Paris in early August is, most years, a great deal like Paris in late July; if anything, locals agreed, August might be slightly warmer or cooler depending on the rain. And the rain ... for three days after the gathering of the Council of Elders the rains poured. The skies opened and torrents of water fell from a ceaseless gray horizon, the incessant downpour cooling the streets and houses. As a result, the heat in the city was abating slowly and the once intolerable temperature was settling into a moist, languid blanket of warmth. The pace of life was still slower than usual as people breathed in the thick air, but the street sellers returned to hawk their wares during all but the hottest hours, and the shops and clubs did a more lucrative business. The strange influx of visitors dissipated with the heat, and more of the city's own multitude returned to their homes to face trials and tribulations of ordinary life. However, the cooling weather had no effect on the more carnal appetites of the more adventurous members still in residence.

The crescent moon hung low and bright against the dark sky as three figures shrouded in shadows and fog converged on a cemetery entrance, two pulling the third into an embrace. Skin brushed skin, mouths trailed kisses and nibbles, tongues lapped at the blood that welled up from beneath the surface on creamy flesh. Breathy moans emerged from her throat, her chest heaving from the exertion of running in the heat as she realized that she was the prey, and they the hunters who had stalked her across the city. Cool fingers slid beneath the paper thin layer of silk that swathed her rounded figure, and shivers ran through her as their laughter rang in her ears, desire and fear warring in her as skilled sensualists lifted her breasts from the low neckline of the dress. Her nipples hardened when exposed to the midnight air, the rosy buds forming hard peaks as they were rolled and tugged by her tormentors.

"Please," she pleaded, unknowing of what she asked.

They did not respond, but continued their exquisite assault on her senses and her flesh. She felt herself become surrounded once more as they pulled her more deeply into the depths of the ruined cemetery, past the crumpling statues of once victorious leaders and into a dilapidated mausoleum. Her back hit the wall as a mouth descended on her own, lips as soft as hers plundering like a marauding warrior too long from the comforts of the flesh. The sound of ripping silk filled the woman's ears as her other captor pulled her dress from her body leaving her as nude as on her natal day. A finger slipped between her thighs and stroked the moistening folds, causing whimpers to escape her throat.

Why are they doing this, she wondered feverishly. Why had they stalked her through the streets, why had these hunters chosen her as their prey this night? Was it the heat? Had she inadvertently angered these powerful and vicious beings? Her mind whirled as her senses were set aflame by the other woman's delicate touches, the tender strokes becoming more intense as the hunger grew.

A growl broke her inner reverie and the woman pulled away from her captive beauty with a small smile. "Do you feel ignored, young one?" she whispered huskily.

"Yes," he hissed. "She is mine ... give over."

"Ours," was the woman's reply, but she backed away all the same, her dark eyes watching as the male crossed to the dusty floor to claim his share of the plunder.

Her breaths quickened again as he approached; she had thought herself safe for a moment, but her temporary reprieve was short-lived. His eyes raked over her body, hunger all too evident in those golden orbs, and she felt herself falling into his gaze, her will dissolving as his body brushed against hers. She gazed tremulously at the predator before, her own killer instincts fleeing at the combined presence of the two powerful vampires. A cool hand stroked her neck slowly while the other splayed on her hip, and her fear turned to terror as his grip on her throat tightened and her air supply diminished.

Images flashed before her eyes even as she saw tiny black spots appear in her view, but as soon as it began it ended. Before she could react he lifted her off her feet and flung her onto the top of a nearby sarcophagus, the cold stone meeting her back with a bruising force. Tears sprang to her eyes as she winced, but any thoughts of the pain flew from her mind when he crawled above her, freeing his turgid length from his trousers with alarming efficiency.

He remained still for long moments, his eyes eagerly drinking up the sight of the woman sprawled beneath him. Her fear-laced desire was palpable to both the demons and, strangely enough, she found herself growing even more aroused, the tension in her loins growing sharper with every passing second. A smirk crossed his face as he lowered his mouth to her neck, his fangs piercing her flesh with a brutal gentleness at the same moment as she found herself impaled on his manhood.

She shattered almost immediately, the tiny amount of friction against her aching bud enough to catapult her into ecstasy. Colors, textures, shapes and images exploded behind her eyes as she screamed, pleasure strumming through her veins like torrents of lightening. Tremors shook her body as she returned to a hazy awareness to feel him pounding away inside her, and she moaned as she felt lust coil in her blood once more, pushing her towards another high.

As she opened her mouth to draw a deep breath she tasted a tangy dew on her tongue and opened her eyes to find the swollen sex of her other captor pressed to her mouth. With a tiny, smothered moan of unbidden desire, she drew her tongue over the female vampire's soft folds, sipping up the honey that seeped out. His thrusts came faster now, and she swallowed her moans as she continued to pleasure the other woman, sucking the tender pearl of desire into her mouth as she felt herself approaching the chasm once more.

When his fangs pierced her throat yet again she felt him spill his seed within her and seconds later her own cries were smothered by her other companion, who had attained her release mere moments earlier. Her breathing was ragged as she lay beneath them, the tears that had been repressed by pleasure now streaming down her face. How had this happened, she wondered yet again. How would she go on, how could she face them, this new relationship? Did this even qualify as a relationship, or was it just some twisted sexual pairing?

