Paris was a beautiful city to visit, as those who chose to make it their home well knew. The City of Lights, the City of Romance; from the Arc de Triumphe to the new, much disliked Tour d'Eiffel, it was a city of boisterousness and joie de vivre, at least on the surface. Like many other cities across the world, this one had a much darker, seedier side, one that was exceptionally lethal this particular month. Luckily, many Parisians had chosen to spend this July away from the sweltering, oppressive heat of the city, instead choosing the beaches on Normandy or the Riviera.

Of course, there were those who could not leave; the poor, the homeless and the urban laborers were mired in the city this July. And then there were those who loved the city too much to leave, although the fierce heat had been responsible for more deaths than the authorities cared to admit. Despite this, cafes noticed an increase in business during the hours just after sunset, even more so than usual. The dancing clubs never closed before dawn, and more money was circulating amongst those of a questionable occupation than ever had before. Even the tailors, dressmakers and shops were doing an excellent business, albeit after their normal hours.

Then there was the curious influx of visitors from all parts of the globe. Some took small houses in the suburbs, some took flats, some rented out the best suites at the best hotels. Some were careless of the money they spent, some were more cautious. Then there were those such as Lord Pierrepont and his household; nobles and wealthy men and women who by all rights should be basking in the salt air or reclining on an Alpine lounge, not spending their holiday in a city whose heat surely mirrored that of the Fires of Hell.

However, Paris is a proud city, and its residents are even more so. In the interest of pride, the Parisians overlooked the strange habits of their guests and the odd disappearances, even the increased vandalism of the cemeteries.

And so it was that Buffy Summers, a.k.a. Christabel de Winter, Lady Pierrepont, came to find herself stretched out on her side under the night sky. The moon shone down on her nude skin and reflected off the waters of a nearby fountain in the enormous garden, and Buffy allowed herself the luxury of simply being.

Of course, she was not alone, she reflected. The heat had made both her lovers more amorous, even as she herself was less interested in any type of sexual experience. In fact, considering the dearth of Society in Paris, she had taken to wearing nothing -- *nothing* -- but a light linen sheath dress, much to Felicity's apparent horror.

On this night, though, she was unable to escape the desires of one of her lovers. He had found her basking in the light of the moon the way the ancients once basked in the sun, and all his pent up passion burst forth. Even the pleasures he and the other member of their menage had shared were not enough, not anymore. She had become an integral part of them; they were empty without her presence, her passion, her love.

The heat of the day had not abated much with the coming of night, and Buffy had been unable to force herself to move when she felt the presence of one her lovers. And it was as his cool hand gently wafted across her flesh as he settled behind her, that she began to question why she had been so adamant in staying far from them. Part of her rationalized it as a side effect of the heat, while another part wondered if she needed distance from the two after the gut wrenching revelations in Bath. But no, in the week they spent in London before boarding the ship to Paris, the trio had been as lusty as usual.

A fine sheen of sweat covered her flesh, so he lowered his mouth and tasted her, the salty perspiration mingling with the taste that was undeniably Buffy. She gave a small sigh and flexed her body, relaxing imperceptibly under his touch. He applauded himself on this small victory, that she was yielding to him this night when she had for days denied them all the pleasures that came with their mutual joining.

Maybe she had been too rash, she mused. Perhaps she should have never tried to withdraw from them for whatever reason; after all, his cool flesh felt wonderful, a soothing balm to the suffocating heat that pervaded the city. So she relaxed even more, allowing his fingers to lightly massage elasticity back into her tight skin.

He grinned to himself as the last of her barriers fell away, and groaned as he felt her tiny hand slide around and grasp his swelling member. A luscious bag of contradictions she was, at once aloof and intimate, demure and passionate, innocent and lusty. Growling, he slid his leg between hers, parting her thighs and fully exposing her most intimate and sensitive flesh to the night. Breathy little sounds told him that she enjoyed his caresses, and he continued to trail his fingertips lightly over her plumping folds that were beginning to seep her delectable honey.

Buffy gave a small whimper, arching forward as his finger stroked her now wet folds. Oh, but she was beginning to burn inside, and it felt as if flames were licking at her flesh and only his cool touch offered salvation. She hissed as he circled her swollen pearl with the tip of his fingers, forcing the flames higher and higher, and nearly wept when he pulled away to fondle her hardened nipples, his fingers still damp with her spicy dew.

The vibrantly rosy color of her skin and her breathy moans made him chuckle, but he quickly realized that he, too, was more than eager to rejoin their bodies. He angled her hips and brushed his fully erect shaft along her sopping folds as she cried out, and he slowly pushed inside.

