Buffy Summers didn’t know what had happened.  

She opened her eyes to see the ugliest man ever standing over her with what she assumed was a smile – it was kind of hard to tell. His face was pasty white, his mouth drawn tightly over his teeth. His eyes were a strange color but they drew her in nonetheless with their strangeness.  

“Are you an angel?” Three-year-old Buffy asked, somehow not afraid though when she took a quick look around the darkened room, there were strange faced people who looked terrified and something else she couldn’t understand. Plus this creature looked nothing like her idea of an angel. There were no wings, no white robe, just claws and black material covering him that Buffy didn’t know yet was leather; definitely not an angel, but then a lot of things she thought should be one way weren’t…it was something she was just beginning to learn. 

The laugh was loud and rang clearly throughout the rooms. The rest of the beings cowered further at the sound. Buffy wondered why, but didn’t ask. “Oh, my child, no, I’m not…but I know one.” 

His clawed hand came out to caress her little face, bright with curiosity but not with fear. She was too young yet to know fear, and that intrigued him. “Who are you, my child?” 

“Buffy,” she said with conviction as if the strange man before her should already know of this. Then, not to be sidetracked asked, “Not an angel. Who are you?” 

Just then Darla slunk up to the two, blue eyes gleaming in triumph and hunger. She knew whom she had captured, and was more than pleased with her new prisoner. “Does she please you, Master?” 

Buffy looked at the woman next to the not-angel. She had a vague memory of this woman standing over her, face contorted and ugly, a hissing type of voice. One Buffy associated with the snakes her parents had taken her to see at the zoo, telling someone that she was perfect. Perfect for what, Buffy had no idea, because that was where the memory ended.  

Looking around the room again the small child wondered where her parents were. They would never leave her, often told her of the dangers of leaving them in fact, so where were they? 

Tears welled at the thought that they weren’t there, but she knew they’d be back. They always were, she was sure of it. They wouldn’t leave her. 

“Yes, Darla,” Nest said, without looking at his favorite childe. His gaze was still captured by the human child before him. “Yes she does please me. You may go, now.” 

For a moment Darla thought she heard wrong. Surely, she couldn’t be dismissed? Dismissed for this child, this human child? She couldn’t be more than five, and a potential future slayer at that. What could her Sire and Master want with the girl? Other than for food.  

Dismissed? Unheard of and certainly not to be tolerated. But she said nothing. She knew better than to contradict Nest. With one last glare at the human, Darla finally moved quietly away to watch the scene from a distance, eyes narrowed in instant hatred. 

Buffy yawned hugely, and walked the few steps separating her from the man before her, crawling onto his lap. Darla waited to see his rage, to see him snap her tiny neck but it never came. Instead, he picked her up by her small waist and looked at her for a moment as if wondering what to do with her. Buffy smiled at him, and with a curious expression on his twisted face, Nest placed the child on his throne. 

There was a collective gasp from assemblage. 

Darla scowled at the scene, a low growl emanating from deep within her. She had brought the child to her Sire as a gift. She was a potential slayer the Watcher’s Council, in their infinite wisdom, wanted for their own.  

They’d killed the girl’s parents and intended to take her, no doubt, to England. Darla had intervened. She and her small group had killed the Watchers and taken the girl. Darla wanted her for herself, but had resisted. Barely. While not as strong as the slayer of course, potentials gave off the promise of unfulfilled power. Their blood was above average, not as potent as a slayer’s, but damned strong just the same. 

She never, not ever, thought that her Master would do anything other than feed off her. Potential slayer blood held a power that was coveted among demons, specifically vampires. She’d thought Nest would maybe even send the child’s bones back, along with the Watchers’ bodies, to the Council as a warning that even potential slayers were hunted. 

Nest had done none of that. Narrowing her eyes at the child, Darla waited; she was willing to bide her time, see what happened, what tomorrow would bring. After all, she was eternal…this possible slayer was not. 

Crouching in front of the child as she lay on his throne, her tiny body curled on the dark red cushion, Nest smiled again. It was a gesture that had frightened many over the centuries, and should have sent the young girl into fits of hysteria. She merely looked at him with a drowsy curiousness that intrigued Nest.  

