The references and facts about the mafia bosses are all factual, except Lucky Luciano being part demon.
Thanks to Ghostforge and Souless_Angel
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Ventrue Lair, Los Angeles, California, December 25, 2005
His vampire senses told him that it was well past sunset, but he lay in bed, praying to the gods that maybe his head would explode. Then, at least, the pain would be gone.
Pillow over his face, Nic lamented the fact that he had drank so much of the Old One’s holiday punch. He had known beforehand that the punch was made with a lethal combination of liquid beverages, but it hadn’t stopped him. He had lost count on how many glasses he had consumed.
“I’m over two hundred years old.” He muttered to himself. “You’d think I would have learned that drinking never did me one bit of good.”
**
The Tremeren Lair, Germany, 1810
“Oy!” The voice in his ear made him jump, as Nic dropped the deck of card in his hand.
“Christ almighty!” He swore, turning to see his youngest nephew behind him. “My heart just leaped from my chest to my throat. Stop sneaking up on a person like that.”
“Yor a bleedin’ vampire wiv superior senses, should 'ave 'eard me.” Victor, youngest Blood-Childe of Anton dropped himself in the chair next to Nic. “Wot yer doin', cheatin' at cards again.”
“Yeah, and losing.” Nic swept his arm over the cards, pushing them off the table. “And why are you here bothering me? Thought you’re supposed to be in lessons or something.”
“Not now. Evryone’s busy preparin' for the big wotever.”
“The autumnal equinox.” Nic said. “The nights become longer; the days become shorter. A time for celebration,” he leaned back in his chair and stared at Victor, “for vampires, anyway.”
“Wotever.” Victor shrugged. It was all boring to him. “Fancy me a pint.” He eyed Nic with speculation. “Tink i'll nip over ter the village pub and 'ave one. Care ter join me?”
“You can’t go anywhere, unless you have bodyguards, authorization from your Sire, and, and. . . .” Nic attempted to put an expression of censure on his face, while trying to remember if GrandChilder had to obtain permission from their Sire and the High Master to leave the lair. Remembering rules and regulations was never his strong point.
“Ri-ight.” Victor did an eye roll. “Like me sire is gonna give permission ter leave the lair, let alone go drinkin' at the village pub. An’ even if 'e did, I'd 'ave ter go wiv an army of minions. ’m condemned ter a bloody gaol, I am.”
“I think you missed your calling.” Nic stared at his overdramatic nephew. “You should have been in the theater.”
“Would 'ave luvd that. 'm sure it would 'ave been more fun than,” Victor looked around himself, “t’is place. Anyway, wotcher say, then, eh, mate? I know a secret place where we can sneak out.”
“You do?” Nic was interested, despite himself. “And no one knows about this, including, including our High Master?”
“Nope.” Victor winked. “ ‘t's just me secret and now it's yors.”
His grin was infectious, and Nic couldn’t help but grin back. Despite knowing that it was wrong, he always had a hard time not doing the stupid thing.
**
“Oy!” The voice had Nic sitting straight up in bed, despite his throbbing head. For a moment he thought had was back in 1810. Looking around, he spied the owner of the voice. A nephew, but not Victor.
“Get the fuck out of here.” He growled, as he reached for a pillow to throw at Spike.
“Move your arse.” Spike yelled loudly, knowing his uncle was suffering from a major hangover. “You have to take me somewhere.”
Wincing with pain, Nic threw the pillow at Spike, so wishing it was a brick. “You don’t have to fucking shout; I’m right here and can hear you just fine.”
“Don’t think you can, mate.” Spike continued to yell. “Cause you’re not moving.”
“I’m not taking you anyplace, so you can just move your arse out of here.”
“Orders from his Majesty.” Spike walked over to the nightstand and turned on the radio, volume high. “You have to take me to give Connor his Christmas gift.”
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” Nic wrapped a pillow wrapped around his head to muffle the noise coming from the radio and his nephew’s mouth. “He’s Angelus’ son, so why doesn’t He take Connor his gift.”
“Cos, Connor’s parents know him as the guy from Wolfram & Hart. They’d think it’s kind of strange that the CEO, or former CEO was bringing their son a Christmas gift.”
“Oh, and they won’t think it’s odd that two strangers are giving their son a gift?”
I’m suppose to pretend that I’m a school mate of his, and you can be,” Spike thought a moment, “my uncle giving me a lift to visit him.”
“Uh huh.” Nic grunted. He was trying to come up with a valid excuse to get him out of this chore but thinking was not possible in his present condition. “Isn’t there anyone else that can take you?” He finally asked in desperation.
“Nope, his Highness is busy with Judelin and the Old Ones, and Djoser, being the Successor is with him. Eamon is ill, heaving all over the place, so Damon is busy caring for him. So that leaves only you and me.”
