Bloodlines Book 2 - A Rebirth

Author: P'al Kwai

Dedication: Thank you to my beta readers, Red and Donna. And to Kirsty for all her help and inspiration.

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~Part: 31~

Waiting for Angel and Wesley to join them, Buffy, Giles and the rest of the Scoobies remained downstairs in the mansion's sitting room. Pacing the floor, the Slayer listened to her Watcher read from a book.

". . . the blood flows, the gates will open. The gates will close when it flows no more." Taking off his glasses, Giles paused for a moment. "When Dawn is dead."

Stopping her pacing, Buffy looked Giles in the eye. "Pretty simple math here. We stop Glory before she can start the ritual. We still have a couple of hours, right?"

"If my calculations are right. But. . . ."

Face starting to flush with anger, Buffy turned away." I don't want to hear it!"

Giles spoke softly. "I understand that. . . ."
Whirling back around, Buffy lashed out. "No! No, you don't understand. We are not talking about this."

Lashing back, Giles jumped up from the table. "Yes, we bloody well are!" Pausing a moment, but everyone in the group, including Xander, remained silent. They were stunned by the usually composed Watcher's show of emotion. " If Glory begins the ritual. . .if we can't stop her. . . ."

"Come on. Say it." Buffy interrupted. "We're bloody well talking about this. Tell me to kill my sister."

"If the ritual starts, then every living creature in this and every other dimension imaginable will suffer unbearable torment and death. . . ." Giving Buffy an intent look, Giles was once again calm. "Including Dawn."

"Then the last thing she'll see is me protecting her." Still angry, Buffy began to leave the room. She wanted to be alone for a moment.

"You'll fail. You'll die. We all will." Giles told her as she reached the door.

Buffy turned back to look at her Watcher and friends. "I'm sorry. I love you all, but I'm sorry." Walking into the foyer, she felt isolated and alone.

"I did warn you." A voice from the staircase made her look up. It was Djoser. Despite being upstairs, his vampiric hearing had caught the conversation.

"Yes. You did say that that's what they'd be thinking. That killing Dawn would be their solution." Walking up to the staircase, she watched the vampire descend. "What happened to your face?" Swelling and bruising marred his left eye. "Did the knights do that?"

"No." Touching the tender area, Djoser winced slightly. "My brother did."

Buffy smiled ever so faintly. "I keep telling people over and over; Spike is only safe when kept at a distance."

The vampire smiled back at her. A smile full of sympathy. "Listen, Buffy." Putting a hand around her arm, he held it gently. "My Sire. . .my running off has caught his attention. He's going to be watching me as closely as he watches over William. He has reminded me of my duty. Both by words and . . . ." Breaking off, he tilted his head, displaying his neck. Angel's mark was clearly visible. "It will be hard for me to. . . ."

"Hard for you to do what?" Reaching the stairs from the second floor hallway, Spike was pulling a fresh t-shirt over his head. He too had been ordered to take another shower and put on clean clothes.

Placing both hands on her shoulders, Djoser held Buffy's gaze. "Hard for me to help you. . . with your sister."

"Why? What's up with little sis now?" Spike asked as he came down the stairs.

"They're saying to kill her." Forcing herself to look away from Djoser's dark eyes, Buffy turned her head toward Spike. "They're saying if we can't stop Glory before she starts the ritual, then our only other choice is to kill Dawn."

"Who's saying?"

"Giles. But I'm sure this is something he talked over with Wesley, and perhaps. . .Angel." Considering the two vampires, a part of Buffy couldn't believe that she was appealing for their help. Not Angel's, not Giles', not Wesley's, but Spike and his brother's. "And I won't do it! I won't allow it."

"We made a promise to the lady." Spike addressed Djoser. "It's her sister, after all."

"If our Sire is with us, how do you propose to. . . ?"

"Can't stop the two of us at the same time. If we both. . . ." Spike broke off as the voices of Angel and Wesley could be heard coming down the second floor hallway. Knowing that the three of them in a deep discussion would raise his Sire's suspicions, he looked around for a decoy to distract Angel. Eyes brightening as he saw a large hammer sitting by the front entrance.

"Hello, what's this?"

"A troll god's enchanted hammer. Belonged to an ex-boyfriend of Anya. Might help me against Glory." Buffy explained as they walked over to the hammer.

"A troll? Anya dated a troll?" Studying the hammer for a moment, Spike's intention was to try it out. "Course, a troll's a step up from Xander."

"I heard that, blood-breath." Hearing the voices, Xander and Anya had come to see whom Buffy was with.

"So?" Cocking his eyebrow, Spike gave the young man a mocking look. "Don't particularly care if you heard or not." Lifting the hammer, its weight took him completely by surprise, as he immediately dropped it to the floor, which earned a snicker from Xander.

"Don't think you're ready for the grown-up weapons yet, Spike." A little payback for the vampire's comment on him being less desirable than a troll.

"He's not at full strength because of the poisons in his system." Djoser was quick to defend his brother. His pride wouldn't allow that they, Bloodline vampires, would be humiliated in front of mere humans.

"Watch it, monkey boy." Spike scowled at Xander. "Or the next time, I'll aim for your toes." Spreading his feet slightly, he adjusted his weight and with both hands slowly began to lift the troll hammer. Holding it up, his eyes admired the prize. "Don't suppose I could try it out on a minion?" He asked Djoser.

"Our minion population is not exactly booming. I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Slayer, have you tried this out yet?" Spike couldn't stand it. He had to know how powerful the hammer was.

"No-o." Buffy shook her head. "It's a hammer, Spike. You hit things with it. There's nothing to try out."

"Yeah, but how much power does this baby have." Half said to himself, Spike was eyeing the wall next to him. Wondering how much of the wall the troll's weapon would take out if he gave it a good hit.

"WILLIAM!" Coming down the stairs with Wesley, Angel could read the destructive ideas running around his Childe's mind. "Put that hammer down, before you break something." Walking up to the group, he took the hammer from Spike and handed it to Buffy. "Don't let him play with your weapons. I don't want the whole house smashed up."

"Oh, this from the man who's breaking up our furniture every other day." Throwing that back in Angel's face, Spike was offended at his Sire's unfairness.

"Angel." Coming into the entrance hall, Giles had heard the commotion. "May I speak to you. . .in private?"

Keeping her head turned away from her Watcher, Buffy's eyes widened as she gave Djoser and Spike a desperate look. She suspected that Giles was going to talk to Angel about the necessity of killing Dawn if Glory started the ritual before they could stop her. He was going to enlist the Master vampire's support, and then she would have Glory and the whole Tremeren Clan to deal with.

Not showing his surprise at Giles' request, Angel smoothly motioned toward the front door. "Certainly. Let's step outside."

**

Staring out in front of him, Giles didn't look at Angel. "This is, I believe, at least the sixth apocalypse that Buffy and I endured together. We've survived all of them, and I'm going to optimistically expect that we will survive this one as well. So that's why I must discuss something with you."

"All right." Unsure of where the conversation was headed, Angel just agreed.

Giles turned his head to look at the vampire. "After tonight. After we've defeated Glory, I don't want your son, Djoser, anywhere near Buffy."

Angel's expression was bewildered. He had no idea what Giles was talking about. Remaining silent since he didn't even know how to respond to the other man.

Seeing Angel's puzzled look, Giles couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? You're absolutely clueless." Taking off his glasses, the Watcher methodically began to clean the lenses. "You know if circumstances were different. If we weren't on the brink of another world ending catastrophe, I'd love to observe and learn about the . . .the family dynamics of a Sire and his Bloodline Childer. So little is known about it." Putting his glasses back on, he again looked out over the mansion's grassy turf, and in a whisper that was meant more for himself, he muttered. "It would make a fascinating study."

Turning back to the vampire, the Watcher still had a smile on his face. "In some respects, as a father you're no different from many of your human counterparts. Totally ignorant of what your Childer are up to."

"I assume you're referring to Djoser running off with Buffy." Thinking he now understood what the conversation was about, Angel spoke up. " I've had a talk with him, and believe me when I say, it won't happen again."

"Yes, yes that's part of it. But tell me Angel, do you know why Djoser ran off with Buffy?"

"My understanding of the whole incident is that he didn't want to go to Germany, so he made a deal with Buf. . . ."

"Oh yes, of course." Giles looked down at his feet a moment. "He needed Buffy to hide him out. A trained warrior. A vampire who spent much of his existence successfully evading his enemies, needed someone to help him hide out. Do you really believe that?"

Folding his arms over his chest, Angel felt defensive, and he wasn't even sure why. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

"Djoser went with Buffy not because he needed her, but because he was looking for an excuse to be with her."

"Rupert, that's. . .that's ridiculous. Whatever kind of infatuation Djoser had for Buffy has been long. . . ."

"What makes you think that it was just an infatuation?"

"He told me so. Last year." Pacing a bit, Angel was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the conversation. "His feelings for her made him forget himself. He screwed up, and the result was that William was shot. Remember? He was totally humiliated by the whole incident. He had forgotten his duty, just like he did now by running off. But this time I reminded him. . . ."

"Angel!" The Watcher couldn't help but interrupt the vampire. "Is that how you see your oldest? A man who thinks only of his duty? He has other feelings. . .other desires." Trailing off, now Giles was uncomfortable. He was accusing Angel of being blind to Djoser's other wants and needs. Hadn't he been guilty, at times, of doing the same with Buffy? Constantly scolding her about her duty, wanting her to put that above everything else in her life. "Damn." He swore softly to himself. Pausing a moment before he looked up and admitted as much to the vampire. "I guess I should be the last person to criticize you. . .when I've been just as blameworthy concerning Buffy."

The two men stood quietly for a few moments. Each contemplating. "Rupert." Angel broke the silence. "As High Master I cannot allow for any kind of distraction now. I'm fighting not just for my Childer, but for the very existence of my Bloodline. When, and I'm saying when, not if." He smiled slightly at Giles. "Glory is defeated and William is, without a doubt, cured, I plan to take my family and Clan to Germany. My brother Damon, his new Blood-Childe, and part of the Clan are already on their way there. Djoser will have no opportunity to pursue any kind of relationship here."

"Did you know that Djoser invited both Buffy and Dawn to go to Germany with you?"

Angel stiffened with surprise. He would never have believed that his oldest would do such a thing.

"And I won't allow it." Giles spoke softly. "I won't allow her to once again become involved with a. . .vampire."

"She's interested in my Childe, then?"

"I'm not sure. I don't believe she's even thought about it, because of everything that's been happening. Her mother dying, her sister. . .Glory. But when the time comes that she can start thinking about such things again, I do not want Djoser to even be an option for her."

"You needn't worry, Rupert. I too will not allow it. It's a complication that I just can't afford now. I'll call Djoser out here, and tell him that in no uncertain terms. You can stay and witness, so then you'll know, and your mind will be at ease. Let me just get him."

**

"You know, Slayer." Spike whispered to Buffy as Angel and Giles went out the front door, and Wesley walked toward the sitting room. His brain was racing to find any excuse to go outdoors where it would be easy enough to eavesdrop on his Sire's conversation. "You need to try the hammer out-of-doors. Can't swing it around inside here, but you could go outside and see if it takes down a tree."

"That would be a little obvious. Us just following them out the door. . . ." Buffy began her protest, but was interrupted by Spike giving her a wink.

"Go out the side door. That's where most of the trees are anyway."

"Ok, I'm getting the feeling that I'm missing something here." Xander was trying to follow Spike and Buffy's reasoning as the group started to make their way through the foyer to a side door.

"When are you not missing something, lackbrain?" Spike stopped a moment to insult the young man.

"Listen, numbnuts." Xander could match anyone when it came to rudeness. "I don't. . . ."

"And where in the hell do you think you're all going?" Nic came from the kitchen, followed by minions carrying food and blood.

"Outside, to try out the Slayer's new weapon." Half-truths. Even easier for Spike to assert than pure lies.

Studying the group, Nic's eyes narrowed. He was a master of lies, half-truths, and sins of omission, so he knew his nephew was leaving out something important. "The Slayer doesn't need all of you to help her test a new weapon. Get back in the room." Waving his hand at the doorway where Wesley now stood, who had also noticed the group exodus.

"It's a troll hammer. We wanna see what it can do." Continuing to pester, Spike figured the older vampire to be an easy con. Annoy his uncle enough, and he'd get Nic to give right in.

But unlike Angel, Nic was more tuned in to Spike's games. He had played all the same ones himself when he had been younger. "I don't give a fuck if it's the enchanted Uru hammer of Thor. All of you. . . ." His eyes swept over the whole group. "You need to eat, so you'll have the strength and endurance for a battle. I've got human food and blood here." He motioned to the trays the minions were holding. "You too, Slayer. I hear this Glory's a tough bitch, so you'll need every advantage you can get. You can try your hammer out after you eat."

"I quite agree." Wesley spoke up. He too was wondering why the whole group suddenly thought it necessary to try out the troll hammer at this precise moment. "According to Giles and my calculations, Glory will be starting the ritual soon. This is our one and only chance to rest and. . .refuel. So come in and eat. All of you."

Reluctantly, the group began to make its way to the living room when Angel stepped back into the mansion. "Djoser! I want to speak to you. Come out here with me. "Voice low and ominous.

Watching his brother step outside with his Sire, Spike could sense a shift of moods in Angel. "So what did your friggin' Watcher say to the Poof to get him all riled up with Djoser?" He asked Buffy. "Giles doesn't care much for my brother, does he?"

"News flash for you." Xander was still smarting from Spike's comment that Anya's ex-troll boyfriend was better than him. "None of us care for him. In fact, we don't much care for you either."

"Xander!" Buffy stopped her friend before he could continue with his insults. "Just stop! DON'T say anymore!" Eyes still on the front door where the vampires has just exited, she so wished she could somehow be a fly on the wall to hear what was being said.

**

"The Watcher has just made a request. It involves you, Childe." Watching Djoser closely, Angel didn't want to miss his reactions. "You are to stay away from the Slayer. I don't particularly see any need for you to have contact with her, so if there is something that you need to say to her, you can do it via myself or Giles."

"Sire?" His Father's voice was not raised in anger, nor did he look like he was ready to physically discipline, but Djoser sure felt like he was being punished for something. "Why must I stay away from Buf. . .the Slayer? I have done nothing inappropriate. . . ."

"DON'T LIE!" Angel's voice was now raised in irritation. "Getting her to help you run away, which put you in serious danger. As the Clan's Successor, you're suppose to be careful about putting yourself at risk. The two of you are bad influences on each other. You will keep your distance from her."

Closing his mouth, Djoser did not offer any more protests or arguments. The recently ingested blood of his Sire was beating through his body. Controlling him. Reminding him to whom he belonged. So conditioned, the dark vampire couldn't fight his upbringing. Duty and obedience to his Father. Bowing his head submissively, he declared his compliance. "It shall be as you will, Sire." But a small spark of resentment still burned in him, as he wondered to himself why he was never allowed to do what he wanted.

**

Pretending that she just wanted to give the troll hammer a few trial swings, Buffy stood outdoors along the side of the mansion waiting for Spike. After taking a sandwich to appease Wesley and Nic, she had discreetly given the vampire a couple of nudges, communicating to him to find an excuse to join her. She had confidence that the crafty Spike would figure out something.

Sure enough, minutes later he came strolling through the door, obviously pleased with himself. "I must say, my uncle is no fool, but there is no one in this universe who I can't scam."

"So what did you do?"

"He wanted me to try eating something other than Sire's blood, so I took a sip and then pretended I was going to heave. Started to aim for his lap and that's when he told me to get out."

"God, Spike!" Buffy couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Yeah, he thinks I'm upstairs now paying homage to the porcelain god."

"You're such a pig. . . ." She tried to keep a straight face. "But I must say, you're a clever pig." Pausing a second as she turned dead serious. "I need to ask you. Can I count on you and Djoser to help me protect Dawn?"

"Speaking for myself, I'll help you, Slayer. As for Djoser. . . ." Catching the scent of his brother. "You can ask him yourself because he's coming now."

Djoser too caught the smell of his brother and Buffy. Rounding the corner quickly, he knew he had only a few minutes to talk to the Slayer before his Sire or the Watcher began to look for all of them.

"So what did the Poof and the Slayer's Poof have to say to you?" Spike glared curiously at his brother.

Staring at Buffy, Djoser answered. "We can't talk long. I've been ordered to stay away from you."

"Stay away from me?" Too nervous and emotional to eat, Buffy threw the sandwich on the ground. "We're allies. Why should you stay away from me?"

"I'm not sure. I wasn't given a clear explanation. Your Watcher requested it, and my Sire commented on how we were bad influences on each, and. . . ." Djoser shrugged his shoulders.

"What a pair of Wankers! Guess they're not going to give their permission for the wedding then." Leaning up against the outside wall of the mansion, Spike hooked his thumbs in his belt buckle.

"SPIKE! Are you still on that. . . ?" Stopping, Buffy quickly looked at Djoser, as embarrassment ran through her. She didn't know if he was aware of his brother's matchmaking efforts or not. "IT'S RIDICULOUS. We're. . .you and I. . . ." She addressed the warrior vampire. "Are just friends? Right?"

"Man, Slayer. You sure like to sing that we're just friends bit. Getting kind of old." Spike told her with disgust.

"SPIKE!" Buffy glared daggers at him. "We're not talking about this. Especially now. My sister. . . ."

"Will be protected." Djoser interrupted her. "We made a deal, Buffy. And despite your Watcher and my Sire, I plan to keep my end of the bargain. I protected my brother for years and appreciated anyone who assisted me. I'll aid you, and perhaps someday, you can return the favor." Angel's unreasonable command had only instilled determination in the vampire. Perhaps he wasn't allowed to have contact with the Slayer anymore, but he most certainly could keep his promise to protect the Slayer's younger sister.

"Thank you." Giving Djoser a grateful look, Buffy was beginning to appreciate his integrity and loyalty. "You don't know what it means to me to be able to count on you two for your help in protecting Dawn. And I hope one day, I'll be able to repay you

both. . .that is, if the world doesn't end tonight." Turning, she started for the door.

Glancing quickly at his brother who was staying outdoors, Spike followed Buffy inside. "Till the end of the world, Slayer. We'll protect her 'till the end of the world, even if that happens to be tonight."

~Part: 32~

"And what were the two of you doing?" Sure enough the first person Spike and Buffy ran into was Angel. Eyeing them suspiciously, the elder vampire was quickly coming to the realization that every time one of his Childer was with the Slayer disobedient plans were in the making.

"Trying out her new hammer." Expression virtuous as Spike lied through his teeth.

"Thought you were upstairs throwing up." Coming out of the sitting room, Nic joined the conversation.

"He was throwing up?" Startled, Angel took a step closer to Spike. His first thought was that Wesley's cure had sickened his Childe.

"Thought he was, but I guess I was conned." Nic couldn't help but grin at his nephew, even though he had been taken. Duped by a younger brat.

"Didn't con you." Spike was never one to miss an opportunity, as his uncle threw a perfectly good excuse for him being outside in his lap. "Went outdoors to heave. Didn't I, Slayer?" Giving Buffy a discreet kick.

"Err. . . ." Buffy couldn't believe she was once again standing in front of Angel, Spike at her side, lying her head off. "Yeah. . .he. . .was. . . ."

"And it's your fault." Directing the conversation away from the fact that he had been alone with the Slayer, Spike looked accusingly at his uncle. "You MADE me try and eat that. . .that crap you call food."

"Hey! I would have given you human blood, but since that's not allowed here. . . ."

"STOP!" Angel put an end to the argument. "Wesley!" He shouted for the ex-Watcher to join them. "He's sick!" Face darkening with rage as a cautious Wesley, hearing Angel's tone, came out of the living room. "My Childe's sick from that. . .stuff you pumped in him. You told me. You assured me that it wouldn't hurt him."

Now Buffy was the one to give Spike a kick. Giving him a meaningful look, her expressive eyes gave him a clear message; Do something! The last thing she wanted was Wesley to get in trouble for their lies.

"Ahh. . .Father." Stepping between the two men, Spike used his body to help shield Wesley. "I'm really feeling okay. Think it was just the pig's blood. You know, body's just not used to animal food after having a diet of entirely Sire's blood."

Angel studied his Childe carefully. "I don't like this. It seems strange that you would start vomiting now, right after Wesley gives you his medicine."