“I’m your new father, child,” Nest said in a low voice even though all the other creatures in the cavern could hear him easily. The lies came easily, of course, and the more he thought about it, the more he knew this was the way to go with the child. “Your parents were killed in a car crash by some very mean people. They’re called the Watcher’s Council, and wanted to take you away from your mommy and daddy. Instead, you were brought to me for protection. Never fear for your safety with me, for as long as I live so, too, shall you be safe.” 

Buffy nodded, yawning. “Okay, when can I see my parents?” 

Frowning, not used to dealing with children and their lack of understanding of life and death, Nest said again in a stronger voice. “They aren’t here, they’re…” and then inspiration struck. “They’re in heaven, child, with the angels.” There, that made sense, did it not?  

“But can I see them, my new daddy?” Her eyes were drooping with sleep, but she forced them opened to look at her new father. 

His temper, which even after all these years was something to behold, was wearing thin. However, there was something almost…endearing when she called him daddy. Master, Sire, these were terms he was used to, but daddy? He liked that. It was a name he could grow used to. 

“No, my child, you can’t see them. But they can see you from their place with the angels, and want you to listen to me, okay?” 

“Okay, daddy,” Buffy said as her eyes completely closed, and she drifted off to sleep.  

Nest stood again, looking over the minions before him. No, this wasn’t something he could trust them to accomplish. He hadn’t survived this long by trusting. Therefore, he’d do it himself. Picking her up, he carried the sleeping girl into his own chamber. After laying her on his large, ornately decorated bed, he carefully pulled the thick blanket over her.  

Sitting in the desk chair, he thought about what he had just done.
This was the slayer, or a potential one. She was only about four or so, and in no way ready for the real world her calling demanded of her. She was destined to be the means to exterminate him and his brethren, yet without a fight at all she accepted his lies and his claim to be her new father. She showed no fear, which had earned her her life – for the next few days at least. But her trust and agreement of him as her ‘father’, had earned her…something else. 

Was it possible to turn her away from her calling? There was a darkness in each slayer that allowed them to fight that very darkness, it was something the Watcher’s hid from both their charges and from the Watcher’s themselves. But Nest had studied his only real threat carefully over the years, and knew more about the true nature of a slayer than they themselves did.  

They were predators; they reveled in the hunt, and enjoyed it as much as vampires did. With the right training, he was sure that this small child could be turned from whatever good was within her, taught to embrace the darkness instead, and used to rule by his side. 

Nature verses nurture. It was an ongoing debate, and one Nest had had no interest in until this night. Time to test the theory then. 

On another note, he knew his casual dismissal of Darla would anger the vampiress, but he couldn’t be bothered with his childe’s feelings. She was so temperamental that he often had difficulty keeping track of her many moods. When Angelus had left her nearly a hundred years ago, she’d gone slightly mad before crawling back into Nest’s graces.

Angelus…well he hadn’t lied when he told Buffy he knew an angel. An angel of unspeakable death, of course. An avenging angel who brought death with inexpressible grace and elegance, and one that didn’t look the part all the books perpetuated, but an angel nonetheless. A beautiful angel of darkness, the perfect tool for Buffy’s instruction, perhaps.  

Maybe he’d send a message to his erstwhile grandchilde, have him visit for a few weeks, just to keep his promise to Buffy. 

Which was almost laughable. Here he was, a Master Vampire who kept his promises at his convenience, most certainly not for a human child. But this was no ordinary child, he admitted to himself, watching her sleep. Together with Angelus, Nest’s beautifully vicious grandchilde, they’d rule the underworld, bringing order and chaos in tandem, ruling together those under them. 

