered. 

With a whirl of fury, she turned to Darla. The vampiress looked stunned, eyes glued to the spot her Sire had once stood. The look didn’t last long, and with a glance at Lothos to see if he’d witnessed her grief, Darla smirked. 

Her tears dried, Buffy signaled to her minions. Hers. They surrounded the her father’s ashes, and already she could hear one scooping them into a container. 

“Nest was weak,” Darla said. “He kept a human child as his own, infecting others with that weakness as he tried to make this mere girl,” she gestured derisively to Buffy, “into one of us. As his favorite childe, I claim the throne of Aurelius.” 

“Weakness?” Buffy demanded, still rooted to the spot. Her voice was quiet but carried over the throng. She didn’t look around, didn’t see anyone but Darla. Knew Angelus was at her side, but didn’t so much as glance at him. 

“You think that being human is weak, Darla? You think that I can’t and won’t kill you for what you’ve done? You flip from advocating your position as Master Nest’s so-called favored to conspiring with the weak and cowardly Mieli against not only him, but our entire culture. Then you murder him, while trying to shoot me in the back,” she emphasized, “and you think humans are weak?” 

She took a step forward, eyes blazing, hands clenched at her sides. Buffy wasn’t aware of moving, of stalking towards Darla; all she knew was that she was going to kill her father’s murderer. Murderer… 

“Weakness, my dear, is something that a vampire retains from their humanity. I’m surprised you didn’t remember that.” Head held high, Buffy turned to the assembled. “As Nest’s daughter and heir, I claim his throne. His leadership. His place as Mistress of Aurelius. With Angelus as my Mate, I claim the Order of Aurelius. Any challengers?” this last was directed to Darla. 

Who predictably took the dare. 

Buffy stayed where she was and waited for Darla to attack. She didn’t wait long, and Angelus took that opportunity to move into the shadows and stop Doratoya’s rash plan. He figured she’d have heard by now, but with Buffy inside and no hope of getting her out without Darla’s ash at her feet, he wasn’t taking chances. 

Besides, he wanted to watch his lover fight. 

“Come on, you bitch,” Buffy snarled at her opponent. “You can do better than that. Or are you hoping to stab me in the back as you did my father?” 

“He wasn’t you father,” Darla shot back. “Your father is long dead, as all humans will be when we’re finished with them. But he was my Sire, and I am his heir.” 

Buffy grabbed a handful of Darla’s hair, yanking backwards. “If that was the case, then why did he exile you? Why have I always been by his side? Why am I his chosen successor?” 

One punch, two, Buffy was unrelenting and didn’t bother waiting for Darla’s answer. She needed Darla dead, but she needed her bloodied, first. Her side ached, several other parts of her were bleeding, and Buffy was fairly certain a rib was actually broken. It didn’t matter. Darla was dead.  

Dropping Darla to the ground, Buffy stood as straight and tall as she could manage. With the adrenaline still pumping through her, that was pretty tall and proud. She’d hurt for this tomorrow, but was willing to bet Angelus would care for her. She was kinda looking forward to that… 

“I am Master Nest’s true heir,” she said, turning to face those assembled. “I claim his seat from the coward Darla.” 

There wasn’t a murmur of denunciation. 

There was, however, another cowardly attack from Darla’s minions. They mostly died, one or two loyal to Buffy actually got staked, but on the whole, Darla’s followers were history. Lothos was nowhere to be found, but that wasn’t the problem – he’d be hunted down soon enough along with the rest of the Mieli Clan.  

In the melee, Darla managed to escape.  

Still holding herself up by sheer force of will, and not a little anger, Buffy scowled when she discovered this. “I’m so hunting her down and killing her.” 

Angelus smiled down at her, kissing her hard. “You’re magnificent when you fight,” he murmured. And she could see the lust sparking in his dark eyes. 

“Now what’s this about Doratoya and a bomb?” 

“Don’t know – she just said she was blowing the place up and any loyal followers needed to be evacuated. I think that was a little extreme, but wasn’t taking chances with your life.” 

Buffy nodded, but her eyes showed him what his single-minded protection of her meant to her. “Seems a little extreme to me,” Buffy sighed. But her eyes were back on the spot her father had last stood. 

She saw Ezra nod, and knew Nest’s ash was safe with him. Or as much as the minion could gather and be sure of. She’d have the ceremony later, in private as befitted her station and their relationship. 

“We’ll honor him, baby,” Angelus said quietly. “He won’t be forgotten, nor will Darla’s actions.” 

She just nodded, too tired, too grief stricken to do more. A noise at the entrance alerted them, and Buffy forced herself to their surroundings. She didn’t want to, wanted to mourn her father in peace and quiet, wanted to cry for the man who loved her, who raised her. Would not, absolutely not, do so here. 

“Glory,” Buffy said when she saw her friend’s telltale hair glint in the light.  

Glory crossed the room, concern etched on her beautiful face. “What happened, Buffy?” she looked between Buffy and Angelus, but her eyes searched for Nest. 

“Daddy…” Buffy swallowed, gathered all the strength she had and said in an even voice. “Darla murdered daddy in an attempted coup. She then escaped after I beat her as challenger to my throne.” 

“Nest…” Glory trailed off, slowly blinked. Her eyes teared, but she blinked again and they were clear. It was enough to prove to Buffy that the feelings she always suspected the hell goddess had for Nest were real.  

“I was going to tell him I found a way home,” she said in a quiet, small voice. Then stopped, glanced around, and squeezed Buffy’s hands. “We’ll talk in private.” 

