And again I’m forced to wonder: Is this normal? 

Not that they aren’t vicious and cruel, they most certainly are, to other, to their enemies, to their prey, to anyone not each other. But they’re affectionate towards each other as well loving and funny and there’s none of the snarling I always expected. 

And Buffy…? She’s almost as affectionate towards me as she is to my father. Well, in a way different sense, that’s for sure and just fine with me. 

Obsessive love I’ve heard Spike call it but I don’t quite understand it. Can you love obsessively? Can you be obsessive yet still love? I have no idea but somehow they manage to pull it off. I know they love each other and that’s fine with me, but I don’t understand how. 

Maybe I never will. Maybe some things just aren’t meant to be understood and this is one of them. 

We’re back in LA now; not the house we first inhabited though we still, of course, own that. This is a new and MUCH larger one. I think I’ve seen pictures of palaces that were smaller than this. Still, it’s homey, I suppose, though again I think that’s more the people than anything else and did I just think that? If Gunn could hear me say ‘homey’ this way I think he’d seriously rethink his friendship with me. 

But that’s a problem for another time. 

The fact that I know we’re going to eventually hunt down and destroy the army in Russia and Angelus’ former friends and allies with it. That includes Gunn. Dad gave me a choice there; it was up to me what became of him, my one and only friend. I haven’t decided yet. 

Oh, I’m still human but that means little to me anymore, if it really ever did. 

I’m past the whole humans are better than demons stage of my life. It took a long time, but I finally get it. There are good and bad all over. Good humans that fight for a worthy cause and evil humans – still in possession of a soul – that destroy for the sheer sake of destroying. 

And what Angelus and Buffy were doing? I’m not delusional when I say it’s probably for the best. For this world at least. They’re bringing control and order to the demon community, sealing off the hotspots as it were so that no one could bring about yet another apocalypse in a usually vain attempt to destroy the world.

No more infighting among various clans and factions and backstabbing between orders or one group thinking they’re stronger, better, more pure than another. I was there when dad destroyed all remaining members of The Scourge. I didn’t understand why, only that he felt he needed to do it. 

Buffy, I’m sure, understands, but she isn’t saying a word. Something about the past and a debt he felt needed to be repaid. I don’t understand that, either, but whatever. Or maybe he didn’t want anyone to challenge his power? I have no idea.

The Scourge is, or was, rumored to be the purest demon breed – according to their own press – and on the fast track to ruling the demon world. I guess they should have done a little more preplanning beforehand and not angered Angelus quite so much.

Still, whatever the reason, it was done and their – our – hold over this hemisphere was complete. And we moved into this huge place that has more rooms than I could ever count and enough servants – human and otherwise – to employ half of LA for a good long while. 

As I wander through the downstairs rooms in the main part of the house I think again on my choices. I have a lot of them, more than I ever had before; it’s somewhat liberating to have this chance to choose, but at the same time terrifying. I’ve never been given this opportunity. What should happen to Gunn when we leave in a month’s time or so for Russia? I don’t know. But I find that I do care. 

And myself? I don’t know that, either. But I can’t bring myself to care. 

I enjoy what I do, there’s a measure of freedom in knowing that everything I’m capable of is accepted in a way nothing and no one has ever done before. I’m the human son of two vampires and they aren’t forcing me to become one of them.

Wait, did I just refer to Buffy as my mother? I’ve never really had one, so I can’t be sure what that would feel like, but that’s as close an analogy as I’ll probably ever get. I doubt I’ll be calling her ‘mom’ anytime soon, but I suppose the sentiment is there. 

And that’s what I’m thinking on now. Man, my thoughts are jumping around so much I can’t make sense of anything. If I stay human I’ll, naturally, stay mortal. There are advantages to this; I can go wherever Angelus and Buffy need me to go, enter any dwelling at any time, I can travel in the sunlight...yes there are many things my physical humanness can help with. 

Note I didn’t say humanity. There’s a reason for that; I feel it slipping away quickly now, if I ever had it in the first place. I’m not a wild creature, no, but I’m not going to stop them from controlling the weakling humans, either. 

To be truly one of them. 

I never fully considered it before, never wanted to be tainted like that. But in the years since Holtz took me, lied in death about his death, I’ve learned that he was wrong about more things than he was right. He may have accepted me as his son but he never accepted me as a child, as a boy, as anything other than what he thought I should be, wanted me to be. 

I am what he hated most and that makes me wonder if he hated me just as much, if not more so, than dad. I crave the hunt, that chase through the alleyway or open street, knowing that I’m so much stronger, smarter than my prey. I find myself enjoying hanging back and watching Buffy and Angelus as they stalk their prey, knowing that they’re methodical in it, knowing that they are the best at what they do and that it’s more an art than anything else for them. 