"Angel. I swear to you that there was not one ingredient in it that would be dangerous to your Childe." Wesley was defending himself when he was interrupted by Willow attempting to impede a determined Tara who was heading for the front door. "Tara, stop!"

"It's a big day. It calls me. I have to be there." The pretty witch mumbled as she tried to escape Willow's grasp.

Giles immediately understood Tara's ramblings. There was not a doubt in his mind. "It's time."

"I have places to be!" Now yelling, she grappled with Willow, struggling to get away.

"Let her go, Willow." Giles told the young woman quietly. "Stay close but don't crowd her. I believe she'll lead us to Glory. We'll follow in a minute." He turned to the rest of the people in the room. "Get your weapons, we need to go."

"Nic." Angel already knew his battle plan. "Gather the minions. You two. . . ." He addressed Djoser and Spike. "Arm yourselves with crossbows. Both of you will be keeping your distance from the fighting. Buffy. . . ." Turning to his ex-lover. "I'll back you up with Glory. The two of us together should give her a challenge."

"You just need to keep her occupied; you don't need to defeat her." Wesley handed Angel a sword. "If the window passes for her to do the ritual, then it's a victory for us."

"My minions will take care of Glory's followers. That will free the rest of you to rescue Buffy's. . .sister." Starting for the door, Angel was the picture of confidence and resolve. He hadn't forgotten what this so-called goddess had done to his Childe. It was time for retribution.

**

"What's going on here." Voice soft, Elder Snow sniffed the air of Sunnydale. The atmosphere was alive with electricity. He could see groups of people all heading in the same direction.

"Master." One of Snow's lieutenants approached him. "The scouts have just reported in. Angelus, with his whole clan has left the mansion. They're accompanied by the Slayer and other humans. All of them are armed. They look like they're headed for a battle."

"Hmm. . . ." Snow considered this news. "How interesting."

"Master. . .he wouldn't. . .he couldn't know that we're here already?" The vampire was uncertain. "Angelus isn't headed for us?"

"No. He's not expecting us. Thinks that that last beating he gave us defeated us completely. I always said that arrogance would be his downfall." Confident that a surprise attack would stack the deck in his favor, Snow pondered a moment, watching the mass of people. He could feel their purpose. "I'm guessing that Angelus is headed where all those people are going. Something big is going down, and I for one don't want to miss the festivities."

**

Keeping their distance, the vampires in one group and humans in another, they followed Willow as she trailed after Tara. Walking between Angel and Djoser, Spike glanced over at his brother noticing that something was missing. "Where's your gun, mate? Now would be the time to have it."

"The knights damaged it." Face stoic, Djoser still couldn't keep a note of regret out of his voice.

"Friggin' knights." Spike consoled his brother.

"Sire." Knowing that this might be his last chance to ask, Djoser looked over at Angel. "I'm not nearly as effective fighting from afar with this. . .weapon." He looked at the crossbow with contempt. Such a come down from the Tec-9. "As I would be with a sword. . . ."

"Are you questioning me, Childe?" Tone soft, but ominous.

"Yes, because. . . ."

"You'd be well advised NOT to!" First reaction to rebuke his oldest, but remembering Wesley's admonishment about his poor communication, Angel backed down. "Before he left, Damon pointed out to me that I've been lax in my protection of you. You are my Successor. I need to be more vigilant with you."

"Very good, Angelus." Even knowing that he was treading on dangerous grounds, Nic still couldn't help but comment. "Lock the barn after the horse has already gone. Should have thought of that two hundred years ago."

Realizing that his brother had a good point, Angel let the disrespect pass. "There's no need for either of you. . . ." His gaze swept over his two Childer. "To risk yourselves. I'm confident that Buffy and I can take this Glory. And the minions with Giles, Wesley, and the Slayer's friends can save Dawn. You, Nic." He addressed his brother. "Will keep an eye on these two, since you're their Sponsor now."

"What do you mean? HE'S our sponsor now?" Spike had been unconscious when Angel had named Nic Sponsor to his two Blood-Childer.

"Both Anton and Alex, your original Sponsors are dead now, so I've decreed that Nic will take their place."

"My reprehensible uncle is now my Sponsor. It's a humiliation that I can hardly bare." Djoser muttered this softly, but not soft enough so it wasn't heard.

"Yeah?" Truth-be-told, Nic was pleased to have such a position, but he wasn't about to let his snot-nosed nephews know that. "Like I want to be having to chase after and take care of you two ungrateful brats. Ungrateful and insubordinate. Both of you. Don't know what's happening to you, Djoser. This new, defiant attitude of yours probably has your GrandSire spinning around in hell."

Hating the squabbling, Angel suddenly decided that he had something vitally important to talk to Giles and Wesley about. Lengthening his stride, he walked away from his bickering brother and Childer.

"Thought he would never leave." Spike watched the retreating back of his Sire "Listen, Nic, Djoser and I need your help. You see, we made a promise to the Slayer about. . . ."

"If this promise in any way involves go against what Angelus has ordered, forget it."

"Since when did you start having scruples about obedience?" Disbelief evident in Djoser's voice.

"Since I. . . ." Pausing a moment, Nic admitted the truth. "Since I've been accepted back into my family. I'm not going to blow it again. And you two, whatever disobedient plan you're working on, you better abort it. This is not the time to be fucking around."

Exchanging looks, the two Blood-Childer of Angelus were stymied. There would be no way to help the Slayer if they were kept separated with people guarding them.

Rounding the corner, the three vampires found the rest of the group stopped and staring up at a tall structure that loomed above them. Heads tilting, they too stared at the strange edifice that stood before them. "Okay, I'm guessing this must be the tallest building here. . .err. . ." At closer inspection Nic saw that it wasn't any type of building. "What the fuck is that?"

"Shpadoinkle." Xander told him helpfully.

"The gateway must open up there. This structure was built specifically as a stairway to the portal." Giles explained to the group.

"And it was built by these yo-yos?" Nic took a good look at Glory's crazy human followers. "Where's the building inspector when you need him?"

"I think that's him over there, holding the welding torch." Squinting across the way, Xander was almost sure that the man was the building inspector he had met once.

Eyes scanning over the scene in front of her, Buffy searched for Glory. It only took a moment for her to spot the goddess who was approaching the newly arrived Tara with suspicion. Turning to Willow, she knew it was time to make a move. "Will, you're up. Now's the time to try that spell you were telling me about. See if you can reverse what She did to Tara."

Face fearful, Willow took a couple of deep breaths. "Could use a little courage."

"I've got some bottled courage here, Red." Spike dug in his pocket for the small flask that he was carrying. "Straight rye whiskey. A couple of swallows of this, and. . . ." He was cut-off by Angel grabbing the flask away from him.

"It's the real kind I need. . .but thanks anyway, Spike." Willow gave the vampire a shaky smile, before a resolute expression crossed her face, and she began to make her way over to Tara and the goddess.

Turning to his minions, Angel was about to order them to begin attacking Glory's underlings when he saw them. A large group of vampires, all with a white streak in their hair, coming straight for them.

**

Los Angeles, California

Abenrey, High Master of the Toreador Clan watched as the few clan fighters that had remained of his Clan after the Council Attack were put to death. Standing just a few feet from him was Judelin, the Ventrue High Master.

"You managed to escape being defeated by the Council, but you will not be so fortunate with me." Judelin's smooth voice, so pleasant to the ear, struck sheer terror in the undead heart of the Toreador's High Master. "In fact, after I'm done, you will be sorry that you survived the Council because I can be so much more merciless than humans."

"Judelin, High Master of the Ventrue Clan." Not sure how to address the other Master, Abenrey tried to play it safe by speaking formally. "You were always respectful of any Bloodline vampire, whether it be one of your Clan or another Clan's. Take your revenge by killing me, but have mercy on my Blood-Childer."

"You were foolish." His back to the Toreador Master, Judelin did not look at the other vampire. "Foolish in making me your enemy."

"Your plan was to take over all of the Clans. By kidnapping your GrandChilde, we only wanted to give ourselves some leverage. We never meant for him to be taken by the Council and Snow."

"Your intent was never to hurt him then?" Spinning around, Judelin looked closely at the other vampire. He could usually tell when someone was lying.

"I too believe in our laws. Your GrandChilde was never in any danger from me. In fact, when we were attacked by the Council, I ordered that he be protected like one of my own."

Moments passed as Judelin remained silent, studying the other Master vampire. And then in a movement that was just a flash of light, he pulled out a stake and buried it in Abenrey's chest. The Ventrue Master watched his adversary dissolve into dust while addressing him for one last time. "How thoughtful of you, Abenrey. But I do wonder, if you protected him like you protected your own, then why was he taken while your Blood-Childer remained safe in the lair?" Looking up, he studied the Toreador's two captive Blood-Childer. "But they are safe no more."

**

"This is ridiculous!" Djoser was frustrated. Using the crossbow, he was helping the humans by picking off Glory's minions. "Give me a good sword, and I could take the lot of them."

Looking over his shoulder, Spike did a quick assessment of the success Giles, Wesley and the Scoobies were having against the goddess' followers. "Yeah, looks like they could use your help, cause they're not getting anywhere. What the hell is the matter with Giles and Wesley? A couple of Watchers who were trained in battle by the Council, and they can't take a few midget demons and some fruitcake humans?"

"Do you see any kind of hand weapon I could use?" Djoser asked his brother as he reloaded the crossbow. The two had decided that they would split the duties. Spike was helping the Clan's cause by aiming for Snow's minions, and Djoser was taking aim at Glory's followers.

"Maybe." Surveying the combat zone, Spike tried to see a dropped weapon through all the battling bodies. "What are you going to try to do?" He asked, noticing that both Nic and Angel, although staying in close proximity, were pretty well occupied by Snow's minions.

"Going to go help those pathetic humans. If we leave the fight in their hands, we'll be here until the end of the world really does come." Shooting his weapon, Djoser took down another of Glory's minions.

Crossbow up to his eye, Spike was looking for a target. "Well, looks like the Slayer's at least keeping bitch goddess busy. So if you can take down her minions, then the humans can rescue Little Bit. . . ." Words froze in his throat, as Spike, lowering the crossbow, saw HIM. A slim figure, wearing dark glasses, keeping himself apart from the fighting. Watching the battle with a casual air, like he was watching a horse or yacht race.

"So do you see a weapon?" Djoser turned to his brother. "Our Sire and uncle are too busy now to. . . ." Stopping in mid sentence as he saw the expression on Spike's face. "What's the matter? What. . . ?" Looking over to where his brother was staring, he too saw the man. "SNOW!" The warrior vampire hadn't forgotten the torture Elder Snow had inflicted on his younger sibling. "THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH IS HERE!" Throwing down the crossbow, Djoser saw a discarded sword lying close by.

"Wait!" Grabbing his brother's arm, Spike stopped him. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Going to take some revenge for our family." Djoser couldn't take his eyes off Snow. "You stay here and help the humans. I'll take care of this traitor."

"DJOSER!" Holding the arm tighter, Spike couldn't shake the terror he felt. For himself and his brother. "You're not suppose to directly involve yourself in the fighting. And what about Little Bit? You promised. . . ."

"The goddess has her hands full with the Slayer, and even though the humans are completely embarrassing themselves, they are at least keeping her minions occupied. Neither Glory nor any of her followers can hurt the little girl." Pulling his arm free, Djoser began walking away.

Looking around for his uncle, Spike saw that Nic was busy with a couple of Snow's minions. "Djoser, wait!" Not wanting his brother to take Snow on alone, he began to follow.

**

One arm around the head of the enemy, Angel held the vampire in a powerful grip while delivering a strong kick to another. Pressing his arm down, he squeezed the head he held against his ribs. Tighter and tighter until the skull began crushing under his strength. The head caved in, and the vampire dissipated into dust.

The demon in Angel howled in satisfaction and clamored for more. He wanted to mangle and smash more of the enemy.

"Master!" A voice caught his attention. Looking around, he saw a minion pointing to two figures making their way across the battlefield.

"NIC!" Yelling to his brother, Angel began to sprint toward his Childer.

At that same moment, Nic had noticed that his nephews had left the protected spot that they had been ordered to stay in. Racing to them, he managed to grab Spike just as Djoser came face-to-face with Snow.

"Well, well, well. The Pseudo-Sucessor himself. You don't know how long I've been waiting to get my hands on you." Snow's hidden gaze examined Djoser, before he looked around at the rest of the Tremeren vampires. "And you brought the rest of the family? How thoughtful of you. Just makes everything easier for me." A snap of his fingers and four, big, muscular, vampire bodyguards, hidden in the darkness behind some heavy machinery, stepped out to flank him.

****

Warning: Graphic Violence

~Part: 33~

England, 1885

The urge to touch the mutilated body was overwhelming as William's curiosity got the better of him. "Git's still alive; he's not dust." Quietly said to himself, as he stepped closer, reaching out a hand.

"William!" A hoarse whisper as he was pulled away by Djoser. "Don't touch the. . . ."

"DID HE LAY A HAND ON THAT. . .FILTH?" Coming out of the house, Angelus had just finished washing the blood and gore off his body.

"No, Sire." Staring hard at his younger brother, Djoser's dark eyes conveyed a warning, Just go along with what I say.

"Boy." A low growl. "Step away. You are not to sully yourself with this. . .this creature."

Moving a few paces backward, William was confused. That creaturewas a minion sent by Heinrich Nest. Just one of the many minions sent to punish those who dared to defy the High Master. All of which had been dusted by Angelus and his servants, except for the one who was now a bloody mess of innards and bones.

"Wrap him up and send him to my Sire." Demon visage still in place. Gold eyes so filled with fury that they glowed red. "Let him see what his Childe is capable of."

"Go to your room, Will." Djoser's whispered voice held an urgent tone. The warrior vampire recognized the crazed rage in his Sire's reddened eyes and knew that if his younger brother stayed, he would soon feel the brunt of the Master's irrational temper.

"Right." Part of William understood Djoser's insistence. Since the revolt and the subsequent escape to England, Angelus' anger against him had increased. The favorite Childe of Heinrich Nest had lost his position as one of the three Heir Apparents of the Tremeren Clan, and he blamed his disgrace on his youngest Childe.

Backing up, William couldn't take his eyes off the mangled body of the agonized vampire. He would never forget that sight, and would always associate it with his Sire's eyes, gold eyes that flared red.

**

Germany, 1885

"Master." A prized and trusted minion fell to his knees in front of Heinrich Nest. "I'm afraid the news is not good."

"Yes, Luke, I already know." The master vampire didn't need to be told. A part of him had already sensed what had happened. "Our fighters were not successful."

The minion said nothing, just bowed his head.

"Did any of them survive?"

"Just one, Master." Standing up the minion Luke signaled for the body of the one survivor to be brought in. "Angelus sent him back to us, along with. . . ." A powerful, fairly old vampire, he still couldn't suppress a small shudder as he viewed the torn up body of a fellow minion. "A communication."

"Read it to me." Turning his back, Nest put a long finger up to his face thoughtfully.

"Sire. . . ." Luke began to read.

'ou have taught me well, and to show you how well I have learned my lessons, I am sending you an example of my work. Do you see how I was able to inflict the most pain while still keeping him alive? I am sure you can appreciate such artistry.

Regards,

Angelus, Blood-Childe of Heinrich Nest, Heir Apparent of the Tremeren Clan

P.S. The more you send after me, the more I'll return to you, not dead, not alive, not undead, just nothing. Because nothing is what you are going to gain by sending them after me.'

"Angelus is. . . ." Luke folded the letter while again looking at his suffering comrade. "Is certainly inventive in his methods of torture."

Looking up at the ceiling, Nest couldn't help the regret that filled him. "He is the most vicious creature I have ever met. . .and he was to have sat at my right hand, come the day."

For years, Heinrich Nest had toyed with his Childer, refusing to officially name the one who was to be his Successor. It had been a weapon he used to keep them submissive and guessing. This was the first and only time that he would make the admission that Angelus was to have been his Successor.

**

Facing Snow, Angel and Nic acted in perfect unison as they stepped in front of the two Blood-Childer. A protective stance. "William, Djoser. Go back by the humans." Growling, Angel couldn't take his eyes off Snow. Fury burned inside of him as he remembered his son's wounds. Scrutinizing the renegade vampire thoroughly, he tried to place him, but the man before him remained an unknown.

"Sire." Djoser protested. "We're Bloodline vampires. We DO NOT run away from anyone, especially. . . ." He gave Snow and his bodyguards a look of contempt. "Inferior minions."

"Like father, like son." Mumbling, Snow snapped his fingers again, signaling his bodyguards to attack. "Arrogant beyond belief."

Trained to fight to the death, the four vampires attacked with everything they had. They had nothing to lose.

"Just keep the Sire and his brother busy." Snow ordered them. "I only need the Blood-Childer. They're the ones I came for."

**

After helping Buffy by swinging a wrecking ball into Glory, Xander raced back to the rest of the gang to give them a hand. "So how we doing?" He asked, hoping that the answer would be better than the evidence before his eyes.

Holding a baseball bat tightly, a disheveled Anya answered him. "So far it's a tie."

Looking around, the young man observed that both Spike and Djoser were no longer behind them, but engaged in battle with Snow's minions. "Thought Dead-Boy Juniors I and II were suppose to stay here by us, away from those skunk vamps. Gotta say, they listen to their father as well as I listen to mine."

"Where are they?" Forgetting himself, Wesley stood up to get a better view and promptly got hit in the head by a flying brick.

"Over there, fighting some of Snow's boys." Peering up at the big group of Glory's minions and crazies, Xander was unconcerned. They had their own war to fight.

"They're not supposed to be. . . !" Keeping himself low, an annoyed Wesley grumbled as he started to walk away.

"Hey, Wes!" Xander grabbed the ex-Watcher's arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To bring back Spike and Djoser. And when this is all over, I am going to make sure that Angel is aware of their disobedience, and I just might ask if I can take part in their beating afterward."

"Wesley." Giles was puzzled by the other man's priorities. "We need you here. Spike and Djoser are Angel's problem."

"No, Rupert, they're our problems as well. You know that. I informed you about what that Anagogic demon, Lorne, told me about Angel turning to his dark side if anything happens to his Childer, Spike in particular." Checking his watch, Wesley did a quick calculation. "There's only a few minutes left to start the ritual. Buffy's keeping Glory busy. If the rest of you can just keep them. . ." He glanced briefly at Glory's demonic minions and human followers. "Occupied, then we'll be all right."

Said with confidence, Wesley would sadly remember his erroneous words.

**

The enemy vampire held Nic from behind, trying to get both hands around Nic's head so he could snap his neck.

Struggling, Nic knew he was fighting a much stronger opponent. He tried to kick backwards, while still battling to keep Snow's minion from breaking his neck. A few feet away from him, Spike, weak and out of fighting condition, was lying on his back, the bigger vampire on top of him.

Seeing Snow approach his nephew, Nic became desperate. Slamming his head back into his foe, he hoped to break a nose, but the other vampire held tight. "Goddamn! Son-of-a-bitch!" He swore. "ANGELUS!" The body of the minion was blocking his view, so he couldn't see how his brother was faring with the other two enemy vampires. "Angelus! Snow's going for. . . ."

One minute his head had been held in what felt like a vise, and then next, deliverance from an unexpected source. So intent on killing each other, not one of the vampires had noticed Wesley, sword in hand, stealthily approaching them. A controlled swing as he sliced the nape of the minion. Bellowing in pain, the vampire swung around to face his attacker, and the ex-Watcher swung again, this time taking the whole head.

Released, Nic never stopped to assess the situation; he just dove for the minion who was holding Spike down. Knocking the enemy off his nephew, he and the other vampire tumbled on the ground for a few feet.

"WESLEY!" An exhausted Spike found he couldn't even get up. Rolling on his side, he yelled a warning to his human ally. "The bastard with the sunglasses. That's Snow!"

Sword held high, the Englishman charged, but Elder Snow was an old, experienced vampire, faster and stronger than any human. A few swift steps and he plunged a hypodermic into the side of Nic's neck, before grabbing the charging Wesley's upraised hands. "You support the Bloodline vampires? You're supporting the wrong side, human." Strong fingers tightened their grip around Wesley's wrists, as a knee connected with his groin.

Gasping in pain, the ex-Watcher couldn't stop the sword from falling out of his hands.

