Reunited

“Are you sure?” 

 “Yes, milady, positive.” 

“How many?” 

“A dozen lesser clans, perhaps many of the Order of Kurtantji who fall under the Kingdom Mohi. They’re disgruntled because they have no say in Mohi’s Order and joined this Pretender Cult.” 

The Pretender Cult sprang from mostly younger, discontented vampires who believed that not only should the Vampire Continuum be for vampires, but that Buffy and Ariana, as ‘pretenders’ to the throne, shouldn’t be allowed to even set foot in the Great Halls of the Land. The problem with that was several fold. Buffy more than made up for her non-vampire lineage, ruling Kingdom Aurelius in Angelus’ stead and forging alliances with the other three kingdoms, earning herself a seat on the Continuum Council in place of her husband, and earning the respect, with her alliances and ruthlessness, of many of the other Ancients. 

The Cult also felt that the ‘abomination’ that was Ariana should be killed, and should definitely not be allowed to inherit the throne of Aurelius. They spouted prophecy about the death and destruction she’d cause, about how she’d bring ruin to all the vampire kingdoms, and how the sooner she was killed the better for everyone. Not many believed them, but enough did, or enough wanted to go to war, to swell their ranks. 

It was worse in the mortal realms. There, so far removed from the Lands, playing by their own rules and most times not having rules at all, they thought it was a fine idea to overthrow the place they, or their ancestors, hailed from, because there was nothing else to do during their immortal lives. 

“And in the Mortal Realms?” 

“The same, many flock to their banner, but most are suitably scared of the Continuum. There is no real master there, several tried to bring order to their clans, but it’s more a riot than anything else.” 

Buffy looked at General Chang, the bearer of such unhappy tidings, her gaze sweeping the room to include Ariana, William, Drusilla, Darla, Oz, Gunn, Nicholaus, and Theophilus. It wasn’t their decision, however, it was hers and hers alone. And one she intended to make, that was not the problem. Oh, no the problem was the Mortal Realms. And Angelus. 

“We’ll go,” Buffy agreed to the request from the Continuum. “Aurelius will cross the portal to the Mortal Realms and take out those there who wish to rebel against the established order.” 

Chang nodded, having expected nothing less. “I shall inform the Continuum of your acceptance, milady.” Without another word, Chang left, heading straight back to the Continuum to inform them of Buffy’s acceptance and to request permission to accompany her. 

“We leave in two days’ time,” Buffy said in dismissal of those gathered. Everyone but Ariana left and Buffy couldn’t say she was surprised. 

“What’s wrong, mama?” Ariana asked as she turned in her chair to face her mother. The older woman looked drawn, stressed. This war took its toll on everyone, but there was something more to Buffy’s look. 

A long moment of silence passed as Oz stood in front of the entrance doors and Gunn outside, ensuring the privacy of those within the room. Both Buffy and Ariana knew that no matter what passed between them, it would never leave this room. So far as both knew, Oz and Gunn didn’t even gossip between themselves. 

“Your father is in the Mortal Realms.” Buffy said eventually, trying to keep her voice neutral. 

“I know, mother,” Ariana said, “What else are you not telling me?” 

“I’ve never lied to you, Ariana; I’ve told you the truth since you were old enough to understand right from wrong. But I’ve kept something from you about your father.” 

Again, Buffy lapsed into silence, clearly upset over her secrets and not knowing how to tell her only child those secrets. She didn’t know if she should, actually, and wasn’t sure that in doing so it was right for Ariana. The last thing in the world Buffy wanted was to hurt her daughter. By keeping secrets about the girl’s father, did she do just that? 

“I told you the truth when I said your father was cursed by roaming humans, they called themselves Clan Gypsies, or something like that, meaning nomads. They used magicks I wasn’t aware still existed in the Mortal Realm to wreak their own brand of vengeance against the infamous Angelus.” Buffy paused, wondering why now, when there was such a possibility of seeing him, that she told their daughter the truth about Angelus. Why not before, when Ariana was three and first asked about him? 

Because no matter how much time passed, a decade or four, Buffy still loved the vampire and couldn’t bear the thought of the child he’d never laid eyes on hating him. No matter the hurt he put her through, Buffy didn’t want his daughter to look upon him with hatred or disgust. 

“They…returned his soul to him that night.” 