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Such lovely tears ... "

The vampiress sighed. "You were quite right, Angelus, she has a very talented mouth."

Another chuckle. "I know."

The woman's cool fingers brushed the hot tears from her check and she glanced up at the vampiress imploringly. Dark eyes burning with unsated desire stared back, and she knew that there would be no mercy, no reprieve.

She opened her mouth to scream ...

A glass shattered against a stone fireplace, the light from the flames creating colorful fractals as they passed through the tiny slivers. The woman who sat in the plush chintz covered chair stiffened slightly, her eyes narrowing as she appraised her companion. His grey eyes were yellow with anger and the planes of his human face were distorted by the ridges of his demon, his clothes -- the ones she had paid far too much for, she noted angrily -- were torn and askew. He was angry, yes, but he was still pliable enough that she could have what she wanted from him.

"That was Swiss crystal," she chided him.

"It can go to hell!" he roared.

"Crystal, my dear Harold, does not come easily."

"Fuck the glass! You promised me Aurelius, you swore that ... that upstart, Angelus, would never succeed with the Council of Elders!"

Lilias Abernathy studied the vampire before her. He was, she was sorry to say, one of her few choices left in life, and her one route to the power she craved. Angelus or his Childe, William, had been her first choices when she arrived in London, but that Slayer usurped all her plans with one little mistake. If I ever find that amateur spellcaster, she mused, I will be sure he or she understands a new definition of pain.

With an inward smirk, she raised her eyes from the rim of her port-wine glass. "Did I?"

Harold stopped mid-rant. "What?"

"Did I promise you that Angelus would fail with the Council of Elders?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it suddenly. Well, well, the fool can learn, she noted cynically. His face shifted once more, and Lilias reproved herself for being pleased to see his human features. Since when had the faces of demons disturbed her?

"No," he said slowly. "The only mention you made was that he might not succeed if I presented myself before them and asked for judgement."

She inclined her head. "True."

His eyes started to glow again. "But they have ruled against me!"

Lilias snorted, an unladylike occurrence that she acknowledged as necessary in that moment. "Not quite."

"What?"

She shook her head. "My dear Harold, my dear, dear, Harold ... the Council was quite prepared to commend the reigns of Clan Aurelius into your keeping. However, according to the whispers, it was Indara of Cyrene who blocked that appointment; I think she made mention of that impulsive move you undertook seventy years ago ..."

He scowled. "Will the past never cease to haunt me?"

No, your idiotic mistakes will be the ruin of me. "Only if we create a more tragic picture in the present," she said aloud.

Harold whirled around to face her. "What?"

What, what, what, what! Does he never think? Of course not, Lilias, if he did you would never have gained this much control over him. "My love ... what if Angelus and William were to meet with a most... unfortunate accident? One that ended their existence on this plane?"

A smile curled Harold's lips. "That would be marvelous, my dear. Only, there is still another Childe ... "

So, he can think when the opportunity presents itself. "Yes, Penn."

Harold raised an eyebrow. "He would be the next choice should Angelus and William perish."

Lilias laughed. "Soon, my dear, Penn will be no trouble at all ... "

The vampire gave a low chuckle and lifted Lilias off the floor, kissing her deeply. She responded in kind, assuring herself that this was simply a means to an end and that the charade would not have to continue for much longer.

"What about that Slayer?" he asked lustily, his fingers pulling the fastenings from her dress as he nibbled on her neck.

Lilias shuddered from a combination of desire and disgust as his fingers made contact with her flesh. He tumbled her to the carpeted floor and pushed her dress up to her hips, his fingers fumbling with his trousers. "You'll have to give her up," she whispered, her voice tight to keep from screaming.

"Why?"

"Eleusinia has some sort of claim to her," she murmured, willing herself to another level of consciousness as she felt him move within her. She was capable of many things, but eagerly accepting this vampire into her bed was not one of them. Soon, she promised herself, as she became more detached from the sensations Harold aroused in her, soon I will have my most fervent desires.

Silk brushed against rough cotton as Angelus dropped the body to the ground with a sigh, turning to find his most favored Childe watching. His human features slipped back over his face as his hunger receded, and he beckoned to the blue-eyed man, their lips crushing together as they shared blood from their respective kills. William smiled against his Sire's mouth and curled his tongue around a sharp fang, relishing the purr the older vampire began his blood mingled with that which they had stolen.

They pulled away with regret, both realizing that to let their embrace go farther in such a nearly public place was to invite unwanted spectators. Angelus' lips curved into merry smirk as he savored the blood still shifting on his palate. "Rich and sweet," he mused. "You've done well tonight."

William shrugged. "Hunting's better now that the heat has diminished ... all the young dandies are out and about."

"Dandies?" Angelus inquired, his voice full of amusement. "Why, Will, you're dating yourself!"

The younger male shrugged. "What they're called means little enough to me... young fools are the same no matter the year."

"And the blood is still sweet, hmmm?"