**

Still too shaky to stand up, Spike, on his hands and knees, was frantically searching for his crossbow. Like a movie in slow motion, he saw the minion push his now unconscious uncle off, and get to his feet. He saw Snow grab Wesley, saw the sword fall to the ground.

Knowing that Snow vastly outmatched him, Wesley began to battle with the knowledge that he was going to die. Fighting back with desperation, he was able to hold his own for a few precious moments.

Realizing that the human was the only thing standing between him and one of his prizes, Snow snapped impatiently at the minion who had just gotten up. "Help me with this being. Quickly, before Angelus gets here."

Thinking that Spike wasn't any kind of a threat, the vampire ignored him as he moved toward Wesley. Arms outstretched, the minion reached for the human, but before he was able to do any harm, an arrow caught him in the back. Piercing the ribcage and a lung, it found its mark in the vampire's undead heart. An expression of surprise and the second of Snow's bodyguards dissipated into dust.

"Take that, motherfucker." Spike smiled in satisfaction. Despite his shakiness, it felt good to get back into action. Quickly reloading the crossbow, he raised it up to take aim at Snow, the man who had been haunting his nightmares for the past several months.

Seeing Spike aim for him out of the corner of his eye, Snow growled savagely as he threw Wesley down. Two quick steps and he was close enough to kick the crossbow out of the younger vampire's hands. "I must say, Childe, you do live a charmed life." Grabbing Spike by the throat, he raised him in the air. "I expected you to be a blackened half-dead corpse by now. But never mind you will be soon."

Refusing to show his fear, Spike curled his lip. "I am not your Childe!" He hissed at Snow before spitting in his face.

Howling in rage, Snow lost control as he flung the younger vampire away. "HOW DARE YOU SPIT ON ME! You sorry excuse for a demon! You'll pay for that!"

Hitting the ground hard, Spike felt the human sensation of having the wind knocked out of him. Shaking his head, he tried to regain his equilibrium. A few feet from him lay an equally spent Wesley, and between them lay the dropped sword.

Seeing Spike eye the sword, Snow could only smile in satisfaction. He had recovered his lost restraint. "Go ahead, Childe. Pick it up and see if you can kill me."

Rubber legged, Spike stood up, sword in hand. He'd go down fighting because that's what a Tremeren Bloodline vampire did. "Listen you pissant! I told you once. I'm not your Childe!" Raising the sword, he took a swing at Snow, but in his weakened condition he was no match for the stronger, older vampire.

Easily ducking away from the sword, Snow countered by knocking it out of Spike's hand and once again grabbed him by the throat. "You really are a pretty boy, aren't you? I suppose that's what has captivated your Sire all these years. But you won't be so pretty when the poisons blacken your skin. I am so going to enjoy torturing you again. Marring those smooth, white features of. . . ."

The renegade vampire never finished his thought as he was seized from behind. "The penalty for assaulting a Blood-Childe is death by torture." A growl in his ear as strong hands forcibly broke his grip on the neck he was holding.

Grasp broken, Spike fell to the ground. Looking up, he saw Angel, arms around Snow in a bear hug, demon face twisted in fury, gold eyes flaring red.

**

Spike carried his uncle's upper body, while Wesley had Nic by the feet. Walking backwards, he couldn't help but watch Angel, locked in combat with the vampire he'd dubbed, the eyeless nutter."Elder Snow." He mumbled. "May I introduce you to my Father, the Scourge of Europe. The meanest, most vicious vampire ever to exist." Grinning, he knew that Snow had no hope in hell to beat his enraged Sire. When Angel's ire was up, he was a frightening force. A force that even the powerful Heinrich Nest had been wary of.

"What's that you're saying, Spike?" Wesley heard the muttering, but couldn't catch the words.

"That Mr. Snow's going get his arse beat." A happy thought that seemed to make some of Spike's weakness melt away. "Along with the rest of his mates." A quick study of the combat zone, and Spike had reassured himself of his brother's well being. Djoser had been able to hold his own against Snow's minion, but now he was getting help. The Clan had already taken out most of Snow's followers, and now were quickly going to the aid of their Heir Apparent.

Reaching the rest of the gang who were still hunkered down behind some machinery, Wesley and Spike gently laid Nic down on the ground.

"No progress?" The ex-Watcher asked an out-of-breath Giles.

"No, we haven't been able to get to Dawn. . . ." Giles glared up at the top of the portal. "But then neither has anyone else."

"Bit's up there?" Spike stared upwards.

"Yes, but we've been able to keep Glory's followers busy, so none of them have had the opportunity to. . . ."

"Someone's up there." Superior vampiric vision seeing two figures on top of the tower. "Rupert, are you sure that none of the bitch's minions snuck up. . . ?" Exasperated at the humans' incompetence, Spike turned to Giles when a voice in his head interrupted him.

"Is there someone up there with Dawn?" Willow communicated this question telepathically.

Recognizing the voice, Spike answered out loud. "Yeah, can't tell who though."

"Are you talking to us?" Xander asked, giving Spike a confused look.

"Get up there. Go now." The situation was an emergency, so neither Willow nor Spike stopped to consider that perhaps someone else, would have been a better option than the weakened vampire to go save Dawn.

Together with Tara, magic was channeled from the two witches, parting Glory's minions and crazies and clearing a path for Spike. Taking off quickly, he raced toward and up the tower's stairs, taking the three human men by surprise.

"SPIKE!" Standing up, Wesley started to go after him, but the crowd of hostile demons and humans closed fast, leaving the ex-Watcher to helplessly watch the vampire run off.

Reaching the top, Spike was shaky. Legs weak with fatigue, he gulped large mouthfuls of unneeded air. "Better just be one of Glory's midget demons, or a human, cause if it's anything more, I might be in some serious shi. . . ." Breaking off his muttering as he came face-to-face with a small, elderly man.

"I know you." The man greeted Spike.

"SPIKE!" Each arm tied to a tower beam, Dawn yelled a warning to the vampire. "He's not what he seems. He's an ally of Glory."

"Yeah, I know you." Friendly smile on his face, the man acted like the whole scene was a casual, social event. "My name's Doc. I remember seeing you hanging around the corner mart."

Sniffing the air, Spike knew that the being before him was not a human. "I don't think so. Got the wrong bloke, mate."

"No, I swear you're that guy. Hair's a different color, and you're a vampire, but other than that. . . ."

"Perhaps your eyesight is going." Spike saw the glint of a knife hidden behind the demon's back and knew he would have to make a move. Readying his body to attack, the vampire was overconfident. Fooled by Doc's deceptive physical appearance, and still high on Snow having to face off against his Sire, he didn't stop to take in to consideration that his reflexes and strength were slower and weaker. He rushed the demon, but Doc just calmly sidestepped him.

Plunging the knife in Spike's back, the demon grabbed the surprised vampire. "I'd love to chat some more, but I do have a prior appointment."

Spike's eyes met the scared eyes of Dawn a moment before he was thrown off the tower.

**

Punching Snow hard in the face with his left hand, Angel made a grab for the vampire's sunglasses with his right. Closing his fist, he crushed the glasses while smiling with satisfaction. "You've got two, normal eyes, just like any other vampire."

Mouth and nose bloodied, Snow leaned up against the wall behind him. It was the only thing keeping him on his feet. "What?"

"Two eyes right where they're supposed to be. . . ." Countenance darkening, Angel stared at Snow ominously. "But not for long." Lunging, he grabbed the vampire, and held him in a headlock. Stiffening and stabbing the fingers and thumb of his right hand into Snow's eye, he savored the egg like texture while pulling the eye out of its socket. "I've been neglectful of my William and need to make it up to him. I think a gift of your eyes will be a good start, don't you?"

Enjoying the screams, Angel slipped the eye into his coat pocket. He held tighter to the body in his grip, which was thrashing around in agony. Starting to aim for Snow's other eye, a frantic shout from Djoser interrupted him. "SIRE!"

Turning to his Childe, Angel saw him point upward. Tilting his head, he saw the reason for Djoser's desperation. The body of his youngest son falling from the top of the tower.

****

Dedications: To Elisabeth, my beta reader, the Communications and Journalist Major whose expertise in grammar and punctuation garnishes me compliments which I probably don't deserve. <g>

To my husband who after hearing that Buffy wasn't going to be shown at all last Tuesday because of the basketball game, said that he would drive me to Chicago and rent a motel room, so I could see the new Buffy episode. That was so cool!

~Part: 34~

Los Angeles, The Hyperion Hotel

Consciousness creeping over him, Spike tried to push it back. He didn't want to wake up. Didn't want to remember the look on Dawn's face when he failed her. Didn't want to remember his last sight of Buffy, lying on the ground, body broken and lifeless.

The Slayer had been victorious. She had taken on the goddess Glory and won. Angel and the Clan had beaten down Snow and his followers. The only one who had failed was him. He had presented no challenge to the goddess' ally, the demon named Doc. Thrown off the tower as if he were a mere child, giving Doc the opportunity to begin the ritual. And because of his ineptitude, the seemingly invincible Slayer was now dead.

Grabbing a pillow, he put it over his face, trying to force his mind back into oblivion, so it would stop thinking. Stop remembering.

Groaning, he turned over on his side. His Grandsires had been right when they had declared him to be flawed. Flawed. Weak. Not good for anything. Wasn't worthy to be a Blood-Childe, let alone the Blood-Childe of Angelus. "My Sire would never have let everyone down like I did." He muttered to himself. "Damon, my brother, even Nic. None of them would have. . . ." Hearing the sound of footsteps, he broke off, closed his eyes, and pretended to be asleep.

Entering the room, Angel frowned anxiously. Late afternoon and William was still sleeping. Not unusual for vampires if they had stayed up until dawn, but his Childe had gone to bed around midnight. An unheard of hour for his hyperactive son. "William." He spoke softly while running his hands over Spike's slim body, assuring himself that indeed the bones and ribs were mending. Wesley's medicine was making a difference. "William, Childe, it's time to get up."

Eyes just slits as Spike barely opened them. "Still tired. Don't want to get up yet."

"William." Angel knelt down on the bed beside him. "You need to eat something. Would you like. . . ?" Leaning down, he whispered in an ear. "Some chicken wings dipped in Sire's blood?"

"Not hungry. Just want to sleep more." Rolling over, Spike presented his back to Angel.

"Hey." Passing by, seeing the door open, a stiff and sore Nic poked his head in. "Is that lazy bum still in bed? William, get up. The humans are planning to have pizza. We can order one and then jazz it up vampire style." Figuring his nephew to be a pizza lover, he offered that bribe, hoping it would motivate Spike to get out of bed.

"Don't want pizza. Just want to be left alone, so GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

Sighing, Nic rolled his head around trying to loosen the muscles in his neck. "Ever since we came back from Sunnydale. . . ." He addressed Angel. "Your kid is either sleeping or having an attitude. He can't be in that much pain, can he?"

"That was a horrible fall even for a healthy vampire, but with him being poisoned. . . ."

"The poisons have been cured." Nic interrupted. "Just heard that from Wesley."

"AND HOW DOES HE KNOW?" Worry manifesting itself in a raised voice, as Angel stood facing his brother, hands on hips.

"Because you told him to take and test some blood samples from William." Halting a head roll, Nic heaved another deep sigh.

"Hey! Can you two take your conversation elsewhere? Person trying to sleep here." Raising his head off the pillow, Spike yelled this over, not caring that he was being disrespectful to his Elders.

"You've slept enough." Nic couldn't help but snap back. "That's all you do is sleep, and the few hours you're awake all you do is stare at. . . ." He motioned to the glass container that contained an eyeball floating in liquid formaldehyde. "That. . .Snow's. . . ."

"Don't mention his name in my presence." Angel said through gritted teeth. Temper flaring as he was reminded of Snow. Reminded that the man had escaped and was now hiding out somewhere.

"NIC! Go and mention that *scat queen's* name in another room, so I can have some friggin' peace and quiet." Sitting up, Spike was at his wit's end as to how get his Sire and uncle to shut-up.

Motioning his brother to leave, Angel turned toward the bed. "William, are you in a lot of pain?"

Shrugging, Spike reached for his glass jar. Lying back, he stared at the eye. One of the few gifts his Sire had ever given him.

Hands in pocket, the elder vampire approached the bed. "My intention was to give you both his eyes, but. . . ."

"But you were interrupted by your useless, youngest son getting himself thrown off a tower." Spike couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. Djoser would never have allowed himself to be taken out by some short, old man demon.

"What's wrong, Childe?" Sitting on the edge of the bed, Angel reached out, placing both hands on the sides of his son's face.

"I. . .it's nothing." Holding the glass jar tightly against his chest, Spike buried himself in his Father's arms. "Just tired." He didn't know what else to say. How could he talk to his Sire, the legendary Angelus, about his embarrassing failures, when his Father didn't understand the meaning of the word failure?

Stroking his Childe's head, Angel opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but like so many times in the past, he had no idea how to even begin asking the right questions.

**

Looking up as Nic entered the hotel lobby, Wesley was relieved to see that the vampire seemed to be suffering no serious effects from the paralyzing drug that Snow had injected in him. "Still stiff?" He asked with polite concern, then turned red as he realized what he had just said.

Wesley's help with Snow's bodyguards had softened Nic's hostility, so with a friendlier attitude, the vampire grinned at the Englishman's double entendre. "Always. Don't suppose you'd be willing to offer a helping *hand*. Could use a massage."

"Well, I. . .err. . . ." Beet red, Wesley stuttered and stammered. Happy that Nic had gotten over his anger with him, he tried to find something to say that would redirect the conversation without upsetting the vampire again. "Err. . .not real good with my hands, but. . .err. . .by the way, I've got some good news. . . ."

"How are with your mouth. . .Wes?" Leaning over the counter, Nic was just inches away from the Ex-Watcher's face.

"Ah hum." Clearing her throat, Cordelia looked up from the magazine she was flipping through. "This is a big place with plenty of rooms. If you two are planning to get groiny, go somewhere else where I don't have to watch."

Sighing, Wesley looked upward, praying that the earth would open and swallow him. "Cordelia. . .we weren't getting. . .groiny. Nic here was injected with a powerful paralyzing drug by Snow. . . ."

"What about him?" Coming into the hotel lobby, Angel frowned at hearing the name Snow again. "Did you call Giles like I asked you to? Is the Council giving sanctuary to that. . .*bastard*?"

Saved from any further embarrassment by the entrance of Angel, Wesley answered in relief. "No, according to Giles, the Council has broken off their alliance with Elder Snow. Not only won't they give him sanctuary, but upon hearing that he's wounded and hiding somewhere, they've sent a party of vampire/demon hunters to find and destroy him."

"So-o, can we safely say that Snow will soon be dust?" Cordelia got up from her seat at her old desk to go and stand next to Wesley. Grateful to the ex-Watcher for saving his brother and Childe, Angel had given his ex-employees their offices back at the Hyperion.

"Hard to say." Always cautious, Wesley didn't want to prematurely dismiss the dangerous vampire. "Angel and his Clan defeated most of Snow's army, but I'm thinking that he had safe-houses planted in different locations throughout many countries. A common strategy that any good. . .general would have."

"But the Council will hunt him down, won't they?" Cordelia asked, hoping for an answer that would bring closure to the problem of Elder Snow.

"They're making a small effort, but right now their attention is more focused on the Ventrues."

"Well, with any luck your Council will keep the Ventures busy, so they'll forget about us for the time being." Picking up a newspaper, Nic went and sat down on the lobby couch. "Give us a chance to get to Germany."

"So does that mean, you all will be leaving soon?" Sitting on the counter, playing an electronic video game, Gunn asked this hopefully. Wary of Angel ever since his behavior had become darker, he figured that the sooner the whole vampire clan left LA the better for everyone involved.

"We'll leave as soon as I know for sure that William is cured completely. Wesley. . . ." Addressing his ex-employee, Angel was still worrying about his youngest. "William needs another dose of medicine. He's still in pain. Do you have any more made up?"

"Actually. . .no." Slightly baffled, Wesley gave Angel a funny look. "What makes you think he's in need of more medication? When we examined him earlier, we found that his body was once again healing at a vampiric rate. So I did tests on his blood like you requested and found no trace of the poisons. I think he's recovering and. . . ."

"He's not right." Angel interrupted. "Your tests must have given a false reading. He's still ill. He's not eating, and he sleeps all the time."

"Angel, have you considered. . . ?" Wesley paused a moment, recalling Sunnydale. Remembering them all standing around in shock, staring at a very dead Slayer. "Have you considered that perhaps he's like this, not because of a physical problem, but an emotional one?"

"An emotional one!" Repeating Wesley's words with a growl, Angel stopped himself from grabbing the Englishman by the front of the shirt. "Just what are you saying?"

"He's saying. . . ." Never afraid to speak her mind, Cordelia jumped in to support Wesley.

"That Spike is depressed. And considering he's *your* son, that shouldn't surprise anyone."

"That's ridiculous!" Folding his arms across his chest, Angel dismissed Cordelia's words. "First of all, we were victorious. Why would he be depressed about that? And second of all, vampires do not suffer from depression."

"Uh huh." Skepticism evident in the young woman's voice. "From the vampire who's moped around for more than one hundred years now."

"Angel, back in Sunnydale, Spike was most certainly. . . ." Wesley searched for the right word, as he again remembered the scene where they had stood around the body of the dead Slayer.

In life Buffy had had an enormous physical presence, making one forget how tiny she really was. But in death, her smallness struck them all like a lash in the face. So slight. So delicate. So dead.

There had been some tears. Willow had cried. Dawn had cried. But most of them had just stood there, eyes dry, faces frozen. All except Spike. The supposedly soulless demon, his own body injured with bones and ribs broken, had sobbed uncontrollably, without shame. It was a sight that Wesley would never forget, sparking compassion and empathy for the vampire.

"He was certainly devastated by Buffy's death. Almost heartbroken."

"Okay Wesley, here's where I have to stop backing you up." Cordelia spoke up again. "Buffy and Spike hated each other. Why would her death devastate him? If anyone should be heartbroken, it should be. . . ." She looked pointedly at Angel.

"I believe Buffy and William had buried the hatchet. . .somewhat." Trailing off lamely, Angel was once again aware that he was ignorant of his Childer's thoughts and emotions.

"Did they perhaps have feelings for each other?" Wesley asked an innocent enough question, but it provoked an angry reaction from Angel.

Frustrated and humiliated because he once again was being reminded of what Giles had told him, 'you're totally ignorant of what your Childer are up to.' Growling, he turned around, kicking a chair, so it went sliding across the floor. "I DON'T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS! It's not possible! Not him too!"

The room's occupants eyed him warily. The three humans with doubts about his souled state watched him suspiciously. And Nic was apprehensive because he knew that souled, unsouled, or weaker soul, it didn't matter. Angel had a notoriously bad temper.

The tension was broken almost immediately as a newcomer entered the hotel through the front entrance.

"Am I happy to see you. You're still a knight for hire, right?" The Host addressed Angel. "Well, I'm hiring. I need you to kill something. I suppose you want the particulars, so here they are; it's called a Drokken."

"Drokken?" Wesley repeated the name, trying to remember if he had ever read anything about such a creature.

"Don't strain yourself." The Anagogic demon waved his hand dismissively. "You won't find it in your books. It's not from any world you've ever heard of."

"Lorne." Temper now under control, Angel appeared calm. "I can't help you now. I've got one Childe who has a death warrant out on him and another who won't get out of bed." Pausing a moment as a thought struck him. "Wait a minute, you can help. You can read my son's aura and find out what's bothering him."

"He's not depressed again?" The Host asked Angel which elicited a triumphant 'hah' from Cordelia. "Or is he still depressed? I swear, you and your family must have huge psychiatric bills. . .Anyway, I'll help you with your Childe, but first how about a little payment up front, in the form of killing a Drokken demon."

"If this demon is from another world, how did it get here?" Arms folded across his chest, Angel mentally went through the minions who were still left, deciding who he could spare and who would be competent enough to kill the Host's demon.

"Through a portal." Lorne answered which brought Wesley's head up sharply.

"Did you say a portal?"

"Yeah, right in the middle of my Stevie Wonder tune. Totally threw me off, and you know how I hate to disappoint an audience."

"And this happened. . . ." Wesley stared intently at the Host. "Last night, or the night before?"

"Last night. The night before. Who cares? It trashed my club, my clientele."

"Could be an after affect from Glory starting the ritual." Concerned, Wesley looked over at Angel. "Poked holes, or portals in the dimensional walls. We need to check this out."

