Angelus was still running. 

He didn’t know where he was or where he was heading; he didn’t know if he was running to or from. He didn’t know what he was doing or where he was doing it. All he knew was that everything hurt and guilt the likes of which he had never imagined coursed through him. Voices taunted him, echoing in his mind without pause, reminding him in minute detail, what he’d done over the centuries, how many he’d killed, tortured, beaten. 

It was strange, Angelus thought in some part of his mind that didn’t actually penetrate his consciousness, that these images haunted him. He’d been a fierce warrior before being turned, had killed his share of opposing warriors both on the field of battle and as a spy. But then, that same small voice reasoned in the part of his mind that didn’t count as the voices continued to haunt him. Then he’d been a fighter, he’d done those things because it was necessary. When Darla turned him, Angelus became…something else. 

He killed others for no reason other than he could without caring. He’d tortured in ways he’d never heard before because he could, because there was nothing within him to stop him. he didn’t care about those he killed, but no he wanted to make that kill more vicious. Why? Because he could? Because he was stronger than ever before, because he was immortal? Or was it because he wanted to get revenge on his people who hadn’t helped him, on his family, his clan, his army. They’d deserted him when he was a prisoner of the vampires, when he was Darla’s prisoner. 

And now, now that he’d been cursed with that soul once more, with that consciousness, was he more susceptible to the cries of the thousands of voices? Was that what this soul was doing? Was it, this old spiritual essence that should never share the same body with a conscious-less killer, and who once knew right from wrong, that once understood the horrors of his life because it was necessary, did that soul grow so revolted with his deeds that it could do nothing but cry out? Or was it that Angelus’ crimes were too numerous, too bloody, too arbitrary for it to cope with? 

As a vampire he was a vicious killer, anyone and anything that stood in his way was systematically destroyed. Now, now the thought sickened him, the thought that he could (had) done things like that…

But the image that faithfully haunted him throughout the long nights when he moved and the even longer days when he remembered, the one he tried so desperately to dispel was that of Buffy. 

His beautiful mate, his lover and confidante, his equal, his eternal…his wife, she was the only thing that soothed him, that made him forget, if only for a little while, the horrors of his past. A thousand memories taunted him with things that could never again be; good times, bad times, any time with her was treasured. Angelus knew he’d left her, knew that it was his colossal stupidity that precipitate this entire thing to begin with, but that didn’t count when placed in the larger perspective of…this. 

The days were long and as he tried to hide, in the shadows of a doorway or a cave or an alleyway, as he tried to find forgetfulness in sleep, she followed him.

Her soft, responsive body, her laugh, her smile, her scent, taste, touch, feel…her, Buffy. Just her, only her, always her. Everything he had ever known of her, everything he spent night after night remembering, re-memorizing resounded through him in his sleep. 

Angelus would often sigh her name, a breath of love he never realized he did, never realized he needed to the exclusion of all else until it was too late and he no longer had it. 

But it was the nights, when he could no longer find solace in sleep, in their bond, when everything he was, everything he had ever done couldn’t be hidden from, that was somehow worse. He was no longer the vampire with whom Buffy had fallen in love, no longer Angelus, lord of his kingdom, the most powerful and feared Ancient of the Continuum, indeed, all the Lands. 

He was no longer lover, mate, husband, or a thousand other names she called him, whispering her love and devotion to him as they made love, sleeping in each other’s arms night after night, day after day. 

He was a freak, an outcast. And everyday that point was pounded home more and more until Angelus thought himself mad and wanted nothing more than to greet the sun, watch the glowing orb as it rose on another day in a realm that had once brought him together with his only love. He didn’t, couldn’t. Something always stopped him from destroying himself. Whether it was the memory of Buffy or the knowledge that she was still in their home, alive, and no matter who she had turned to, who the father of her child was, she loved him, Angelus, he could feel it…and he, the vampire with a soul, loved her. 

That was another thing, the child, her child…his child. There were days Angelus fully believed the babe Buffy carried was his, born from their love and devotion. There was never another lover, never another who captured her heart enough to occupy her bed. Other days, when he felt particularly angry over the circumstances he found himself in, the vampire raged, screaming into the still night of his wife’s betrayal. No matter his mood, his shouted curses or whispered words of love, Buffy was there, soothing him, just being there for him. 

Promising her love was as eternal as their lives. More often than not, he believed her. 