Both went still when he was fully seated inside her, and tears of joy and despair poured from her as she was burned and soothed all at once. For his part, the vampire nearly purred at the pleasure of being enveloped in her warmth again.

Ever so slowly, he moved within her tight sheath, her velvet walls contracting around him as she cried out in pleasure when her crisis washed over her. Yet, he did not stop, but pushed a little harder, his fingers reaching around their newly joined bodies to tangle in the curls that shielded her womanhood, searching for the tiny bundle that would rekindle her ecstasy.

Buffy had cried tears of joy when she shattered beneath the light of the moon, feeling the supreme pleasure for the first time in days. Yet, it was when she felt the flames build once more under his cool touch that she screamed, grinding her hips back against her lover as the world fell from beneath her, casting her adrift in a sea of cool, foamy satiation.

Her second release was too much for him, and the vampire felt an almost painful tightening just before he exploded. He snarled in pleasure as he felt his seed coat her walls, and he lunged for the exposed column of her throat with the grace and precision of a supreme hunter. The moment the spicy elixir of her blood touched his tongue he knew another ecstasy, and he growled against her neck as he felt her silken walls contract on him once more, signaling that she, too, had once more found release.

As they lay together beneath the incandescent moon, their limbs still entangled, Buffy's heart rate and breathing returned to normal, and she let out a soft sigh and murmured her pleasure as she rubbed against his cool body. He smiled and rolled on top of her, gazing down into eyes that looked more like polished jade than their usual hazel-green, eyes that reflected pleasure and contentment. Lowering his head, his lips slanted across hers, questing, asking, not demanding. She responded slowly, her kisses languorous as she stroked the inside of his mouth.

Minx, he thought. She was ever so slowly arousing him again, her tongue caressing his sensitive teeth, and he morphed in response. This apparently delighted her, for she rubbed his sharp fangs carefully, but drew blood right before she broke the kiss.

Buffy grinned up at the vampire growling at her, the one that dove once more to plunder her mouth. However, her instincts were with her and she quickly rolled away, laughing as she did so. He raised up and found her splashing in the fountain, and under the light of the moon the water flowing over her skin made her look like a goddess come to earth. He was stunned at how perfectly at ease she looked, this tiny little Slayer that had stolen his heart along with that of what remained of his true family. So it was that he approached her reverently, climbing in to stand before her only when he received a slight nod.

She stood entranced as the dark-haired vampire slid to his knees and kissed her right above her mound of curls. His fingers touched her as if he feared she would disappear, but then his mouth closed over the seat of her pleasure and she was swept away by unasked for pleasure.

The vampire delicately traced the outline of her swollen folds with his tongue, lapping at the moisture seeping out as if it were cream and he was a cat. She keened her appreciation and he slid his mouth up to her tender pearl and swirled his tongue around it, sucking gently as he felt her muscles begin to contract. His face was still buried between her legs as she toppled over the edge, and had he been a mortal she would no doubt have crushed his skull.

As the last of the tremors faded away, Buffy pulled away and sank to her knees, brushing dark locks of hair away from a face still wet with her juices. She brushed her lips across his, and he responded in kind. As the need for air became apparent, she pulled away and cocked her head slightly to the side.

"You're very wicked," she told him, a mischievous smile on her face.

Cerulean eyes danced in his face as he grinned. "I know, sweeting, I know."

A low chuckle from the other side of the fountain caught their attention, and they turned to find the missing member of their menage watching them with a raised eyebrow.

"Naughty children, playing in the water without me," Angelus admonished. "Whatever shall I do with the two of you?"

William grinned, then splashed his Sire, soaking the elder vampire's clothes. "Well, now that you're all wet, you could join us ... "

As he pulled his coat and shirt off, a devious smile curled on Angelus' lips. "Mayhap I will."

Buffy smiled lazily, running her fingers over nipples that were pebbling under Angelus' dark gaze, and licked her lips. Wading over to him, she helped Will undress his Sire and was about to discard his leather belt when she felt a hand on hers.

Angelus gazed down at her, his eyes lusty. "Oh, no, leave that be. I told you, you've been naughty."

Buffy and Will both shivered.

Oh, to have them both like this is delectable, Angelus thought as he joined them in the water. They hadn't played in months due to his concern over the lingering effects Buffy showed from her ordeal with Nest. However, tonight she seemed anything but upset, he noted as he trailed the leather over her shoulder and down her arm, gently switching her wrist.