"Always," William grinned wolfishly. "As I'm sure you know ... "

Angelus glanced at the dead woman at his feet and shrugged philosophically. "She was there ... available for the taking. Not from here, though; she had the taste of the country in her blood."

William studied the lifeless young woman lying on the rough-cobbled path, the steam that covered the ground curling around her body. She had been no great beauty, but her skin was clear, her light brown hair neat and clean; for all that, though, he could see the signs of approaching hunger. "Likely would have ended as a whore," he remarked.

His Sire nodded, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the blood in the corner of his mouth. "Likely as not," he agreed.

"Rich or thin?"

Angelus cocked his head to the side. "Not quite either, my boy. She's far from her honey and milk origins; probably been living on the wage of a poor housecleaner, from what I could see."

"Do you want to feed again?" William asked.

"Not at the moment," Angelus responded as he started for the road. "I need to return and look in on Buffy... she's been rather anxious and easily excitable this week. I dislike leaving her alone."

William fell into step beside his Sire, glancing sideways at the man whom he loved beyond nearly all life. "You know why."

"Aye."

"What will you do?"

Angelus gestured helplessly. "What *can* I do, Will? Indara has absented herself for the past week, but Buffy is still upset. She does little more than drift about the house and sleep."

"Perhaps that is the problem," Will mused.

At his Sire's inquiring glance, he continued. "We haven't discussed it, any of it. All she's done is think on it, you know that she has. Remember Nest?"

Angelus slowed his pace as his Childe's words sank in. "You're correct, William, mayhap she's had too much time to think ... she needs to act."

"On what? She can hardly take out her aggression on Indara of Cyrene ... and I know you're not of a mind to fight her yourself, not when she's like this. And Hiroshi's still in London."

"I know, Will, I know." Angelus frowned. "Something will present itself, though, my boy. It always does."

"NOOOOOOO!!!"

Alarmed by her mistress's cry, Felicity raced down the carpeted hall and flung open the door, stopping in her tracks, her eyes growing wide as she took in the scene before her. The large bedroom was very dark and the only light came from the slight moon outside, but it was enough to illuminate the figure in the center of the bed.

Buffy sat straight up, the sheets pooling around her bare hips as a slight breeze from the door raised gooseflesh all over her skin. Her face was ashen, her eyes nearly black with shock; normally rosy lips seemed paler, yet there was a slight flush to her flesh. She nearly jumped when Felicity carefully cleared her throat, and the young maid stopped cold before slowly inching towards the lamp on the bedside table.

She looks like she thinks I might bite her, Buffy thought dizzily. And who knows? Maybe I will. Right now *anything* seems possible. After that dream...

Felicity opened her mouth to speak when Buffy shifted uneasily on the bed, pulling the displaced sheet up over her shoulders to keep from shivering. She gave the younger girl a weak smile. "Just a nightmare ... a really BAD nightmare. Could you ... ?" she gestured towards the door opposite the closet.

"Of course," Felicity replied, relief evident in her voice. "Will you need anything else?"

Buffy shook her head. "Just a bath, then I'll feel better ... "

The girl started to turn away, then glanced back. "Should I add the powders or the oils ... or just leave the soap?"

"The lavender oil, I think," the Slayer mused. "It's soothing ... "

The maid nodded and disappeared to draw a bath; Buffy closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Just a bath," she repeated. "Yeah, right ... followed by a few good shots of bourbon, is more likely."

She sat in the massive bed, her mind in a whirl ... an unpleasant one at that. The cotton and linen sheets she'd had put on the bed quickly absorbed her perspiration, and she pushed them off as the heat began to penetrate her awareness. A hand ran through the tousled blonde locks that fell over her shoulders and she studied them critically, mentally debating the merits in trying to find a salon in Paris to refresh her color. Yes, she was a natural blonde, but her true shade was darker than the one she currently espoused.

This was the way Felicity found her some minutes later. The maid frowned once more; her lady had been out of sorts all week, ever since she had spent a few days visiting with a friend. His Lordship had not elaborated on that, she reflected. Still, something had occurred between the night of the grand party and her return four days later, something that ... damaged her in some way. After all, it certainly was not normal for her Ladyship to sit carelessly nude in a room lit only by sparse moonlight and a small lamp, studying the ends of her hair.

Things in this household were most assuredly not well.

"Milady," she called softly.

No reply.

Felicity frowned. "Milady ... "

Still no answer.

Her frown deepened. "Bella," she nearly shouted.

Buffy looked up, startlement etched across her features. "Oh, Felicity ... "

"Your bath is ready."

"Okay," the Slayer sighed, tumbling out of bed and padding towards the adjoining room.

Felicity stood in the doorway and watched as her mistress lowered herself into the massive marble bath, her head coming to rest on a silk pillow inset on the rim. Long lashes fanned out on her cheeks and her body seemed to relax a little, so the girl broached another topic. "I'll have Cook fix your dinner," she promised.

"Just some toast," Buffy mumbled.

