Angelus looked again at the club.

This is where Buffy told him to meet her, but she wasn’t outside, not that he expected her to be. Leaving only the inside to scour, he followed the link that bonded them and entered the building, ignoring the various looks he received from the waiting line. They ranged from the lustful to the angry that he could get into the hottest underground (human) club in LA without waiting. 

He didn’t bother paying, or even sparing a glance at the bouncer guarding the door. One of the many perks of owning the club. 

Erotic carnal pleasures of every imaginable human delight could be found here, Angelus knew. It was one of the reasons he had purchased the business. He had no use for the tramps that tried to gain his attention or those chained to the walls, seeking someone to grant them that final release. The murals lining the walls and ceiling meant nothing to him and the human doms wandering around had nothing on his Buffy. 

He was interested in only one thing here.

Pausing for a moment he wondered at that: Not interested in other’s pain? No, he still was, only on a more personal level now – though he still enjoyed making his prey terrified and each victim’s horror was unique. Not interested in carnal pleasures of the various flesh? Not with others. Buffy had spoiled him for anyone else.

Time to find her then, and satisfy the lust that laced his blood at the arousal permeating the air. 

The music was a pulsing beat that echoed through one’s body, simulating a heartbeat to those of the patrons who lacked one. The place was jammed packed, writhing bodies covered every surface – vertical and horizontal alike – and had him scowling. Turning abruptly towards the dance floor, Angelus knew what he was going to find. 

Sure enough, there Buffy was, right in the middle of a group of humans, both male and female, all awaiting a taste of her luscious body. That body moved with a fluidity and grace he had often admired, a sensuous dance that mimicked the beat of the music but was entirely different as well. A dance, a movement all her own. 

Growling at one of the insolent whelps that dared touch his mate, Angelus began stalking forward, pushing unlucky beings out of his way, pausing for a brief moment to take in her outfit. As the clothing – or lack thereof – registered, Angelus suddenly smiled. 

The top was gossamer thin, the golden material held closed tight by three buttons across her breasts, the sleeves flowing down her arms, ending in a wide cuff, her navel exposed for all to see. The material flowed around her, down to her ankles, complimenting nicely the floor length white sheer skirt. That skirt was help up by a gold chain, leaving her muscular legs bare on the sides, exposing a glimpse of tantalizing flesh every time she moved. Her tiny feet were encased in jewel encrusted sandals, adding to the Ancient Egyptian goddess look. 

Snapping out of his trance, Angelus resumed his stalking towards Buffy, his growl back again as a boy sidled up to her, leaning down for a kiss. The growl grew louder when Buffy reciprocated. The boy – whoever he was – was more than dead. 

Her eyes locked with his, smiling into him and her lips curved even as the boy continued to trail his soon to be dismembered mouth down her exquisite neck. 

He came up behind her, large hands clasping her rounded hips and pulling her against him. For one eternity of a second everyone in the club stopped, looking towards the couple. Their combined power was flowing off them in waves, and everyone wanted to be a part of that. 

Those who recognized them backed away ever so slightly, those who didn’t wanted a taste of that power but were too afraid to surge forward for a nibble 

The tight leather pants did nothing to hide his straining erection and Buffy ground her ass against his. Guiding his hands around her front, she gasped when they slipped under the material of her skirt, finding her bare flesh underneath. 

She was warm, Angelus thought as he continued to caress her in the middle of the dance floor in a human club. How long had she been here, dancing with those unworthy of such beauty? 

“Miss me, lover?” She breathed out as his fingers danced over her mound. “Took you long enough to get here.” 

Tilting her head back, she licked the side of Angelus’ neck, clamping blunt teeth on her mark. Releasing his neck, Buffy moved her entire body over his, even as her eyes sought out the boy from earlier. It wasn’t that she had any feelings for him, lust included, but she was willing to bet that his blood would taste wonderfully spicy when laced with unfulfilled passion. 

Winking at him, she beckoned him closer even as her mate’s fingers dipped into her for an all too brief moment. 

Leaning over her, Angelus licked a line from her ear to her silk covered breast. One hand still teasing, the other holding her tight against his aroused body. They continued to sway to the music, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. Buffy’s hands reached up and behind her, encircling Angelus neck, thrusting her breasts outward. 

“Needed to check in once more with the heads of the various members of our army,” His teeth scraped against her skin, not drawing blood. “Wouldn’t want anything to go wrong at this late stage.” 

Changing tactics, he whispered in Buffy’s ear just loud enough for her to hear even as the boy resumed his position in front of her, “What’s with the child, love? New toy?” 

She laughed and he felt her disinterest for the boy clearly though their bond. “Dinner.” 

Drawing away from her lover, she led the boy over to a darkened corner. Pushing him against the wall and smiling over her shoulder at Angelus who watched from the edge of the dance floor, arms folded, a smirk gracing his beautiful features, Buffy turned back to the boy. 

She didn’t say anything just yet, allowing her small cool hands to run over his heated flesh, teasing his erection through his jeans for long moments. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” 

“Y-yes,” he stuttered as her mouth descended on his neck, tongue tracing the tendons found there. 

“I know…” Buffy whispered in his ear just before her fangs descended and she bit into his smooth neck. The boy never knew what happened; pleasure exploded through his body, so much so he thought he was going to pass out from it. 