“I…I know, mama,” Ariana admitted with a sigh and flinched when Buffy’s head jerked in her direction, her jade green eyes snapping to Ariana’s golden ones. Unidentifiable emotions raced through those green depths and the daughter wondered if maybe she should have confessed sooner. But the last thing Ariana wanted was to hurt her mother, the woman who loved and raised her through all the turmoil that gripped their land. 

“Please, don’t,” She took her mother’s suddenly cold hand and pressed it between her warm ones. Though she was half vampire, Ariana was warm to the touch, needing both blood and food to survive, and in possession of her own soul. That soul was one more thing the rebels revolted against, their creed that only the soulless should and would rule the Continuum. Which was rather ironic as with Buffy in charge unprecedented peace and prosperity engulfed the land. “Please don’t hate me, I had to know.” 

Blinking rather foolishly at her child, Buffy asked the only thing that came to mind. “How?” 

“It was something Darla said once,” Ariana admitted seeing the automatic hardening of her mother’s eyes. “She was telling me a story of you and daddy and said how if daddy wasn’t such a fool he’d be back here now.” When Buffy said nothing to that, Ariana continued. 

“I asked you about it, but all you said was that my father loved me and he’d be with us soon, if he could. I knew he was in the mortal realms, I knew there were strange magicks in him, there’s this connection with him, similar to the one I have with you, mama. The empathy one we share, I share with him as well, and I just knew that whatever he was feeling wasn’t something I ever expected Angelus of Aurelius to feel. So I went to Drusilla and asked her. 

“She said that the ‘nasty humans’ cursed daddy with a soul, that he was on his way back to you when it happened and that Darla was with him. I couldn’t understand why he’d be in the Mortal Realms and why Darla would be with him, but Dru said something that didn’t make any sense. She said that he was running from you.”

Buffy looked into Ariana’s eyes, saw in those golden depths a sadness and fear she’d never seen before. Gathering the much larger woman into her arms, Buffy rocked her daughter as she tried to think of a good way to explain what actually happened that terrible day all those years ago. A tear escaped the tight confines she placed around her heart but Buffy didn’t have the will to brush it away as the solitary sign of her sadness fell onto her daughter’s dark head. 

“You must understand, Ariana, that your father truly does love you. I know he does or it never would’ve mattered what you or I did, we’d know. And I love you, child,” Buffy kissed the top of Ariana’s head before pulling back to look into her golden eyes. “But he, when I told him I was pregnant with you, he didn’t believe me, thought that, because vampires cannot reproduce, that I cheated on him with another. I suppose that if I ever told him that only with elves can a master vampire have children that might have made a difference, but I never expected his reaction to be… 

“He didn’t take the news at all well, suffice it to say. He…for the first time ever, he showed me just what a temper he has. Things happened, we fought some more, he tried to reconcile; I know he believed me in the end, but it didn’t matter, things had already progressed too far and I was less than receptive to any advances he made…. Darla,” And there was enough venom in Buffy’s voice to put down a dragon, let alone a vampiress who wasn’t even in the room. “Darla took advantage of the matter and tried to seduce Angelus back to her.” 

Taking a deep breath, Buffy smiled and it was not a happy one. “It didn’t work, he didn’t want Darla, but it didn’t matter, I was…angry. In a fit of anger, I cursed Darla to never be with any who find her attractive. Each who do, are faced with what she truly is inside, a lying, conniving whore with no sense of loyalty.” 

Well that explained a lot, Ariana thought as she digested all her mother told her in silence. That explained why she never saw Darla with another, never heard of the blonde vampiress’ sexual exploits from the castle gossip mill. It also explained why several vampires, and one particularly fierce elf from her mother’s guards, never went near Darla any more. Ariana knew that they, at one time, found the other woman attractive, but that changed, and rather suddenly. Ariana, however, never heard more of why that attraction ceased. Now, she figured, this was her answer. 

“I, ah, confronted her,” Ariana admitted with an equally fierce grin. “I didn’t know everything you just said,” and Ariana couldn’t believe that her father, the one she’d heard nothing but the highest praise of, could not believe the one woman he was supposed to worship and love. “Drusilla only told me of Darla’s treachery. My first instinct was to strap her to four horses and let them ride away until there was nothing left of her.” 

At Buffy’s chocked laugh, Ariana smiled and continued. Reason had prevailed, soon enough, and Ariana realized that as the heir to the throne, she couldn’t let her emotions distract her from a plan. It was difficult, but two things stopped the nearly blinding rage that consumed Ariana when she learned of Darla’s betrayal. The first was that her mother was trying to give Darla another chance; though at the time Ariana couldn’t understand why. 