So he ran, never stopping in one place long enough for anyone to recognize him, for anyone to notice him. He ran because he no longer felt worthy of that love, of the love she held for the demon within. He ran around the world once, never seeing anything it had to offer and then did it again because all he had was time and all this world offered him was a means to waste that time.
~~~~~~~~~~
Once more bedecked in the royal jewels, Buffy stood on the balcony and looked over the crowd below. 

It was eerily silent as she surveyed her people, all waiting for the announcement she hadn’t really prepared, wanting to know where their Ancient was, what his Queen had to tell them. What the strange rumor of Angelus being attacked by humans was all about. She looked down at them and they stared back at her, noting the presence of both her First and Angelus’, the absence of Darla, the presence of Tara, William, Drusilla. 

“Your Ancient,” Buffy began in a strong voice that belied the weakness threatening to envelope her, “Has been maliciously attacked by human magicks while scouting new land for us. Because the mortal realms are vast and dangerous to most of us, he went alone, preferring to endanger only himself rather than his people. On his way back to me, to us, a band of humans, well versed in the ancient magicks of their people, attacked him. 

“At this time, it is unclear what they’ve done to him, but he has vowed not to return until all their magicks are cleansed from his body. Angelus remains in the mortal realms, still securing lands for Aurelius, and performing ritual purification so as not to contaminate his kingdom here. In his stead, I am Ancient; heir to the throne by right of marriage, mated ceremony, bonding rituals, and blood. Darla, Angelus’ sire, has renounced all claim to the throne, and is currently held within our dungeons until it can be determined what role, if any, she played in Angelus’ ambush. 

“Drusilla, eldest living childe to Angelus, stands here, acknowledging me as Queen and Ancient, forsaking her claim to the throne and vowing to stand by my side. William, her eldest living childe, stands with her. Is there any who wish to contest my claim?” 

Silence surrounded the courtyard, as it had throughout Buffy’s speech. No one moved, they didn’t dare. When their queen asked for any challenges, they didn’t so much as blink. Shock was part of that, shock that someone, anyone, could bring harm to their Ancient, that Angelus, the grandest of all legends, could be brought low by paltry humans. The fact that they wielded old and dark magicks only went to prove that, on their own, those humans were certainly no match for their lord. 

Buffy smiled, nodding once in acknowledgement of their support. “I have more news, and I hope you’ll share in our happiness, Angelus and mine. I am with child, due within the next nine months. Pray to the Priestess that Angelus is returned to us before his daughter is born.” 

Now as gasp did race through the crowd, even as Gunn, Oz, and William hard pressed to not show their reactions to Buffy’s announcement. Buffy knew, of course, that rumors would spread about the legitimacy of her babe, most likely following Angelus’ original belief that vampires could not father children. Before that even began, she raised her voice once more. 

“Elves can, of course procreate, but only an Ancient and Master vampire can father children. Angelus is the strongest of all Ancients, of course, and it is fit and proper that he father the heir to his throne. ” She wanted to say more, but didn’t know what else to add as silence once again bloomed below. 

“Hail Buffy, Queen and Ancient of Aurelius!” Someone shouted, the cry picked up immediately until that was all one could hear. Buffy smiled at her people, soaking in the love and affection, the support they offered. And opened her bond with Angelus, so he might feel it as well. 

She hoped he heard her speech, hoped he realized how desperately she wanted him to return. How much she still loved him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Deep within the bowls of the castle, even Darla heard the speech. She grimaced at the ruckus the supposedly vicious vampires made when Buffy announced her pregnancy. Ah, if only the mortal realms knew that vampire communities were like any other, their reputation would be shot to Hades. 

A child, Priestess, Angelus and Buffy’s child. Maybe that was the reason Darla couldn’t sense anything from her, could barely follow the Sire/Childe link with Angelus. The babe interfered, drawing the couple closer, excluding everyone else. 

Long after the din died, long after everyone went back to their lives, still talking excitedly about Buffy’s joyous news, Darla thought about it. Not only about how creatures with such vicious reputations could be so taken with the news that their Queen was pregnant, but also about Buffy and Angelus. About the daughter, about so many things she was sure she gave herself a headache. 

What makes us fall in love? 