"I can't leave my Childer, and I don't think that Nic here. . . ." Angel glanced at his brother. "Is in any shape to help kill a demon. I'll send a band of my most competent minions."

Wesley, Gunn, and Cordelia all exchanged looks. They were not thrilled about having a group of unknown vampires backing them up. "Perhaps. . . ." Wesley spoke quietly. "We should do this on our own."

"Ahh, not sure that's a good idea." Lorne interjected. "The Drokken is not a nice fellow. Bad, bad beast. Did I mention the teeth? Anyhoo, muscle is needed here, and the more the better."

"They'll have strict instructions from me that. . . ."

"I don't care if you tattoo the instructions on their foreheads." An untrusting Gunn interrupted Angel. "I'm not gonna be relying on some strange vamps to watch my back!"

At an impasse, the group stared at each other for some moments when suddenly Cordelia's head flashed with pain as a vision struck her. Standing next to her, Wesley grabbed her arm to steady her. "What are you seeing?"

"A woman. At the public library. I think she works there. She was reading a book. . .and there was an opening behind her. Something magical. . .a portal."

"There's our connection." Wesley still held Cordelia by her elbow. "We better get to the library." Scanning the other people, he silently asked for a solution they could all live with.

"Angelus." Rising up from the couch, Nic spoke up. "Why don't you go with them? They know you. I'll double the minions on guard here, and keep an eye on your Childer. You should be back by dawn, shouldn't you?"

"Do this for me, big guy." Lorne added his pleas. "And afterward, I promise you that I'll read your Childe forward and backward, and then, if necessary, help straighten him out like I did last December."

Hating to leave his Childer, Angel considered all the dangers. "Wesley, you did say that the Ventrues and the Council are locked in combat, so neither one of them would be in any position to come after us right?"

"Yes, that was the report that Giles just got from the Council today."

"And Snow's out of the picture." Angel ticked off another enemy. "Which only leaves some possible bounty hunters. And you. . . ." He turned to Nic. "And the minions could take any freelance demon hunters."

"You've made me your Childer's Sponsor. My duty is to protect them, and believe me when I say to you I *won't* let you down."

"I believe you." Angel rested a hand on his brother's shoulder a moment, as he started to follow the humans and the Host out of the hotel. "You haven't let me down yet. Take care of my Childer, and I'll be back as soon as I can."

**

Warming up a mug full of Angel's blood, Nic headed for his nephew's room. On the way, he bumped into Djoser. "Come help me feed your brother. He's not eating, so I'm determined to get this blood in him. If need be, you can pin him down, and I'll hold his nose and pour it down him."

"And my Sire?" Djoser asked as the two vampires entered into the bedroom.

"He went with the humans and some green thing with horns. Going to hunt and kill a. . .what the fuck did they call it. . .Drokken demon."

Sitting up at his Nic and Djoser's entrance, Spike heard the conversation. "Where'd my Sire go?" Even though talking to Angel about his fears and doubts was out of the question, he still wanted his Sire close by. His Father's presence was the only thing that gave him some comfort and reassurance.

"To help some green demon. Think his name is Lorne." Walking up to the bed, Nic held up the coffee mug. "Your Sire's blood. I want you to eat. Now, will you be a good boy and drink, or do we have to hold you down and. . . ?"

"Give it to me." Spike held his hand out. "And did my Sire say when he'll be back?"

"For sure before dawn. But one measly demon against Angelus, backed by commando Wesley and company, I'm guessing a couple of hours at most."

"Gonna get up then." Scooting out of the bed, the mug in Spike's hand jostled, spilling drops of blood on the sheets.

"Good!" Nic was happy to see his nephew at least awake for a short time. "But don't think you're going anywhere. Both of you. . . ." He gave Djoser a stern glare. "You're to stay here in the lair."

"Not going to go anywhere." Spike took a sip of blood to appease Nic. "Gonna take a shower and then wait for my Sire to come home."

"Well. . .good." Taken aback by his nephew's docility, Nic couldn't decide if this was a trick or a miracle. "About time you got up. . .and while you're at it, why don't you change the bed sheets you just slopped on?"

Ignoring his uncle's last suggestion, Spike jumped into the shower. Changing into clean clothes, he went down into the hotel lobby. Sitting on the couch, glass jar clutched against his chest, the youngest Blood-Childe of Angelus waited for his Father to come home.

~Part: 35~

Germany, 1885

Damon, the fourth Blood-Childe of Heinrich Nest, stood off to the side watching the proceedings. Lower in rank than his three older brothers, Luc, Angelus, and Anton, he did not command the attention they did so often his presence went unnoticed.

At times, the vampire found this to be advantageous. He was like a fly on the wall, hearing and seeing things, filing information away, remembering. Known for his brutality and strength, no one really suspected that underneath his muscular body was a very sharp, intelligent mind.

He watched with interest as his Sire, and the consort, Darla questioned the newest Bloodline vampire of the Clan, William. The new Childe was a beauty. Unfortunately, there was an air of 'wrongness' about him. The scent of humanity was obvious, and Damon knew that both the Master and the consort had smelled it.

"So tell me." Heinrich Nest studied the young vampire in front of him. He could hardly believe that this undersized, scrawny looking creature was the product of his favorite, the physically imposing Angelus. "No vampire in this Clan or any other has been able to match your Sire in viciousness. He is a legend with our people. No one can torture a victim like he can. So Childe, what talents or skills have you inherited from your Sire? Tell us about a particularly sadistic kill you've had."

Frightened and intimidated by the High Master and the crowd of people watching, William had no idea how to answer. He had never tortured anyone, and although basic instinct told him to lie, his mind was a blank.

Walking around the new Childe, a jealous Darla inspected him carefully. Seeing and smelling fear, she guessed his 'truth'. "You've never tortured anyone, have you, boy? Just how many kills have you made?"

Sighing to himself, Damon quietly and unobtrusively made his exit through a side door. He could see the handwriting on the wall for young William. The Master did not tolerate weakness, or any kind of humanity in his blood offspring, especially after the huge fiasco with Nic, his younger brother.

Stopping a moment, Damon debated whether he should head for the vestibule and have a word with Angelus, when a minion hurriedly came through the door. "The Master has called for the executioner." He announced to those present.

Hands in trouser pockets, Damon watched the minion rush to find the vampire who carried out the Clan's official death sentences. Eyes bleak, he showed no emotion, but inside his stomach churned. He knew that his Sire had been merciful to Nic by just ostracizing him, but would now take out his frustration and rage against the new Childe. And his brother Angelus would allow it because he was in line to be named Successor, and would certainly do nothing to jeopardize that position.

Not knowing William, but still pitying him, Damon turned to leave. He didn't want to watch his Sire put to death his own blood because deep down he knew that it was fundamentally wrong. "My Father just doesn't understand." He muttered to himself as he exited the lair.

Even though his mother had been human, Damon was still a favorite of Heinrich Nest, and despite his misgivings, he was deeply loyal to his Sire. So loyal that the thought of objecting or questioning his Father never crossed his mind.

**

Angel and company had successfully slain the Drokken with the help of Lorne's cousin, Landok. The Anagogic demon had made a surprise appearance in the library, courtesy of an unknowing Cordelia who had accidentally opened up another portal. While battling, Landok was bitten by the Drokken; a bite that was fatal unless he was sent back to his home world for an antidote.

"We need to get him back where we know a portal exits." Sitting in the front of the car between Angel and Wesley, Cordelia thought back to her vision, remembering the details.

"We could go back to the library, but since it's closed, I'm thinking that the Caritas would be our best bet."

"So we get him back to a portal, and then what?" Making a sharp u-turn, Angel couldn't keep the edginess out of his voice. He just wanted to get back to the hotel and check on his Childer.

"He needs to read from the book. The portal will then send him back." Her vision and intuition had given Cordelia the answer as to how to send Landok back to his home dimension.

"You're sure about this?" Wesley asked doubtfully.

"My vision was telling me that that's what happened to that girl Fred. The portals works both ways."

Pulling up to the Caritas, Angel had no intention of getting out. "I'm going back to the Hyperion. You guys can figure out how to send. . . ." He glanced at the Anagogic demon who was getting out of his car. "Landok back."

"Angel, just a few minutes longer." Wesley still had his doubts and wanted the reassurance of the vampire's presence. "We might need you yet. What if when we open the portal, instead of sending Landok back, it sends something here again. Hopefully not, but stay just in case. This shouldn't take too."

Sighing, Angel reluctantly got out of his car. Walking around, he grabbed Landok's arm, and helped the Host guide his cousin into the Caritas.

Entering, Lorne gestured with one hand toward the club's stage. "There. Up on the stage. There's where the portal opened, and the Drokken came through. Talk about upstaging me."

"Get him up on the stage then." Cordelia ordered as she handed the book from the library to the Anagogic demon. "Just read out loud from it, and you'll be home before you can click your heels three times." She crossed her fingers. "Well, that's the theory anyway."

"To defeat the Drokken, you must be a great and noble warrior." Making his farewells, Landok addressed Angel, respect plainly written on his face. Then he turned to Lorne. "Goodbye, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan. I feel we will meet again some day."

"Oh, god. I hope not." The Host was horrified at that thought.

Opening the book, the Anagogic demon began reading. Moments passed. The ground began to shake, a bright light appeared, and a gust of wind blew through the room.

Briefly blinded by the intense light, Angel felt a sense of nothingness and then a sense of falling. A moment of unconsciousness and then opening his eyes, he found himself lying in a patch of sunlight on the ground. "Goddamn it!" Jumping up, he scrambled for cover. "The sun!" Yelling over to a confused Wesley. "Wes, I need a blanket or something. . . ." Stopping as he realized that he wasn't bursting into flame. "Why am I not on fire?"

"Well. . .I. . .the sun." The ex-Watcher looked up into the sky. "Or suns. We must be. . . ." He looked wildly around. "We must be. . . ."

"In home sweet hell, gentlemen." The Host interrupted him. "Welcome to my world. Welcome to Pylea."

**

"Fucking Angelus! The next time I see him, I'm going to rip out his insides and boil them in holy water." Two days had passed since Angel had left to help kill the Drokken demon. Two days of wondering and worrying had Nic beside himself with anger. "Well. . . ?" He looked over at the scouts who had just come back. "Did you find that motherfucker? Did you find our esteemed *High Master*?"

"My Liege." The elder of the scouts stepped closer to Nic. "We tracked their scents to a warehouse, and then it appears that. . . ."

"Appears!" Grabbing the minion by the throat, Nic was so wishing he were Angel. "I don't want to hear your guesses. I want facts!"

"We then tracked them to a nightclub. It was closed and empty. And from there, the scents just ended." Now on his knees, a strong hand wrapped around his throat, the scout managed to gasp this out. A Bloodline vampire, Nic was stronger, faster, and deadlier than any common vampire.

The famous Tremeren temper, Nic had inherited it as well. "Ended? That's fucking impossible. If they weren't in the club, then. . . ."

"He's gone, uncle." Lying on the hotel's front desk, Spike had been camped out in the lobby since he had begun his vigil for Angel. "The scouts are right. My Sire has disappeared again." He said the words softly, with a quiet despair.

"What do you mean, William?" Letting go of the minion, Nic stepped closer to his nephew.

"I can't feel him." His voice was now a whisper. "He's gone. Just like. . .Romania." He clasped the glass jar that he had been holding against his chest tighter. "Right, Djoser? You can't feel him either, can you?"

Looking over at his other nephew who had stepped up to the front desk, Nic nodded head, signaling for an explanation.

"No, I can't feel him either." The dark vampire admitted as he gently took his brother's hand in his. A small gesture that comforted and reassured.

By exchanging and sharing blood vampires forged a bond with each other. A blood bond, stronger than any chain made by man or magic. But somehow the blood connection with their Sire had been severed.

"Jesus fucking Christ. Don't tell me that some gypsies cursed him again." Shaking his head, Nic couldn't believe his bad luck. Newly named sponsor to the two Heir Apparents, and Angelus decided to pull his famous disappearing act. "Son-of-a-bitch never could follow through on his responsibilities." Cursing his brother again, the vampire gathered his thoughts. In a moment of weakness his inner demon whispered in his ear. "Leave them. Go back to Mexico. To your businesses. To your mistress. After all they're not your Childer."

Sensing these thoughts, Spike raised his head up to look at his uncle. And it was his face that vanquished Nic's inner temptation. Face so young looking, so beautiful, but eyes haunted, giving the impression of an ancient weariness.

"Listen." Nic tried to speak with a confident tone. "I've got a plan. We get our asses on the first flight to Germany. We'll go to the lair and Damon. You'll both be safe there, and then I'll. . . ."

"We're not going to go to Germany." Djoser interrupted him.

"Oh, Christ." Looking up at the ceiling, Nic could feel an argument coming on.

"Djoser. . . ." He spoke slowly. "The plan all along was to go to Germany. Angelus was just waiting for William to be cured of the poisons. Now. . . ."

"My Sire is gone. . .or possibly dead." Djoser interrupted again. "That makes me the Master, and I'm telling you that we're *not* going to Germany."

"Why not?" Despite his hopelessness, Spike couldn't help but be curious. "Our

Fath. . .*He* told me that the lair in Germany was better than any fortress. We'd be safe there. And we also would be reunited with our uncle and. . . ."

"William, you can't trust Damon anymore." Voice matter-of-fact, Djoser squeezed his brother's slim hand. "We're on our own again. We'll send his minions back, and. . . ."

"DJOSER!" Nic took a threatening step toward his nephew. "Stop your bullshit right now! You're scaring William. Damon is your blood uncle. He's your Elder, and being such, he'll be the Clan's regent, until you're ready."

"He'll want us out of the way." Looking up, Djoser's expression was harsh, but determined. "With us out of the way, he can take over as High Master. He's the eldest surviving Blood-Childe of the Old Master. He now has a Blood-Childe of his own. Those two factors would make him the logical choice of many to be the next High Master. The only stumbling block he has is. . . ." The warrior vampire looked down at his brother. "Us."

"Oh, for christ's sake!" Nic swore loudly. "Were you reading King Richard the Third last night, and now you think we're all in a Shakespearean play? Damon is the evil Richard the Third, and you and William are the poor orphaned nephews. Get a fucking grip!"

"Damon is not on our side." Djoser argued. "When my Sire rebelled against the Old Master, he fought against us."

Memory dulled by time, Djoser erroneously remembered Damon fighting against them. He knew for a fact that his uncle had not fought with them, so his natural conclusion was that his uncle had sided with the Old Master. So convinced of that fact, the warrior vampire actually had false memories of Damon fighting against them. And Nic, who had been living an ocean away during Angelus' revolt, knew nothing to the contrary.

"Goddamn-son-of-a-bitch! I need a fucking drink." Turning around, Nic saw the scouts watching them with interest. "Get down in the sewers! You can help stand guard." He ordered them away, angry that he had allowed minions to witness them arguing.

Bowing their heads, the scouts began to back away, but did not make it very far as at that moment, a hundred or more vampires came swarming into the Hyperion. They attacked through the front door and the sewers, dusting all the minions in their path.

"Fuck!" Nic leaped to Angel's weapon cabinet with Djoser and Spike right behind him. Pulling out a sword, he faced down the enemy, standing protectively in front of his nephews.

Dusting the scouts, the vampires closed around Nic, Djoser, and Spike, but did not attack. Blocked in, the three looked wildly around, trying to find any kind of an escape. Then the sea of vampires in front of them parted, and a tall, elegant figure walked toward them. It was Judelin, the Ventrue High Master.

**

"IN PYLEA!" Hands resting on his knees, Gunn was standing doubled over. He was too shaky to do otherwise. "Your world! So what the fuck just happened to us?"

"We must have gotten sucked through the portal along with. . . with. . . ." Gathering his wits, Wesley looked around for Landok. "Where's your cousin?" He asked Lorne as he took notice of those present. "And CORDELIA? WHERE'S CORDELIA?" Panic filled him as he began to scramble around, searching madly for the missing woman.

Sniffing the air, Angel tried to catch Cordelia's scent, but only came up with traces of the two male humans and the Anagogic demon. "She's not anywhere in this area. She must have come through the portal and landed somewhere else."

"Somewhere else where? The other side of the planet. . .err, this is a planet, right?" Gunn looked questioningly over at Lorne.

"Yeah." The Host was looking distractedly around. "I just hope that she's with Landok because Plyea is no place for a. . . ."

"No place for a what?" Wesley was staring intently at Lorne, sensing that the demon was holding something back.

"No place for anyone who looks. . .human. Now, I'm going to optimistically assume that Cordelia and Landok came through the portal together. He'll go to the family home, so all we need to do is head there."

Angel, Gunn, and Wesley all exchanged looks. "I can't stay here." Angel stated to the three other men. "I must get back to my Childer. We still have too many enemies, and they need my protection."

"Believe me, big guy." Checking his surroundings, Lorne got his bearings and began walking in the direction of town. "I have no desire to spend one minute more in this godforsaken place than I have to. The sooner we all leave the better. Landok was reading the book when the portal was opened, so he must still have it. We'll find him, Cordelia, and the *book*, and be back in LA for evening cocktails. Anyone got any objections to that plan?"

**

"Listen Jude. . .err. . .Ventrue High Master. . .err." Holding his sword in front of him, Nic tried to remember the proper address for a Clan High Master. "I was the one who committed treason against you and your. . .mighty. . . ." He figured that a little flattery wouldn't hurt his cause. "Clan. My nephews here had nothing to do with it, so take me and let them go."

"I know who you are." Judelin eyed Nic with interest. "The disgraced youngest Blood-Childe of Heinrich Nest. We have never met, so I will forgive you your ignorance. . .but just this one time." Stepping forward, the Master vampire's objective was to disarm, but Nic read his intent and swung the sword, aiming for the other vampire's neck. The sword hit its target, but instead of slicing through skin and flesh, the blade just broke in half.

"What the fuck?" Nic watched in disbelief as the piece of metal clanged to the floor. "What kind of tinker toy weapons does Angelus keep here?"

"As I was saying. . . ." Judelin seized Nic by the throat. "You do not know me, so you do not know how much I *hate* liars." With no effort at all, the master vampire threw Nic across the room like he was a rag doll. "I will not kill you, just break all the bones in your body."

Hitting the wall with a tremendous force, Nic was immediately knocked unconscious. Pushing Spike behind him, Djoser now faced down the Ventrue Master. "We are the Blood-Childer of Angelus. By attacking us, you will have declared war against our Clan, against our Sire." He bluffed. "Angelus, High Master of the Tremeren Clan, Scourge of Europe will. . . ."

"Funny thing." Judelin grabbed Djoser by the front of his shirt. "I have been here for a good while, and I have not caught one glimpse of your Sire. Which can only lead me to believe that he does not care enough for his brother or Childer to risk himself. But as far as declaring war. . . ." Tightening his grip on Djoser, he showed his demon countenance. "You, Childe have already declared war on us."

****

Author's Notes: Elisabeth sent this part back to me with some big question marks, so I'm just going to do a short recap to clarify for anyone who like her, lost this thread of the plot.

Summary: After Djoser had been sent to the Ventrues he collaborated with the Toreadors to take one of the Ventrue Blood-Childer hostage. The Toreadors did this in retaliation to the Ventrues aggressively taking over the other vampire clans. In return for Djoser's help, the Toreadors gave him information on the Council's poisons. Because of Djoser and the Toreadors, Judelin's GrandChilde ended up in the hands of the Council and was poisoned. Enraged, Judelin put out a death warrant on Djoser and then took over the Toreador Clan, killing their High Master, Abenrey.

Warning: Description of torture.

~Part: 36~

"Father. . . ." The vampire's voice broke as he looked away from the figure who lay before him. A blackened, skeletal shape. His Childe. His Heir. His beloved son.

"Go, my Childe." Judelin, High Master of the Ventrue Clan, placed reassuring hands on the vampire's shoulders. "I will take care of. . .everything. Go and grieve in private and be comforted by the fact that our enemies are now paying the price for their treacherous act."

Hearing the voices, Spike struggled to consciousness. His head pounded, and his mouth felt like he had gargled with sand. Prying his eyes open, he found himself shackled to the floor by long chains. Trapped, his instinct for survival kicked in. Senses alert, he began ascertaining the situation as his eyes took in the Ventrue Master, the exiting vampire, and. . . Djoser. The sight of his brother pinned by hundreds of metal skewers to two wooden planks in the shape of an X, brought him to his feet in shock. "Djoser." He whispered in a strangled voice.