She still couldn’t but that conversation was for another time. 

In Ariana’s mind, with her newfound information, Darla took the place of Angelus, a place her father should’ve occupied from the start. Ariana cared for Darla; she genuinely loved the vampiress, believing that the blonde wanted nothing more than to fulfill her father’s place in his forced absence, never suspecting that it was Darla who forced that absence. As far as Ariana was concerned, Darla did it all willfully, knowingly, and without remorse, and then inserted herself into a life here, with Ariana, that should have been her father’s place. 

The second reason was the outpouring of emotions Darla tearfully confessed. 

“If you’ve noticed, my relationship with Darla changed afterwards. She confessed, and I’m still inclined to believe her, that she loved me like a daughter, that she was sorry that daddy would never know me and that she was the one to follow him. Daddy, Darla said, wanted nothing to do with her, he wanted to be left alone and then return to you. According to Darla, it was the night that he was doing just that that the gypsies cursed him.” 

Buffy listened to her child in silence, hardly believing that Ariana knew all this time and said nothing. But it was obvious that her daughter didn’t know everything and for that Buffy was grateful. If she had her way, Ariana would never learn that Angelus beat her in a fit of rage over the perceived infidelity, would never learn that he did sleep with Darla, though Buffy knew as well as Darla did that Angelus thought it was his wife he was truly with. 

There were some things one’s child should never know. 

And as much as Buffy was loath to admit it, even she could see Darla’s obvious affection for Ariana. It was something that took getting used to, that created jealously and hatred and made Buffy want to kill her husband’s sire repeatedly. In the end, Buffy realized that Darla really did care for Ariana, that despite everything the vampiress did to the contrary before Ariana was born, they’d formed a bond and Ariana was truly the one person Darla would willingly die for. 

That, and the other reason Buffy allowed Darla to stay in the castle, to keep her life. Buffy was dependant on Darla’s blood in the absence of Angelus. The elf suspected that had Angelus left her when she was not pregnant with his child that she could’ve survived without his blood, so few times she’d tasted it over the years. But Ariana’s reliance on her father’s blood during Buffy’s pregnancy precluded that survival. Ariana could eat the blood-fruit that grew in the kingdom, eat Cook’s blood pies and meats. Buffy could not, she was forced to drink Darla’s blood every couple of months or risk painful addiction withdrawal and, eventually, insanity. 

No matter the state – or lack thereof – of her link with Angelus, Buffy knew her husband, and knew he knew of her tasting another. She wasn’t sure Angelus realized who it was, or why, but should they ever meet again, and it would be during this trip if Buffy had any say in it, then she’d set him straight. 

“Why did you never tell me?” 

Ariana snuggled into her mother’s arms, like she used to as a child, a much smaller child, when she believed Buffy could hold whatever demons plagued her at bay. “You didn’t seem to want me to know, and whenever you talked about daddy it was with love and affection. I couldn’t, for a long time, reconcile that picture with the one Darla admitted. I finally realized that you’d forgiven him, still loved him, and you wanted me to as well.” 

“Didn’t you?” Buffy questioned remembering, now, that troubled time with Ariana. Then, the queen thought it was a natural rebellion; Ariana turned from everyone, her, Darla – the bitch Buffy never fully forgave – Drusilla, William, even Tara, Kynan, and Rupert. “I know you’ve never met him, but you always talked about him with such awe and love, I just thought…” 

“Oh, I did,” Ariana admitted, “Or as much as I was able to without ever meeting him. But I thought that you lied to me, that you wanted me to think that he was this great father when he was nothing more than a deserter. He wasn’t here, I thought you built him up on this pedestal for me, and maybe I did as well, making him grander than he really was.” 

“He really is everything I ever told you, Ariana,” Buffy said quietly. “I never lied to you, never. I may,” she amended when Ariana pulled out of her arms and gave her a look, “Have omitted certain things, but no one really knows the whole story. I’ve protected both you and him with my lies to the kingdom and Continuum and will continue to do so until it no longer matters.” 

In a small voice that belied the words they’d just exchanged, Ariana asked, “Do you hate me?” 

“No! Whatever makes you think that?” 

Swallowing and looking much more like the child she once was rather than the grown woman with her own lover, Ariana shrugged. “I’m the reason daddy isn’t here, I’m the reason he’s there, in the Mortal Realms and that he has a soul.” 