Felicity's mouth tightened and she gave a slight nod as she left the room. Toast my foot, she thought. That's all she's eaten all week! If she were going to handle whatever was bothering her, she would need more than light toast and chamomile tea in her system. These thoughts carried her down to the kitchen where she found Cook arguing with the boy who delivered the vegetables, and she stayed back, biting her lip and wincing as Cook bashed the boy over the head and tossed him out the door.

Muttering under her breath the Cook, one Elese Murray, turned to get back to her newest creations -- that would go uneaten, she noted sourly -- when the presence of the young lady's maid registered. "Well, and what do you need here, lass?"

Felicity repressed the urge the flee the room. Up until now, all her dealings with the temperamental Head Cook had been through one of the upstairs/downstairs maids, not in person. She understood now why all the others -- even some of the vampires -- feared the French born and Scots raised beldame.

The woman was worthy of fear.

"Well?" Cook snapped.

"Mmmm," Felicity started.

"What?"

"Her Ladyship ... "

"Let me see," Cook broke in. "Herself will be wantin' toast an' tea for her dinner, yes?"

"Well," Felicity hedged. "She mumbled, but it was rather hard to decipher her words ... "

Cook narrowed her eyes at the young woman, then grinned. "Oh?"

Felicity stood up straight and met the Cook's steely gray eyes. "She *needs* to eat something, anything but toast! She's drifting about like ... like ... "

"A boat without a sail," Cook contributed.

The maid nodded furiously. "Yes! And something is terribly wrong, but ... "

"She canna face it until she's got her strength back."

"Exactly," Felicity cried. "Can you help?"

"Mmphmm," Cook rattled. "Aye, I think I can mix a little something together, hmmm ... "

Felicity stood back as Cook bustled about the spotless white room, the top of her head nearly brushing the gleaming copper pans that hung suspended from the iron cross beams. Everything in this place, she noted with awe, was clean and orderly; if she hadn't known better, she would have believed Cook was once a member of the military.

Cook looked up and caught Felicity's curious and awed eyes. "Mr. Murray was a member of the 28th Highland Regiment," she drawled.

"Oh."

"Here," Cook pushed Felicity's face into a nearby pot. The maid nearly screeched, but realized that the woman still had a hold of her neck and simply gave in, inhaling the fumes coming off the contents of the pot. A myriad combination of scents assaulted her senses and she choked on the steam, her eyes watering.

"What," she coughed when Cook allowed her up. "What is that?"

"Turtle soup."

Felicity looked shocked. "But," she started, leaning down to sniff at the fumes once more. "I smell rum!"

"Of course," Cook told her. "You always put rum in turtle soup."

"Oh," Felicity said. "What are those chunks?"

Cook glanced back at her pot as she sliced a thick loaf of bread. "Fish, mostly, but there'll be green onions and parsnips, too."

Felicity watched Cook as she wound her way around the room, taking in the sight of a room she had never really set foot in before, as all her meals were either taken with her Ladyship or brought up by one of the scullery maids. It was a kitchen like many of the kitchens she had seen in her few years, but this one was simply ... immense, was the best way to describe it. The ceilings were high, and many windows allowed plenty of light to enter during the day; tonight, illumination came from three electric lamps and an uncountable number of oil lamps, as well as a fire in a monstrously large hearth.

"Now then, lass, take this up to her Ladyship," Cook told Felicity. The young maid looked down at the prepared tray -- turtle soup, thick slices of toasted bread smothered in butter, sliced oranges and a large pot of coffee with accompanying accoutrements. "And make sure she eats more than that bread!"

Felicity smiled.

"I suppose we could sacrifice a few of the minions," Angelus mused as he wiped a trace of the cardsharp's blood from his Childe's mouth.

"Mmmm," Will purred in response, his tongue darting out to lick his Sire's thumb. "Won't we be needing them later?"

Angelus' eyes burned and lust flared. "Aye, Will, we shall ... "

"Maybe," William suggested, tugging on Angelus' lapels as he leaned in to kiss the older man. "Maybe we should turn her loose ... let her hunt in the city."

Tongues dueled and fangs gouged as the two embraced, Angelus pulling William closer, his need for his Childe overpowering his urge to hunt once more. Fingers crept beneath his waistcoat and he growled appreciatively as a hand encircled his erection, pumping slowly. He hissed and scraped his fangs along the younger vampire's neck, eliciting another purr from his Childe. As the sweet blood of his own lineage, unique in that it belonged to his favorite, filled his mouth and trickled down his throat, he felt the fingers squeeze him once more.

William shuddered when his Sire's fangs broke through his skin, tightening his grip in response. The tremors that ran through the older man were only too familiar to him; as Angelus orgasmed, Will continued the pumping motion, ignoring the growing pressure against his pants.

Angelus gave a deep rumble as he became aware once more, and the sight of William slowly licking his fingers of the creamy substance that coated them made him begin to harden once more. A smile that the Cheshire Cat would have envied split his face as he stalked towards his Childe, and William backed up until he collided with the wall. He started to speak, but his Sire's mouth silenced his impending words ... at least until the mouth that had captured his moved down.