Angelus was suddenly behind her, lifting her slight form just enough to impale her onto his rock hard shaft. He loved taking her when she was feeding. Moving quickly in her familiar moist depths, his own fangs bit down on her neck, drawing small swallows from her even as she finished off the boy. 

Moving her a few steps forward, he bent her over as she braced her hands against the wall. “So beautiful, my love.” They quickly reached their peaks, Angelus slamming into her one last time as he again tasted her rich blood. 

Buffy turned in his arms, her skirt flowing back into place even though his hands held her closely under the material. “Are we ready to leave LA, then?” 

Still nuzzling her neck, Angelus nodded. “Yes, we leave tomorrow as soon as the sun sets. I’m leaving Faith here at the request of Spike, but we have enough for our goals. Our first step is what remains of your army.” 

Buffy nodded, smiling. “North first, then east. You have the maps Giles sent from London?” 

“Of course,” her lover replied as he led her out of the club and to their waiting car. “Ready to see the world, my love?” 

Buffy leaned over the consol and kissed him as he started the car, “With you, Angelus? Always.”
~~~~~~~~~~
London and southern England was theirs.

The demon community, while stubborn, knew when to give in.  They surrendered with a modicum of dignity left to them, pledging their allegiance to Angelus and his slayer, Buffy. Giles smiled as he looked around the townhouse, remembering. 

Maybe he’d move here, instead. Less sunny days than Southern California, that was a plus, and his control here was second only to Angelus. Not that he was looking to overthrow the vampire, but Giles craved his own power base. Here he could have that. 

Saffir watched him from the doorway, standing alone in the gilded room staring out the window. Crossing the hardwood floor, she spared a brief glance for the room, noting the murals adorning both wall and ceiling, sculpted columns, and the gold filigree outlining the window frames. 

“What are you thinking about, Rupert?” She asked, coming to a stop beside him. 

“How the world has changed, how my world has changed.” He answered honestly. 

“Having second thought about becoming a vampire?” She was honestly shocked about that, never had she met anyone who didn’t not want to be a vampire once they already were. 

“No, no, not that, though I was given little choice in the matter. Just how once I was the very thing I’m currently seeking. I was a watcher, one of the good guys, a member of the Army of Light. Now…” 

“Now you’re in command of your own army, you answer to no one but Angelus and Buffy, and you’re hunting the Watcher’s Council down with everything you have.” 

“Pretty much, yes.” He paused, turning to her, looking at her as if for the first time. Giles certainly didn’t love Saffir, there was some affection there, but it was mostly passion, lust. That seemed to be enough for now. “Just thinking how strange the world is, how it’s never what you think it is.” 

“No,” Saffir agreed, “It’s not.” She stood there for a moment, watching the heavily populated street before turning back to him. “Come on, there’s hours yet before the sun rises. And I’m sure Henri will have more information for you on the Council’s latest maneuvers.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Sure enough, Henri did. 

Three days after meeting with the aristocratic French vampire, Giles and force were moving northward. Saffir stayed in London, looking after their interests there and slowly insinuating their influence into the human world. 

Not particularly worried about whatever demons and vampire factions that remained, he ignored everything between him and his goal. The main base of the Council had, indeed, moved to Southern Scotland, outside the little town of Langburnshiels just north of the Wauchope Forrest. But Quintin was not there. 

The head of the Council had taken to actually doing the work himself, something Giles would never have suspected. Quintin Travers wasn’t exactly a lead the charge type of man. 

Desperate times and all that tend to change one. 

The thought made Giles smile, knowing that he had a hand in Quintin’s decision to actually do something. That smile grew when he thought of those he left alive to spread the news that Rupert Giles was back and looking for the Council. There were still a few who remembered him from his Ripper days. Those were the ones who had the most respect for him.

Those were the ones who feared him the most. 

The car came to a stop just over the border into Scotland as Giles had instructed. Stepping out, he looked around the chilly night. Summer hadn’t yet reached this part of the world and wouldn’t, not like it did in LA. The breeze that flowed over him caused a pang of nostalgia for the days he had run free, nothing mattering to him but what lay over the next hill. 

Giles supposed that’s what lesser vampires felt, that carefree feeling, the one that let them do whatever it took to survive but very little else. Then again, didn’t that sound boring. 

Closing his eyes, Giles concentrated on the hint of magick that lay in the air, turning in a circle to get the feel from all sides. Again he smiled, climbing back in the car and instructing his driver to continue on. 

Four hours later the ancient structure that doubled as the secondary quarters for the Watcher’s Council lay looted. It was a simple attack, straightforward in every way. The wards guarding the building were dismantled in short order, Giles power having grown in the time he had been away from England. That allowed them to enter the grounds undetected. 

The next step was to gain access to the building. 

But since each watcher – even the colossally stupid ones – knew better than to invite strangers indoors, Giles worked around that. Actually it was Saffir who suggested the magickal fire. Properly conjured, the fire would burn only certain items, leaving others untouched. It had taken Giles several hours before he left London to tweak the spell just so, but he was more than pleased with the results.

Who had a camera when you needed one? 

The structure was only partially burned, the fire targeting the outside walls and ceiling, creating enough ash to cover the grounds, but leaving the most important items unscathed. Naturally those watchers still in the building came running out to be picked off one by one. There was some debate, before he left LA as to whether or not he’d be allowed access once they were all dead. 

The debate had been unresolved for no one really knew. When all the occupants of a house are killed then the house becomes open to any and all beings. But a building that housed only a handful of humans who didn’t necessarily live there was another matter entirely.

No matter, Giles’ army didn’t consist solely of vampires. And most other demons didn’t need invitations to enter a dwelling. 

“That’s the last of them, sir,” The Gorash demon said with an incongruous upper English accent as he handed Giles the scroll boxes. “We’ve searched from basement to attic and brought out every scrap of information we could find. There may be a secondary access tunnel under the basement but my Sniffers insist it’s for escape only; several humans left that way and are currently being tracked. There was a vault we could open but not enter on main floor as well.” 

“Show me this vault.” Following the demon – who was proving not only to have a brain but knew how to use it, but loyal as well in the time Giles had been on the Island – Giles looked over the construct. 

He may not have been able to enter the building, but magick didn’t know that. It took him almost an hour to find the herbs he needed for the incantation but with a few muttered words the air around the vault visibly rippled, allowing the demons to enter. 

Looking over the items pulled from the chamber, Giles smiled. A thousand, thousand years of history lay here, volumes and volumes of what the Council had accomplished, what they hadn’t, Slayers and Hunters and Witches and Mages and supernatural beings of every kind imaginable and their place in the world, all chronicled in these tomes. 

Damn it, and there still wasn’t a camera around.
~~~~~~~~~~
Spike stared out over the city. 