“Ariana Amira Kali, you stop thinking that right now!” Buffy admonished her daughter. “You are not the reason your father isn’t here. He made the choice all on his own and whatever else happened or didn’t, you had nothing to do with it. When it all boiled down, there wasn’t enough trust between us, I suppose.” Buffy admitted sadly, that day still imprinted in her memory, as clearly as if it happened yesterday. 

“Do you think,” Ariana asked after a while, “That we’ll see daddy there?” 

Buffy smiled, a smile Ariana was well acquainted with. The one that said her mother was not going to give up, give in, or quit, anytime soon. “Oh, you can count on it, Ariana, you can count on it.” 

Somewhere in the middle of the human city of Los Angeles, the vampire in question knew, without having to be told, without having to reopen the bond with his wife that slowly closed itself off over the years, with and without help from them, that something big was coming, something involving those he’d left behind.

Involving his wife and daughter.
**********  
Willow Rosenberg, friend to the Slayer and her boyfriend, strangely friends with the resident bitch, and not so strangely friends with the bitch’s sweet and endearing boyfriend, watched their resident vampire pace around the lobby. 

He sported a scowl that really should’ve sent her cowering, his eyes flickered red, when she swore that vampire’s eyes usually went golden, and there was this strange purple glow around him, with the ring he always wore emitting the brightest glow. Willow wondered at that, the differences between Angel and the other vampires they’d met over the years; not that Willow ever had the chance to observe another vampire the way she did Angel, but some differences were obvious. 

Since the first time Willow saw Angel, nearly two years ago, she’d had a crush on the brooding, aloof vampire. She lived in LA in the hotel he owned, worked with Faith and everyone else to fight the evil that preyed on humans, and wondered about him. Like his accent, it was unlike any Willow ever heard, and she didn’t want to ask him about it. Mostly because he scared her, despite her fascination with him, but Willow didn’t think the vampire would tell her, anyway. 

Or his temper, which was mercurial at best, but strangely restrained – after all, Cordelia was still alive, wasn’t she? His eyes were another feature about him that fascinated Willow, often appearing a violent red when he was angered instead of the normal yellow of other vampires – which, again, happened often whenever the vampire was in residence within his own home. But when Angel wasn’t angered, when he was listening somewhat attentively to Doyle as he explained a demon from his vision, or Wes as he explained…something else, or, more often, when Angel stared off into space thinking about whatever it was he thought of, the vampire’s eyes were a beautiful brown. Then they were deep and mysterious, staring through one with an intensity that often startled Willow. 

The ring was another thing that Willow found peculiar. It was emerald and ruby encrusted, and beautifully woven in symbols the redhead couldn’t place no matter how hard or long she researched. It was also worn on Angel’s left hand, signaling, to Willow at least, his marriage. Did vampires marry? Again, Willow knew next to nothing about the specifics of vampires, but that seemed so, well…human. Not something she’d associate with the vicious killers she knew all vampires to be. 

Which brought Willow back to her original question of what did she really know about Angel? 

No one but Doyle really knew anything about Angel, other than the fact that he was a vampire with a soul. Willow wondered if this made him good, or if it just gave him the impetus to be good. After all, as witnessed by the myriad of atrocious things humans did to each other, having a soul did not make one good. Still, Angel was handsome and smart, he kind to her, when he actually talked to her, and Willow couldn’t help wondering more about him.

Cordelia told her once, when they first moved in and under threat of physical violence if Willow ever repeated any of it to anyone except Faith, some things about their resident vampire. That Angel was really Angelus, this horrible vampire who terrorized the countryside for years and killed innocents by the thousands. Willow had to wonder at that, as the Angel she knew, admittedly not well, was never harmful to them, and Willow knew that most everyone there, with the exception of Doyle, got on the vampire’s nerves. 

Plus, why’d he change his name? Was it because he really didn’t want to be associated with his past, or was it another reason altogether? Then again, there was that cringe Angel did whenever anyone called him that name. Maybe the change of name wasn’t his idea- 

“What’re you doing?” 

Willow jumped, letting out a squeak of fright when Xander, her childhood best friend and one time love interest showed up beside her. She wasn’t paying attention to him, however, her gaze immediately drawn back to Angel’s movements. He continued to growl, his face shifting back and forth from the vampire that inhabited his body, and Willow was fascinated by that. Did it hurt, she wondered, to shift features like that? 

She really wanted to know, but doubted she’d ever have the courage to ask him. 