The ecstasy they find in the blood as it spurts from a live neck, racing down their throats memorizes me each time and again I wonder at that. I know it’s killing a human as surely as sticking a knife in them, but there’s something different here. It’s certainly not romantic, this fascination I seem to have to become a vampire, but it is something compelling nonetheless. 

A need? Possibly; they need me, I know they do, but more importantly, they want me. 

Want me as part of their family and even if that’s in the human sense, I know they’ll never abandon me. Comforting, true, but it makes me think that to be one of them, truly one of them will be even more rewarding. 

I pause in the great room, all few hundred square feet of it or so. Above the huge crackling fireplace is a portrait of Buffy. 

She’s wearing a long gown, cut just low enough in the front, and a deep blood red; it hugs her curves in all the right places. For a moment I’m torn – even though she isn’t my mother she’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to one and there’s something disturbing seeing her like that. 

Still, she’s beautiful, her hair falling about her shoulders, down her back, stance commanding, eyes focused solely on you. She’s just standing there, no other props in the picture, the ring my dad gave her sparkles in imaginary light, her hair winks with jewels as does her neck. 

It’s the centerpiece – as it was meant to be – of the room if not the house. 

She surprised dad with it when we returned from South America. Apparently she had it commissioned long before we left but wanted to surprise him. I don’t know the occasion of the surprise but they laughed about it. Maybe it was an inconsequential date, who knows? Every time I pass by this room, however, I’m drawn inside, compelled to look at the painting. 

“Who’s that man, mummy?” I hear a voice, young and innocent, ask. I turn, looking at a girl who looks to be in her twenties, perhaps, but sounds no older than fifteen. 

“That’s Angelus’ son, precious, Connor. He’s a special young boy who’ll go on to do great things.” Drusilla’s eyes flash to me and that half crazy smile dances on her face. The crazy leading the crazy, somehow it seemed appropriate in this house. “Just like his daddy.” 

They walk by and I have to wonder who that girl is. I’ve seen her once or twice, but never really cared enough to ask about her. She’s human, I know that, but there’s something else to her as well, something that’s not human but that I can’t place, either. 

And since when does Drusilla have a child? Maybe vampire pregnancies are more common than I thought? Is that even possible? Where’s a conveniently obscure prophecy when you need one? 

I doubt this even as it goes through my mind, but it makes me smile. Drusilla as a mother. What a concept. She isn’t so bad, I suppose, in small doses, and she often has startlingly accurate visions, but other times…she’s just plain nuts. 

Buffy walks in as if she knows I’ll be here. No great stretch, I often am, but that makes me realize how predictable I’m being. Got to stop that, and soon. And just like a mother, and it’s staring to make me angry that I’m thinking of this so much, she asks how I am. 

“Have you completed your training with Willow?” 

“Yeah,” I reply. And even though I know it’s important to learn various magickal ways and whatnot, it’s still irritating that she feels the need to ask. Like I said, there’s no rational process to my thoughts today, they’re all over the damn place. 

“And have you eaten?” 

See what I mean? “Yup, just finished, oh and thanks,” I add with a grin, “For the chocolate.”

She smiles at that, laughing with me over our shared obsession. Even though her vamp taste buds can’t really understand the subtleties of the confection, Buffy still keeps some in the kitchen. I discovered it once when I first arrived here, on a food raid before we left nearly a year ago and have been hooked ever since. 

“Who was that girl with Dru?” I ask instead, changing the subject. 

“Dawn,” Buffy says and turns her head slightly behind her as if they’re still there. 

“Dawn?” I know that name, I know I do. 

“My sister.” Ah, now it all makes sense. 

“She doesn’t look like you.” 

The smile is fast and something else that I can’t place. “Key, big ball of green energy, she isn’t real, and since she, ah, came to stay with us Drusilla has been taking care of her. Somehow it works out for everyone.” 

“Why is she still here, then, and alive?” I don’t know why I pick today to ask this question, but it seems I should. 