He knew that there was more than one reason Angelus had left him in charge of LA and their interests here. Not to mention their backs. Not that anyone suspected failure in the future, but trust wasn’t exactly a word to go by. 

No, this was a test. 

A test to see how well Spike could do, how much he could handle and accomplish on his own. A test Spike had no intentions of failing. 

Oh, he envied Buffy and Angelus, envied the fact that they were on the front line and that they were not stuck in the same town. But – and this was so William like, the need to see his Sire’s approval, he craved it almost more than he did blood, needed it more than that nourishing substance. He, like any child, wanted to do well enough to please his Sire. 

If they both had their way this would see to each of their goals: Ultimate domination for Angelus and a power seat all Spike’s own. 

Yeah, he knew, he was a pathetic vampire. 

But he never had the great ambitions Angelus did, never wanted for more than a place to crash each morning, a willing body to shag, and a steady supply of blood, victims varying, of course. 

“Spike, my sweet, are you coming to bed? The sun is almost up.” Drusilla’s vice floated from their bedroom, soft and sultry in invitation, startling him out of his thoughts. 

Crushing the cigarette under his heel, Spike turned to his lover. She was a little upset that he had been spending so much time away from her the past week or so but Spike didn’t want to fail Angelus in any way, so he was working extra hard at seeing to his interests. The younger vampire was under no illusion that this interest would last long, so he wanted to take advantage of it while he could. 

Walking though the balcony doors, Spike stopped short when he saw the visitor in their room. Dawn was tucked away for the morning in her own bed, sleeping the sleep of the ignorant and peaceful. Connor was off with his father and the slayer taking over the rest of the hemisphere. 

And Faith was currently growling from the bed, chained there as Dru’s manicured nails floated over her bare flesh. Both their arousals were heavy in the air and Spike suddenly realized how Drusilla had been keeping herself busy. 

“What’s this, ducks?” 

“I heard her calling to me, Spike,” Drusilla said, nipping at Faith’s mouth. “She wants to play, wants to hunt with us, wants to join us. She doesn’t like being alone, poor thing,” and this time Dru’s hand caressed Faith’s check in a soothing gesture. 

“Want to share, my Spike?” 

Spike couldn’t help the grin that lightened his features at her invitation. His Dru didn’t normally tolerate a third in their bed unless it was family. Not caring what changed her mind, he eagerly accepted.
~~~~~~~~~~
“My lady.” 

Saffir opened her eyes with a snap, hand reaching out to close around the neck in an automatic gesture. “What?” She growled, not releasing the vampire’s throat. 

“My Lord Giles has sent a missive for you,” came the choked reply. There really was no excuse for that, vamps didn’t need to breathe. 

Sitting up in the massive bed, wrapping the sheet around her naked form Saffir flicked on the bedside lamp. She didn’t wake up well, preferring to spend some quality time growing accustomed to the notion before climbing out of her bed. Taking the letter from his shaking hands, Saffir dismissed the scared minion and read the words quickly: 

            My dear Saffir,
            I am sending all we have found from the secondary quarters of the Watcher’s Council. Have Antonio go through everything and catalogue it; I want to send a completed list to Buffy by week’s end. Also have him separate the items into these categories. 

Inserted in the letter was a separate list of what Rupert wanted in which trunks. Saffir lost interest after she read the second line: Scrolls of Uteph in the Assyrian separate from Egyptian. Whatever. 

            We are moving north into Scotland as I write this. We’re doing the country before moving to the smaller islands then backtracking to Ireland. I’ll be back in London no later than two weeks time even if we don’t get to all the islands; I don’t want Quintin to think he’s lost us nor yet that he has all the time in the world.
            Henri mentioned something about The Tests or Tribulations; I didn’t get any more information out of him than that, but see if you can. He was heading back to Calais but a phone call should be sufficient. If not, persuade him in other ways, I’m sure you can be imaginative.

Saffir smiled at her lover’s words, almost hearing the laughter in his voice as he wrote this. 

“Rupert, you have such a way with words,” she said to no one in particular in the empty room. Finishing the letter, more directives for various things he wanted finished before he returned, Saffir laughed again. He may have been hunting the Council at the moment, but he still had all those detail oriented habits of theirs. 

Climbing out of bed she slipped her silk robe on and made her way out of their private quarters. Someone had a lot of work to do, Saffir was just glad it wasn’t her.
~~~~~~~~~~
Connor couldn’t believe his eyes. 