Buffy nodded, turned to Angelus who just then growled and stormed across the room. “Ripper,” he snarled. 

“Shit,” Glory grumbled. “I told them to wait. Angelus!” 

Buffy blinked, and Glory was between Angelus and the couple who’d just entered. The room went fuzzy, and tilted, but she forced her knees to lock. She could see Angelus take the older man by the neck and slam him against the wall. The image superimposed and all she could see was her father. 

“I love you, Buffy,” he’d said. 

“I love you, too, daddy,” she whispered. 

But it was too late and he was gone. The only thing she had was his ashes, and the only thing she could do was honor him with one last ritual. 

She blinked and focused again on Angelus. Blood dripped from the human’s neck, and she could see Glory talking, tossing her hair, and tapping her foot. Predictable for both of them. Through sheer force of will, she moved forward. Her side ached, her heart ached, and she really wanted to sit down. 

“Angelus,” she said, and her vision narrowed to see only him. Swallowing, she continued to compel her legs to move. “Stop it.” 

Not loosening his grip, he turned to face her, eyes glowing a fierce yellow. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“Yes, I’m sure. But not today.” Buffy held out her hand to him, and felt her legs begin to tremble. Damn it, had Darla’s minion poisoned the blade? 

“Angelus,” Glory snapped, “leave Ripper alone and take your mate home. She’s bleeding all over the floor.” 

Angelus swung to face her, still holding Ripper who protested at the treatment. “If you don’t mind,” he gasped in a hoarse voice. 

With barely a flick of an eyelash, Angelus tossed Ripper across the hall, and stood before her. “I’m still going to kill you,” he said to the just standing human. But he gathered her to him, arm about her waist so she still stood. 

Huh, he was a fast learner then. 

“Buffy, wait” Glory said and took her hand. “I’m sorry, but we need to talk.” 

“Come back to the hotel,” Buffy agreed and squeezed her hand back. “Stay for the ritual.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy and Glory stood side by side as Doratoya lifted the urn. Her voice was too quiet for even her to hear, but Buffy knew the gist of it. Saying goodbye was a private affair. It was never shared outside the closest of family, and only then if the dusted was loved. 

Doratoya passed the urn to Glory, whose voice was equally quiet. Then it was her turn. It was light, the urn. Too light for the man who was her father. Too light for all he’d shared and given her. 

“I’ll make you proud, daddy. I’ll carry on the line and tradition. And I’ll see that your enemies are crushed. I love you.” 

And then it was over and the three women who’d loved Heinrich Nest the most opened the urn and let his ashes float on the wind, their final goodbye lifting him to cover as much of the world as he could.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Goodbye, Glory,” Buffy said as she hugged her tight. 

She’d stayed for the coronation ceremony, stayed to watch her take her rightful place as Mistress of Aurelius, but that was all. 

“I’m going to miss you, Buffy,” Glory whispered, and there were tears in her eyes. Glorificus, of course, would never cry – it’d ruin her makeup. Glory, however, would let a close friend see her weakness. “But it’s time.” 

“Yes, Glory, time. I suppose you won’t be able to call or write?” she wiped a tear away. 

“No,” she choked on a sob, but then straightened. They both had images to uphold. “but I promise everyone in my kingdom will shudder in fear at your name.” 

“I’m going to miss you.” 

“Don’t let Angelus kill Rupert,” Glory said. “He’s only a man and didn't listen to me when I warned him about Darla.” 

They shared a laugh, still ignoring the crowd waiting beyond the doors to pay their respects to Buffy. Mieli was nearly crushed, their minions staked, nearly all their leaders, too. Lothos awaited her attentions in the dungeon but Darla had disappeared. It pissed her off that the bitch went into hiding like the rat she was. 

“I’ll see to it.” 

Five minutes later, she was gone. Within the next twenty hours, she’d be back where she belonged, reigning terror on her denizens. Two people gone from her life in as many days. She wanted to tremble, wanted to actually break down and cry. 

“You going to be okay?” Angelus’ soft voice whispered in her ear, a soothing balm to her jangled nerves. 

“I wasn’t supposed to take over like this,” she admitted. “Daddy was supposed to see my coronation.” 

“He was?” Angelus asked, clearly surprised. “And then do what?” 

“I believe he wanted to retire to Russia with Doratoya and spend his days drinking and whoring.” 

He snorted, his cool hand resting on her back. “Sounds like Nest. He was tired of the politics and hassle.” 

“Tired but not stupid,” she corrected. “He didn’t want all he worked for to fall into nothing.” 

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t, Buffy.” His lips grazed her neck. “I promise.”  

“Thank you.” 

She held her head high and nodded for the doors to open. Beside her Angelus stood, lazy in his arrogance and place beside her. 

“I’m still going to kill Ripper.” 

“Let him be, baby,” she grinned. “You’ll be much busier with me.” 

“And Darla?” 

“Oh, I’m so going to kill her.” 

His hand slipped down her back to rest on the curve of her ass. “I have a gift for your coronation ball, then.” 

She turned to face him just as the doors opened. Her eyes landed on his, which were dark and appraising. “Darla?” 

The smile was slow, sensual, seductive. She answered it with one of her own. 

“Have I mentioned today that I love you?” 

Angelus growled, and she shivered in need. “Several times, I believe, as I made you come.” 

“Remind me to show you again,” she whispered as her subjects poured in. “After I torture Darla for a few hours.”