“What’s he doing?” This again from Xander, who most decidedly did not share Willow’s fascination with Angel. He didn’t like the vampire, didn’t trust him and would’ve been more than happy if they’d never moved into this monstrosity of a house in the first place. Sure, Angel saved Faith – and, okay, all of them – on more than one occasion, but there was something shifty about the vampire that Xander didn’t like. 

“I don’t know,” Willow admitted, “He just started an hour or so ago, pacing and muttering. But I can’t make out what he’s saying. I’m not even sure it’s English.” 

“Great,” Xander snorted, “He’s finally lost it.” 

Xander was not one of Angel’s supporters, ardent or otherwise. He made it quite plain that he hated the vampire – on sight – and that he was simply waiting for Angel to show his true colors and kill them all. What he planned on doing, should that be the case, Willow didn’t know; Xander wasn’t exactly the best fighter amongst them. But she knew her friend, and knew that Xander felt inadequate next to the vampire. For what reasons, Willow didn’t know, but that seemed to be the case in her nonprofessional opinion. 

“Maybe he’s just thinking,” Willow suggested. “Or maybe he’s waiting on information.” 

“What kind,” Xander asked with a look that clearly said he didn’t believe her, “Of information?”

“I don’t know,” Willow sighed, “It’s his information. Maybe something on a demon, or-” 

The roar Angel emitted that rattled the glass and shook the doorways abruptly cut her off and Willow swore that a fine dusting of plaster rained down on them as well. Both she and Xander froze, both in fright – they’d never seen Angel release so much energy and emotion – and in amazed awe – they’d never seen Angel release so much energy and emotion. He was usually the stoic, aloof shadow who helped only when it seemed that they, the humans of the group, needed rescuing. 

Angelus collapsed onto his knees, never realizing that he’d roared at all. There were so many things going through him right then, that he didn’t know where to begin. Something opened inside of him, something long buried and all consuming, and told him, in no uncertain terms, that Buffy was there. She was in the Mortal Realms and she was pissed. At what or whom, Angelus couldn’t have said, but the anger was overwhelming, breaking through the barriers they’d both erected over the years. 

Not saying a word to the audience he really didn’t see, Angelus grabbed up his long leather duster and walked out of the hotel doors. He never noticed the rest of the hotel occupants as they raced up or down the stairs at the sound of his bellow, didn’t care that they spent considerable time analyzing the vampire and his reasons for doing…whatever it was he just did. 

All he knew was that Buffy was there, in the one place she’d personally avoided since that day so many long years ago when she’d tried to ascertain just what those vengeful gypsies did to him. Since then, Angelus knew, she sent people after him, but they were easily avoided. He was, after all, Ancient, the most feared predator of the kingdom; if he didn’t want to be found, he wasn’t going to be. 

Moving swiftly and quietly through the night, all graceful sinew and agile power, Angelus stole into the darkness, determined to find answers when he wasn’t sure of the questions just yet. But someone was always willing to talk and Angelus was determined to find that person. 

It didn’t take long. It always amazed Angelus that humans had such a contemptible and untrue view on what vampires were really like. To humans, vampires were vicious killers; stealthy hunters who preyed on the weak and hoarded power to their breasts like children with the last cookie at Christmastime. Which, okay, some were. 

But the reality was that vampiric society held a strict hierarchy, one that ruled by survival of the fittest. Most vampires knew their place and were more or less content to hold that place. There were rules to that, such as you never, ever killed your Sire – one of the only reasons, possibly the only one, that Darla still lived – and you obeyed the Ancient Circle of the Continuum. Violators were dealt with swiftly and fatally, and order stayed true. 

Even if he didn’t announce who he was, his lineage, his titles, his name, the patrons of the demon bar he’d entered in East LA knew power when they felt it. His simply asked question of, “Why was the portal between realms opened,” at first produced no response. 

Not surprising, as vampires respected both strength, which he had, and information, which he was seeking. So, in a simple display of strength, Angelus grabbed the nearest demon – not coincidently a very large ugly green, scaly, and extremely dangerous Slepei Demon – and ripped one of its five arms out. By the time Angelus was through with it, his rage at his life in general, and his interest in the portal that brought Buffy to him had guaranteed cooperation. 

“The war in the Continuum has spread here,” one vampire admitted. Angelus couldn’t place his scent and didn’t bother asking the skinny, unwashed demon which clan he belonged to. Honestly, what a disgrace. “They say that one of their best warriors’ has come to stop it, in the name of Kingdom, Land, and Continuum.” 

War, what war? What was happening at home that Angelus knew nothing about? What was Buffy doing, or what had she been forced to do because he wasn’t there? Already knowing the answer, Angelus asked the question anyway. 