It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t believe them as he couldn’t believe all his preconceptions about vampires in general and his father in particular were all wrong. While ‘mushy’ wasn’t the word he’d use to describe the interaction between Angelus and Buffy, there was a marked affection. 

Maybe there was something to what Buffy had been trying to tell him several weeks ago. That vampires, like any other creature in the universe, felt. Loved, hated, needed, wanted, desired. 

“Connor, are you coming?” Angelus asked, turning his attention from his mate though his hand absently caressed her shoulder.
Shaking his thoughts away, Connor nodded. “Yeah, did you find them?” 

“Right where I left them,” Buffy laughed. “The army was working its way north but turned back around when word got out that I was back and not exactly on their side. They didn’t make it far and stopped just over the Canadian border. Apparently, when word reached them that we were taking over large chunks of land, they moved northward again.” 

Connor nodded, “Further into Canada then?” He wasn’t exactly fond of the cold, but several long winters in Russia had allowed him to at least grow accustomed to the weather. 

“Yes, up into the Yukon Territory, it seems.” Angelus acknowledged. “I believe they’ll trying to get to Russia, join up with whatever remains of the army there.” 

It made sense, Connor knew. Two divided armies, one on the verge of capture or collapse, whichever came first, were much stronger as a whole. Still, they’d had months why hadn’t they crossed over yet? 

“Why wait so long? You’ve been back for months, and Buffy has been turned for just as long. Why wait until now to advance to Russia?” 

Shrugging, Buffy burrowed further into her thick wool coat. Never had she been away from the warmth of Southern California. And except for that one Christmas where it snowed, had never really experienced temperatures lower than the mid fifties. Bringing her fur lined leather gloves out of her pockets, she put them on; just because her body was no room temperature didn’t mean she enjoyed the cold. 

It made her cranky. 

“I don’t know. We didn't really start our takeover until recently, but that would have still given them enough time to find a way over there. Maybe they’re just waiting for us? It’s possible, anything is.” 

Angelus smirked at Buffy as she buttoned her coat high against her neck. He knew she hated the cold, but it just couldn’t be helped. This was a necessity they needed to finish before moving on. 

“While we’re tracking them, I want to subdue whatever demons we find here. No sense in covering the same area twice. Connor,” he said, suddenly forming an idea. “How do you feel about a little long range recognizance? See what the army is planning, where they are? Or would you rather sty here, with us?” 

Studying his…father for long minutes, Connor debated. He was enjoying this time with his father and Buffy, strange as that might seem. And he never would have suspected it a few years ago. The son had more traits in common with the father than anyone would have guessed. Still, he had an almost absurd desire to see his father proud of him. 

And Buffy…she had been nothing but kind, understanding towards him as if she already knew him. What he was like or maybe, what it was like; to grow up different, to be different from everyone around you. He wanted her approval as well. 

“I’ll go,” he said at length. Finding out what the army was doing was something they needed to know. And if his…father was going to entrust him with this then Connor didn’t want to mess it up. 

Buffy stepped forward as the wind whipped around her. It may have been summer, but this high in the mountainous region between America and Canada it was hard to tell. “Are you sure, Connor?” 

Her hand came up to brush away his flying hair. Maybe he’d cut that one of these days instead of securing it in a que at the base of his neck. But the gesture, maternal and affectionate, had the breath catching in Connor’s throat. No one had ever treated him like that, as if her was worthy of such a gesture. And her eyes…they may not have held a gamut of emotions, but he could clearly see the…was it worry? Yes, the worry for him in those clear orbs. 

“You don’t have to if you’d rather not.” 

“No, I’ll go. We need this information, don’t we?” He was unaware that he had used ‘we’ instead of ‘you’. 

A light sparked in Angelus’ eyes at the slip-up but he said nothing. Step one was completed. Connor considered himself a part of their group if not yet their family. “We do, yes, but it’s up to you.” 

Biting back the instinctive, ‘You don’t think I can do this,’ Connor simply nodded. “Just give me that map on their location and a few…demons…” had that word just come out of his mouth? “That you can trust, and we’ll be on our way. And maybe that fast car you like to drive.” He finished with a smirk. Angelus didn’t let anyone drive his precious Mercedes, not even Buffy. 

Trying to quash the look he was sure was on his face, the one that said you must be out of your fucking mind, Angelus reluctantly nodded. “Can you even drive?” 

“Of course; Gunn taught me before we left for Russia.” 

That was several years ago. Fuck, his car was totaled, Angelus knew it. Shrugging it off, though it was difficult, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the keys. “Anything happens to it and you buy me a new one.” He would have preferred to take it out of Connor’s hide, but that certainly wasn’t the way to get his son to trust him. 

“Yeah, yeah, like you aren’t the richest vampire in the world. You can buy another one. Dad.” And the tone was mocking but in a jesting type of way, not as it had been, mean and scathing. 

Stepping forward, Buffy brushed her lips over Connor’s cheek. “Be careful, Connor, and report back as soon as you find what we need. No going after them all your own, we need you here with us.” 