What makes us think that one person is different from all the others out there? Uniqueness aside, what makes us so utterly drawn to one and only one person, makes us think that this person is the one to spend all our days and nights with. This is the one who becomes the center of our world, this is the one person who knows everything and doesn’t care. Who knows our strengths and weaknesses, our failings and our triumphs and still, still wants to be with us. They know us as well as, if not better than, ourselves, and they love it, love everything, accept everything, and that, really, is all that’s needed. Ever. They love every second of it and they want more. They want this lifetime and the next, they want it all and greed never felt so good. 

What makes this person different from any other? 

Why would such a vicious vampire such as Angelus want those things? Or was it simply nature, all being’s nature, to want that? To want that safety, that comfort, that familiarity with someone and know that you can be, do, say whatever you want to them and they’ll still love you, support you. 

That was the question Darla asked herself as she languished in the dungeon, spurned even by the sparse other prisoners who shared her space. She didn’t know why, other than what she heard Buffy say in her speech to the people, positive that Buffy didn’t tell them specifically what the vampiress did. But maybe it was because she was there, she was in the dungeon when once she had the power to place people there. 

The vampire guard who found her was dead, killed by Gunn sometime ago. Darla didn’t know why Buffy had that guard placed in the dungeon, but she did know why Gunn killed him. After Buffy’s speech it all made sense: if there were even a hint of the truth, not only would Aurelius revolt, the entire Continuum and possibly all the Lands would as well. Having a weak leader was a surefire way to end that existence. 

And still the question haunted her. 

What made Angelus fall so in love with Buffy that he spurned what he knew for eons, turning his back on his sire, his vampiric heritage to create a life with an elf, and a half elf at that. What was it about her that sparked something within him to expand his horizons, limit his opportunities yet have the strength to do more, so very much more? 

What was it that Buffy possessed that Darla didn’t? Beauty? Darla could admit that the elf was striking, beyond compare, and she could admit that her own looks sometimes paled in comparison to the bronzed skinned beauty, but the vampiress was attractive all the same. Was it her compassion? Buffy was known to be tenderhearted, not to the point of idiocy or ridiculousness, but she was empathetic to those of her kingdom… 

Her kingdom. 

That was it, Darla suddenly realized. Compassion. Buffy genuinely cared for others, her elfin family for one, but it was more than obvious to any and all who looked, that Angelus was the center of her universe. She cared for her servants, Celica her maid, Jonah the butler, Marcus the physician, Francesca the cook, and countless others. Again, never to the point where they were unaware of her position, her authority, but she cared in little ways that endeared her to them. The towns she and Angelus visited, the people she met with, talked with, actually listened to. 

Buffy cared, not because she was supposed to, as so many in court did, but because she actually did care. William and Drusilla adored her; they would die for her even without Angelus here to hold them to their vows. Oz, naturally, but Gunn as well, both Firsts would lay down their lives for her not because she was the Queen and it was their duty, but because they worshipped her and would do anything to ensure her safety. 

Theophilus betrayed his caste, the ministers, because of her, and Drusu’s life was spared because of his dedication to her. Nicholaus transferred to her personal guard because of her, and all, every last one of them, would see the kingdom destroyed before harm befell Buffy. 

All of which was something Darla lacked. All of it. 

Sitting up a little higher on the muddy floor her new home had become, Darla looked around her once more. She had her own separate cell, three and a half sides of which were thick stone and concrete, one high window to let the stench out, the fourth wall had but one door, thick wood with an opening across the top barred by cast-iron. There was no escaping the cell; Angelus had tested them all out upon claiming the throne untold years ago. 

Darla didn’t want to escape; she wanted to atone. 

The shrill, slightly crazed laughter that floated from the cell could be heard throughout the dungeon, and those few that were there thought that the Sire to the Ancient had finally lost it, completely, totally, and there was definitely no coming back from that. 

They weren’t far off. 

Atone, Darla snorted again, still caught up in the hysterical laughter that gripped her. She, Darla, beloved childe to the old Master and Sire to the most powerful vampire to ever live, wanted to atone for her sins against a half elf who had taken Darla’s favorite childe, married him, mated with him, became his eternal for the love of the goddess, and ruled his kingdom far better than she, Darla, ever could. 

She had well and truly lost it. 

There was another thing, and one that set her off into more peals of hysteria. 