“Come on, Connor; let’s go out into the gardens. I’ll tell you the whole story there.”
~~~~~~~~~~
We sit out there and I listen to a story I’m sure I’ve heard before. At least some of the parts sound familiar: Dawn, monks, key, hell-god. So I guess I did. 

I let the words flow over me as I sit there, listening to the sounds of the night. Things have changed since I first came to LA and even since I came back here from Russia. Places are darker at night, now, as if the humans know that they’ve effectively lost control of their world. 

Angelus and Buffy own most of America, from what I know, and while most places still retain their human employees, he is effective CEO or whatever of several major corporations. Apparently this news made the papers, before he bought those, too. There’s such a thing here as Freedom of the Press; and they’re still free to print the news with no hindrance from us, but key events are definitely not in print. 

I wonder if that will change. Wonder if, as they insinuate themselves further into the human population if said humans will accept them.

Not as their effective rulers, though that’s what they’d be, but the simple fact that there are demons and vampires and other things that have gone bump in the night for longer than the human race has been the dominate species on this planet. The thought makes me eager to see the future. 

Then there’s the matter of keeping the demon population happy. 

It’s a difficult task, for one they’re more the maiming and killing type than anything else and not really prone to racquetball with the guys after work. 

The Ring is still in use at the old house, which has been turned into a stadium, actually, for just such a purpose. There are several other forms of entertainment for the masses, as Buffy calls them, and I hear that the LA Public Library is now keeping later hours. 

Who ever would have guessed that demons like to read? Well, whatever, as long as no one’s trying to kill everyone I suppose we’re all good. 

So we have The Ring, story-time at the local libraries, movies are becoming – slowly and it’s only been a year or so since Angelus’ return and Buffy’s turning – more geared to the demon community, which makes me laugh each time I see a billboard advertising this. And I hear troubadours are making a comeback, too. Ancient and modern pleasures all combining in this strange world I find myself in. 

Buffy’s looking at me and I know she’s waiting for a response. I have been listening, but only with half my attention; there are so many things to think on tonight I can’t keep my thoughts focused enough to concentrate on any one thing. 

“So we’re going to use Dawn’s energy as the Key to open those dimensions?” 

“Yes, that’s the plan. Eventually, though, there are still many things to be done here.” 

I nod and we fall into a comfortable silence. I wonder, briefly, what she’s thinking. She has a half smile on her face that reminds me of her with Angelus and I want to ask about the Mating Bond they share. I really want to ask a lot about their relationship, I know nothing about it, other than what I’ve seen and can only wonder – yet again – at the love between them. 

But that’s not for tonight. No this night is for other questions. 

I let those questions rattle in my brain as I sit in the not so quiet night with Buffy. There are the sounds of the guards patrolling the perimeter, various night creatures I’ll never be able to name, and, distantly, the sounds of humans going about their every day lives. 

These End Battles weren’t exactly kept quiet, it’s kind of hard to fool even the masses when there is an eight foot purple demon running down the middle of Times Square on a bright sunny Wednesday afternoon. There were so-called ‘underground’ reports about the goings on, but I never knew just how many people believed it and how many thought it was just another form of tabloid reporting. 

But cities were destroyed, leveled in the battles and the citizens of those cities, at least, tended to believe. Now that it’s mostly passed? I have no idea. Humans as a whole forget what isn’t right in front of them. Oh, it’s a crying shame when it happens and those poor families and such a tragedy…time to get up kids, it’s a new day, let’s get back to our own lives. 

So those towns that were leveled and those people that got caught in the middle of a battle, THE BATTLE for their world probably forgot or came up with a convenient reason as to why it happened; I hear earthquake is a common cause for these things. 

“Why haven’t you forced me to become a vampire?” I ask suddenly and have no idea where those words came from. 

Buffy took it all in stride and turned to me, calmly, “I told you before, it’s your choice. Your father had no choice in the matter; Darla simply drank from him and turned him, end of story. I had no choice in becoming the slayer; it was a matter of destiny and one that haunted me for years after I simply wanted to rest.” 

She pauses and then smiles, that beatific smile at me. “I hadn’t a choice in being turned, either. It was…” she pauses and I don’t think it’s for dramatic effect. “It was a trap, they surrounded me, came from nowhere and everywhere, more than half their army. I sent everyone else back, told them I’d follow soon. I tried but…” 