Connor nodded once and left to pack. Angelus…his father…would send the demons he trusted the most to him and there was really no point in wasting time.
**********
“Now, see?” Paul said as he swung the double bladed battle axe at the group of demons. “This just isn’t nice. Squatting in my town, trying to open the Hellmouth without even asking for an invite; no manners anymore I tell you.” 

The axe swung again, decapitating one foolish enough to get too close. There were at least a dozen of them, some kind of breed Paul wasn’t familiar with and frankly had no desire to be. Though he supposed the ‘research’ aspect of this would come later. 

He and Willow had heard they were in town but since nothing happened without their say so it never occurred to the couple they would be a serious threat. Breaking and entering? Not in their house. Trying to open the Hellmouth? Tried before, it never worked. 

Apparently the group of demons thought otherwise. 

“No manners, anymore,” Willow agreed as her eyes blazed as black as a pit, magick rippling out of her fingers as she tore one apart. “At least have the common courtesy, when breaking into one’s home, to do so in as neat a manner as possible; Giles is going to have a fit when he sees the damage.” 

But she smiled as she said that, grabbing the long knife the now dead demon had been swinging at her and using it to stab his brethren attacking her from behind. Thank you, Buffy and Angelus, she thought as she rolled out of the way, for those wonderful lessons in Fighting as a Vampire, 101. 

The fight didn’t last long, the sounds of battle having drawn the attention of the minions still in the house. Panting in unnecessary huffs, Paul held his axe to the throat of the last living demon. 

“Now remember, no opening the Hellmouth unless strictly authorized. There will be no destroying of the world by any random nonconformist who thinks he can.” 

“So intent on obeying your masters, vampire, that you destroy your own kind and try and stop us all?” The soon to be dead demon gurgled. 

Laughing loudly, Paul swiped at a cut that was bleeding into his yellowed eyes. “Come now, is that the best you can do? You demon types really aren’t into original thought, are you? What good is destroying the world when there are so many things in that world? Food, for one, but there’s also entertainment. Don’t have to bring about an apocalypse when the humans are doing such a great job of killing themselves.” 

The blade pressed closer to the thick green neck and droplets of equally green blood dripped to the floor. Willow joined him, lips running over his bloodied face. “Keep him alive.” 

If Paul felt any surprise he didn’t show it as he echoed, “Alive?” 

“He possesses magickal energy; he was the one to actually open the Hellmouth. I want it. Keep him for me?” She smiled then, fangs aching to taste blood her, eyes their vampiric gold once more. 

Nodding Paul gestured to the remaining minions to lead the demon into the dungeon – Giles had a real imagination in him – before looking back to his lover. “Why not drain him now?” 

The smile disappeared now that the room was empty and Willow leaned heavily in her lover’s arms. “Too weak,” she whispered as his arms closed around her and her face shifted back into her human guise. “Too much magick, not enough recharge.” 

“Damn it, Willow, I thought we agreed that you would only use magick when the situation warranted. You know how it drains you!” He was angry and the anger he could deal with, but Paul was also worried. He cared – as much as he could – about Willow and certainly didn’t want to see her drained because of her…addiction. 

And it was an addiction; he saw that as clearly as anyone. Buffy had warned him some time ago about that, not that he hadn’t seen it for himself, but Paul hadn’t realized how deep it ran. 

She laughed weakly though she knew he was right. “No time for anything else, these demons came from no where, there weren’t enough of us for anything else.” 

Dropping the axe with a clang, Paul swept Willow into his arms and carried her out the door, through the long corridors leading to the rest of the…palace, and up the stairs to their rooms. He set her gently on their bed before yelling for a minion. 

“Go out and find a couple of tourists for your mistress.” He ordered, before returning to the room. To Willow he added, “When you’re stronger you and I are going to have a little conversation.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Again, Connor.” 

And again the boy went through the motions his father had taught him. It had been this way for weeks, Angelus and Buffy ‘training’ him on various offense and defense methods. It wasn’t, they insisted, that he didn’t know how to fight; obviously he had the strength to do so. It was more his methods were raw and untrained even after all this time. 

And he was too quick to jump into a fight, not taking the time to assess it from every angle. 

“You aren’t ready for surprises, Connor,” Angelus said from his seat in their temple. 

And it was a literal temple. Mayan in origin located in southern Belize it was once house to some ancient goddess rituals. But that was long ago and all that remained now were fading glyphs on crumpling limestone. This was one of the few sites not yet discovered by the ever increasing tourist population to the tiny Central American country and perfect for the next stage in their plan. 

“You need to be more aware of your surrounding,” Buffy added, from her stance in front of the narrow steps. She held herself perfectly still, her eyes the only thing moving as she watched her mate’s son. Angelus smirked as her stance shifted and he leaned forward, anticipating her next move. “Just because you think you know where all your opponents are doesn’t mean that they rest of the beings surrounding you aren’t potentials.” 

Quicker than Connor or the three vamps training with him could blink Buffy was in front of the boy, swinging her fist towards his face, connecting with a thwack that knocked him backwards. 

Looking up at her from his new position on the ground, Connor resisted rubbing his jaw. Damn, she had one hell of a punch. And she looked so damn superior there, smirking down at him, hands on her hips. Angelus laughing at the scene probably didn’t help, either. 

Flipping onto his feet, he landed in a defensive posture and circled her. “That was slick, I’ll give you that. But do you really think I’ll let it happen again?” 