William grew hard as he watched his Sire with Buffy, not sure if he wished he were in her place or Angelus'. He stifled a groan as she gave a soft whimper when Angelus struck her hip, noting that the elder vampire was content to simply bruise this night, not raise welts. All his carefully contained control, however, was gone when his Sire turned and beckoned him closer.

Such utterly exquisite forms of masculine beauty, Buffy thought as her inner muscles clenched involuntarily. She shuttered with lust as their bodies entwined, Childe submitting to Sire in an age old embrace born of shared blood and mutual acceptance. A droplet of water trickled down William's torso as he arched against his Sire's thrusts and, before she knew it, she was following the watery trail with her tongue.

As her hot cavern enveloped his manhood, William moaned aloud, his hips thrusting against her face even as Angelus drove into him once more. Her nails scratched his skin and his Sire's fingers bruised his flesh, both marking him in their own unique way as they tormented him. He arched his neck, feeling a tightening in his loins and after a snarl from the older vampire ...

Angelus snarled as he felt his Childe approach his release and watched with lust as Buffy bobbed her head in preparation for his William to spill himself in her mouth. When the younger man finally cried out in all-consuming ecstasy, Angelus let go and sank his teeth into Will's neck as Buffy milked his Childe's shaft with her mouth, drawing his seed down her throat.

Raising her head Buffy wiped the slight emission from her lips and kissed William's softening member as Angelus pulled away, coming to stand behind her. He growled in appreciation at the sight she presented, kneeling at their feet, her luscious sex glistening in the moonlight as she trembled in frustrated desire.

Angelus smirked, then addressed Will. "Take her to the steps," he commanded, gesturing to the cuts in the marble that formed the access to the fountain.

William hardened at the thought, but groaned as he realized that this would no doubt torture him as well. A look at the woman at his feet though, and the memory of her earlier teasing, made him more than willing to endure his punishment.

Buffy trembled as Will pulled her towards the stairs, and her eyes widened as she watched him arrange himself on his back. He gestured her downward, and carefully guided her hips as she sank down on top of him, repressing the urge to thrust within her velvet sheath, instead imprisoning her arms as his legs curled around hers.

Angelus smiled. His Childe knew exactly what to do: Buffy was angled perfectly, her legs held apart by Will's even as she was impaled on the younger vampire's erection. Oh, yes, it had been far too long since he had ruled his lovers this way, too long since they both submitted to his domination. He stroked his cock idly as he contemplated the picture before him, trying to decide where best to begin.

The anticipation was always the worst, Buffy thought hazily. She could hear the leather belt being doubled up, but he had yet to strike and she was so close to the edge now, her swollen bundle of nerves pressing against Will's pubis. He always did this; he said the waiting made her more aware and heightened her sensations as it prolonged her release.

Her muscles were clinched so tightly that his eyes were surely crossing. William growled softly at the woman pinned to his body and she whimpered back, assuring him that she, too, was aware of how frustrated they were. Oh, how Angelus loved to torture them this way ...

Buffy shrieked as the first blows fell, the belt striking her rounded bottom repeatedly but never in the same place. He was spacing them just right, too, each one making her more sensitive to the next. Her nerve endings sizzled, and she arched into William, rubbing herself against him as the pain radiated throughout her body.

A snarl escaped before he could stop it, and William ground his teeth and locked his jaw as he tried to refrain from thrusting into her hot cavern. Focusing on his Sire, he saw passion and desire and delight and dominance on the elder vampire's face as he whipped their young lover, her cries music to his ears. And as he allowed his eyes to linger, he realized Buffy wasn't the only object of his Sire's obsession.

Angelus smiled wolfishly as his eyes met his Childe's, and he watched with desire as William shuddered. Raking his gaze over Buffy, he found her bottom and upper thighs a lovely dark crimson, courtesy of his belt, and he trailed his fingers over her sore flesh as he listened to her moans and whimpers. As she moved once more, this time eliciting a growl from Will, he freed his now rampant erection and stroked it against his Slayer's sopping folds, causing her to buck her hips.

Buffy keened as Angelus rubbed against her sex, and her keening turned to groans as he pressed his shaft between her bottom checks, searching for the tiny, puckered entrance. She tensed briefly, but relaxed as he slid inside, relishing the feel of having both of them buried within her. It really had been too long ...

At his Sire's first thrust William began to move, knowing instinctively that he would need very little friction to find release, and as he slammed her down on his shaft, he felt her muscles spasm out of control as she shattered. He thrust once more and felt his pleasure crest as he exploded, his seed coating Buffy's core as his fangs implanted themselves in her neck, her blood filling his mouth as he continued to thrust.