Again she stops; I want her to go on, I want to hear the details and know what it felt like, but I say nothing. I doubt she regrets this change, she has Angelus forever, after all, but there’s something there that strikes me as not entirely happy. Her next words confirm that assumption as well as clarify it. 

“I woke up and it was already complete, the change I mean. I never had the choice. Not that I regret it, this change, I have the one thing I’ve always wanted, Angelus, but that isn’t the point. Actually,” and it looks like she consciously brightens the mood, “I never had a choice in much of anything in my life. That’s why you do. Because I know, as does your father, that to have that choice taken away is worse than the consequences.” 

“If I never want to become a vampire, you won’t force it on me?” 

“No, though it’ll be hard seeing you grow old and die, we won’t.” 

“How do I know you’ll keep your promise?” 

“It’s called trust, Connor, you either trust us by now, or you don’t.” 

“I do, trust you, Buffy, and…and dad, too.” It’s harder to say that aloud than it is to think it though I’m unsure why. 

“But…?” 

“I’ve fought vampires for so long, demons, creatures that should only be found in nightmares…I don’t know…” I’m unwilling to say that I’m scared, though I am.

But she looks at me as if she understands and she probably does. “You’ll know when the time is right, Connor, and if it isn’t…?” She shrugs and stands and it takes even me a moment to realize it’s because Angelus is approaching. “If it isn’t,” she continues as he stands beside her, wrapping an arm about her waist. “Then it isn’t.” 

I nod and watch them walk down the path, deeper into the gardens. I look back into the night sky, wondering why I never want to see the sunlight anymore. Too much time here? Maybe I’ll watch the sunrise in the morning, just to test that. 

There are more people around, now, than when I first came to live with dad and Buffy. We own more territory, so I suppose that only makes sense. Strangers, allies, potential allies, they’re here day and night and it’s almost to the point where we’re going to have to draw up a schedule. 

I hear Giles is taking out a lifetime of anger and hatred on the Watcher’s Council, specifically the head of it. I smile when I think of the man I first met at the beginning of these battles and try and reconcile it with the image I now have of him. Sometimes it’s a stretch, others, it really isn’t. 

So he’s off in England, torturing this Travers guy and what little remains of the Council now are scrambling to find my former army in Russia. Aren’t contacts wonderful? All the news and none of the work. 

Willow and Paul are doing whatever it is they’re doing in Sunnydale. Keeping watch over the Hellmouth, controlling all the magick lines that run through there. They’re here, in LA, for a few days only, meeting with everyone else in the family to go over the next stage in the grand plan. Or should I say in The Grand Plan; sounds more auspicious that way. 

Drusilla and Spike are doing, from what I’ve heard, a great job in controlling LA and everything east to the Rockies.  I know dad wanted to test his, Spike’s, ability to do so. I think he passed. Then again, there’s something going on with Willow and Drusilla; it kind of freaks me out, but I try not to dwell on thins like that. 

Angelus said that Willow was bi. I didn't know what that meant, but I think I figured it out. Are all vamps? I don’t want to know that, either…until and unless I become one. 

Cordelia…should I feel something more for her than a vague interest in how she help up against the latest in Buffy-torture? Possibly but I just don’t. Buffy has a deep seated hatred for the seer but I think that played itself out long ago. Cordelia did allow herself to be recaptured – Buffy and dad had a good long laugh over that one – because she didn’t have the strength of will to go on anymore. 

Eh, I say, whatever. I don’t care. 

The moon begins its descent and I still sit on the stone bench I shared with Buffy. I know dad was there, watching me for a while, but neither of us said anything. Dad…there’s another thing to think on. Well, maybe not. 

The father’s son. Am I like him? Yes, I realize and embrace that. I am like him and I want to be like him and everything that ever came before no longer matters because it’s in the past. Isn’t that what they’ve been trying to tell me? 

The past has no meaning except as a stepping stone to the now. The future has yet to be decided and shouldn’t be worried about except in a day by day scenario. 

I am Angelus’ son, his child, and I have no shame over that. In fact, I enjoy that title; I enjoy everyone knowing that I’m the son of the strongest, most vicious vampire ever to walk the earth. 

The sun begins to peak over the horizon and I stare at the pink and gold rays one last time. This is the last sunrise I’ll ever see and it doesn’t bother me at all. 

Standing, I go in search of my Sire.
~~~~~~~~~~
Drusilla is floating down the stairs as I ascend them and she claps upon spying me. 