A tortured groan emerged from William's throat as he felt Angelus' mouth engulf his cock, taking it in all the way to the root. So wonderful, this sensation, moreso because of the infrequency of the occurrence; usually Angelus gave pleasure through pain or some other act, not this almost selflessness. The ceaseless suction felt wonderful after a night of good hunting ... what better than sex with his Sire to round out the evening? Only a mouthful of sweet, wine-laced blood could make this moment better ...

As if in response to his very thought, his head slipped to one side and through a haze of lust he noticed an unconscious serving girl from the gaming hall proper propped up in a chair beside him. With a fluidity of motion he believed himself incapable of, he reached over and pulled her up, baring the smooth column of her neck. His fangs pierced her skin and she made a small sound that could have been a cry of pain, but she went limp as William continued to suck down great draughts of her blood as his crisis approached.

Angelus smiled around his Childe's erection as the younger vampire continued to drink from the woman he had procured for the evening, swallowing as his boy finally climaxed. The body made a thump when it fell to the floor, William having been unable to hold onto it any longer as his pleasure crested, and Angelus applauded himself on having the foresight to think of this little distraction.

By the time William came back to himself, his Sire had straightened their clothes and was in the process of wrapping up the body for disposal. He gave the older vampire a sappy, satisfied grin; the other smiled in acknowledgment of their mutual pleasure and connection, and together the two smuggled the body out of the club, dropping it into the river several miles away.

As they strolled back up the banks of the Seine, William whistled a tune from his youth and Angelus laughed at absolutely nothing. Hailing a passing cab, they climbed inside and headed for their Paris home, ready to deal with whatever awaited them.

Or so they thought.

I know I haven't written anything besides monotonous daily descriptions in a long time, but I've been kinda busy. I told him the truth a few weeks ago -- it was just too hard to hold it all in anymore. I hope you don't mind.

But ... The past 10 days have been just horrible ... yet I've done nothing. Maybe Felicity's right, I should stop wallowing in these emotions -- or trying to hide from my emotions -- and face them head on. Ever since my ... encounter ... with Indara (see page 314) I've sorta shut down, I stopped feeling because it hurt too much to feel. Tonight, though, I started to feel again; it was as simple as actually eating a full meal. The turtle soup was good, too, scrumptious.

Although ... I still feel so damn used, Angel, and it hurts. Worse than Parker the Poophead.

Logically I know I had no choice, I know that we had to do something to keep Harold from taking over. I guess I just expected it to be a one-time thing, you know. That Indara actually has some sort of relationship with me now scares me shitless. Hey, I'll admit it -- I'm scared, Angelus is scared, William is scared, everyone is scared.

The woman inspires fear by simply existing.

I think that dream tonight was a wake-up call. I have to face Angelus and Indara and I can't let my fear rule my life, it's that simple. So why is it so hard?

Maybe ... Maybe it's because, as much as I feel betrayed, I'm betraying too. Confused? I was too, until tonight. I love you, Angel, I've always loved you and I always will, but you're not here and there is NO WAY I'll see you again for at least one hundred years. So, I found myself turning to Angelus; in a way, he is you, and it's more than just a face and a voice. The demon takes on all the aspects of the host, plus a few extras... for all intents and purposes, he is you, just minus a conscience.

And in doing so, in loving him ... yes, it's love, not just lust and longing and projected feelings ... I LOVE him ... I've betrayed you. Then he betrays me by leaving me to Indara's mercy, by giving her power over me.

And I've betrayed you both because I enjoyed her.

What fucking pathetic circle of pain! I'm not even sure where to place William, but he fits in there somewhere. After all, I'm pretty sure I love him, too.

What do I do, Angel? How do I deal with this? ...

A crash from downstairs made Buffy look up from her journal entry, and a second sound made her drop her pen. Felicity, who sat a few feet away sewing new buttons on a satin afternoon dress, looked up as well. "Should I go and... "

Buffy shook her head and stood. "I'll go see what's wrong and you can stay up here."

The maid glanced at her mistress, relief and scandal warring in her eyes. "But ... " she gestured at Buffy's mode of dress.

"They've seen me in less," Buffy said as she exited the room over Felicity's sputtering protests.

Although she made it down the hallway with no remorse, Buffy had to stop and steady herself at the top of the main staircase. She took deep breaths and reminded herself that she could handle damn near anything, then started her descent into the brightly lit central hall. Halfway down, the front door was opened and Angelus and William strolled in, only to be confronted with an exquisitely dressed redhead who was, Buffy assumed, the cause of the crashes heard earlier.

"Rosalind!" Angelus exclaimed.

The redhead pushed back the hood of her cloak and the lights glinted off her copper curls as she started towards Angelus, only to be picked up and spun around by William. She gave a shriek as one of her satin slippers flew off, and he sat her down and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, little rosy ... it's been fifty years!"

"At least," Angelus smiled. "Did Penn accompany you to Paris?"

Rosalind stiffened. "No," she hedged.

From her yet unnoticed place on the stairs, Buffy watched the scene with something akin to fascination. Penn, she knew, was another of Angelus' Childer; the wandering black sheep, William called him. He had, she was given to understand, stayed with his Sire for less than ten years before striking out on his own. Far more independent than the average vampire, he still enjoyed being with his family -- or parts of it -- on occasion. However, in all their conversations, neither of her lovers had mentioned a lovely redheaded vampire (and she was a vampire, Buffy felt a new tingle) with a Scottish accent.