“I’m in hell.” Nic muttered to himself.
“And I’m not suppose to go anywhere on my own, so that leaves you to accompany me.” Standing up, Spike finally gave his uncle a small break. Turning off the radio, he started for the door. “Look this isn’t a task that I’m looking forward to either, so get your arse out of bed! I want to get this over with.”
**
New York City, 1936
The small suite in the Waldorf Astoria was furnished nicely with long, dark drapes to cover every window. Working for one of the biggest mafia bosses, Charles Lucky Luciano was certainly financially lucrative.
“You live well.” Taking the offered mug of blood, Damon continued to study his younger brother’s living quarters. “But to work for a human?”
“If Luciano is one hundred percent human, I’ll eat my hat. Although,” Nic threw himself into the chair opposite his brother with a grin, “I don’t own one, so I’d have to eat yours.”
“Still with the flippant attitude.” Damon frowned. “You never take anything seriously.”
“My dear brother.” Nic’s tone was still light. “You’re quite wrong. I take a lot seriously; I just like to pretend that I take nothing seriously.”
Moments of silence as the two brothers contemplated. It had been over one hundred years since they had seen each other, and an air of uneasiness sat between them.
“So.” Nic broke the uncomfortable pause. “You finally worked up the courage to cross the ocean and see this side of the world. So what happened to prompt this miracle?”
“Our Sire.” Damon said without thinking and was immediately contrite when he saw his brother wince. Nic had been ostracized more than a century ago by the High Master and was no longer considered a Childe of Heinrich Nest. After another uncomfortable pause, Damon continued. “He’s moving the entire Clan to a place called, Sunnydale, California. It’s said that’s where the legendary Hellmouth can be found.”
“Really?” Nic was astounded that the Master would relocate to the New World. “And what exactly is a Hellmouth?”
“A portal between this world and the demon dimensions. The Master hopes to open it and release the Old Ones.”
“Uh huh.” Nic made a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. “Let’s say he is able to open the Hellmouth; what makes him so sure that it will the Old Ones who come out of it?”
“The scriptures tell him so.” Damon gave Nic a what-kind-of-question-is-that look.
“Oh, right. Of course. The scriptures.” Nic couldn’t control his eye roll anymore.
Damon scowled. This reunion with his brother was awkward at best. Setting his mug down carefully, he stood up. “Perhaps I should take my leave. No one, of course knows that I came to see you, and. . . .”
“Wait!” Nic interrupted. Despite the unease between him and Damon, he genuinely was happy to see his brother. He had very little contact with his own kind, and had absolutely no contact with his family for over a century. “Don’t go.” He tried not to sound too desperate. “I’m really glad you thought to look me up. Tell me more about. . .about everyone. How’s the rest of the family? Now that prohibition is over, I manage to get over to a demon bar once in a while. I hear things, rumors, gossip.”
Sighing, Damon sat down again. He knew Nic was lonely. “I never agreed with the Master’s banishment of both you and Angelus. It wasn’t right.” He stared into his brother’s eyes. “Family is blood and should be together.”
**
Staggering out of his bedroom, Nic was a ready as he’d ever be. He had dug out the darkest pair of sunglasses he could find, and to match his mood, he dressed entirely in black.
Looking up at his uncle, Spike couldn’t help but ask. “Trying to escape the Matrix?”
"Don’t talk to me.” Nic growled as he weaved his way to the door. “Don’t make loud noises, and above all, you’re not listening to the radio in the car.”
“Right then.” Spike jumped up to follow his uncle. “But if I can’t have tunes, then I get to drive.”
“Alright.” Nic stumbled down the stairs. “But just do it quietly.”
**
New York City, 1986
Sitting by himself at a local demon bar, Nic was contemplating his future over a bottle of whiskey. His latest boss, Anthony Fat Tony Salerno, head of the Genovese family had just been convicted and sentenced to one hundred years in prison for racketeering, extortion, labor payoffs and loan-sharking. Four of the other New York bosses were convicted alongside of him. With this major shake-up in the New York mafia, Nic knew that it was time of a change of scenery. He just didn’t know where.
“Hear you’re the big vamp in these parts?”
The question annoyed him, as it was not only false, but it was interrupting his musing and drinking.
“You heard wrong.” Nic looked up to see young man, barely out of his teen years standing in front of him. “And I’m busy here, so get the fuck out of my face.”
“My Sire knows all about you.” The youth continued, not at all intimidated.
“Your Sire?” Nic stared in surprise, as he took a quick sniff of the young man. Vampire, not human. “And just who is your Sire, boy?”