“Welcome, little brother,” she says before going off to parts unknown. 

I hate it when she does that. I really do. But I continue up the stairs, anyway, not changing my mind, not faltering from my course. Is this what my entire life’s been leading to? Perhaps, and I can’t say I’m upset with it, not any more. 

Knocking on their door I try not to hesitate. But there’s one last hold on me and I do. I don’t know why, maybe instinct? I will, in effect, die. Is this what I want? What would Gunn, the only friend I’ve ever had, say? 

But no, that doesn’t matter, and I hear Buffy’s voice beckoning me enter. I open the door and walk through to the sitting area where she has a small desk set up. I don’t know if she actually does anything at that desk or if it’s more for show, but she’s sitting there, now. 

Fidgeting slightly at her unwavering gaze, I take a moment to look around. She’s wearing only a thin silk robe and I can tell she’s naked underneath. Well, naked but for the thin gold collar around her neck and a peak of gold and emerald flashing though the opening of the robe. 

I try not to think what she has in mind for my father and get on with why I came here.   

“I’m ready,” I say and try not to wince at the statement. Maybe I should have practiced that a bit more… 

“Ready?” She asks and stands, gliding over to where I am. “For what, Connor?” 

“For ah…for ah…” I never used to have this problem with words. “I’m ready to become a part of your family.” 

Her eyes brighten and a hint of smile graces her lips. “Are you sure?” 

It’s probably the only chance I’ll get to back out of this but I don’t take it. “Yes.” 

Buffy smiles again and it’s stunning. She closes her eyes for a moment and then leads me to a secondary room with a really comfortable couch. I’ve spent some time on that couch, listening to dad and her as they strategize, helping where I can. 

She lays me down and I wonder if she’s this careful, this gentle with everyone before dad walks in. He says nothing simply looks at the two of us. I want to ask if this meets with his approval but don’t want to look weak. I want to ask if this will bring us closer, but can’t form the words. 

So I say nothing, only feel Buffy’s small hands as they brush my forehead, her lips as they gently kiss my own. 

“Relax, Connor, and trust me.” 

I do, on both counts, and with one last look at my father, who smiles at me in return, I close my eyes and wait. 

When I open them I’ll truly belong, truly be one of them.

Angelus’ child. Buffy’s childe. Completely one of the family. Their family. My family.
**********
She circled the other woman, looking for any weakness not yet exploited. 

It had been months since Cordelia allowed herself to be captured (again) and in that time she had gained back her strength. Having to wait – and there was some serious humiliation – for her captors to return, was just one more thing to endure. So she waited, eating the food Spike and Drusilla had had brought down for her, resting, such as it were, in her small dungeon room. 

There was no comfort here; the best and only thing she could say about it was that it was private and, maybe, dry. The bed was a thin cot, the blanket even thinner. But the food was steady and nutritious and the drink water or juice. She was allowed a pitcher of water with which to bathe ever week and had her own toilet facilities. 

Yet Cordelia was still a prisoner and one of her own making. 

Now, as Buffy circled the seer who was hanging from a set of chains bolted to the ceiling in the middle of a spacious room, blood running down her back, her legs barely holding her upright, eyes closed in pain and hopelessness, the vampiress smiled. How could she not? 

The missive reporting Cordelia’s whereabouts was sent daily; originally they tracked her, wanting to know how long she lasted in the cold cruel world with her new scars both physical and mental. But that soon bored and they had one of their smarter minions do follow her. When she and Angelus left for the rest of North America the minion reported directly to Spike. 

Spike, in turn, sent updates to Buffy. And when Drusilla found Cordelia at the ruins of what was once the Hyperion Hotel, he had actually had a mage set up a communication spell. This was news, he figured, that needed to be shared in as close to a face to face manner as possible. 

Buffy continued to stalk about the broken seer, a smile again flittering across her face. 

“You do realize, Cordy that I will always win. I will be here long after your bones are nothing but dust in the wind, long after the last human who remembers freedom dies. You cannot win, you never could.” 

Slowly, as expected, the former so-called higher being raised her head and looked at her tormentor. “And how did you resort to it, Buffy? Chain me up; send one of your little minions to trail after me like a dog? You’ll never win because you can’t do so on your own.”

Buffy laughed at that, the sound echoing off the stone walls. 

“Let me get this straight. The seer, the one chained to my basement is actually taunting me?” She shook her head and studied the woman for a moment. “Ah, well, here you are then. One, I always win, it’s a fact of my life. Even when I died to save my pathetic excuse for a sister I won because it was what I wanted to do. I have, now, what I always wanted, Angelus certainly isn’t going anywhere, and I have all the toys to play with I could ever want. And don’t try to romanticize it, dear, you allowed yourself to be captured. Remember it, babe, as you hang here all alone and beaten.” 

Buffy walked closer, stroking Cordelia’s smudged cheek in a parody of kindness and told Cordelia the news she had been bursting to tell. “Haven’t you heard the news? I have a new family, Cor, dear. My father is with me, though currently beating the shit out of the Watcher’s Council, but we all have our rage. My best friend is here, I even have a new childe with Drusilla.” 

Cordelia couldn’t prevent her eyes widening in shock. “Oh, didn’t hear that? Yeah, she pledged her life to me, making her effectively Angelus’ and my childe. Best of all I have Angelus; you could never really accept the fact that Angel had so much of the demon within him, but I love the whole man. And make no mistake, Cordy, Angelus IS mine. Just as I am eternally his.” 