Buffy didn’t say anything, but her smile turned even more feral if that were possible. Angelus, however, laughed again. “Son, you couldn’t have taken her when she was still human. Slayer strength and all that.” 

But he sat back to watch, nonetheless.

As they circled each other, Buffy obviously holding back though Connor could handle the force of her hits, Angelus marveled at how far Connor had come these months. 

Angel never had much luck with the boy; they always butted heads as it were. But whatever had happened to the boy in the time Angel fled and Angelus replaced him to now, it was all for the best. So far as they were concerned, at least. 

He was still human, that much was true, but there were a variety of ways a human completely devoted to their cause came in handy. For one, he had access to private dwellings the vampires did not. And he was a marvelous fighter, vicious just like is dad, imaginative, too, and mostly focused. 

Apparently, and Angelus hadn’t known this until Buffy commented on it, Connor had been a bit squeamish in killing humans. There was a difference, he knew, between fighting demons who looked, smelled, mostly acted different than a human being and gutting one, the hot blood spurting all over you. 

Licking his lips at that thought, Angelus refocused on the sparring in front of him. 

Yes, his son had come a long way. The look on his face, if nothing else, attested to that. And he was finally filling out, not so lean and scrawny anymore. Angelus credited Buffy, again, with that, for making him eat more than the meager substance he was obviously used to living off of. 

He was whip smart, using his time with Holtz to their advantage. And while there was no more talk about turning the boy, Connor didn’t shy away from it, either. The boy often hunted with he and Buffy, marveling at their varying techniques in stalking their prey and often helping with that pursuit. 

“What did I tell you, Connor, about that wild swing? It only works on the surprise attack, but in a close situation such as this,” Buffy jumped up, avoiding the sweeping leg and flipping over the much taller boy to land on the other side of him. “Good move; in a close situation like this it’s better to control your movements, you don’t want to get trapped.” 

She smirked at that and Connor realized that she had effectively maneuvered him into the corner. “You are good,” he said before executing his own leap, coming to a stand behind her once more. 

Laughing, Buffy faced him again. “Nicely done, Connor. But never underestimate me.” And with that she let fly a series of punches and kicks that drove the younger man backwards until he was lying on the ground, breathing hard, sweating, blood pumping but grinning as she placed a small foot on his chest. 

“You are good; I don’t think anyone’s ever taken me down before.” 

She removed her foot and helped him up and once more Angelus marveled at that. The Connor he remembered from before wouldn’t have been quite as gracious. He stood, walking down to their position and looking over his son. 

Yes, a long way. But there was still a small ways to go. The first step of which was being played now. “Face it, son,” Angelus said with a smile, “You’ll never be able to take her. She’s the first slayer turned vampire; she possesses more power than you can possibly imagine.” 

As expected Connor’s eyes lit with a predatory spark, his stance suggesting that he was more than ready to meet the challenge. Perfect; there was nothing like training an impeccably honed warrior. 

“It’s almost daybreak, son,” Angelus said, trying to use the term as much as possible. He wanted Connor as used to the term as he could. “Why don’t you go rest a bit, we’ve a lot of work to do this evening. And I’m trusting the Abdul Clan of the Barca Order to use the rainforest overhang as cover, attacking whenever they please.” 

Connor nodded, not comfortable enough with calling Angelus ‘dad’ just yet but beyond the stage where Angelus was used as a consequence, he rarely called Angelus anything. “I’ll take the second shift, then.” 

Buffy smiled at him and again Connor was struck by the sincerity in that smile. “That’s fine, Connor, why don’t you tell Samuel then, I believe he’s in charge of the first shift. Afterwards, I want you to get more sleep then come to us; we’ll go over the plan once more.” 

Connor nodded and went in search of a pool of water to wash up in. 

“He’s coming around nicely, wouldn’t you say, love?” Angelus whispered to her right before his lips claimed her. Breaking apart before they could get caught up in the maelstrom he continued, “Doesn’t flinch at the ‘son’ part, listens so much better than he ever did.”

”Hmm,” Buffy agreed, sliding her hands over his naked back to the waistband of his cotton pants. He hated wearing so pedestrian a fabric, but leather was rather impractical in a rainforest. “Wonderful plan of yours, baby. Break him by degrees so he doesn’t even realize it. You are, indeed, the master of such things.” 

She took his hand and led him up the narrow steps to the large stone chair. “I admit, I didn’t think he’d go for it, but I find myself genuinely concerned about him. And he is a perfect subject.” She pushed him into the chair, straddling his hips before continuing. “Young and angry, he’d torn between what he’s been taught and what he feels. And he feels so much, Drusilla was right. It flows off him in waves, begging to be caught, caressed, and molded into a shape, any shape.” 

Hiking the lightweight loose pants down around her ankles, Angelus ran his fingers over her already ready mound. “I blame Holtz for that; then again, if he hadn’t done such an inept job of shaping my son, he probably wouldn’t be here now. 

“In the months he’s been with us I’ve seen the change in him, love. He’s more confident, not just the bravado he shows the world. And he is coming around to our way of thinking. Vampire or not, he’s certainly a man worthy of being called my son.” 

Buffy laughed as she sank over him, taking him deep within her waiting body. “Too bad his mother’s that bitch, Darla. But some things can’t be changed and I’m over it. For the most part. He’s mine now, more than he could have ever been hers.” 