Eternal. The very word said it all, Buffy was Angelus’ eternal; she was his mate, his wife, his lover, in this life. And in every single other one they both lived. Immortality was one thing, but there were still things that could kill an immortal – they weren’t invincible. Being one’s eternal meant that once both of the bonded pair died, they were destined to find each other again and again, throughout the ages until time literally stopped. 

It wasn’t exactly known how one became a vampire’s eternal, Darla certainly never experienced anything even close, but they were even more rare than a bonded pair. 

And Buffy was Angelus’ eternal. 

Darla didn’t like to think of herself as stupid, but it was clear that was exactly what she was. What kind of blindness had overcome her to make the blonde vampiress think she could somehow take Angelus away from something like that? Two measly months without sex? Darla never thought of herself as naïve, either, but there it was, staring at her in the face and laughing. The only reason, she knew then and knew now, that Angelus even looked at her was because Buffy had stormed into the chamber and flung her against the far wall. 

Up to that point, the Ancient hadn’t bothered to notice much of anything, let alone what Darla did to him. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Darla said aloud and laughed again. 

What had she been thinking? 

Obviously, she hadn’t, or none of this would ever have happened, she wouldn’t be wallowing in some nasty, smelly, disgusting cell, her childe lost in the mortal realm, his mate angry, devastated, and still the best leader this kingdom ever had. 

And the child, Priestess, the child. That child would know its father, because Buffy would see to it, would see that, even if he wasn’t here himself, that Angelus knew his daughter, and his daughter knew her father. 

Yes, everything was all Darla’s fault. And she was going to fix it.
**********
“Tell me about it,” Buffy said as she turned over in Angelus’ arms. 

“France?” At her nod, Angelus smiled, bending his head to kiss her expanding stomach. One hand clasped hers; the other stroked the small mound that shielded him from his babe, his daughter. “The humans are strange, speaking religion and magicks in the same breath, hiding behind superstition while murdering those who embrace the old ways. There are the rich who have everything while the poor have less than nothing; equality has no meaning here, but there are rumors of rebellion.” 

“There is no equality here, either, Angelus, what makes you so passionate about them?” Buffy desperately needed to keep him talking, all too soon their time together would end and their separate lives resume.  

“It isn’t passion, love; it’s more a strangeness I find. There are castes in my…you…in the Lands,” Angelus eventually said, unsure of his place anywhere, especially there. “But there is no starvation, not in Aurelius Kingdom at least. Here, only the upper classes have anything. It’s no wonder rebellion is prevalent.” 

“Be careful, my love, I’m not about to lose you to some idealistic cause.”  

Angelus said nothing to his wife’s fear, but his eyes promised her that he’d be careful. Buffy took the opportunity to kiss him then, reminding him of her love and that he was, despite his feelings to the contrary, very much needed with her. Changing the subject, she asked, “Is it very nice there, the land I mean?”  

“The land is vast,” Angelus said as Buffy closed her eyes and he continued to explore all the changes in her body. “Green hills, large forests, fields as far as one can see of crops I can’t even name. There are immense buildings in the larger towns and cities, but they are cramped and filthy, breeding pools for disease.” 

His large hands spread across her abdomen, feeling the slight ripple of the babe within as she responded to her father’s presence. A large smile lighted his face, joyous and protective and Angelus kissed the mound, before moving up to kiss his daughter’s mother, too. 

“She knows you,” Buffy murmured, eyes still closed as if afraid to open them. Knowing that once she did, he’d disappear, that the bond linking them in sleep would close once Angelus was awake. Here, together, in the dreamland of their bond, Angelus accepted the child as his, knowing that Buffy would never, could never cheat on him with another. It was only when awake, when he distanced himself from her, that he questioned it. 

Something tugged deep within Angelus and, panicked, he crushed his lips to Buffy’s pouring the love and passion he felt for her into that kiss. Hands tangled in her hair, holding her closer, and he pulled back to whisper his love for her when he jolted awake.  

Looking around the dirty alleyway, noting the stench that filled his nose, clogged his being, Angelus wanted to roar. There, with Buffy, she was all that mattered, he could be himself there, whether that was demon or soul, it didn’t matter. But away from her, Angelus was forced to accept the horrors of his past, to try to run from the things he’d done. But it was never fast enough, far enough, for his past was always with him and one could never truly run from that. 

Pulling himself up, Angelus wrapped the thick greatcoat tighter around him, warding off the chill, not in the air, though that was present as well, but from deep within him. Walking out of the alley and into the still busy street in the dimness of sunset, he ignored those around him, selling their wares, shopping, stealing, whatever it was they did to survive from day to day. 