And now for the brilliant topper. Oh, she couldn’t wait; actually, Buffy had waited until Cordelia was alert enough to fully appreciate the news and waiting had driven her crazy. Moving a step out of the way of the camera trained on her, Buffy made sure Cordelia’s face was in focus in the lens and prepared to deliver the news. 

“And now, I have a new son.” Buffy paused, waited until Cordelia’s eyes rose to meet hers. The horror in them was just beginning to register. Oh, but this would make for wonderful viewing over and over again. 

“Yes, Connor, of his own free will, became my childe. He wanted what we had, wanted to be a part of us, to join us as a true member of the family. And he tasted delicious. All that power in his blood, it was,” Buffy shivered in remembered delight at the exquisite taste of it. “I hear it was enough to rival slayer’s blood.” 

Angelus had fed from her almost immediately after she had finished feeding Connor her blood. He, too, wanted a taste of his son’s powerful blood and attacked her neck the second she removed her wrist from his son’s lips. 

Then they had coupled on the floor in a frenzied tangle of limbs, blood, and need, but that wasn’t the point. Though it did cause Buffy to shiver again in remembered passion. 

“C-Connor?” Cordelia’s voice was a whisper, a bare vocalization of the name. Then, stronger, “What did you do to the boy? Did you trick him, did you force him?” She refused to believe that the Connor she knew would want this. Sure they had never seen eye to eye but he wasn’t exactly one to embrace the demon aspect of vampirism. Hell, he barely accepted Angel those first few years, how could he…? 

“Cordelia, I’m shocked, truly. You, of all people, should realize that forcing such a choice on someone we actually care about isn’t how we operate. No, he chose this all on his own. He was a wonderful asset to us as we subdued the demon world, had some great strategies for doing so, actively helped in so many areas, and commanded the army for stretches at a time. And that was before I turned him.” 

A single tear tracked down Cordy’s face and Buffy laughed. Catching the moisture with the tip of her finger, the vampiress brought it to her lips, closing her eyes at the amount of emotion so little could hold. “Delicious. And the best part, Cordy? He knew what he was doing, what we were doing to you, what we were doing to the humans of this planet. He wanted to be a part of it.” Buffy stepped back.

“Wanted to truly be his father’s son. MY son.” 

Cordelia began to shake. The chains rattled and mortar rained down on her head but she never noticed. “What did you DO to him you bitch?!” She screamed, her eyes blazing with more emotion than Buffy had seen her emit in ages. “What did you DO?” 