“She is the head of our Clan.” The other vampire sat himself down at Nic’s table. “Old and powerful, and it is her wish to meet you.”
“Uh huh.” Nic wasn’t impressed. “And just what Clan are you from, boy?” He leaned over, his tone a threatening hiss.
Stiffening his back proudly, the vampire continued. “We are descendants of the Aztec Indians, and our Master is. . . .”
“Shut the fuck up.” Nic interrupted. He immediately saw through the vampire’s posturing. His Clan was just another gang of caitiff vampires, putting on airs. “I’m not interested in. . . .”
“Our lair is in Mexico, just south of the border.” The caitiff vampire threw down a picture on the table. “We own a road house, isolated, but on the trucker’s route between the US and Mexico, so most of our meals come to us. Easy pickings.” He said with a confident grin, as he sat back in his chair. “Our mistress had decided that she needs a partner, one who is strong and cunning.”
Staring down at the picture in front of him, Nic’s indifference turned to interest. The vampiress had a look of an ancient Aztec princess. “And she thinks I might fit the bill?” He asked. “Even though she’s never met me?”
“She knows your history, and,” the vampire gave Nic a wink, “your Bloodline.”
**
“Stop swerving so much.” Nic’s stomach was rolling uncomfortably.
“I’m not, so stop your bellyaching.” Spike snapped back, wondering how much trouble he’d be in, if he accidentally pushed his uncle out of the car.
“If you make me puke, I’m aiming in your direction.” Nic threatened, as he laid his head back on the head rest. “And by the way,” he turned to looked crabbily at his nephew, “I know you weren’t holding back on the punch last night, so how come you’re so chipper?”
“Sire’s blood.” Spike answered, giving his uncle a brief glance. “He knew enough not to get shit-faced, so his blood was untainted.”
“Angelus always was a smart ass.” Nic said with some jealously. “And so he let you drink from him to help your hangover?”
“I don’t know.” Spike shrugged, as he thought back to the early morning, lying on top of Angel, drinking Sire’s blood. “He allows me to drink from him a lot of times.”
“Spoiled brat.” Nic muttered enviously, as Spike pulled over the curb and slammed on the brakes. “Fucking William!” He swore, pitching forward, as the car came to a sudden stop. “As soon as I feel better, I’m going to beat you to a pulp.”
“Promises, promises.” Spike taunted, as he got out of the car. “Bring it on, old man. Like I couldn’t take you.”
“Fucking kid.” Nic was still mumbling angrily, as he more-or-less fell out of the car. “You’re the biggest pain out of all of them.”
“Hey.” A cheerful Connor came out the front door to greet them. “My mom gave me the message that you were coming. So what’s the occasion, and how is,” he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one in his family was standing by the door, “He?”
“Fine.” Spike walked up to Connor warily. The cheerful attitude had him puzzled. “But there are others of us,” he looked at Nic, who lurched up to them, “who aren’t.”
“Too much Christmas celebrating.” Connor said with a knowing smirk. “I’m glad that you’re all,” he glanced at Nic, “more-or-less well. And if you could tell me if there‘s a way I can spot a Tzmisce vampire, I would be glad to oft any that I come across.”
Spike and Nic exchanged astounded looks. This wasn’t the same Connor they had known.
“That’s right. . .good of you.” Spike couldn’t believe he was having a civil conversation with his younger brother. It was a first. “Anyway, our, my,” he too looked over at the house, making sure no one was listening, “Sire wanted you to have this.” He pulled out an envelope. “Christmas gift.”
“Thanks.” Connor took the envelope. Opening it, he grinned. “Oh wow, a gift certificate from Wal-Mart.”
“A gift certificate from Wal-Mart!” Nic mouthed at Spike in disbelief. “Leave it to Angelus to buy such a lame gift.”
“No, it’s great.” Connor disagreed. “I can buy a small refrigerator for my dorm now. It will be just for me, and my roomie won’t be able to steal my soda and food.”
“Right.” Spike was astounded again, that Connor actually liked his gift. “My idea.” He lied, taking credit from Djoser.
“Tell Angel,” Connor said with sincerity, “thank you. And I wish you all luck with the war.”
**
Epilogue
“You know, when the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart unleashed hell last year.” Spike watched his younger brother’s back, as Connor headed back into his house. “My Father said that Connor showed up at the office, and helped him fight that poof Hamilton.”
“Kid sure had an attitude adjustment.” Nic climbed into the passenger’s side of the car. “I wonder.” He mused thoughtfully.
“Wonder what?” Spike slid into the car and started up the engine.
“Family is blood, and belongs together.” Nic said softly, repeating the words Damon had spoken to him almost seventy years ago. Looking out the window, he saw Connor’s silhouette standing in the window watching them.
****
Finis