He had no place to be but couldn’t stay here lest Buffy find him. She sent William and Drusilla into these lands to search for him, trusting no one but them. He always eluded them, knowing their moves because he taught them himself. He was still the better predator, still the Ancient even if their roles were reversed and he scurried like prey. 

Now that Buffy knew he was in France, he’d have to leave, maybe sail for someplace distant, far enough away that she wouldn’t think to look there. Until the next time they shared time together in their dream-bond, and Angelus told her of all he saw, wishing she were with him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Rupert, King of Elves, was less than pleased. 

In fact, pleased was so far removed from anything he was even remotely feeling, it was a wonder his Land wasn’t in ruins already. He was a man who took several things seriously, his kingdom, of course, but his family, they were most important. For what was life, especially eternal life, if it couldn’t be shared with family? He had several siblings, but none were close to him, preferring to build their own destinies elsewhere in other realms. 

He had no wife, his last one died a century ago, poisoned by factions within his own court. It was a good thing, Rupert always thought, that he’d never gone through any marriage ritual with his wives; they died all too quickly for him. But he had his children. And, really, that was all that mattered in the end. His children were a constant source entertainment and comfort, grief and heartbreak to him. But he would change none of that for anything. There were nine of them, eight boys and Buffy, his lone daughter. 

It was she who Rupert despaired of at the moment. 

“What did Tara say?” Rupert asked his oldest, Kynan, once more, though he knew the answer already. 

“Nothing, Father,” the prince responded in exasperation, the same response he’d given the past four times. “She is bound, as you well know, to say nothing of what Buffy has told her; and I don’t think Buffy’s confided much to Tara since my wife arrived.” 

Yes, that was the same answer Kynan gave every time, with little variation. It did nothing to settle Rupert’s anger. He never liked the Ancient, true, but he grew to respect Angelus after the other man proved what he was willing to do to ensure Buffy’s safety. The rebellion several years ago showed that. Rupert knew that the vampire loved Buffy, and knew he would take care of her. 

This move of Angelus’, this desertion, proved two things to Rupert. One was that his original feeling of the vampire was dead on accurate. The other was that something was seriously wrong if the obviously in love Ancient left both his wife and his kingdom. 

“Nothing about Angelus’ reasons for deserting his family, his kingdom?” Just because Rupert had never liked the vampire didn’t mean they couldn’t grow, over the course of Buffy’s marriage, to tolerate each other. Even with the elf’s immense dislike of Angelus, Rupert couldn’t conceive of a reason the Ancient had to desert his wife, his child, his kingdom. 

“All I know is what everyone else knows, Father,” Kynan said, rapidly losing whatever patience he once had. “Angelus was attacked by humans using dark magicks and refuses to return home until all traces of those magicks are purged from his body. He doesn’t wish to contaminate anyone else with anything from the mortal lands.” 

Rupert was not appeased; he still had one more sore point. “Buffy’s child, why does she refuse to return home for the Birthing Rituals?” 

Kynan sighed once more; his father knew these reasons as well. “Buffy is required there, Father,” the younger elf repeated. “She says her place is at the head of her husband’s kingdom and until his return, she is not leaving that place. She is Queen and says her people need their queen. Any required rituals can be done there as easily as they are here.” 

Rupert fumed. That wasn’t the point. The point was that he wanted his daughter back, he wanted to see the carefree child she once was, and he wanted to know his grandchild. Kingdom Aurelius wasn’t her kingdom, despite her marriage. This was, the Elfin Land. No amount of bonding rituals could change that. He ignored the part that reminded him of the fact that Buffy was joined, mated, and bound to the vampire and, no matter what happened in this or any life, they would always be. 

Rupert absolutely hated that reminder. In part, it warmed him, knowing that his only daughter would always be with the one she most wanted. The rest hated that it was a vampire when there were so many nice elfin lads who wanted her. 

“Send word, Kynan,” Rupert said eventually resigned. There was nothing he could change, and he hadn’t been successful in the first place, when Buffy first agreed to marry Angelus. What made him think this time was any different? “To Buffy. We’ll prepare the necessary rituals, I’ll instruct our Priestess to speak with the vampire one. We arrive in one month’s time.” 

Kynan nodded, relieved to be doing something other than repeating the same things over and over again. At least this way he’d see his wife; Tara had been gone months now, and Kynan missed her unbearably.
~~~~~~~~~~
There were several things that the vampires of Aurelius enjoyed. 