Calmly, maliciously, joyously, Buffy smiled. “You know perfectly well what I did, Cordelia. It’s what he wanted.” So saying, Buffy turned to leave, Cordelia’s screams echoing harmlessly off the stone walls.
~~~~~~~~~~
Quintin Travers knew this was the end. 

The fact that it was, wasn’t what bothered him so much, though. It was the fact that someone who used to be on his side, used to WORK for him, was doing it. Actually, that pissed him off more than anything, but it also served to crush his spirit just a little. 

But that wasn’t the point.

Oh, no, the point was that Rupert Giles was currently flaying every inch of skin off Quintin’s back in a systematic movement that was designed to hurt like hell. The former watcher had kept Travers alive for weeks now, though Quintin had lost track of time eons ago. 

He had been beaten to the point of death only to have Rupert stop and see that his wounds were healed, that he had a chance to recover, before beginning again. A more vicious cycle Travers had never before seen. 

And the taunts! Quintin had often prided himself on his mental strength he had, after all, survived as the head of the Watcher’s Council and years fighting this war, how could he not? But the jests at his expense, the constant reminders that he, Travers, had failed in his duty, that he had not only let down his slayers, the army that was counting on the Watcher’s Council to be a bastion of moral righteousness but that he had let down the world. 

Yup, failure was Quintin’s new name and he knew it even without Rupert repeating it to him as if it were the vampire’s new mantra. 

Damn the man to a thousand eternities in hell couldn’t he find a new topic? But Quintin Travers’ pleas went unheard as Rupert laughed uproariously and left the makeshift dungeon for, “Better amusement than you, Travers.” 

Now he knew, though. Now he understood where he had gone wrong, now Travers realized where his fatal mistake lie. 

He had failed to kill all those who stood before him, Quintin Travers head of the Council of Watchers, and his ultimate goal. He should have disposed of any opposition from within the Council ages ago, and that most certainly included Rupert Giles. 

Turncoat bastard. First that black magick he had indulged in as a youth in some misguided rebellion, then to care for, to actually love a slayer. 

Oh, Quintin wasn’t heartless, he cared for his charges of course he did, but the slayers were chosen for a specific reason, and it wasn’t to go out and procreate. It was to fight, to hold the line, and to die in the ultimate battle of good verses evil. That was it, that was all; their total destiny in a nutshell. Rupert wasn’t even supposed to get a slayer, and hadn’t him loving the girl as a daughter proven that? 

Now, wallowing in his own blood and vomit, his mind fracturing with every beat of his heart, Quintin Travers’ vowed that Rupert wouldn’t get away with what he was doing. No, he most definitely would not. If he had to defy the gates of heaven or, should a mistake of some kind be made and he visited the doorway to hell, he would defy that, too, and find a way, oh, yes, Quintin would return to earth and haunt Rupert. 

He had some knowledge of his own with magicks and would use them, too. Oh, yes, he would see to it that for all this pain, for all the humiliation Rupert caused him, Quintin, and the Council, that he would pay. 

Giles, for his part, was busy with Saffir, and didn’t care one whit for Travers. 

The former head of the former Watcher’s Council was of such little concern to the vampire, that he barely warranted a thought. Oh, Giles dutifully went everyday to taunt and torture him, but frankly it was losing its fun. Not the acts itself, but Travers was such a lunatic, much more now than he had been, that there was just no fun in the man’s continued grief. 

Still, he had promised to draw the man’s pain out, and he would keep that promise. After all, Travers had a lot to atone for; both Giles and Angelus held grudges against him for wrongs done to Buffy, with Giles having the added revulsion of actually being forced to make nice with the pompous ass. 

It was much more entertaining to hunt down and destroy the rest of the Council. At least they put up some semblance of a fight. There wasn’t that much of the world left for the stragglers to hide, but they did try. And in trying to outrun and outwit Giles, they had left large portions of Europe free from any kind of resistance, allowing the vampire to control just that much more of the continent. 

There was only one problem now. It wasn’t the Council, it wasn’t whatever remained of the Army of Light, it wasn’t the humans, that was for sure, it wasn’t infighting among the family. There was enough space and power for every one of their eight, now nine, members that something like that probably wouldn’t happen for decades to come, if not centuries. 

It was the remaining members of the Vampire Continuum. 

They were proving to not only be stubborn in regard to who now had the power in this world, but surprisingly well organized and supplied. When Giles informed the older vampire of the still functioning body, Angelus had been more than surprised. No one had really heard more than the barest peep them in centuries, not since the fall of any kind of Vampire Order millennia ago. 

Even though not much of the vampire population listened to them, indeed of the varied Orders only the oldest or highest ranking leaders even knew the Continuum still existed. Apparently once they had fallen no master wanted, to again, be subjected to their rule. Still they were fairly powerful and now, with Angelus and Buffy taking over the demon world faster and much more organized than the Continuum ever could, those clans, orders, and factions that opposed the couple turned to a different power.
~~~~~~~~~~
Angelus looked over at his lover as they lay in bed. 

The cuts on her back were beginning to heal, her mate’s blood still strong on his tongue. They had fought earlier, over what he couldn’t remember at the moment, too sated to care. But, as most of their arguments, this one had ended with the verbal battle turning first into a physical fight then much more pleasurably intimate. He wondered, occasionally, why that was; he couldn’t stay angry at Buffy for long despite his repute for holding grudges. 

She moaned softly as his hand brushed her back and snuggled deeper into his embrace. Angelus allowed a rare gentle smile to grace his features and decided that so long as Buffy never left him he didn’t care. 

“Are you going to stare at me all night, love, or are you going to do something about it?” Buffy didn’t open her eyes, didn’t move out of his embrace as she spoke. She simply allowed her lips to graze his chest, deeply marked and slightly bloody from her nails.

“The latter, of course, but we have a family meeting in a few hours and you wanted to check on Connor before hand.” Regret shone strongly in his voice even as his hands moved lower over her lush body, his mouth finding hers in a heated kiss. 

Breaking away from him with a mewl of disappointment, Buffy nodded. “The humans are chained in the anteroom, right? I wouldn’t want our newest childe to go hungry before we have a little talk.” 

Climbing out of their bed, tugging Buffy with him, Angelus walked them to the shower as he answered, “Of course. I still think that he’ll be harder to integrate than our other childer. As I told you before, Willow and Giles were already strong willed, but they already followed you and already knew the plan and what we wanted; it turned into what they wanted as well, so they followed us. They continue to follow us because we’re the strongest. It usually doesn’t work this way, we’ve been lucky.” 

“And will continue to be so, so long as there are worlds to conquer.” Buffy added as she stepped into the shower, hot water beating down on her cool skin. She had always loved a nice hot shower, but could appreciate the heat more now that her skin was room temperature. 