"Ahh, did he abandon ye then, Ros?" Angelus asked, his brogue deepening.

"Always was too reckless," Will added.

Rosalind's face grew stressed as the two males continued to reminisce about their absent relative. When Buffy had finally worked up the nerve to open her mouth, the vampiress beat her to it. "Angelus!"

Hearing her plea, he spun around, worry not etched on his face as he took in Rosalind's stricken look. "Ros? What happened? Is Penn ... ?"

"Oh, Angelus," she sighed, pulling off her cloak to reveal a stunning emerald green silk gown trimmed with gold velvet. "We ... Penn and I ... met in Austria last summer and decided to travel together. You were supposed to meet us in Italy after the New Year."

"I know," Angelus said. "There were complications."

Rosalind nodded. "So we heard later. Penn laughed at the Master's foolishness and started to return to London, but he got ... distracted ... "

Angelus snorted and poured himself a glass of port. "As usual."

"Too true," Rosalind agreed. "We played in Russia for a few months, then decided to come to Paris for the Gathering as we knew you could use the support ... "

"Oh?" Angelus raised an eyebrow.

"Please," Rosalind told him. "I may only be eighty when one counts my human years, but Darla did not raise me as a fool, Angelus. Harold's claim, despite his foolishness, was stronger than yours ... especially after you proved your willingness to betray our Dam's Sire."

So, Buffy thought, she's one of Darla's Childer. Hmmm ...

"Politics, my dear," Angelus replied. "Eventually someone would have overturned him, if not me then another. Better to keep it in the family."

Rosalind waved a hand, dismissing the subject. "As I was saying ... we decided to detour through Romania... "

Buffy's breath caught.

"It seemed so innocent, so typical, it was his anniversary, after all ... "

Oh, God.

"I never thought they could retaliate so viciously ... "

No, you didn't think.

"She was just a little spellcaster ... "

She was their favorite daughter.

"Oh, Angelus, I tried to make them take it back ... "

By wiping out half the village?

"But they refused and I ... I couldn't ... he isn't our Penn anymore ... "

Oh, God, oh, God, no, no, no ...

Angelus gripped her arms and shook her. "Rosalind, lass, what happened?"

Rosalind lowered her eyes. "They cursed him."

Buffy covered her mouth.

"With a *soul*," she spat, disgusted. "A horrible, filthy, disgusting, human soul!"

A shudder raced through Buffy's body and she gripped the rail until her knuckles turned white. She noticed the stunned looks on the faces of her lovers as they realized what she was saying, and as Angelus looked away from Rosalind, his eyes met Buffy's. Hers, she knew, reflected shock and hurt; his, anger and sheer disbelief.

"A soul?" William asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes," Rosalind told them, her voice full of loathing. "He came back to the flat ... you know the one, Angelus, Darla bought several years ago ... and I, I couldn't even stand to look at him ... "

Angelus gripped Rosalind tighter, causing the vampiress to wince. "What did ye do, Rosalind?"

She looked up and met his eyes. "I turned him out," she said proudly. "I would have staked him myself, but he ran from me too quickly and sunrise was too near ... "

Angelus released her and backed away in horror, Buffy's tale of his Otherself crashing through his mind as he stared at the woman his Dam had created. "A Childe in my own image," Darla had told him one night in Edinburgh sixty years ago as flames consumed a large house. "She'll be just like me, Angelus, I'll teach her everything, and together we will bring the world to its knees."

He and William seemed stunned, but something deep inside Buffy shattered in that instant. She had never known Penn, she possibly never would, but what Rosalind had done was exactly what Darla would have -- and did do, albeit to another vampire in another world. Wherever he was, Penn was in as much pain as Angel had been once; confused and alone, tormented by events over which he had had no control.

In that instant, Buffy's heart nearly shattered.

"How dare you!"

Rosalind whirled around to face the owner of the voice just as William looked up, seeing her on the stairs for the first time. Angelus' dark eyes tracked her as she finished her descent, drinking in the sight of her en dishabille, her hair partially upswept while the long waves spilled down her back.

"How dare you do that to him?" Buffy hissed, pushing past Angelus and confronting Rosalind. "He's hurting and alone! You turned him out ... how must he feel, huh? Do you think he'll trust Angelus or William or anyone else after what you did?"

Rosalind narrowed her eyes. "I had heard you had a pet Slayer, Angelus. You should take care; you never know when she will betray you."

Buffy drew back her hand and slapped the vampiress, the sound of flesh striking flesh echoing in the great vaulted hall. Rosalind stepped back, startled by the anger that propelled the action. Angelus and William simply stood and watched, knowing instinctively that to interfere now carried lethal possibilities.

"Betray him? Never. You, on the other hand, did just that the second you rejected Penn when he needed you the most."

"He is no longer one of us," Rosalind parried, backing away as Buffy continued to advance.

"And who decides that? You? Angelus? The Council of Elders? Penn is Angelus' Childe, not yours!"