This was to be his true daughter. His heir.
~~~~~~~~~~
Five-year-old Buffy all but bounced into her father’s chambers.  

Her long blonde hair was tied back into a thick braid, and her radiant green eyes sparkled with mischief and happiness. Her dress, a dark blue, was floor length but didn’t have any of the ruffles most little girls’ dresses sported. Instead fine handmade lace embroidered it, making it look more Empire Style, than late twentieth century. Her shoes were fine, soft leather, ankle length boots with a sturdy sole for the climbing she often indulged in. Her skin was pale but, instead of making her look wane, drawn, she looked ethereal, delicate.

Anyone who had had even one meeting with the child knew she was neither delicate or ethereal. Rather she sported a smart mouth and a quick mind, and a beautiful smile that hid her lightening fast temper. 

“Daddy!” She called with a slight giggle, launching into her father’s throne chair, and wrapping her arms around his neck, laughing as she outran her minder. Drusilla was a lot of fun but her daddy was the best. 

“Isn’t Drusilla watching you today, Buffy?” He wasn’t angry, though he should have been. The child that effect on him, making his century’s dead heart lighter with her mere presence. It was amazing, but true, and Nest wasn’t one to question things like this. 

Fate was a mysterious thing he accepted long ago. 

“I’m sorry, daddy but I missed you. Are we receiving visitors today?” She asked in a whisper as she kissed her father’s wrinkled cheek.

“Yes, my precious, I told you about him, do you remember?”

 Scrunching her brow, Buffy tried to remember who was on the list today. A lot of people wanted to meet her father, he was a very important man. She often sat with him, trying her best to remember everyone and their reason for being there. He said it was important that she do so, important for her to remember, and so Buffy tried.  

But there were so many…. “Oh, the angel?” 

“Yes, my child, the angel,” Nest said with a laugh, watching Darla, still bowed before him with the latest news of their holdings in Canada, for any reaction. He knew full well his childe’s hatred of his daughter. He didn’t care, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep guard against an attack. Lack of trust in all things but his beautiful human child colored his world. 

Drusilla, who even now he sensed rushing to find her charge, was the perfect minder. Occasionally childlike herself, she adored Buffy and they sat for hours playing with dolls, listening to the stars sing, and talking with the moon. For a while, Nest thought Drusilla’s madness somehow rubbed off on his daughter, but discovered that Buffy had a sixth sense when it came to what the vampiress meant during her ramblings. It was an added bonus that the dark haired vampiress hated Darla, saying her grandmummy was mean and not for him.  

Nest had a fairly good idea that ‘him’ referred to Angelus, but he said nothing. No, he preferred to see where everything played out. He had his own plans for Angelus in regards to his daughter. 

It had taken over two years for him to track down the younger vampire and convince him that this was merely a ‘favor’ to him, Nest. It didn’t hurt that Buffy’s sixth birthday was tomorrow. He marked the occasion Darla had brought him the would-be slayer as her birthday, and all that he ruled celebrated with abandon the birth of his daughter. 

Nest sat with Buffy on his lap, and the girl played with the hem of her dress, with his nails, and with the doll Drusilla eventually brought when she finally found her. Several vamps, and one or two lesser demons wanting an alliance with the Clan Aurelius, were granted an audience before Angelus arrived.

He had actually arrived in Sunnydale two days ago, but preferred to get the lay of the town before doing anything that would require him to actually set foot in the proverbial lion’s den.  

Swaggering through the underground labyrinth, he noted the various tunnels, the guards, everything he may need to know for future reference. Just because the invitation was described as a favor, meant nothing to him; he trusted Nest about as much as he did his own Sire, Darla. 

Not that he was all that trustworthy, either, but when your own Sire sells you out to a bunch of gypsies, you know it’s time to cut all ties with her. Lucky for Angelus, one of his own childer had learned of the deception and warned him. Drusilla was truly his finest creation, her visions had saved them all time and again, and Angelus was doubly grateful to her after that gypsy incident. 

He didn’t mind the fact Darla sold him out, no, it was the manner by which she did it. Her own continued existence for him saddled with a soul. A curse to make him remember and care for the victims he’d taken years to amass. 

Entering the throne room, Angelus looked around once to commit the layout to memory before approaching Nest himself. The child on his lap was a surprise, though he had often heard of ‘The Master’s Daughter’, same as everyone. She was fairly legendary for several reasons, not the least of which was the fact that she had somehow become a child to Nest. 

“Master,” he said in a mocking voice, and bowed briefly in an equally mocking gesture. 

“Angelus,” Nest acknowledged, observing the insolence but doing nothing about it – this once. Contrary to popular belief, Nest liked Angelus; he was vicious and cunning, and had a brilliant mind of his own, which he put to good use. 