“Exactly. My point is that Connor is different. He’s strong, physically, yet doesn’t have the discipline to control that skill, even now. We’ve taught him a lot over these months, but he’s still headstrong and willful.” 

“Isn’t that what we want in childer, though? Otherwise they’d be minions and we have enough of them, don’t you think?” Buffy took his soap and a washcloth and began to lather his marble-like skin. 

“Well, yes, love,” Angelus acknowledged as her hands kneaded his shoulders and back. “But specifically Connor; he’s going to be a handful, and I have no objections with you handling him in a normal sire capacity.” 

“But…?” Buffy questioned when he trailed off already suspecting what was coming next. “In normal Sire/Childe relations there is a lot of sexual, ah training, is that what you’re getting at?” 

Looking into his face she saw that that was exactly what he was referring to. It was a wonderful compliment, she decided, that he was still as possessive over her as ever. “Baby, you know I think of Connor as a son as well as a childe.” Buffy told her mate as her soapy hands massaged his rising erection her eyes locked with his. “That’s a bit incestuous even for vampires, don’t you think?” 

Smirking, he leaned down, allowing the water to wash the soap off his body. “Good.” He said as she sank gracefully to her knees, a small laugh escaping her beautiful lips. “I’d hate to have to kill my own son after all the trouble we went through to create him,” Angelus said before thrusting his cock into Buffy’s mouth, growling in pleasure as she expertly moved her lips over him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Angelus, Buffy, Spike, and Drusilla had met in the dining room before their nightly hunt to go over the more mundane aspects of ruling the world. How grandiose that sounded, Spike thought as Angelus scanned report after report on what had happened while he and Buffy had been out and about. 

Catch up had been slow in coming, what with the additional time spent with Connor, and all the extra petitioners come to visit. Plus with moving into their new accommodations and all, this was one of the few times they had been able to meet. Willow and Paul were still busy in Sunnydale, whatever groups hadn’t joined Angelus and Buffy had tried to open the Hellmouth. 

It was as if there was a direct correlation to not joining the winning team and wanting to destroy the world. It was bizarre, Spike thought as Buffy and Drusilla discussed Dawn, but no one ever said that the average demon – or human for that matter – were in any way smart. 

“And Faith?” Buffy asked as she flipped through her own stack of papers; so much for the technology age. 

Drusilla laughed a melodic sound that carried through the room. “Grr, she’s as wild as the wind and a hundred times more volatile. Screams at her chains but can’t break free, doesn’t want to get loose, likes it here but doesn’t want to.  Two sides of her, twin sides, but she can’t choose.” 

Looking up briefly from her reports, Buffy gave Drusilla a smirk but said nothing to the twisted reply. “Right, then, so I suppose she’s still on a leash?” At Spike’s nod – Dru was smiling at the ceiling now and Buffy wasn’t sure if it was at the stars or Faith’s room – Buffy continued. “You’ve tested her, I’m guessing, how far she can be trusted?” 

“Trusted? Not far, she’s entirely too wild for that,” Spike laughed. “But she’s loyal; she knows where her food and clothing come from, she knows who her masters are, and she knows what we expect of her.” 

Angelus looked up just then, “And Lilah?” She was a special project that gave him an unending supply of satisfaction; damnation he hated that bitch. 

Spike laughed outright then, “I think she missed you, actually. Always asking where master and mistress were, why had you abandoned her, that sort of thing. Don’t worry, though, I kept her busy enough with those never-ending emissaries from whoever you had conquered that week. Seemed happy enough; especially when I told her it was what you wanted.” 

Shrugging, Angelus turned the conversation back to other matters, making a mental note to check on both Lilah and Faith that evening. 

A couple of hours after sunset, Buffy, having visited both Faith and Lilah with Angelus, and now fed, waited Connor’s rising. She never had been the patient type, but this was just crazy. It had been days already, three at least, and she was antsy.

Plus she was tired of being cooped up in the house, no matter how large it was, and wanted out. Sensing Angelus behind her she said without turning around, “Another hour, then I’m heading out.”

As he slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her back against his hard body, Angelus agreed. “Since this is the first human child of two vampires to ever be turned, maybe the rules are different.” He said to her unspoken grumble, trying to sooth her as best he could when he, too, was anxious to see his son rise. “Where would you like to go, my love?” 

Buffy shrugged, restless. “I don’t care, someplace, anyplace, I don’t care.” She said the words but her body responded immediately to Angelus’ hands as they caressed her through her barely-there clothing. “I want to toy with the humans tonight, baby, and-”

She stopped suddenly as she felt something. Angelus, too, halted his ministrations as the feeling was transmuted to him along their mated bond. 

Connor had risen.

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