"A just punishment. . . ." Turning to Spike, the formidable Ventrue Master addressed him while motioning to the blackened, poisoned form of his GrandChilde. "For his crime."

"My Lord!" Falling to his knees, Spike couldn't decide which sight was worse, Djoser or the dying Ventrue vampire. "This is my fault. My brother was only trying to help me." Voice falling to a whisper. "I. . .we never meant for anyone from your Clan or family to be hurt."

Attitude softening slightly as the master vampire sensed that Spike was telling the truth. "I know that you, William, Blood-Childe of Angelus, are innocent of this transgression. You will be spared. *You* have nothing to worry about." Without another word, Judelin turned away and in a movement so swift that even Spike's vampiric sight couldn't track it, pulled out a stake and buried it in his dying GrandChilde's chest. "May the pain end for you now, my Childe." Watching the body dissolve, blood tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the dust of the now dead vampire.

Head sagging, Spike felt the master vampire's anguish and realized that although the Ventrues were their rivals, they were not the 'evil enemy.' They had lost and suffered as much as the Tremerens. Tears ran down his face as he looked at his tortured brother and the grieving Ventrue Master. There would be no winner in this fight, only losers.

Noticing the tears, the Ventrue Master turned to Spike with curiosity. "Who are you crying for? Did I not tell you that you would be spared?"

"Please, my Lord." Spike raised his head but still stayed on his hands and knees. "Would you consider condemning me in place of my brother? Release Djoser. He's special, you know. Our people need him to continue our Bloodline. Take your revenge by killing me instead."

"You offer your life for your brother's?" Judelin was intrigued. "A Tremeren vampire is actually offering his life for that of his brother? In all my years, I have never witnessed such a loyal act from one of your Clan. Tell me, Childe, why would you make such a sacrifice?"

"I love him." No thinking was required as Spike simply answered the question truthfully.

Staring hard at Spike, Judelin could smell his sincerity but was still having a hard time believing it. "If I put your brother to death, then you would become your Father's Successor. Is that not what you want? You of the Tremeren Bloodline, who are known for your ambition and your thirst for power."

Fear for Djoser and fear for himself had put Spike on his best behavior as he tried to be reverent and speak formally, but that effort could only last so long with him. He still stayed on his knees, but to continue being so proper was not within his abilities. "Not this Tremeren, mate. And besides, not fit to be High Master. Constantly screwing up. Let the Slayer bounce an organ on my head. Let some military humans put a chip in my head, and then when I got them to take it out, they poisoned me. Can't depend on me to hold up my end in any kind of fight. . .and I'm flawed too." Adding this last part for good measure, he'd used every argument he could think of.

Judelin's first encounter with Spike at the Hyperion had left the elder vampire with the impression of an obnoxious, undisciplined youngest, which had only confirmed to him that the Childe was not worth saving. But now, the Ventrue Master was thrown. In all his years, he had never met anyone like Angelus' youngest. Staring down at the kneeling vampire, Judelin had to smile slightly. "So you say that you are imperfect. Inferior to your brother and your Sire."

"Right." Spike nodded with relief. The Old Fart was getting it. "My Father and my brother are a credit to the vampire race, but me. . .too human, not demon enough. My GrandSire knew it, and my Sire knows it."

Quietly contemplating, Judelin moved his fingers ever so slightly, signaling for his minions to unchain the prisoner.

Free from his manacles, Spike immediately raced over to Djoser and began removing the skewers from his brother's tortured body.

A large skewer had been shoved through the mouth, over the tongue and through the throat, preventing the warrior vampire from speaking. As soon as it was pulled out, he tried to gurgle out some orders to his younger brother. "Wi-il. . . ."

"Shh. Save your strength." Spike whispered. "I've got the situation under control."

"Wil-l. . . ." Finally gasping out his brother's name, Djoser found that if he reverted back to that nasty human habit of breathing, he could make his voice work again. "Will, stop!" Arms still pinned down, he jerked them both up, letting the skewers pass through them. Looking over at the Venture Master, he addressed him. "My brother had nothing to do with the treason that was committed against you and your Clan. Let him go. Take him back to my uncle. Nic will find a way to take care of him."

"You also plead for your brother's life?" Judelin's brilliant eyes studied the two Tremeren vampires. "How is this possible? Your Sire would have gladly offered up the heads of his brothers, if given the opportunity. Less competition for him."

Still working on the skewers, Spike stopped for a moment. "Our Father doesn't want Damon and Nic dead, does he?" He asked Djoser in a low, confused voice.

"He's not referring to Damon and Nic. He's talking about Luc and Anton, our Sire's full-blooded brothers. Years ago, the three of them battled over who would be the Old Master's Successor."

"Need to draw me a bloody family tree sometime." Spike grumbled. "I can never keep them all straight."

Listening to the conversation, the Ventrue Master had to laugh. "Did your Sire not teach you about your Bloodline, Childe? Angelus was certainly remiss in your upbringing."

"He tried to teach me." Turning his head, Spike answered the Ventrue while pulling out a particularly big skewer that had been lodged through Djoser's intestines. "I just never listened."

"What a remarkable Childe you are." Judelin was now eyeing Spike with interest. "A Tremeren Heir Apparent who has no desire to become the Successor and loves his brother to the point that he would sacrifice his own life. You are more of a credit to the vampire race than Angelus ever was."

The Ventrue Master's surprising words made Spike pause for a minute in shock. That anyone would think he was superior to Angel in any way was laughable. "Right, mate." Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulled the last of the skewers out of Djoser and began licking his brother's wounds.

Watching the two siblings, Judelin came to a decision. "I will spare your brother, William, Blood-Childe of Angelus, but with a condition."

Turning his head to look at the master vampire, Spike answered him quickly. "Name it, and it's done. I'll die for him."

"William!" Djoser hissed a warning wishing he could use a little force with his brother to shut him up, but so weakened he was just having trouble standing.

Unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a hard, muscular chest, Judelin opened his arms. "Come to me, my Childe." Eyes mesmerizing, the tall, seductive vampire master beckoned to Spike, who showed no reservations about obeying. Taking a step before a bloody hand grabbed him.

"William, no!" Djoser moved to stop his brother but was easily pulled back by Ventrue minions.

Strong arms wrapped around him, and Spike found himself drawn in and taken over by the Ventrue Master. Clothes removed, his cool body was pressed up against a large body not unlike his Sire's, except the scent was different. It was all wrong. A sharp sting on his neck, and he felt his life's blood being drawn out of him.

**

Wrists shackled together and surrounded by armed guards, Angel realized that it was now or never. A risk had to be taken. "We're getting out of here." He whispered grimly to his three companions.

After making their way to the Host's family homestead, Angel and company had found Landok but no Cordelia and no book! Continuing their search, the four men had an unfortunate run-in with the local authorities. Taken prisoners, they were incarcerated for a time and were now being brought before the ruler of Pylea to face a sentence of death.

"Follow my lead." Angel then turned and slammed his manacled fists into a guard's stomach. Wesley, Gunn, and Lorne also attacked, but before the brawl could get ugly, they were interrupted.

"Ahem." Sitting on a throne, Cordelia, resplendent in jewels, crown, and a shimmering outfit cleared her throat loudly. When four sets of eyes turned her way, she smiled broadly in greeting. "Hi, guys."

**

"So what happened to you?" Speaking freely now that Cordelia had dismissed the Pyleans, Angel stared at the young woman while the other three men were busy cramming food into their mouths.

"What's it look like? They jabbed me with hot pokers for a while and then. . . ." Cordelia walked over to a full-length mirror and began preening. "Made me a princess."

Speaking with his mouth full, Wesley was thoughtful. "That doesn't make sense. I mean, in a world where humans are slaves and chattel, why would they elevate one to monarch?"

"You had a vision, didn't you, pudding?" Swallowing his food, Lorne looked over Plyea's new monarch. "That explains it."

"How so?" Gunn asked.

Done eating, Lorne sat himself down on Cordelia's throne while he proceeded to explain. "The ones in power here, the priests of the Covenant of Trombli, a humorless bunch, teach of a coming messiah. A cursed one. A being with the pure sight, who one day will claim the throne and restore the monarchy."

"You mean, they think she's. . . ." Gunn pointed to Cordelia. "The messiah?" Giving Cordy another look, the young man couldn't help but bust out in gales of laughter.

Glaring daggers at Gunn, Cordelia considered going over and punching her co-worker in the stomach. It's hard to laugh when you're doubled over in pain. "Hey, laughing boy, I'd make a damn good messiah, and you never know, it could happen."

"It has happened." Wesley interjected. "At least that's what these Trombli believe. And so long as they do, we might actually stand a chance of surviving this place long enough to find our way out."

"And that's what we need to do. . .*now*." Finally joining in the conversation, Angel had been quietly brooding. He couldn't feel his Childer. While his blood bond with them had been broken when he had been sucked into the portal, an uneasy gnawing was burning in his stomach. Even being in another dimension couldn't break his parental bond. He knew that something was terribly wrong. "I can't FUCKING stay here anymore." Picking up a decorative pot, he threw it against the wall.

"Hey!" Walking over to Angel, Cordy grabbed the second pot he had picked up. "Stop breaking the 'princess's treasures. And I can see that a certain vampire is still walking around in a foul mood."

"MY CHILDER! My Childer are in trouble and I need to get to them." Voice now raised, he looked around at the people in the room. People who he had helped. "Don't any of you understand or care?"

"We do care, Angel." Speaking quietly, Wesley hoped to calm the vampire. "I want to get you. . .us back as soon as possible, but I'm missing both a book and a portal."

"I can't help with the portals, but. . . ." Cordelia chimed in. Her conscience had been pricked by Angel's words. "They've got books here. Those trombonal guys? They used some when they swore me in."

"I've got to see those books. Angel. . . ." Wesley decided that giving the vampire a task would help keep his mind off worrying. "While I, with Cordy and Gunn's help, search for the proper incantation, it might save time if you and Lorne hit the streets and see if you can document any portal activity. Go see his cousin Landok again. Speak to his family."

"Whoa, whoa, back up the bus. You want me to talk to my family. . .AGAIN? On PURPOSE?" Lorne's recent meeting with his mother and family was still giving him indigestion.

"Well, it's that, or face the possibility of *never* returning to our own dimension again." Wesley explained patiently.

Reluctantly standing up, the Anagogic demon sighed heavily. "Alright. Come on, crabbycakes." He grabbed Angel's arm to pull him along. "Ironic, isn't it? I'd give my left horn never to see my family again, but I'm forced to. While you, on-the-other-hand, would give your left fang to be with your family, and you can't. Life's just a bitch even for us demons, isn't it?"

**

Drowning another mug of blood, Nic was determined to speed up his healing process, even though his stomach rumbled uncomfortably. It felt sick, not hungry, and was sending him that message loud and clear.

"Ok, this is what I need you to do." He stared at the last two remaining Tremeren minions. They had escaped the fate of their comrades because they had not been at the Hyperion when the Ventrues stormed the hotel. "One of you needs to go to Germany, pronto. Do either one of you speak German, or are familiar with the country?"

The two minions exchanged looks, and then one slowly raised his hand. "My Liege. I took two years of German in High School."

"You took German in High School!" Repeating the minion's words with annoyance, Nic's first reaction was to throw something, but remembering that was Angel's habit, he instead took a deep, unnecessary breath. "The fucking fate of our Bloodline rests with a minion who took German in fucking High School." He muttered angrily to himself while taking another gulp of blood. "Just how fucking old are you two?"

Exchanging looks again, the minions felt their superior's anger. "We were both turned more than two years ago when our master. . . ."

"Never fucking mind!" Nic interrupted him crossly. "I'm going to send you to Germany. Once there, do you think that you just might be able to find our lair and give my brother Damon a message?"

"Sir." The minion stood up straighter. "My master trained us all in tracking. Once in Germany, I will have no problem in finding him and the lair."

"Thank the gods that Damon trained his minions well." Nic now eyed the two lower vampires with appreciation. "Good. Here's a credit card. Call the airlines and find out when the first available flight to Germany is and reserve a ticket. Don't suppose you have a passport? I've got some fake passports, but we'd have to doctor the picture. . . ."

"Sir, I have a passport."

"Fucking A! The first fucking break I've had." Just when Nic thought he surely must be cursed by the gods, a small bit of good fortune fell on him. "Get on the phone to the airlines now, then go pack a bag." He ordered the minion. "And when you arrive in Germany, locate Damon and tell him that our High Master is missing and that the two Heir Apparents have been taken by the Ventrues. Not that he's going to be able to get here soon enough to do anything about it." The last part was mumbled softly.

Kneeling briefly, the vampire took the credit card and went and sat at Cordelia's desk to call the airlines.

"Now you." Nic addressed the second minion as he finished off the last of the blood he had been drinking. "You're going to help me recruit some demons. We're going to build an army and fast. Comprendes?"

The young vampire had no idea what Nic was talking about, but still nodded his head in agreement and awaited his next orders.

**

Pacing the floor, Barshon, the red-robed priest of the Covenant of Trombli was not pleased with their current situation. Stopping his pacing, he turned to address his leader, a red-faced demon. "Silas, to allow her to wear the crown is a sacrilege!"

"She is cursed. She has the sight. We all agreed."

"Not all. . .why would the powers choose as their vessel this craven beast?"

"It doesn't matter why. She is our sovereign now and no harm must come to her. At least not until after the Com-shuk."

Resuming his pacing, Barshon continued his grumbling. "That traitor, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan, and one of the princess' cow friends left the palace a short time ago."

"Really?" Hearing that news, Silas was thoughtful. "How interesting. I think that it's time for us to make a statement. A strong statement so she might never forget who is the master here and who is the servant. Tell the guards to find those two friends of hers and kill them. And Barshon. . . ." Silas stopped the other priest as he headed for the door. "If the guards see an opportunity to take the heads of the two cow friends who are still here in the palace, tell them to take it."

"Should I send the guards to the throne room?"

"No, don't kill them in front of the princess. The Groosalug has been summoned and will arrive before nightfall. Let's not upset her before the com-shuk. After the

com-shuk. . .well, if they all still live, then we show her the heads of her cow friends before we take hers."

**

"Guess every family has its problems." Angel couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for the Anagogic demon as the two made their way through the countryside. A second visit to the Host's mother had resulted in a second dance of shame, a second spitting upon, and a second 'May you rot in Tarkna.' "At least we got a lead from Landok on where there might be another portal."

"Family!" Lorne couldn't help but say this with some bitterness as he stopped to look around. "What's the saying, 'you can pick your friends, not your family'."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I've spent a good part of my existence trying to kill most of my family. And even my beloved Childer, I've abused, ignored, and abandoned."

"Yeah, I guess it could be worse. . . ." Lorne studied the landscape, trying to spot the area where Landok had said he had fallen through the portal. "I could be related to *you*. Now I think that. . . ." Breaking off as a young woman, fleeing at top speed came into view, with soldiers on horseback right on her heels. "Oh boy, soldiers. That's not good."

"What? They're chasing that girl. They're not interested in us. Now. . . ." Angel was unconcerned. "Your cousin said the portal was by two big boulders. There are two boulders over. . . ." Breaking off as the soldiers spotted them, stopped their chase of the woman, and turned their horses in the pair's direction.

"Did you just say they weren't interested in us?" Lorne looked around for a place to hide. "Because the aura that I'm reading is that they're very *interested* in us. So interested that I think they're planning to come our way." The Host got ready to run as the soldiers slowly began to advance on them.

"Don't worry." Grabbing the Anagogic demon, Angel stopped him as he allowed his demon side to emerge. "I'll take care of them. I've been waiting for an opportunity to take out my frustrations on someone."

"Did I say oh boy?" Lorne commented as he watched Angel walk in the direction of the soldiers. Angel's visage was that of no vampire but that of a pure bestial demon. "I meant to say OH CHRIST!"

****

Author's Note: If you're like Elisabeth, my beta reader for BL, you've forgotten exactly how Alex is related to Angel and Spike. For an explanation of who she and others are, please check out the new Bloodlines Glossary that I've just posted.

~Part: 37~

Finding an excuse to separate Cordelia from Wesley and Gunn, the priests of the Covenant of Trombli then attempted an assassination of the two men. Barely escaping the palace with their lives, the pair made their way through the countryside, looking for Angel and Lorne.

"So tell me again Englishman, what's the plan?"

"We find Angel and the Host, and then the four of us will sneak back into the palace, rescue Cordelia, and steal one of the priest's books. The book will then open a portal, and we can all go home. Shouldn't be too hard." Wesley tried to sound confident.

"Ah huh." Gunn was skeptical. "Not too hard at all, except we can't even find Angel and Lorne. In fact, the only thing we've managed to accomplish is getting ourselves lost."

"Nonsense." Wesley was adamant. "I've been following the sun. We're headed due west, back toward the village."

"Which one?"

"Which village? The one that's near Lorne's family. . . ."

"Which sun? There're two of them. Remember, alternate dimension." Interrupting, Gunn gave the ex-Watcher a contemptuous look. "Fuck Wes, I told you we were lost."

"Listen, this can't be that hard. We've both been. . . ." Breaking off as the sounds of screaming and the unmistakable voice of the Host yelling, reached their ears.

"Well, I think we accomplished step one of your plan." Gunn shouted to Wesley as the two men took off running in the direction of the noise. "I just hope those aren't the sounds of a vampire and an Anagogic demon dying."

**

"Jesus fucking Christ! This is the best you could get?" Broken leg now mended, Nic paced the hotel floor in front of the minion and the scraggly group of demons that had been recruited.

"Sir." The minion explained. "The Ventrues not only have the Watcher's Council on the run, but have taken over the Toreadores and the Malkavians. Judelin, their High Master, is on a rampage. Vampires, demons, humans. Everyone is terrified of him and his Clan now. No one wants to go up against them."

"That's just fucking great!" Falling down into a chair, Nic wondered if by now it was too late. Perhaps both his nephews were already dead. "And why are these. . . ." He nodded toward the recruits with curiosity. "Demons willing to fight against the Ventrues?"

"They're willing to do anything for a couple of bucks. Means a fix or two." The minion looked over the demons with hopelessness in his eyes. He too knew that they stood no chance of saving the Clan's Heir Apparents with this sorry group of recruits.

"Christ!" Nic contemplated for a moment. "Don't know if Djoser and William are even still alive, but if they are, then the only other option I have is to start calling in some markers. . . .Feed this bunch." He ordered the minion. "We'll keep them around for now. They're all we've got. In the meantime, I'll make some phone calls."

**

"Lorne!" Rushing up to the Anagogic demon, both Gunn and Wesley were happy to see him alive and well.

"What's up? And where's Angel. . .whoa!" Gunn couldn't help but take a few involuntary steps backward at the sight in front of him; a demon-beast tearing up the palace guards. "What the hell is that?"

"That's our vampire friend." The Host had been yelling and waving his arms at the bestial Angel. "He's lost all control. Worried about his Childer. I've been trying to bring him back to his senses."

"Why's he look like that?" Glancing down, Gunn noticed some small stones. Picking some up, he began throwing them at Angel, trying to get the vampire's attention.

"My guess is that Angel's vampire-self has been sublimated somehow by this dimension." Wesley observed thoughtfully as he surveyed the scene. "And who is that?" He asked noticing for the first time a young woman who stood frozen in fear behind a boulder.

"Probably a run away slave. Ahh Gunn. . . ." Lorne held up a finger. "I don't think you should be throwing things at Angel right now. He's not in the best of humor, and. . . . Breaking off as the vampire turned toward them. "As I was saying, I don't think he's going to appreciate stones being thrown at him. . . .You know I'm not liking the look he has in his eyes."

"Really?" Stopping his stone throwing, Gunn glared over at Lorne. "And what kind of look does his eyes have?"

" I read them to say that he's going to come over here and tear all our limbs off." Glancing around, the Anagogic demon readied himself to run.

"Angel! Can you hear me? Angel!" Grabbing a branch, Wesley held it in front of him, prepared to use it if needed.

"He can't hear you, Wes." Speaking slowly, Lorne couldn't believe the stupidity of his human companions. "That's one hundred per cent demon walking toward you. Tell me, do you want to tangle with Angelus' pure demon self?"