Bloodshed, for they were bloodthirsty creatures and enjoyed the taste, scent, feel of blood, and the spilling of it. Especially their enemies blood, for that carried a scent that was sweeter, a taste that was ambrosia, and a knowledge that there was one less, alive, to oppose them. 

Order, for that was as much a part of their basic makeup as their need for blood and violence. Anarchy may seem like the demonic thing to do, but what good was that? It was a basic fact that some were stronger than others, it was true in all realms, and it was true with them. Angelus was strongest, he ruled; his childer were respected and powerful in their own right, but they were, and always would be, weaker than he. 

Celebrations, much like the ones Angelus threw in the past, mostly to solidify his claim to the throne. The ones where Buffy attended were even better because, above all else, and as incongruous as it seemed, the kingdom truly loved their queen. The decade anniversary of Angelus and Buffy’s marriage, that was the end all, be all of celebrations. Until now. 

The one thing they enjoyed above all, happily coincided with the being they loved the most. So when Buffy announced her pregnancy, when Drusilla and William, the childer of Angelus confirmed that pregnancy, when the High Priestess and the High Seer journeyed from their temple atop the Holy Mount, to bless Buffy and the babe she carried, the kingdom of Aurelius partied like they never knew the meaning before. 

Gifts showing their love and admiration appeared night and day in the Royal Chambers, word spread so quickly, entire families from far-off lands arrived bearing their own gifts, well wishes, and blessings. The gryphon, Buffy’s constant companion these days, greeted all admirers first, inspecting them – and their gifts – before allowing them anywhere near Buffy. The creature’s vigilance made Angelus proud, though he was not there to witness the deed. 

Buffy sat in their rooms, stroking the majestic animal and whispering nonsense to it. The gryphon, for its part, allowed her touch, for it soothed her more than it, allowed her tears, brushing its long tongue out to capture the essence of her sadness within itself. Most of all, it allowed itself to stay, because of two very simple reasons. Buffy herself, and the child she carried. 

Long before its mistress became pregnant, the Land of Dragons and Beasts knew of the child. She was to be the driving factor in the Lands, the force behind an era of peace and prosperity even now, when things were relatively calm and peaceful, that no one had ever seen. Buffy, the Elfin Queen of the Vampire Kingdom Aurelius and mother to this daughter, was special herself, and yet required more protection than even Angelus realized. 

The gryphon, upon first meeting the legendary couple, found that hard to believe. After the happenings of the previous months, it realized that prophecies, to put it succinctly, sucked. And whoever foresaw this little rift between his mistress and her husband, ought to be strung up for allowing such things to pass. His sweet queen deserved much better; even her hulking husband, who warmed the gryphon’s heart with his paranoid watch over the elf, deserved better. 

“Have you a name, my brave gryphon?” Buffy asked the creature, ashamed she hadn’t thought of that long before now. “I apologize for ignoring you, for not discovering your name long before now,” she whispered as trumpets sounded in the distance. 

Buffy looked up from the mythological bird and gazed out the window. The elfin party was still too far away to see, but the queen knew they’d arrived before sunset this day. Her father, her brothers and their wives and children, cousins, aunts, uncles she’d never gotten along with, who wanted her and her brother’s dead so as to assume her father’s throne. 

All coming to her kingdom for the Birthing Ritual. 

Scowling out the window, Buffy commented to the animal who wasn’t privy to her inner thoughts. “Won’t this be fun.” 

The gryphon squawked, returning her attention back to it. “Ah, yes, my friend, I’ll not forget you. You’ll need to be my eyes and ears for this little festival, for I trust none outside my immediate family. And I have no wish to start a war between my two kingdoms.” Buffy stroked the creature’s feathers once more before standing, carrying her companion with her as she left the room. There were still things to attend to before her family arrived. 

“You never said, my gryphon, have you a name?” Buffy repeated as she walked out of her rooms, Oz and Gunn close behind her. 

“Ade-Aman,” the gryphon said, its voice low, guttural, yet still oddly soothing. 

Buffy looked at the creature on her arm in surprise. Never had she heard it utter any sound at all, let alone speak. “And what,” she asked, hiding her shock, “Does that mean?” 

“Royal Trust.”

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