“Who leads this army?” 

“The Queen, of course,” the decidedly unremarkable vampire answered in a tone that suggested that if he knew that, then Angelus should already know that, “Buffy, Queen and Ancient of Aurelius.” 

Turning without another word, Angelus left the establishment and continued to prowl the streets, trying to work off his energy. In the old days, slaughtering half the city would’ve worked just fine, but now everything was different. In a twist of what he held himself to since, ah, joining, Doyle in this little crusade to help the helpless – someone needed to come up with a better slogan than that – Angelus tracked down every dangerous demon he could and killed them with his bare hands. 

Buffy was coming, was already here, on Earth. She’d come because of a war within the Continuum, but she’d only sent others to search for him. She was willing to enter the Mortal Realms to defend her adopted kingdom, but not search for her husband. What an ironic twist of fate that was, Angelus growled to himself as the sun began edging its way across the sky. 

Well, if he knew this city as he thought he did, she’d no doubt find her way here sooner or later. Everyone and everything did, after all, and it was one of the reasons Faith lived in LA; the city was a strange hotspot of demonic activity.

Slamming through the lobby of the hotel just as the sun slanted its first rays onto the patch of stone immediately outside those doors, Angelus didn’t realize that everyone was still there, awaiting his return. He snarled at them and went to go to his rooms when Doyle’s voice rang out after him. 

“Angel, man, where were ya?” 

“Taking a walk,” Angelus said but didn’t turn around. He knew he was still in his vampire face, having found nowhere near the calm he needed to shift. But he didn’t care; these people he allowed to stay with him never accepted that part of him anyway, so why should he cater to their wishes now? 

“Ah,” Doyle said and seemed at a loss on how else to proceed. “Well, em, Faith and Riley heard some interesting information while you were, ah, walking.” When Angel said nothing, Doyle paused to study his friend before proceeding. Angel’s shoulders stiffened, true, his entire body going more still than it was to begin with. His hand gripped the banister with a force that threatened to shatter the wood but the vampire didn’t seem to notice. 

“They heard that there’s this big vampire war going on and that some famous warrior was sent to stop it.” Still nothing and Doyle fell silent as well. 

Wesley, however, wasn’t nearly so compassionate as to consider Angel’s feelings. As far as the watcher was concerned, Angel was on their side and therefore not on the vampires’ side. It’d taken the watcher a good long while to admit that, to accept that, but now that he had, there was no going back, and there was no in between, despite his dislike of the vampire. Angel was good because he fought with them and possessed a soul. All other vampires were evil and needed exterminating.

To him, it really was quite simple, even if he didn’t trust the vampire whose hotel he stayed in – free of charge – as far as he could throw him. 

“Do you know anything about this?” Wes asked and when Angel said nothing, pressed, “Do you know who this warrior is or what this so-called war is about?” 

The banister shattered under Angelus’ hand, causing the assembled group, all seven of them, to jump in shock. Angel never, ever showed emotion, he never broke things – when they were there to witness it at least – preferring to head to the basement gym to punch anything until whatever he was feeling subsided. This was a shock to all of them, first Willow and Xander’s version of Angel’s roar, some strange name they’d never heard from him before, then the information Faith discovered, now this. They were at a loss. 

“If you know something,” Riley spoke up. He didn’t like the vampire, either, but he tolerated Angel because the vampire helped Faith and so long as his girl was safe, Riley would tolerate pretty much anyone. “You need to tell us.” 

Not saying a word, not even turning to look at the people behind him, Angelus continued up the stairs. He had no desire to tell these humans that his wife, the Princess of Elves, Queen of Aurelius, and mated, bonded, joined wife to him, Angelus, Ancient and King of Aurelius was this feared warrior. What was she doing, anyway, fighting? Where were Gunn and Oz? She was to be protected, at any and all costs. 

But wasn’t that his job, Angelus sneered to himself, wasn’t that his ultimate responsibility? To see to her safety, to protect her from harm, to fight so that she did not need to? 

So she was the warrior, the leader whose job it was to crush the revolt, she was the head of an army who’d recently entered the Mortal Realms, if his feeling was anything to go by, and she was the one who would, no doubt, win. Buffy was an excellent fighter, between her magicks and her skill with a sword, it was doubtful any could best her. 

That wasn’t what bothered Angelus the most; no what bothered the Ancient was something that sniveling vampire – what a disgrace to his kind – had said of Buffy. 

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