"He's got to snap out of it. We can't break into the palace without him." A resolute Wesley held his ground. "Angel! The priests have the books. The books we need to open a portal. Angel!"

Wesley's words caught both Angel's and the young woman's attention as both stared at the ex-Watcher.

Fighting for control of his demon side, Angel willed his human face to emerge as the young runaway slave crept closer, so she could hear what was being said. "Wesley." He growled. "You have to get me home *now*. My Childer need me!"

"In order to get our hands on the books, we'll probably have to fight the priests, their guards, and perhaps some creature called the Groosalug." Lowering the branch, the Englishman spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. "I believe, I don't need to ask if you feel up to that task."

"I'll tear out and feed them their own hearts." Still growling, Angel turned in the direction of the palace. "Just lead the way."

**

Locked up in small cell, Djoser sat desperate and alone, worrying about what else the Ventrue Master was doing to his brother. Frustration and anger welled up in him as he cursed Judelin, the Ventrues, the Watcher's Council, and especially his own Sire.

"He comes back, but does He care for William? NO! William has suffered more since His return." The warrior vampire mumbled angrily to himself as memories flashed through his head.

**

Germany, 1997

"Believe it or not, I do have some good news for you." Walking into the room, the vampiress, Alex studied her injured nephew. "I've managed to find William."

"Where?" Sitting up in bed, Djoser groaned, fairly sure that some of his insides just fell out.

"California."

"California!" Djoser couldn't help the exclamation. "Stupid shit couldn't run off somewhere close, like England. Had to go to the other side of the world." The dark vampire grumbled to himself. Pausing a moment, he closed his eyes. He was tired. Tired of chasing William and Drusilla through countless countries, trying to protect them. The last incident in Prague had been a close call. He and Ramose had just barely managed to keep the mob at bay, so William and Drusilla could escape.

"Damn! Ramose was seriously hurt in Prague. Don't know if he can travel just yet." Djoser opened his eyes to look at Alex, hoping that she would volunteer to go to California and watch over William, while he and Ramose recovered from their injuries. "So the good news is that you found William, and he's in California. Hope you've got even better news for me, like *you'll* go to California. . . ."

"Actually that wasn't the good news. The good news is that none of us has to run to California immediately." The vampiress interrupted him.

"What do you mean?" Straightening up, Djoser gave Alex an inquiring look.

"William's in Sunnydale, California. Why he went there is a mystery to us all, but he's there, and. . . ."

"Sunnydale!" Ignoring his pain, Djoser stood up as he eyed the vampiress guardedly. She had been working with him the last one hundred years, helping him with William. Even so, the warrior vampire found it hard to completely trust her. Point-in-fact, he didn't trust anyone other than his long-time companion Ramose. "That's where the Old Master had relocated."

"The Hellmouth." Alex shook her head. "The old fool thought he could open the Hellmouth and release the 'the Old Ones', but instead he only ended up trapping himself."

"But the Old Master is dead, isn't he? I've heard rumors that he was killed by the Slayer. " Walking around to the back of the vampiress, Djoser sniffed her suspiciously.

"Those weren't rumors. Those were facts." Not flinching, Alex stood tall under Djoser's scrutiny. "The Old Master was done in by the Slayer, and the Consort, Darla, was also killed. . . ." Turning to look at her nephew, the vampiress' eyes met his. "Killed by your Sire."

Even the stoic Djoser couldn't keep the surprise off his face. "My Father is back? He killed Darla? How. . . ?" He stared unbelievingly at Alex.

"Yes, your Sire has returned." The vampiress explained. "And judging by the fact that he finally managed to cut the last tie with Darla, I do believe that he has finally grown up. An adult Angelus, ready to live up to his responsibilities." She murmured the last sentence more to herself. "He'll hear about William being in Sunnydale and at long last take control of that Childe again. You can stop being William's guardian. Take Ramose and go back to your homeland. Both of you could use some time in your native soil. Rest, recuperate, and regain your strength because I'm sure that you'll be getting a summons shortly from your Sire to join him."

"My Sire is back. And he did away Darla." Djoser muttered this in wonderment as an unfamiliar feeling spread through him. A feeling of hope. Wounded and tired, the vampire took his aunt's advice. He returned to his homeland with a badly injured Ramose to await his Father's summons. A summons which never came.

**

"And what happened." Sitting back against the wall of his cell, Djoser spoke quietly to himself. "My Sire still didn't care about us. He never acknowledged William in Sunnydale, just hurt him and let the Slayer hurt him. Alex, you were so wrong about everything." Thinking back, the vampire could not make up his mind if his aunt had just badly misjudged the situation, or if she had been playing some secret game of her own. A suspicion kept nagging at him that the vampiress had betrayed them. Betrayed them so that Luc, her husband could become the Next High Master of the Tremere Clan.

**

The body was pinned under him, and the demon, sensing victory, went for the kill.

"Angel! Stop the fight. Stop it now. Don't hurt him!" Rushing out to the courtyard, Cordelia threw herself on top of the vampire. "The head priest is dead. I cut his ugly head off his ugly body. We've got the books, and we can go home now. PLEASE, don't kill him." She pleaded for the life of the Groosalug.

Hooking up with the human rebels, Wesley and Gunn had stormed the castle, while Angel, with the help of the young slave girl Fred, created a diversion by challenging the Groosalug.

Easing up on the warrior's throat, Angel half turned to push Cordy off his back. This gave the Groosalug the opportunity to punch him hard in the stomach, throwing him backward on top of Cordelia.

Despite having a much bigger body land on top of her, Cordelia still kept fighting. Wrapping both arms around the vampire, she struggled to hold him down. "Stop the fighting NOW." She yelled. "The priests have been defeated. We've won."

"And him?" Rushing out into the courtyard after Cordelia, Wesley pointed to the Groosalug.

"He's a noble warrior and on our side." Feeling Angel's body relax slightly, Cordelia struggled to push him off her. "The priests were just using him. He has done nothing wrong."

Reason returning, Angel pushed down his demon. "I *want* to go home!"

"And so you shall." Wesley assured the vampire. "We've got the books, and Fred here has been telling me that she knows a lot about the portals. She's the missing librarian. The one from your vision." He addressed this to Cordelia.

"Well, I don't know a lot about portals. Only that the trionic speechcraft formulation/modification has to alter the dynamic reality sphere, and. . . ." Stopping to laugh a little hysterically, the young physicist student couldn't believe that she was actually going to go back to her own world.

Standing up, human face now in place, Angel brushed himself off. "Then let's go. My Childer await me."

**

Standing in the streets of LA, Djoser looked around, getting his bearings. The Ventrues had not been totally without compassion as they had left him not too far from the Hyperion. Weak from the Ventrue's torture, the vampire stumbled along, carrying his awkward burden.

"Just a little further, Will." He spoke to a comatose Spike, pretending to himself that his brother could hear him. "Nic will be at the hotel, and then together we'll go somewhere safe. We'll go. . .we'll go. . . ." The vampire had no idea where he and his brother would find a place of refuge.

**

Running ahead of the rest, Angel hurried into the Hyperion. He didn't have to be told that something was seriously wrong. "Nic!" The first person he saw was his brother. "My Childer! Where are. . . ?"

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in." Turning, Nic felt his anger begin to overwhelm him. "Fucking asshole! While you're off playing with your. . .your friends. . . ." He motioned to the gang who was coming through the front door. "That fucking Judelin and his Clan came here and took Djoser and William."

Body freezing as Angel realized his worst fears had come true. "And what are you doing about it?" He asked as he looked around the hotel lobby, noticing the group of demons sitting off in a corner.

"Recruiting a fucking army. What does it look like?" Nic could swear that his anger was beginning to throb in his head. A fact which surprised him, since he had no blood pressure.

"And our minions?"

"All but two were dusted by the Ventrues. I sent one of them to Germany to find Damon. Yeah, and you can also have fun explaining to him how it was your fucking fault that all his minions are now dust."

"We're going in." Heading for the weapons cabinet, Angel's whole body radiated determination.

"Angel! Wait, don't be rash." Rushing up to the vampire, Wesley tried to reason with him. "Going in with this. . .this. . . ." He waved his hand in the direction of the recruited demons. "This untested army is suicide. Let me contact the Council. They've been fighting the Ventrues. Perhaps they have some insight, or. . . ."

"They're the ones who started this whole mess!" Pulling out weapons, Angel began to hand them out. "They're the last ones I would go to. Now. Get. Out. Of. My. Way. Wesley." Staring at the human, the last part was said with a growl.

"All right." Backing down, Wesley looked over at Cordy, Gunn, and Lorne. Unspoken words were passed between them. They were in agreement. "You're going in, so let us back you up." He told Angel softly as he took the ax from the vampire's hands. "It's the least we can do in return for all the help you've given us."

Surprised, Angel could only stare at the ex-Watcher for a moment. Then in a low, quiet tone, he said. "Thank you." Looking around, he began to thank the others when his attention was caught by a tall figure standing in the doorway, desperately trying to hold another body in his arms.

"Ahh." Fred had been the first to see Djoser enter the hotel and had been poking first Cordelia and then Gunn to try and get someone to notice the newcomer. "He just came in, and I was. . . ."

Before she could finish her sentence, Angel was across the room, catching both his Childer as Djoser collapsed to the floor.

**

"Angel. May I come in." Lightly tapping on the door, Wesley waited, mug in hand for permission to enter.

"Come."

Opening the door, the ex-Watcher quietly entered, not wanting to disturb the sleeping vampires. "I brought you some food." He tiptoed over to Angel, setting the coffee mug on the nightstand. "Human blood."

"Human blood?" Tilting his head, Angel sniffed the mug. "Raid the blood bank?"

"No, it's my blood." Wesley smiled slightly. "I know you're in need of some good sustenance with having to feed both. . . ." Looking first at a sleeping Djoser on the bed, and then at a still comatose Spike who was lying on top of Angel. "Your Childer. . . .And how is Spike? Any sign of consciousness?"

"No." Shaking his head, Angel couldn't help but stroke his Childe's hair. "The Ventrue Master drained him totally. It will take time and blood before he'll come out of this coma."

"Angel. . . ." Wesley had been pondering what had happened to Djoser and Spike and found himself baffled. "Why would Judelin do this? I mean, it's wonderful that he didn't kill your Childer, but why drain Spike into a coma?"

"A warning to me." Angel nodded his head at a piece of paper that was lying at his feet on the hassock.

"This was pinned to Spike's. . .Spike's. . . ." Picking up the paper, Wesley looked over at Spike's black duster. After raiding Snow's compound, the Ventrues had recovered it, and Judelin had sent Angelus' youngest Childe back, naked and wrapped in it.

"If I'm not mistaken, this is written in vampire, no?" Studying the paper, Wesley thought he recognized one or two of the characters. "Do you understand what it says?"

"Yes. My Sire was very strict about us learning our language, both written and spoken."

"So, what did the Ventrue Master have to say to you?"

"He says that I was blessed with two beautiful sons, and that if I don't start caring for them better, he'll take them from me." Looking down at Spike, Angel couldn't help but rub his fingers lightly over two fresh marks on his Childe's neck. The Ventrue Master had remarked Spike with the Tremeren Blood-Childe symbol, but he had also left a mark of his own.

"Take them from you?" Wesley repeated Angel's words with puzzlement. "What, he would adopt them as his own Childer?"

"Yes." Angel nodded his head. "That's exactly what he means."

"How odd." Wesley had never thought that adopting Childer was a concept in the vampire culture. "I'd like to talk to you more about this subject one day because I really don't understand why a Ventrue Master of another Clan would want Childer of another Bloodline. Perhaps when Djoser and Spike have recovered, you can explain his reasoning to me."

Nodding in agreement, Angel lay back in his chair, hand holding Spike's head against his bare chest.

"I'll leave you now." Wesley could see the vampire's strain. He headed for the door, but before he could quietly shut it, the ex-Watcher heard a mumble.

"I'll go back to hell and take him with me before he gets my Childer!"

He was standing in a deep, deep pit trying to claw his way out. Fingers cramping, body exhausted with the effort as he pulled himself to consciousness one agonizing inch at a time.

"William." Speaking softly, Angel tried to rouse an unconscious Spike. He knew that his Childe was close to breaking the coma as there was now movement in his body. "William. Can you hear me? Wake up, Childe."

Moaning, eyelids flickering, Spike fought his way out of the coma. His whole body felt like it was filled with heavy sand. He couldn't move, even though his brain kept trying to stir a limb, a finger, or turn a head.

"Si. . . ." Cheek pressed up against a hard chest, he tried to speak.

"William, Childe, you're home." Repositioning his son, so that one hand was supporting his head, Angel bit into his wrist. "Eat." He commanded. "You need to regain your strength."

Sire's blood filled his mouth, running down his raw throat. Closing his eyes, Spike drank, feeling the power of Angel's blood.

"You were drained into a coma, so you need to keep feeding until your body is restored." Fingers tightening on the back of his son's head, Angel willed more blood into his Childe's mouth.

"Enough." Sire's blood giving him his voice back, Spike turned his head away from the bleeding wrist. "Whe. . .where's. . . ." He managed to pant out. "Where's Djoser?"

"There on the bed." Angel turned Spike's head so he could see his brother sleeping on the bed next to them. "He was seriously wounded, but he's also been given my blood. He's strong and will recover quickly."

Reassured at the sight of his brother, Spike again tried to will himself to move any part of his body. "God. . .damn. What's the matter with me?"

"You were in a comatose state. Time and blood will give you your strength back." Pulling his Childe close to him, Angel couldn't help but run his lips over his son's face and neck. "My William. My Childe. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't get back to you. I was frantic. But those damn priests! They had the books and we . . . ."

"Am I still in a coma, because I don't understand a friggin' word you're saying?" Sire's blood now circulating through him, Spike had enough strength to make his mouth work.

"William." Tightening his arms around his Childe, Angel closed his eyes. He didn't want to ever let go of the body in his arms. "We were sending Lorne's cousin back to his home dimension through a portal, and we all were accidentally sucked into it. Cordy had a vision, and the people there thought she was the messiah, so they made her the princess, and. . . ."

"You know. . . ." Spike interrupted, not wanting to hear anymore of Angel's demented imagination. "You don't need to make up such an elaborate fairy tale on my account. If you, your human pets, and that green demony thing were locked in some motel room, boozing and shagging, I quite understand."

"Do you really understand?" Pulling away, Angel wanted to see his Childe's face.

"Actually no." Trying once again to turn his head, Spike wanted another glimpse of his brother. "Djoser was tortured because you weren't here to protect us. But still, I'd rather just hear the truth than some wild. . . ."

"I'm telling you the truth." Face and tone radiating honesty, Angel stared into Spike's eyes. "I'll bring them all up here to corroborate my story and have Cordelia show you her scars where the priests tortured her first before making her the princess."

Studying his Sire's expression and seeing his sincerity, Spike's intuition told him that Angel was stating true facts. "Bloody hell." A soft exclamation. "It must be the truth because no one could come up with such a friggin' idiotic tale as that. Damn!" Eyes looking away from his Father, he pondered for a few moments. Breaking the silence, he finally asked. "Are we cursed, Sire?" Fear uncharacteristically colored his voice.

"Cursed? You mean like the gypsy curse that was. . . ?"

"No. I mean more that just some gypsy curse. It's like our family, our Bloodline, exists under some dark cloud. We suffer and suffer, and the suffering never ends. It just takes another form."

Rocking Spike gently, Angel didn't know how to answer. "My beloved Childe." He buried his face into his son's hair as fragments of his life flashed through his mind. Contemplating, a sadness filled him as he realized that their pasts verified the words that his son had just spoken They lived to suffer. Happiness was not theirs to have.

Original Ending

**

"Djoser!" Lying face down on the floor, Spike found he couldn't get up, couldn't crawl forward, couldn't even roll over. "Djoser, wake up!" Sire in the shower, he called to his brother.

Wounds still not completely healed, Djoser woke with a groan. Disoriented for a moment, he looked around for Spike. "William! William where the hell are. . . ?" Peering down from the bed, he saw his brother's naked form on the floor. "What the hell are you doing down there? Did you fall out of bed?" Reaching down, the vampire lifted his younger sibling off the floor.

"Bloody hell!" Spike swore in frustration as he was hoisted up off the floor. "That bleeding Ventrue Master! I'm going to kick his arse the next time I see him. What the fuck did he do to me?" Chest heaving with exertion. "I'm like a friggin baby. Can't barely move by myself."

"Takes time, Will." With Spike's body resting on his chest, Djoser wrapped his arms around his brother. "You were drained into a coma by someone much stronger than you. He took your life force. It will take time for it to regenerate itself."

Hating his helplessness, Spike was not appeased. "First it's a broken spine, then a chip, then poison, and now THIS." Simmering, he took his anger out on the only target in the room, Djoser. "And what the fuck do you mean by my 'life force?' You a Trekkie geek?"

Opening his mouth to defend himself, then closing it, Djoser had no idea what Trekkie meant. He wasn't sure if he had just been insulted or complimented.

"What's going on? What happened?" Coming out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, Angel sensed a disturbance.

"Tried to turn over and fell out of the bloody bed. Then I couldn't get up. Goddamn fucking Ventrue!" Spike cursed the master vampire. "Never going to be right. Always gonna be a soddin' invalid."

"Here." Sitting down on the bed, Angel pulled Spike away from Djoser while offering a wrist. "Drink from me. My blood will speed your recovery."

"And that's another thing." Spike was still quarrelsome. "How long do I have to keep drinking *your* blood?"

"What's wrong with my blood?" Angel couldn't keep the surprised look off his face. "It's Sire's Blood." He looked at his wrist just to check that there weren't any boils or pustules marring his skin that would make drinking from him repulsive.

"That's right. It's Sire's blood and having to have it makes me dependent on you. But I'm a big boy now. Don't need my daddy." Scowl on his face, Spike just wanted to hit something, but still barely able to move, he had to satisfy himself with hitting anyone within range with his mouth.

"William." Struggling for the right words, Angel was interrupted by the door opening.

"Angel?" Wesley stuck his head in. "I've got food for you. Is everything all right?" He asked, cautiously entering the room.

"Whose blood is that?" Eyes following the mug hungrily, Angel could smell that it was human.

"Cordelia's. A thank you from her. We've decided to all give a donation of. . . ."

"Hey, Wes." Spike rudely interrupted the ex-Watcher. "My body needs blood. Can't you transfuse some into me with IV's? You could stick one in each arm. I even promise to sit still while you stab me." An easy promise as he couldn't move much anyway. "Speed up me being normal again."

"Well. . .I. . . ." Wesley looked questioningly over at Angel. "What kind of blood is required? Certainly I could. . . ."

"He was drained." Speaking calmly, Angel tightened an arm around Spike to send a message, *Stop arguing*. "The way to recovery is to feed. It's what's natural. Transfusions are not the answer."

"OH, BLOODY HELL!" Spike spat this out with disgust. "You just like having a nancy boy for a son."

"Well if you would eat. . . ."

"I DO eat." Finally realizing that he wasn't going to win any arguments, Spike had to settle for glowering at Wesley like he was the one at fault. "Soon as I'm healed, I'm going to kick your arse, Wes."

"My arse? What did I do?" The ex-Watcher couldn't help but take a step backward from the very marked hostility.

"Don't mind him, human." Djoser was awkwardly getting to his feet. "When he's in a bad mood, he threatens to kick everyone's ass."

"I'm GOING TO!" Spike proclaimed, still seething. "As soon as I'm done with that Ventrue Poof."

The room froze for a moment at his announcement.

"Spike, don't be foolish." Wesley began before being interrupted by a growl from Angel.

"YOU will stay away from the Ventrue Master! BOTH of you." He snarled this while glaring first at Spike and then at Djoser.

Both vampires had heard that tone in their Sire's voice before and knew he was deadly serious.

"Wasn't going to kill him. After all, I know he did it because his GrandChilde was poisoned." Spike's voice now at a lower, meeker pitch. "But still, he needs to know that he can't just get away with what he did to me and Djoser."

"WILLIAM!"

"SPIKE!" Angel and Wesley spoke at the same time.

"Use your head, boy! Even at full strength you're no match for the Ventrue Master. So don't try ANYTHING. Either of you." Angel addressed both his Childer. "You're to stay away from all Ventrues. And don't either of you dare disobey me on this. . . ."