Buffy looked up from her – Drusilla’s – doll when Nest said the name, and into the face of the angel her daddy had promised her. Turning to face her father, she silently asked for permission to approach the stranger. Nodding, Nest removed his arm from her waist, and allowed her to hop off his lap. 

Standing a couple feet away from the tall dark man, Buffy tilted her head to the side, studying him. He was tall, but then most beings were to her. His hair was dark, as dark as his eyes…his eyes held unutterable depths to them, but Buffy was too young to understand them. His skin was pale, not like her father’s, but almost like her bathroom – marbled. Pale and marbled, and he looked strong. 

Angelus watched impassively. So this was Nest’s daughter. She was pretty, big expressive green eyes, hair that looked like spun gold, unafraid of Nest – the vamp was ugly enough to repulse anyone, and yet this girl saw him only as her daddy. Amazing. 

“Are you an angel?” 

Raising an eyebrow Angelus bent at the knee to face her at eyelevel. Since his height didn’t intimate her, he decided to forgo the crick in his neck and ask, “Who told you that?” 

“Daddy did.” Her voice was filled with trust and conviction in her father. Angelus almost laughed at that – Nest as trustworthy? The world was ending – but wisely held his tongue. He was in enemy territory, and no matter who present might have hated Nest, they were, in one shape or another, loyal to him. “He said that he knew an angel, and that I’d get to meet him someday.”  

“My name is Angelus; it’s a form of angel, so I guess you can say I’m one.” Angelus smiled, eyes softening at the child. She showed no fear, despite what she had to have heard about him, and that was something to be sure. Angelus respected strength, respected that she would not question his right as Master, but that she would stand up to him as an equal. When she reached out a small hand to trace his face, he didn’t flinch though her heat wanted to burn him.  

Well, that was new. Never had he had any human willingly touch him, not once they knew what he was. Many demons were scared of him; though a great many wanted him for their own sexual release. Then again, this girl had been with Nest for a few years, and if she could touch him… 

“Can you do the face thing that Dru does?” 

Face thing? Dru? Drusilla was watching her? His crazy childe was playing nanny to the Master’s human child? This world never ceased to amaze him. Shifting easily into his vampiric features, he held still while Buffy traced the ridges of his forehead, down his nose and across his cheekbones. 

“You’re very pretty, my Angel,” she said honestly when she was done, and he had shifted back into his human guise.
Darla, still in the shadows, snorted briefly. Nest ignored her, as was his wont these days, but Angelus looked up, wondering. Jealously was stamped clearly on her features, hatred, the desire for revenge clear in her blue eyes.  

Protection welled inside of him for this human, though Angelus did his best to ignore it, to tramp it down. There were a myriad of reasons to do so; she was human, Nest – whom he hated – claimed her as a daughter, he never wanted to be subjected to the rules of his grandsire, and was Master in his own right so certainly didn’t feel that need… 

But he hated Darla. 

She had knowingly betrayed him in the worst possible way, had sold him out to that gypsy clan bent on vengeance, and then had had the gall to laugh over it later when he had confronted her. She claimed it was all in fun, that she knew he would slaughter the gypsy camp before their notorious magicks did him any harm. He didn’t believe her for one moment, and had nearly killed her in his rage.  

If it weren’t for Drusilla telling him that William was in trouble, and needed his help, Angelus had no doubt Darla would have been dead that night. In the ensuing years, Darla had done her best to stay out of his way, and Angelus had let her be. For the time being. 

Now, if she wanted someone dead, after all she did to him, then Angelus’d be damned if she got her way, even if it meant protecting the human before him. 

Smiling at the girl before him, he said, “Thank you, Princess.” 

Taking his hand as he stood to his full height, Buffy asked, “Are you coming to my birthday party tomorrow? Drusilla said that there’ll be cake and balloons and presents!” 

Smiling again Angelus did his best to ignore the heat of her hand. It wasn’t that it was uncomfortable, but it was…something else. He wasn’t sure what, but it added to that protective feeling he was experiencing. Or it could’ve been a reaction to Darla’s venomous glares. 

“Of course, Princess,” Angelus replied with a look at Nest, wondering if the older vampire would say anything to that. This may have been billed as a ‘favor’, but Angelus had no doubt the moment Nest didn’t like something, Angelus would find himself faced with an army of loyal Nest vampires before he could even call his own loyal followers. The Master didn’t say anything, however, just smiled at his daughter. What was the old bat up to?

“But I didn’t bring a present.”

Buffy pouted but didn’t say anything to that. “That’s okay, Angel, can I ride on your shoulders?” 

Startled at the sudden change in subject, and wondering how it was she came to call him Angel, Angelus looked to Nest, knowing that no matter what he felt for the older vampire this was his daughter; permission needed to first be asked. Receiving a nod, Angelus lifted her up, tossing her high over his head once, mindful of the cavern ceiling, before settling her on his broad shoulders.  

Yes, the world continued to surprise him. 

“Let’s go see Drusilla, okay Princess?”

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