Angelus growled as she stilled, fingers digging into her hips deep enough to leave bruises. He loved seeing her marked like that, from his body, his hands. He thrust up and she began to move again, harder, faster, so fast and deep. 

Shifting into his vampiric face her suckled a nipple bouncing in front of him, fangs sinking around the areole. Screaming his name, Buffy clenched her muscles around him, her own fangs sinking into his neck as he exploded into her. 

Licking the blood that slowly flowed from the wound, Angelus agreed with her last statement, now that he could think again. “She would have made a lousy mother, anyway. She wasn’t exactly one to think of other’s first. Or second for that matter.” 

“Well, it no longer matters. And now we have other things to think of than long dead Sires.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Quintin Travers scowled at the man before him. 

He had been doing that a lot lately, scowling. News was less than comforting, from all over, and it was bound to only get worse. All of North America and most of South America was under control of his former slayer and her demon lover with large portions of the human community unaware that their businesses were being bought up – or simply taken over – by the demons they thought didn’t even exist. 

And now this; England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and Iceland had already fallen to the man. Their secondary quarters destroyed and looted; how was still a mystery to Quintin and one he doubted to ever learn the truth of. Clans, Factions, and Orders were falling before they were even subjugated, vowing loyalty to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, and his Joined Mate Buffy, the former Vampire Slayer – the strongest to ever live. 

“Are you certain he’s on the continent?” It wasn’t the first time he had asked the question and most likely wouldn’t be the last. 

“Yes, sir, I checked with both our team in France and with the remaining psychics. Rupert Giles is currently scouring the continent…for you, sir.” The watcher, though he had never really had a charge and most likely never would now, was reluctant to tell the head of the council. He was reluctant to even be in the same room with him, actually. 

“Yes, yes, looking to exterminate each and every watcher and everything the Council stands for, I heard you the first dozen times.” His moods these days were as lightening quick as his scowl was perpetual. 

“No, sir,” the young watcher said, trying his best to quash the fear that bubbled inside of him. He feared any number of things these days; Qunitin Travers was only the latest on the ever-growing list. “I mean he’s coming specifically for you.” 

That got his attention and suddenly the younger man wished he had just kept his mouth closed. Cold, slightly crazed eyes, glacial blue in a gaunt face, heavily lined from worry and war lifted from whatever missive they were currently reading to look directly at him. Stifling the urge to step away from the piercing gaze, he nonetheless trembled as he held his ground. 

“What?” 

“Th-there are rumors, that, uh, that,” he cleared his suddenly dry throat and tried again. “That claim Mr. Giles is looking specifically for, for, for…you.”

“Indeed?” 

“Ah, y-y-yes, well…yes.” 

“Is that everything?” 

Confused the young man nodded, unsure what else there was to say. 

“Dismissed.” 

Quintin waited while the watcher turned and left…gods, did he even know the man’s name? Well, names were unimportant at this time. Things were looking grim to say the least and he, as the most powerful man left to defend against the darkness, needn’t be bothered with such trivialities. 

“So, Rupert, you think you can find me? I doubt that very much; you were an inept watcher and a mediocre sorcerer. You never have been and will never be a threat to me.” 

“You really think that, don’t you, Quintin?” 

The voice startled Quintin out of his musings and the head of the watcher’s council jerked his head up towards the door. Rupert Giles stood there, in all his Armani glory. A beautiful woman stood behind him, impeccable in her crushed silk suit. They looked so incongruous that for a moment Quintin could only stare. 

“How did you get in here?” 

“Ah, Quintin,” Giles said, wandering more fully into the room. “I had expected a better question than that from you.” Running a hand over a shelf full of dust he shook his head, clucking in disappointment. “You’re standards are slipping, Quintin; not good, not good at all.” 

Laughing, Giles walked over to the long metal desk, kicking it once in disdain. “Slipping,” he reiterated. “Such a shame, too, I had hoped for a more…oh, what’s the word,” he paused for a moment looking around once more before piercing the older man with his gaze. “Stimulating, interesting, longer, yes those are good; you could have at least made this hunt better for me. You are a disappointment.” 

Wandering around again Giles continued. “So predictable, so boring. So unworthy of my attention. Still, that doesn’t mean you don’t have it.” He leaned over again, trapping the man in his regulation army chair and knocking the ill-concealed stake out of his hands in the process. “Oh, Quintin, you most certainly do.” 

Quintin Travers, still the head of the Watcher’s Council, such as it was, continued to stare. Words escaped him, should they have been able to pass the rather large lump in his throat. But one question still pounded through his brain. ‘How did they get in?’ 

Sighing at the anticlimactic situation, Giles spun Quintin’s chair once, smirking when the man did nothing to stop his twirl until his knee thumped against the metal desk. “Yes, yes, I know, but you’re so predictable, Quintin. The least you should have done was warn the new handyman that if he was going to invite his girl into the house he should make sure she doesn’t need a verbal invitation.” 

Still the head of the Council said nothing though more words crowded his brain in their effort to find release. Then, “I will have you killed!” 

“Yes, yes, whatever.” Hauling the suddenly struggling man up, amazed that it had taken him this long to realize the danger he was in, Giles punched him in the face, several times though on the second contact Quintin was knocked out. 