"ANGEL!" Wesley broke in exasperated. "Explain to them why. Haven't you learned that just ordering them about without any kind of clarification only leads to their disobedience?"

Seeing Angel's expression of bafflement, the ex-Watcher took matters in his own hands. "Spike." He addressed the vampire who was looking at him with a curious air. "It seems that the Ventrue Master has kept his true side hidden from everyone for all these years. No one, and I think I'm correct in saying not even the other vampire masters, truly realized how powerful, how dangerous he was. . .is. Right now, I'm told that he's on the verge of taking over the Council and most of the ruling vampire clans. He only spared your lives. . . ."

"Because he wants you." Angel interrupted as he looked at each of his sons. "Both of you. But he won't get you. Either of you as long as I'm still here on this earth because you're both *mine*. But that is why you are to keep your distance from him and his Clan. Is that understood?"

Blue eyes met black for a second before both vampires nodded their heads in agreement.

Satisfied at his Childer's acquiescence, Angel turned to Wesley. "Can you watch William for a moment while I help Djoser clean up?"

"I don't need any help." Limping toward the bathroom, Djoser was adamant. Closing the door firmly behind him, he effectively stopped his Sire from following him in.

Staring at the closed door, Angel stood, unsure of himself, hands clenching and unclenching.

"Angel." Tapping the vampire on the shoulder lightly, Wesley sensed his tension, but still had to pursue the matter at hand. "I'm not sure if this is any of my concern, but your brother Nic left the Hyperion the night. . .*that* night and hasn't been seen since."

"Did he take a. . .the one minion we have with him?"

"No. He left alone."

"Can you go and tell the minion that I want to speak with him?" Another worry to think about. Angel was pensive as he went to sit back on the bed. "I'll send him to track the whereabouts of my brother."

"Ah. . . ." A hard question to ask, but Wesley was determined. "I would like to accompany the minion. Two heads and bodies are better than one, you know. Is that all right with you?"

"Go for it, Wes." Now pulled up again against Angel's body, Spike was about to latch on to his Sire's bleeding wrist. "Nic will be *glad* to see you."

"I. . . ." Flushing, Wesley first looked at the floor, then the ceiling, and finally at a bemused Angel who was staring at him. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, of course not. I'm grateful for your help." Stroking the head of his feeding Childe, Angel did have to wonder a bit why the ex-Watcher was so ready to lend a hand in finding his brother.

"Oh, and another thing." Opening the door, Wesley was eager to start searching for the vampire. "The young woman we rescued from Pylea, Fred. I believe she's still somewhat traumatized and has locked herself in one of the hotel's rooms. We took her some food earlier, and she was writing all over the walls. I. . . ." He peered back anxiously at Angel. "I hope you don't mind that she's here."

Closing his eyes, Angel could feel a migraine coming on. The last thing he needed was to have a young, human woman suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder at the Hyperion. "She can stay, but only if you or Cordelia are here to care for her. I have more than I can deal with right now."

"But of course." Wesley hurriedly assured him. "Cordelia's here now if. . .Fred should need anything. And when I get back, I'll stay with her."

Listening to the conversation, Spike had eaten his required three mouthfuls of blood. Lifting his head up, he turned and asked the ex-Watcher. "Why does she go by the name of Fred? She some kind of diesel dyke?"

**

Slouched down in his chair, Nic stared at the empty whiskey bottles on the table in front of him. He was on his third night of drinking, but even so, the consumption of a gallon or more of alcohol couldn't dull his feelings, his emotions.

"Got your message. Heard you were looking for me." A Mortlach demon who went by the name of Johnnie sat down in the chair next to him. "So what do I have to do to make us square?"

Raising bloodshot eyes to stare at the demon, Nic gave a short, humorless laugh as he fumbled in his pocket looking for some smokes. Coming up with just an empty cigarette packet, he threw it on the table. "How 'bout buying me some more smokes and another bottle." He motioned toward the empties on the table. "That should even the score."

Jumping up, the Mortlach demon didn't need to be told twice. A bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes were a small price to pay to erase his debt with the vampire. "One bottle of whiskey and cigarettes coming up."

"And that would make. . . ?" Nic tried to count the empties on the table, but with his eyesight blurring in and out, he kept losing track of which bottles he had counted. "Wonder if I broke my own record. . .hey. . . ." He looked up at the returning demon. "Today's Saturday, right? Let's see, I got here on Wednesday. . . ."

"You're a day ahead of yourself." Johnnie interrupted him. "It's still only Friday."

"Only Fri. . . .DAMN, still haven't broken my old record then. Guess I've got to sit here another couple of days yet."

"Just what the hell are you talking about?" Sitting down next to Nic, the Mortlach pulled out one of his own cigarettes. "And I want a signed statement from you that my debt has been paid."

"I once sat and drank for ninety-six hours straight. Was so smashed that I walked out into the sun and didn't even realize it. I was told that I made quite a spectacle, stumbling down the street with my head on fire. Lit up the whole fucking neighborhood." A drunk Nic couldn't help but laugh at his own stupidity.

"Whatever you say, vampire." The Mortlach just looked at him strangely. "Now come on, how about my receipt?" Pulling out a pen, he waved it in front of Nic's face whose eyes crossed as he tried to follow the moving pen.

"STOP THAT! Unless you want to have vampire barf all over your shoes." Grabbing the pen, Nic looked around for something to write on. "You got. . . ?" He started to ask before his hand found a cocktail napkin. "Okay. . . ." Eyes trying to focus as he began to write slowly. "I, Nic, Blood-Childe of. . .oh, wait. That's not right." Scribbling out what he just wrote, he looked around for another napkin.

"Here." Johnnie was now wary as he handed Nic another napkin. "You must really be drunk if you're fantasizing that you're a Bloodline vampire."

"I'll have you know. . . ." Nic slurred as he wrote out a receipt. "That I am the Blood-Childe of Heinrich Nest, or was until he disowned me. Said I was a no-good, drunken, sorry-excuse-for-a. . .well, you get the picture. And he was right, you know." Finishing writing, he handed the demon the cocktail napkin. "Just two weeks ago, I was named Sponsor to our Clan's two Heir Apparents, and you wanna know what happened? Wanna know how well I protected them? They were taken from me just like that." An inebriated attempt at snapping his fingers. "I never even gave the old Ventrue bastard a fight." He muttered as he downed another shot of whiskey.

Staring at Nic, Johnnie took note of the tattoos marking the vampire's neck. Up close, he now noticed the mark that the tattoos partially covered up. "You aren't bullshitting me, are you? You really are a Blood-Childe of the Tremere Clan which means. . . ." The Mortlach demon was quite familiar with another Tremeren Blood-Childe who called LA his home. "Which means you're related to. . .to HIM. The vampire who. . . ." Standing up, he stopped, well aware of who Angelus was. The vampire whose name usually equaled 'shortened life span' for other demons.

"HIM?" Pouring himself another shot, Nic slopped whiskey on the table. "Scared to say his name?" He taunted. "It's Angelus. Angelus, Scourge of Europe. Second Pure Blood-Childe of Heinrich Nest, now High Master of the Tremere Clan. Yep, that's my brother. That's HIM. But the son-of-a-bitch should be known as the worst fucking vampire father in our history. Fuck. . . ." Looking away from the Mortlach, Nic stared out in front of him. "If there was a contest, the motherfucker would even beat out my old man. And that my friend, is saying something."

Not sure what to make of Nic's mad ramblings, Johnnie began to back away slowly. Clutching the napkin that was his proof that the debt between him and the vampire was paid, he decided that perhaps a change of scenery would be in order. The last thing he needed was to get mixed up with Angelus and the Tremeren Clan. That could only mean trouble.

"Well, got to go. Hope. . .hope you break your record." Saying this lamely, he sprinted for the door.

****

Author's Note: My apologies to all Winifreds.

Warning: S3 Angel Spoilers

~Part: 39~

Sitting in the bathtub, barely able to hold himself up, Spike was busy thinking up new and unused insults to hurl at his Sire. "Fucking, obsessive, cleanliness freak!"

"You know. . . ." Angel interrupted, sitting on the side of the bathtub trying to support the slippery body of his Childe. "If you would concentrate your energies on keeping yourself upright, and less on your mouth, we could get this done faster."

"Why is this necessary anyway?" Spike demanded peevishly. "How dirty could I possibly have gotten just lying in bed?"

"You fell out of bed onto the *floor*." Holding onto his son with both hands, Angel surveyed the scene for a moment, thinking. There was now more water outside of the bathtub than in. "There's only one way we're going to get this done." Still naked from his own shower, it was easy to climb in and settle himself behind Spike. "Lean back on me." He ordered, using his legs to hold his Childe up.

Spike did as he was told but not without heaving a loud sigh. "Why don't you just turn the shower on and hold me under that for a few minutes? It would be a lot easier than trying to wash me up in the bath."

"Because you need to soak. Hang your head down." Angel instructed as he poured shampoo on Spike's hair.

"Whaddya mean, I have to soak? Wasn't wallowing in mud, you know."

"Your injuries. You need to soak them." Answering matter-of-factly, Angel continued the job at hand. "Close your eyes. I'm going to rinse now."

Heaving another exaggerated sigh, Spike obeyed. "What injuries? Djoser was the one tortured, not. . . ."

"You have small tears in your anal ring. Can't you feel them?" Tensing, Angel struggled to keep his voice calm and emotionless.

Jerking in surprise, Spike tried to answer nonchalantly. "I've been too busy wondering why I can't move any part of my body. A sore bum is the least of my worries." Head down, he paused a minute while looking at Angel out of the corner of his eye. "The Ventrue Master made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Djoser's life if I. . . ."

"DON'T SAY ANYMORE!" His control finally slipping, Angel could feel himself erupt as the anger he had been desperately suppressing came spewing out. "That SON-OF-A-BITCH! I'll fucking kill him. I'll twist his fucking Ventrue head off his. . . ."

"Sire!" Spike gasped out as the arms around him had tightened to an uncomfortable level. "You're hurting me."

"Sorry." Immediately contrite, Angel loosened his grip, letting his head fall back against the tiled wall. He struggled to regain his self-control. Moments passed before he was able to speak with some semblance of calm. "Did he hurt you. . .a lot?"

"Never felt much of anything." Turning his head slightly, Spike pressed his check into his Sire's hard chest. "The first thing he did was drain me into unconsciousness. I was out until I woke up here with you."

"Wes was right." Swallowing hard, Angel forced his anger down. "The Ventrue Master is a fearsome power. He's a forceful vampire, and with his large Clan, he might just. . .just end up ruling the world." The last part was a whisper as he thought about his own Sire. Ruling the world had always been Heinrich Nest's greatest ambition.

"What? So we have to all become like those artsy-fartsy Ventrue Poofs?"

Despite himself, Angel couldn't help but crack a smile. His youngest always did have a way with words. Gently he ran his hands over the lean form of his Childe. "Nic sent a minion for Damon. As soon as he arrives, we'll all leave for Germany together. By then you should be somewhat back to normal."

"Why wait for them?" Spike now tilted his head to look Angel in the face. "When Damon gets here, just have your human pets tell him that we've left for Germany and that he should meet us there."

"No." A thoughtful shake of the head. "I don't want to risk any misunderstandings. We'll wait. The Ventrue Master sent you and your brother back to me. . .at least in one piece. As long as we don't cross him, we're safe for the moment, long enough for Damon to get here. And then together, he and I make a formidable team that even the Ventrue Master would have to be cautious of."

"Won't mind seeing Christian again." Yawning, Spike closed his eyes. Lying half on top of his Sire, hot bath water around him, he felt like he was wrapped in a cocoon, warm and safe.

"Who?" Angel had no idea that Damon's Blood-Childe was named Christian.

Spike snorted in exasperation as he tried to open heavy eyelids. "*Your* nephew. The Clan's newest Blood. . . ."

"That's not his name." Angel stated abruptly.

"He told me himself that his name was. . . ."

"He belongs to Damon now, who will give him his proper name. We do not recognize names given by humans."

Prying his eyes open, Spike had to look at his Sire, just to see if he was serious or joking. "Well, if that's the case, then why do you keep calling me William? Why don't you rename me? You could give me a name worthy of a vampire, like. . .like Spike."

"My son will not be named after a sharp, pointed piece of metal. William is your name, and. . . ."

"Are you going to tell me again that you named me William? You were there at my birth, and my mother just agreed? What? She just let the evil creature of the night, who. . .who tapped her off, be at her bedside when she gave birth?"

"She had no choice." Half smile on his face, Angel remembered back. A memorable time in his long existence. "Her family had thrown her out. I was all she had. And when I told her that you were to be named William, she didn't object. She probably thought I was going to call you something like Abaddon or Beelzebub, so the name William was a relief to her."

"Bloody hell!" Letting his head fall back on Angel's chest, Spike closed his eyes again. He knew his Sire was telling the truth. "Wish you had named me Abaddon or Beelzebub. Fitting names for a demon instead of the poofy William." He managed to mutter this complaint before succumbing to his weariness. Falling asleep in his Sire's arms, he dreamt of his mother, of England, and of his Father who had baptized him at birth.

**

Stepping into the demon bar, Wesley had to blink his eyes several times against the heavy smoke that clouded his vision. Trying to focus so he could make out the various patrons when a voice greeted him.

"Hey, Wes. Come to join me? That's fucking friendly of you."

"Nic." Eyes now accustomed to the smoke and dim lighting, the ex-Watcher walked up to the vampire. "I. . .we were worried about you. You've been gone now for over three days. You didn't tell. . . ."

"Over three days? Is that. . . ?" Concentrating hard, Nic tried to get his intoxicated brain to do the math. "Is that more that sixty-nine hours?"

Sitting down gingerly, Wesley couldn't help but give the vampire a look of puzzlement. "Well, three days is equivalent to seventy-two hours. . . .And why is this important to you?"

"Fuck! That fucking Mortlach lied to me. I *did* break my record because seventy-two is more than sixty-nine, right?" Now so drunk, Nic just babbled, not really knowing what he was talking about.

Nodding his head, Wesley pretended to agree, even though he had no idea what the vampire was talking about. "Yes, seventy-two is more than sixty-nine." Turning, he gave the minion, who had accompanied him an inquiring look that said, 'any ideas on how to get him out of here?'

"My Liege." Taking a step forward, the minion stood beside Nic. "Our High Master has requested your pre. . . ."

"FUCK ANGELUS!" Nic tried to pour himself another shot but kept missing the glass. Finally in disgust, he just drank straight from the bottle. "He can go fuck himself. Fucking irresponsible, arrogant. . . ."

"Nic." Wesley interrupted him. "I know you blame Angel for not being there when the Ventrues attacked, but believe me when I say, that I'm the one to blame. He wanted to go back to the Hyperion, but I asked him to stay and help us send Landok back to Pylea. And that's when we all got sucked through the portal."

"Is that so, human?"

"Yes." Willing to take the responsibility, Wesley hurriedly finished his explanation. "In Pylea, all Angel talked about was getting back to his family. He seemed to know that something was wrong."

"Have a drink, Wes." Nic handed the ex-Watcher the bottle of whiskey he had just drunk out of. "So-o his Royal Highness is once again. . . blameless. Fucker is never the one at fault." The last part was muttered to himself as the vampire signaled for another bottle.

"Nic. . .please!" Forgetting himself, Wesley reached over and grabbed the vampire by the hand. "You've had enough. Let us take you back to the Hyperion."

Staring at the hand that covered his for a moment, Nic turned back to Wesley, flashing a wicked grin. "Not ready to go back to the hotel. Don't want to look at our 'esteemed High Master', and I don't want to face. . . ." Grin disappearing, his face turned serious. "My nephews just yet. Not after the way I let them down."

Staring at the vampire, comprehension began dawning on Wesley. "So this isn't so much about your anger at Angel as it is your disappointment in yourself?"

With a smile that was half sad, half-mocking, Nic took the whiskey bottle back from the ex-watcher. "*Doctor* Wesley. . .maybe you should take me back to your place and have me spend some time on your couch?" A lifted eyebrow clarified his intentions.

"Well. . .I. . . ." A moment of consideration and Wesley made his decision, or perhaps his decision had been made back at the Hyperion when he had volunteered to search for Nic. Looking over at the minion, he barked out a short order. "I'm going to take your. . .Liege with me to my flat to. . .recover. Go and tell Ange. . .the High Master that's where we are."

**

Water cooling in the bath, Angel reluctantly decided it was time to get out. There were matters that needed his attention. The urge to just refill the tub with more hot water and spend the rest of the day lying in the bathtub was strong. He stood up quickly, Childe in his arms before temptation got the better of him. Wrapping a large towel around Spike, he stiffened his resolve and exited the bathroom.

Lying on his back in bed, Djoser stared up at the ceiling. His wounds were healing as his physical pain was now lessened. But his inner agony and resentment still flared scorchingly hot. Hearing the bathroom door open, he quickly turned over on his side, pretending to sleep.

"Djoser, Childe." Laying Spike carefully down onto the bed, Angel whispered to his oldest. "Are you hungry?"

Ignoring Angel's voice, the dark vampire closed his eyes. He had no desire to speak to his Sire.

**

"Would you like. . . ?" Trailing off, Wesley was unsure what you offer an inebriated vampire.

Sprawled out on the ex-Watcher's couch, head starting to pound, Nic was beginning to sober up. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Arm draped over his face. "I REALLY need to find another hobby. This drinking is going to pickle my liver. . . .Oh wait, I don't have a functioning liver. Hey Wes, you've studied our kind. Does excessive alcohol over a long period of time have any bad affects on vampires?"

"I. . .I. . . ." Walking over to the vampire, Wesley could see he was in pain. "I never ran across that subject in any of my studies. Can I. . .can I get you anything?"

"A pint of AB negative with a couple of aspirin will do."

"Well. . .I. . . ." Mentally reviewing the contents of his refrigerator, Wesley knew there was no blood in it, and the butcher shop would not open for a couple of hours yet. "I don't have any blood, not even animal blood, but how about some tea. . .or coffee?" He asked awkwardly.

"Oh, *you've* got blood, Wes." Grabbing the ex-Watcher by the arm, Nic pulled him closer. "And if I remember correctly, your blood was quite. . .rich tasting."

Fear of the unknown overrode desire, and the inexperienced Englishman found himself wanting to flee. "Well. . .I. . .I. . .the other day I donated some of my blood to Angel, so I guess I could do the same for you. . . .But. . .but I'll need to go to the Hyperion. The syringes and. . .and my equipment are there for. . . ."

"Equipment?" Reaching out an arm, Nic grabbed Wesley by the shirt. "You don't need any fucking equipment, Wes. I have the equipment. . . ." Face shifting, fangs coming forth. "Right here."

**

"Angel wants me to do a little research on the Internet." Holding Fred securely by the hand, Cordelia led her down the stairs. "Thought you could help me. Get you up to speed on today's new technologies."

"You couldn't get me up to speed in my. . . ." Fred asked nervously as she looked wistfully back at the door of the room that had been her haven. Her sanctuary.

"NO." Cordelia was firm. "It's time to face the world again. And no better place than here where you're surrounded by people who. . . ." Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the two women were greeted by the sight of Spike lying on the floor of the hotel lobby.

Stopping at the vampire's head, Cordelia finished her thought. "Care. . . .Spike, must you lie here in everyone's way?"

Staring up at the two women, holding the jar with Snow's eyeball on his chest, Spike had managed to make it downstairs before collapsing in exhaustion on the floor. "My name is William, Cordelia, and your hair still looks like shit."

Cordy rolled her eyes up to the ceiling at the vampire's rudeness. "Nice to see you again too."

"What's that you're holding?" A fearful Fred was staring at the eyeball in the jar.

"An eye of a vampire. Wanna see?" Despite his weakness, Spike managed to lift his arms to hold Snow's eyeball closer to the timid woman.

Mouth dropping open in shock, Fred turned to run back upstairs to her room but was caught by Cordy. "Don't pay any attention to him. He's just being himself. . .obnoxious." Giving Spike a small kick, she led the other woman to her desk.

Turning his head to watch the two, Spike eyed Fred with interest. "Who are you anyway?"

Looking uncertainly at Cordelia, Fred opened her mouth, but the punk looking vampire holding a real eyeball in his hands had an intimidating affect on her, so all that came out was a small squeak.

"WHAT? Speak up, woman." Impatience evident in his voice.

"Fred." Cordelia intervened. "Her name is Fred."