Rosalind threw a desperate look at her sibling. "I thought you would be pleased!"

Angelus shook his head in disgust.

Buffy finally stopped advancing when Rosalind's back hit the wall, and she stepped back to stare at the redhead. Copper curls, brown eyes, pale skin, full lips ... she was lovely, Buffy admitted. Pity.

Not.

Rosalind went down under the first punch, and Buffy landed a kick to the vampiress' jaw that shattered bone. Angelus and William winced as Buffy continued to pummel their relative as she screamed, but neither made any move to stop her.

Smack. "You have no idea how much he's hurting!"

"He needs support ... " Kick.

"Caring ... " Punch.

Buffy tossed Rosalind over a chair. "And love."

The redhead made it to her feet and threw a punch that went wide, and Buffy gripped her arm and flung her to the ground, breaking her arm in the process. "He's alone and confused! He feels unloved and tormented and he doesn't understand what's happening! And you toss him out? Make him feel like scum? HOW DARE YOU HURT HIM LIKE THAT YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

Just as she was about to land a kick that would have likely decapitated the vampiress, Buffy felt herself picked up and carried away. She screamed in anger and frustration, lashing out at her captor with her feet and nails.

"Buffy!"

She snarled and attempted to throw a punch. "Let me go!"

A sudden slap jerked her head to the side and she stilled, lifting her hand to her face as she turned to look up at Angelus. His eyes were nearly impossible to read, so myriad were the emotions swirling in those inky depths. "That wasn't about Penn, was it Buffy?"

She wanted to scream that it was, that of course it was, but deep inside she knew it would be a lie, and so she bit her lip, swallowing her pain. Somehow, this seemed too surreal; she was not shivering in Angelus' arms and William was not dealing with a vampire that she had beaten to a bloody pulp out of repressed anger towards another vampire. She was not falling apart. She was not crying.

But she was.

A terrible wail that caused the vampires to shudder was ripped from her throat as she slid to her knees, her vision blurred by tears that seemed to come from nowhere. How long she sat there in the hall she did not know, but when her grief finally relented enough to allow her to breathe once more she found herself sandwiched between her lovers, both vampires attempting to calm her.

Buffy lifted her head and in her eyes Angelus saw raw pain. Once he would have delighted in arousing such a response in anyone, especially a Slayer, but tonight what he saw sickened him. He remembered the story of his Otherself, and mourned that one of his Childer had been so afflicted. Beneath the grief, however, was a great deal of anger; as Darla had hurt him in another world, so her protege had hurt his Childe here.

"Shhhhh," he soothed. "Hush now, little one. We'll put this to rights soon enough, precious. We WILL find Penn and help him through this."

"And," he continued as he helped her to her feet and poured her a drink. "In the meantime, we will discuss... us."

When Rosalind eventually opened her eyes, she found herself shackled to a wall. In the normal course of events she would enjoy such a situation, but this time she knew without being told that would not enjoy what was to follow. Her eyes swept the room, noting from the light that they were still on the first floor of the townhouse, but in a tiny recessed alcove off the gentlemen's inner sitting room. The carpet had been rolled back, she noted; bloodstains were so hard to remove, after all.

William sat across from her in a chair more suited to draping clothes cross, his lips tightly compressed and his face a study in anger. His normally blue eyes were golden, but he had yet to lose his human face. It was, she decided, quite alluring ... but then, William had always held a certain appeal for her.

Perhaps only because Darla had seen him as the beginning of the end, a symbol of Angelus' burgeoning independence.

"Are we going to play?" she asked coyly, hoping for a distraction.

William barely looked towards her. "No."

"Then why all the fuss, darling, if not to make up for what that nasty little Slayer did to me?"

"You little whore," he snarled, jumping to his feet.

"Yes," she murmured. "Hit me, Will ... you know you want to."

A shadow fell across the floor. "Oh, he wants to hurt you Rosalind," Angelus drawled. "I want to hurt you... but I have decided not to do so."

William faced his Sire. "Surely you don't mean that! After what she did ... ?"

Angelus smirked. "I know damn well what she did, my boy. And she will be punished ... but hurt her? Here? Now? No, that is not what I want."

"Then what do you want?" Rosalind asked.

"Where was the gypsy village, Rosalind? How far from the flat?"

Rosalind laughed, a hard, mirthless sound. "What does it matter? He's fled by now."

Angelus' jaw tightened. "Where, Rosalind? Tell me and this is over."

She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head slightly, as if weighing the possible outcomes. After raking her eyes up and down her fellow sibling, she conceded. "The gypsies were camped less than ten miles from the flat, out in the valley near the lake."

Angelus eyed her for a moment, then jerked his head at William. "Unchain her."

William glared at his Sire, but did as he was told. Released from the shackles, Rosalind smiled at Will, running a finger down his chest. Not in the mood for games, he removed her finger and glanced at Angelus, who gestured for them to follow. Together they led Rosalind back to the great hall, where Angelus opened the central door to the first gray light of dawn that was only just becoming visible beneath the clouds. All the locals knew that the deep fog still covering the streets would soon burn off as the sun rose, a beautifully sunny day in the making.