“Let’s go, Quintin, we’ll come back for all those other inept fools at a later date.”
~~~~~~~~~~
I forget the date. 

Isn’t that sad? 

But it’s been so long since ‘dates’, the marking of time, has been relevant that…I forget the date. The only reason I know that it is Halloween is because someone set off fireworks today dressed in ghost costumes. When I asked why they would do something like that, the two boys looked at me funny. 

“It’s the night before Halloween, Lady,” they said as if I was deficient for not knowing that the day was commonly known as Mischief Night, “You’re in America,” they continued as if I hadn’t already known that. “You should know this.” 

Oh, I thought as they scampered away when I glared at them, my eyes, I’m sure, glowing with that demon white glow they sometimes do. America, ha! I wanted to say, sure, this may be the country of the United States of America, freedom, liberty, Truth, Justice, and the American Way and whatnot, but did they have any idea? 

LA was under demon rule, just look around. Angelus and Buffy had effectively taken over the rest of the state, working their way outwards; no town, no roads no creature in their sights was left alone. They had taken over LA in just four days and even now, when so much more is in their grasp I still find that hard to believe. 

From San Diego to the Colorado River and up through the Mojave Desert, Death Valley, and the Sequoia National Park; Fresno, Monterey, Merced, Mariposa, clear through to Oregon, Washington: I almost wished Mount St. Helen’s had erupted the day they were there. 

But, no, nothing of the kind happened and they passed through into Canada. 

British Columbia, Alberta, The Northwestern Territories, Nunavut, The Yukon, up through the Inuit Islands and into Alaska, barely stopping. Plowing their way through the little – and I do mean little – resistance anyone bothered to show. 

The so-called invincible Army of the Light…was wiped out in three days, seventeen hours, and five minutes. 

Pretty pathetic if you ask me. 

If there was anything in the North Pole, they’d own that, too. 

Westward to Nevada – Vegas was already theirs, but they wanted the whole state. Lorne would have died all over again if he could have seen them in his city. All the way to just the eastern side of the Rocky Mountains; I hear the snow there made Buffy pause and again I wished for an avalanche or something. No one listens to my prayers, though. 

The rest of America and Canada fell in a matter of weeks, word spreading of how they were coming through. Apparently the remaining demons and vamps thought it best to just join them rather than fight. Couldn’t they have run across a tornado in Kansas? A hurricane in Florida and the Carolinas? 

No, of course not, that would have been too simple I suppose. 

Political lines had no meaning, but then they rarely did in the demon world. In short order they were ready to head south, warmer climates, more demons and less humans. And what humans were there feared the unknown so much that they would never fight against it. 

Mexico was harder, but fell in just under a week. I hear they swept though Central and South America and Connor was by their side the entire time. The boy was still a human, from what I’ve been able to discern, but one can’t tell by what he does, who he follows, who and what he leads. 

For all intents and purposes he is one of them. 

And me? Why am I still alive? Technically speaking, only my body lives, my spirit is crushed; I don’t care any more, not about the world, my friends…myself. I’m running, hiding, disappearing into wherever I can because I know they’re after me. 

It’s somewhat funny, actually. I know they know where I am, track me as I move through cities and towns, double backing, yet we still play this cat and mouse game. Why do I bother? Especially if I don’t care? Because I don’t want them to win. 

It’s as simple and complicated as that. 

Buffy has some…interesting things in mind for me, I know. Actually, she told me as Angelus stood behind her, smirk on his handsome continence, eyes flat as they watched me, his large hands roaming over his mate’s bare stomach. 

And to think, I actually slept with him, once called him lover. 

They had tortured me then, and not only with their very open displays of affection. Fire, sun, dehydration, humiliation; they even cut off my hair which now grows back in unseemly tufts. I’ve taken to wearing hats, now, damn them. But I know that they have many more things in mind for me, worse than I have ever thought I’d feel from anyone. 

I still don’t know why, exactly, they let me go except for my afore mentioned cat and mouse game. But if they’re in South America or wherever, then why would they care? I know the answer to that one, it’s simple enough. 

Mental torture is just as effective if not more so than the physical one. And Angelus is a master at mental torture techniques. It’s an unfortunate fact for me that Buffy is no slouch in that area, either, and holds a rather large hatred for me. 

I stand, once again, outside of what remains of the Hyperion Hotel and try to remember a time when I was happy, when I was ignorant of what went bump in the night. It doesn’t work, it never does, but I always try. I’m hungry, my clothes have seen better days and I haven’t showered in days. 

But again I can’t bring myself to care. If I did then I wouldn’t have returned to LA, I’d have made Angelus and Buffy at least leave their home base to find me. But, no, and I think I’m talking myself out of not letting them win. 

Again I ask, just how pathetic am I? 

Damn, I’m a fool. But I’m so tired. Tired of running, of hiding, of living in a world I’ve grown to hate and pretending that I do care. 

So I stand here, staring at the pile of bricks and mortar that once was a building I actually cared about with people I actually cared about and a cause to fight. I sit on the now broken brick steps – or what were once the steps, I think – and wait.
They’ll come for me eventually, I know this. Just as surely as I know that the world has gone to hell and even if the Hellmouth hasn’t technically opened to swallow us all up, there are definitions of hell that transcend that horror. 

And we’re smack in the middle of it. 

“Hello, lovely, come back to mummy, then? She’ll be so pleased.” Drusilla smiles around her fangs, dripping with fresh blood for added effect. 

Welcome to my hell.

Next part            Previous part

Home       Forever Darkness Index        Christine’s page        Buffy/Angelus stories