"Fred! What kind of bleeding name is that for a girl?"

"Winifred, Spike." Laptop now booting up, Cordelia looked over at the vampire. "Fred is short for Winifred."

"Winifred! Bloody stupid name. What kind of idiot parents name their child, *Winifred*?" Looking back at Snow's eye, Spike grinned with satisfaction. It was always fun to insult as many people as possible.

"As opposed to a certain parent who named his oldest, Djoser, which sounds like a piece of moving equipment." Cordelia was the vampire's equal in the insult department. "And calls his second son, Spike."

"He named me William." Lifting his head off the floor, Spike yelled this over at Cordelia. "Spike is just a nickname that I took because I tortured. . . ."

"Because you tortured people with railroad spikes." Cordy interrupted him. "Yeah, yeah. Heard that story already and. . . ." She heaved an exaggerated yawn. "Boring. Yesterday's news."

"He tortures people with railroad spikes?" Leaning down, voice cracking with fear, Fred whispered this to Cordelia.

"He use to." Smiling reassuringly at her new friend, Cordy tried to dispel her fear. "But don't worry. His daddy doesn't allow him to do that anymore."

"And his father is. . . ?"

"Did you find out about the flights from Germany?" Entering the lobby, Angel had been downstairs brooding about Djoser's recent behavior toward him. Frowning now in displeasure as he noticed his youngest spread out on the floor. "William, why are you on the floor? And after you just had a bath."

"That's his daddy." Cordelia inclined her head toward Angel.

"I don't know." Spike hedged. It was embarrassing to admit in front of two human women that he couldn't get up. "I kind of like it down here."

"How did you get down here in the first place? I thought you could barely mov. . . ." Stopping himself as the realization hit him that his Childe was not able to get up. "Cordelia." Angel walked over to the two women. For once, he understood Spike's desire for dignity. "I need you to do something else for me."

"I haven't finished the first thing you wanted done." Cordelia had been asked to check all possible incoming flights from Germany, so that Angel would have some vague idea of when Damon might be making an appearance.

"You can do that later. It's a little soon to be expecting my brother anyway. Here. . . ." Taking out his wallet, Angel pulled out some money. "Call Gunn so he can drive you. I want you to go and buy a television for me. And for doing me this favor, I'll treat you all to lunch." Feeling generous, he handed Cordy a one hundred-dollar bill.

"Finally! A job more interesting than research. . . shopping." Smiling widely Cordelia turned to Fred "Wanna come?"

"No." Shaking her head, Fred was once again thinking about retreating to her room.

"Oh, come. It'll be fun." Cordy waved the one hundred-dollar bill in front of the other woman. "With a hundred bucks we can go to a nice rest. . . ."

"Wait a minute!" Angel hastily interrupted. "The hundred dollars is for the TV and. . . ."

"The only kind of TV that you're going to get for less than a hundred bucks is a black and white. . .And hey, shopping for a television is a big job. You want us to go buy you one, then you can treat us to the restaurant of our choice. So cough up some more dough." Cordelia held out her hand for more money.

"Don't be cheap." Spike was compelled to put in his two cents for a purchase as important as a television. "I don't want a black and white telly." I want a big color set."

"So one more fifty is not going to be enough?" Angel began to reluctantly pull out more bills.

"Try six fifty-dollar bills." Cordelia still had her hand out.

"WHAT?" Now Angel was having second thoughts about buying a television.

"I want one of those flat-screened or a digital telly, and they're expensive, so just give her your credit card." Spike added helpfully.

"Here." He handed Cordy two hundred dollars more. "Whatever's left over after eating, buy the best television you can."

"Cool!" Happy at the thought of passing the day spending someone else's money, Cordelia grinned happily while turning to Fred who shook her head no and began to scurry back upstairs.

"Fred." Cordy called out but was interrupted by Spike.

"Most of that money better go toward buying my telly." He used his best threatening voice. "So you better be planning on eating at McDonalds."

"Shut-up, Spike." Watching her new friend run up the stairs, Cordelia could only heave a sigh of exasperation. "Or I'll bring back one of those hand held black and white TV's."

"Hey, a little respect here, bint!" Only able to raise his head off the floor, Spike could only growl in frustration. "I'm William, Blood-Childe of Angelus. An Heir Apparent. A prince here so you better be. . . ."

"Not impressed at all, Spike." Picking up the telephone, Cordy dialed Gunn's number. "Charles, want to have lunch with me compliments of Angel?" Quickly making out arrangements with her co-worker, she hung up the phone and grabbed her purse. Giving Spike a disdainful smile, she had one last parting shot for him. "Maybe you're a prince here, but I got you beat. I was the princess of a whole hell dimension."

~Part: 40~

He was suspended in air, hovering. Wesley swore he was floating except the bed underneath him belied that fact.

"I'm high on something. He must have drugged me." He whispered out loud.

Having undressed the other man, Nic was busying divesting himself of his clothes. "You're not drugged, Wes."

"I feel. . .I'm weightless. I'm airy." The rational, practical side of Wesley told him that he was spouting pure nonsense. "I feel. . . ."

"You're light headed from blood loss." Nic interrupted as his eyes swept over the exposed human spread out in front of him. "That will soon be rectified, but first. . . ." The vampire wanted to take his time and savor Wesley and his human body. Reaching down, he began fondling the ex-Watcher, marveling at the human's body heat.

The cool hand stroking his penis and testicles caused Wesley to jump slightly, although his legs had a mind of their own as they spread wider, giving the vampire more access to his body.

Grinning, Nic had to comment. "A little anxious, are you?" Spitting on a finger, he gently began massaging Wes' anal ring, just rubbing the outside.

"Christ. . . ." A soft whisper as Wesley couldn't believe the sparks of pleasure that were shooting through his body. "That feels so. . .so good." He couldn't help it, as he pushed up with his hips, trying to get Nic's finger inside him.

"Patience, Wes." Leaning down, Nic ran his lips over a jaw line. "You'll feel me inside you soon enough. But first. . . ." One last caress of the other man's genitalia as the vampire brought his hand up to his neck. "I've had a taste of you. . .now it's time for you to drink from me." One swipe of a sharp nail opened up his carotid artery. "My blood. My essence. Savor it and know who I am." Pulling Wesley up, he pressed the human's face to his bleeding neck.

**

Happily ensconced on the couch, surrounded by junk food, Spike for once had no complaints, as he watched a twenty-four hour Cops marathon on his new telly. "Bad boys, bad boys, whacha gonna do. . . ." He sang along with the reality show's theme song, causing Djoser, who was sitting in a chair next to him to cover his face with a pillow and groan.

"William. How many more hours do we have to watch this? Can't we watch something. . .anything else?"

"Entertainment doesn't get any better than this, mate." Spike stared at the TV intently as the screen flashed a shot of a drunk, shirtless man, beer gut jutting out.

"You call this entertainment?" The dark vampire now understood his Sire's aversion to the television.

"See Spike. . . ." Cordelia, who was helping Angel move himself and his two Childer to one of the hotel suites, stood nearby holding a bundle of bed sheets and pillows. "Even your own family says you have no taste."

"A bunch of bloody yawns. All of you." But even Cordy's snipes didn't rile Spike too much. His Sire was actually permitting a TV in the bedroom. . .well the sitting room, which was attached to the bedroom. "Can't believe that. . . ." He craned his neck to peer around the corner to see if Angel, who was busy moving furniture around, was listening. "That my bore of a Sire is actually allowing two tellys in the lair. Guess he's finally going to step into the twentieth century. Now he's only one century behind, instead of two."

"Ahem." Cordelia cleared her throat. "The television downstairs is *mine*. I just brought it here to keep me company at night when everyone else was out fighting demons and such. But now that you guys own a TV, I can take that one home."

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, BITC. . . ." Spike broke off as he realized that calling Cordy a bitch wouldn't help his cause. "If you take that one, then *He's* going to make me take this one downstairs."

Hearing that there was a promising possibility that the TV was going to be moved downstairs, Djoser quickly uncovered his face. "Woman, I think you need to take your television back. Moreover. . . ."

"My name is Cordelia." Cordy interrupted the vampire. "I don't particularly like being called woman. In fact, if you call me that again, I'll. . . ."

"Cordy." Walking over to them, Angel took the sheets and pillows from her. "Good. You've got the bedding. I'll make up the bed now. You didn't drag any of this on the floor, did you?" He asked her suspiciously.

"Who me? Never." Walking with Angel over to the bed, Cordelia mentally grimaced to herself. She had actually dropped the whole bundle on the floor coming from the vampires' old bedroom.

"What does she think she's going to do to me?" Djoser couldn't believe Cordy's boldness. "I've killed fearsome demons and monsters. She's just a human female."

"I don't know, mate." Eyes once again glued to the television set, Spike opened up a bag of Doritos. "But she's an ex- high school cheerleader and prom queen. Don't think any of those demons and monsters you've killed can live up to those qualifications."

**

The taste was not unpleasant; in fact, the warm liquid flowing down his throat was comforting. So comforting Wesley actually groaned in protest as his head was tugged from behind, signaling him to stop.

"Enough!" Pushing Wes back down on the pillows, Nic reached for the jar of Vaseline on the nightstand. "This isn't the best, but it was all you had, so we'll make do." Dipping three of his fingers in the jar, he coated them liberally.

Lying back, a part of Wesley couldn't believe what he had done. What he was about to do. Chest rising and falling, a part of him struggled to find reason and logic, but lust and curiosity were too strong.

"Easy." Nic whispered softly as he once again massaged the other man's anal sphincter, first just the outside, then gently inserting one finger. "You're awful tight, Wes. Need to loosen you up a bit." Using his other hand, the vampire began rubbing the human's cock. Hard, firm strokes that caused Wesley's eyes to roll back in his head.

So intent on the pleasure the cool hand was giving him, he barely noticed the second and then third finger entering him, stretching him wider. Hips rising off the bed, he reached for the end as his orgasm hit, and warm semen spurted out.

Rubbing the Vaseline and human semen that covered his hands over his own arousal, Nic readied himself. "The trick is to try and relax." He instructed. "Tense up and you'll only feel more pain." Lining up the head of his cock at Wesley's entrance, he slowly pushed in.

A hard pressure that quickly turned to a burning pain caused Wesley to squirm. "I. . .I. . .it. . .please." Body tried to adjust from the transition of pleasure to pain.

"The worst is over." Using his vampiric strength, Nic held Wes down, preventing movement. The head of his cock was now lodged inside, but the other man's tightness was an obstruction that he couldn't get past, unless force was used. "Stop thrashing about. You'll only make it worse."

"Please!" The pain had brought Wesley to his senses, and now he just wanted to end this humiliating scene. "Take it out. I really don't want to do this."

"Too late, Wes. It's started and can't be stopped." Nic had been trying to be gentle, knowing that it was the human's first time, but there was no way that he was going to withdraw now. It was either thrust in hard, or. . . . "Push against me. Try and push me out." He ordered.

Sighing with relief, Wesley obeyed, thinking that he'd force the vampire out of him and that would end things. But pushing only served to loosen his internal muscles, allowing Nic to slide the rest of the way in.

"Oh fuck!" Head swimming with lust, it had been a long time since Nic had felt a human. The heat and tightness around him short-circuited his brain, and he began thrusting in and out without giving Wesley any more time to adjust.

The burning pain was still present but had lessened to a tolerable level. Looking up at Nic's face, Wesley was struck by the craving and hunger he saw and could hardly believed that he was the cause. No one had ever wanted him with such a strong sexual desire. The effect overwhelmed him.

Pushing Wesley's legs further apart, Nic looked down to watch himself slide in and out of the body beneath him. The sight fueled his lust as he began moving faster. Orgasm building, one final deep thrust, and his body bucked as he ejaculated. "Oh Christ, Wes!" Closing his eyes, his body went limp and he collapsed on top of the other man.

Despite the pain, Wesley felt a sense of loss as the hardness in him softened and was slowly withdrawn.

Rolling over, Nic was apologetic. "Sorry, Wes. I was trying to make it enjoyable and minimize your pain, but wasn't too thrilled with your sudden change of heart. You've got to remember. . . ." He pulled the ex-Watcher up against him. "You've got a vampire for a lover, and we aren't the patient, chivalrous kind."

"Is that what we are?" The word that jumped out at Wesley was 'lover.' "We're lovers?"

Nic grinned down at him. "Well, I for one am certainly hoping for another chance. I know this wasn't the best for you, but if you have faith in me, I *guarantee* that the next time will be better for you."

Closing his eyes, Wesley pressed himself against Nic harder, enjoying the feel of the other body against his. He realized that 'his lover' had gotten it wrong. This first time would always live in his memory as 'the best.'

**

Turning off the television, Angel sighed in relief. Another chorus of the Cops' theme song would have him putting his foot through the TV screen. His William had finally fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by junk food wrappers and bags. Some time before, Djoser had surrendered and had climbed into bed, pillow wrapped around his head to try and muffle the sounds of the television. Cleaning up the wrappers and papers, the vampire shook his head in disgust and wonderment. How could just one Childe make such a mess?

"Hey, big guy." Poking his head through the door, Lorne called to him. "Knock, knock."

"SHHH!" Angel gestured wildly to the Anagogic demon. The last thing he needed was for William to wake up and then he would have to suffer another hour or two of 'Cops.'

"Your kiddies all tucked in for the night?" Lowering his voice, Lorne tiptoed into the room.

"Yeah, and I want to keep it that way." Cleaning up the rest of Spike's clutter, Angel sat down on the couch pulling his Childe into his arms. "If he wakes up again, we'll have to endure an ungodly form of torture."

"Torture?" Lorne looked around the quiet room with puzzlement.

"Yeah, a television program called 'Cops.' You know, I think the humans have now surpassed us demons in the torture department. And that. . . ." Angel gestured toward the TV. "Is their best torture device. We demons have nothing that even compares."

"Actually, I believe there are demons who contribute to this. . .television torture, as you call it." Sitting down in the chair next to the couch, Lorne watched as Angel nuzzled his sleeping Childe.

"Really? How so?"

"Many of the writers who create and write a lot of the television programs are demons. Why do you think that most of what's on TV is produced and filmed here in LA?"

Rolling his eyes up toward the ceiling, Angel wasn't surprised.

Crossing one leg over the other, Lorne looked around with interest. "Spreading out a little?"

"Needed something bigger for the three of us."

"Keeping your Childer close, eh?" Checking out the kitchenette area, Lorne wondered if the vampire had anything to drink other than blood.

"I'm keeping them in sight, until we're safe in our lair in Germany."

"So that's the plan? When will you be going? And would you possibly have something here to wet my whistle?" The Anagogic demon couldn't stand it anymore. If he was going to chitchat, he needed something to keep his throat from going dry.

Angel nodded his head toward the kitchen cabinets. "Help yourself. And I wouldn't mind one either."

While Lorne fumbled around the kitchen looking for glasses, ice, and the booze, Angel began stripping Spike out of his clothes. It was time to put his Childe to bed.

"Must say Angel-Cakes, you don't skimp when it comes to your liquor." Coming back with two glasses filled with ice and a bottle of Haig and Haig Scotch, Lorne was ecstatic. The penny-pinching vampire actually had something decent to drink.

"Going to put him to bed." Angel stood up, Spike in his arms. "Pour me one."

"With pleasure my friend." Humming softly to himself, Lorne filled both glasses with the expensive Scotch. "So-o how is your little one?" He asked, handing a glass to a returning Angel. "Recovered now? Or is he still ill and or depressed?"

"The Ventrue Master drained him, and . . . ." Taking a gulp of scotch, Angel was pensive. "He still hasn't regained his strength."

"Well, it's been four days now. How long does it usually take for your kind to recuperate from a draining?" Lorne peered curiously at the vampire.

"He's been feeding from me. He should be almost back to normal by now." Staring in front of him, another worry for Angel to brood about.

Finishing his glass, Lorne poured himself another. "Your youngest is a sickly one, isn't he? So now what? Do I ask around for a competent demon healer?"

Pouring himself a second drink, Angel gave the Anagogic demon an intent look. "I'm hoping that my brother Damon shows up here soon with our Clan's healer. But in the meantime, if you know of another healer, it wouldn't hurt to have William checked out as soon as possible. . . .I would appreciate the help."

"Don't mention it, crumb cake. I figure I owe you a few." Finishing the rest of his drink, Lorne stood up to leave. "Oh, by the way, wanted to also have a word with Wesley, but no one answers at his apartment, and Cordelia says he hasn't been in the office all day. So what's he been up to today?"

**

The smell of cooking woke Wesley. Sitting up in bed, his brain registered that it was nightfall. When he had fallen asleep, it had been late morning. Shakily he rolled out of bed and stumbled out of the bedroom.

"Hey, Wes." Nic looked up from the stove. "Glad you're up because dinner is almost ready. You able to clean up yourself, or do you need help?"

Still feeling drained, Wesley tried to make sense of the scene in front of him. "Dinner? Why are you making dinner? Vampires. . . ." Putting his hand over his mouth, the early morning events hit him. He had allowed a vampire to drink from him, and he, an Ex-Council Watcher, had drunk from a vampire. An exchange of blood. He was now one of them. "Vampires don't eat food." He mumbled softly.

"Hah! Guess you haven't been around when William has ordered carryout." Turning off the stove, Nic turned to look closely at Wesley. "Listen Wes, I know you're not feeling the best right now, but some good food will help bring you around. Trust me."

"Food? You mean blood, don't you?" Wesley looked at the vampire with puzzlement.

"Blood?" Now Nic was the one who was confused. "What the hell are you talking about?" Comprehension dawned on him, and he couldn't help but throw back his head and laugh. "You're not a vampire, Wes. I didn't turn you. Put your hand over heart. It's still beating."

"But we. . .I drank your blood. Isn't that how one is turned?"

"Only if you're drained to the point of dying. And I was careful not to drink too much from you. Although. . . ." Nic began putting food on a plate. "I was tempted. You as my Childe. My immortal companion. . .lover." Voice lowering, he looked up at Wesley. "You were hard to resist." A flash of that charming, roguish grin that was pure Nic.

"So. . .so why didn't you?" Standing stark naked in the middle of his living room, Wesley couldn't hide his disappointment.

"Because Angelus would skin me alive. . .literally." Taking the plate of food and a glass of orange juice, Nic walked over and set both on the dining room table. "Come eat." He motioned to Wesley. "Even so, I'm thinking I still could be flayed. Once he finds out what happened between us."

Walking over to sit down, Wesley stared at the strange combination of food Nic had prepared for him. Liver cooked with onions, fried eggs, and orange juice. "This. . .err. . .this looks. . .interesting." He mumbled, wondering how he could politely get out of eating dinner.

"Eat." Nic gestured toward the food. "High in iron. Help restore your blood."

"Oh, but of course." Wes now understood the liver and fried eggs. "But. . . ." He looked to see if the vampire had made any tea or coffee. "I'm really not in the mood for orange juice. Is there anything else to drink? I'm very thirsty. In fact, I could use a glass of water."

"SIT." Grabbing Wesley's arm, Nic stopped him from getting up. "When you eat foods high in iron, you should also eat something with vitamin C at the same time. Vitamin C aids iron absorption. Didn't you learn that in Watcher School? Since you were trained to fight vampires, I would have thought that would have been one of your lessons."

"Well. . .I. . . ." Picking up his fork, Wes vaguely recalled hearing a professor speak about blood loss, anemia, and nutrition. "Actually. . .yes, I do remember learning such a fact." Taking a mouthful, he didn't feel hungry, but the food went down surprisingly easy. "What did you mean, Angel might still flay you alive after he finds out about. . .us." He asked between mouthfuls. "Since I'm still among the living and unhurt, this is none of his business."

"Is that what you think?" Grinning, Nic played with the salt and peppershakers. "Tell you what, when we go back to the hotel, you make sure that you tell him so in those exact words."

"Don't worry, I *will*." Wesley didn't understand why this was even an issue. "There really isn't even a problem here, you know. I was. . .willing, so you've done nothing wrong. "

"Angelus won't see it that way. You're his, in my nephew's words, 'human pet.' He owns you."

"That's ridiculous!" Wesley huffed. "Angel doesn't own me. In fact, no one owns me. . .I. . .I own myself. So if *He* starts any kind of argument, I will quickly put a stop to it. As far as I'm concerned, Angel has nothing to say, good, bad, or indifferent about our relationship."

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