Rosalind looked confused. "Angelus ... ?" she whispered.

"This is over," he told her. "Leave."

"But ... it's dawn ... you *have* to shelter me! It is our law!"

A smirk that would have made his mad counterpart proud curled Angelus' lips. "Actually ... "

Rosalind looked around as several vampires filled the room, including a few of the local Sept leaders that she had known for years. They did nothing, said nothing, but their presence made her skin crawl.

Angelus looked at Rosalind. "We are agreed; from this day forward, you are no longer one of us, never were you a Childe of Darla, member of the Order of Aurelius. Henceforth you are cast out; no longer will you be entitled to the privileges and protections afforded you by your former status."

"That means, sweet Ros," he told her smugly, "I am under no obligation to shelter you from the dawn. You are nothing to us, Rosalind."

He held open the door. "Leave."

Rosalind trembled. How had this happened? her mind screamed. She had done nothing ... nothing but do as her Dam had taught her. How had this happened? Why were they casting her out, why was Penn -- Penn, of all vampires! -- so important?

Just as hands dragged her to the door, she caught a movement out the corner of her eye. The Slayer, she realized, as she found herself tumbling to the street below.

Her last glimpse of her Clan before the door was slammed shut showed Angelus embracing that Slayer.

The bitch, Rosalind decided, climbing inside a passing hackney carriage just in time to avoid the first rays of dawn, would pay. Oh, but she would pay.

You know, Angelus was right -- that was the perfect punishment for Rosalind.

We talked, I cried, I yelled, I threw things, then we talked some more. In the end we worked it out, cleared the air between us ... we know where we stand. And that's a good thing, because I'm not sure how much longer I would have lasted just doing a little at a time.

Betrayal is an interesting concept.

Darla betrays Nest and Angelus; Angelus betrays Nest; Rosalind betrays Angelus and Penn and her Clan, apparently. Me? Angelus says that I shouldn't feel guilty about what happened, that he's happy I found pleasure instead of pain. When I told him that I might want to experience that again he kinda laughed and said that was normal. I was a little confused at first, but I knew about the bisexual thing with vamps and he said it usually applied to human, too. He said it didn't really bother him that I was attracted to her; what bothers him is that she has a great of power and influence. And since he ceded some of his "rights" over me to her, he's worried that she could take me away if the mood strikes.

Like I said, we're all scared.

Anyway ...

He's right about another thing: I wasn't beating on Rosalind because of what she did to Penn. Don't get me wrong, it was awful ... But all I could think of in that instant was how Darla treated you, about how she turned you out. I remember the look on your face when you told me that she turned on you, how you felt rejected and scared and just so alone.

I hope you're not alone. Cordelia and Doyle, from what little I saw over Thanksgiving, are good for you. I hope you're not withdrawing from the others, either, even if things are tense.

And Angelus? Yeah, he managed to get the others to agree to disown Rosalind... but in that instant, he was seeing what Darla did to you, too. He's pissed that it was Penn (he'd have really wigged if it was Will), but ... Rosalind is just like Darla, from what I can tell. I guess he has to assume, rightly so if the past is any indication, that she would have done the same to him.

Would he have reacted differently if I hadn't told him about you? I don't know ... and don't think he knows, either. Whatever the 'what ifs' and 'maybes' might be, I know that we're leaving Paris as soon as Angelus can tie up his business; the house is being turned upside down. It seems like we never end up staying anywhere for very long which is a bit unusual from what I've learned about this level of society.

And that is not a sentence I ever thought I'd see myself write.

Angel ... I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop. I'll never forget that.

The fire made the marble look darker than it truly was, Lilias mused. Turning back to Harold she raised her eyebrows and asked, "Well?"

"Done," he shrugged. "A word here, a word there ... "

Lilias smiled bitterly. Success and failure in one fell swoop had not been one of the outcomes she had expected when she passed on the rumor that gypsy spellcasters were sweeter than any other. Oh, it had worked and they reacted in precisely the way she had anticipated, but never had she imagined that Rosalind would escape to tell the tale.

Now, she reflected, their quarries were leaving before they could implement their -- her -- plans. Unfortunately, she hadn't the resources to track them outside the city, nor did Harold. What little support he had once had was now so scattered that it was, for her purposes, nonexistent. Her only hope at regrouping was almost unbearable.

Almost.

"My dear?" Harold asked.

"Oh," Lilias waved her hand. "I was merely thinking ... "

"Well," he said cheerfully. "We should hear from Rosalind soon. She has no one else to turn to since Angelus disowned her. She will swallow her pride, my dear, and we will all benefit."

Lilias raised an eyebrow. "That pleases you?"

Harold stood and smiled at his partner. "Perhaps she will have a few resources of her own ... and it will be nice to have another woman about the house."

As he left the room, Lilias clenched her fist. The sound of his footsteps as he climbed to second floor grated on nerves, and she dashed a bottle of brandy against the hearth. Gazing into the resulting conflagration, she resolved to deal more carefully in the days to come.

"This is not over, my stupid one," she whispered.

"It's nowhere close to being finished."

 

The End