Naughty, naughty children, Angelus thought, coming without permission. As he felt a tightening in his loins, he scraped his fangs along the back of Buffy's neck as he pumped harder. Ah, well, he would simply have to punish them again, and make sure they realized their error. Perhaps, he mused as his crisis approached, he would punish them at the ball ...

Buffy was riding wave after wave of ecstasy, the combined feeling of their fangs in her neck enough to catapult her into a fit of orgasmic convulsions. No longer did she care about the pain he had inflicted, or the torture of being forced to prolong her release. No, she thought as the waves of pleasure pulled her towards an ocean of ecstasy, all she felt was fulfillment and a languorous satiation.

They lay in a tangle of limbs, mouths trailing over wet skin until even Buffy's combined immortal Slayer capabilities began to feel taxed and pain intruded on her post-coital bliss. She wriggled and Angelus pulled away, coming to rest beside William, and she reluctantly lifted her hips and moved slightly down his body, her head resting on his chest.

"Mmmm, that was nice," she murmured, the pain from the belt fading.

Angelus purred. "Good ... you'll enjoy the next even more, then."

William look startled, but a look of comprehension soon settled across his features. His fingers tangled in Buffy's hair and she lifted her head, her eyes curious. Once again, he was struck by just how lovely she was, how passionate, and a little smirk curled his lips as he told her, "We forgot to ask permission, sweeting."

Buffy's face was blank until she realized what he was saying, and her eyes darted to Angelus for confirmation. The dark-eyed vampire smiled lazily, his fingers tangling in the curls of her mound as he tugged gently, forcing her off William and onto her back. As she felt the cold marble against her back, Angelus pushed himself up until he was looming over her, his eyes boring into hers.

"My Buffy," he whispered fiercely, daring her to contradict him.

And something, somewhere deep inside her, wanted to. Buffy could feel part of her resist him, feel that part of her mobilize to fight the assault, but it was forced down as he lowered his mouth to her swelling clitoris. She groaned as he ever so delicately licked at the sensitive flesh, his tongue darting away almost immediately as his mouth moved farther down.

She was delicious. Her outer folds began to plump as he trailed his tongue along the sides, gently swiping across them every so often, and he could taste the blood that welled beneath the surface. But he pushed that thought away as her moisture began to seep slowly outward and altered his movements so as to fan the flames of her desire. A low chuckle erupted from his chest as realized his Childe was helping, the sound vibrating her tender pearl.

Buffy thrashed in water, heat once more engulfing her as the two vampires played with her body and emotions. Both knew her desires better than she herself did, something that always seemed to astonish her. And now they were exploiting that knowledge, forcing her back into the fiery arms of passion even as the heat of the night pressed down on them. She moaned helplessly as they held her captive with ecstasy, William slowly but passionately scraping his fangs along her neck as his thumbs encircled her hard nipples, all the while Angelus slowly nudged her towards a spiraling rapture.

Her honey was delectable, Angelus thought as bared a fang and carefully sliced one of her engorged folds. And the combination of her blood with her desire was cocktail so rich and heady that he could easily drink himself insensible with only a few sips. This was in some ways even better than her rich, powerful blood alone ...

A cry made him raise his head, and he caught his Childe's eyes. William tugged on Buffy's hair and she whimpered as the blue-eyed vampire bent to whisper in her ear. "To whom do you belong, sweeting?"

She whimpered. Despite the pleasure strumming through her veins, she still felt a rebellious spark deep within. Groaning, she tossed her head to the side and lifted her hips, trying desperately to avoid answering, why she didn't know. Why was tonight so different? Was it the smothering heat or the upcoming gathering?

"Answer William," Angelus rasped, bringing her back to her frustrated body.

More whimpers were her only response.

Dipping his head, Angelus swirled his tongue around the seat of her womanhood. She would acknowledge him tonight even as she had avoided him earlier. Angelus was not angry, not really, but he refused to acquiesce to her demands for equality any farther; a line had to be drawn, and she would relearn her place.

Buffy groaned and arched, her cries becoming louder as every approach to ecstasy was cut short. He was tormenting her again, once more driving towards the edge of the cliff. Opening her eyes, she saw the moon hanging low in the sky, but still bright for all that. So bright despite the heat, and it looked so very close ...

"Please, Angelus," she whispered. "I'm yours .... *please!*"

Angelus smiled and lowered his head once more, and Buffy barely felt William's teeth sink into her throat before the bright moon exploded into stardust, the stars surrounding it mixing with the fine powder to create an exquisite portrait of the universe. Sheer, unadulterated rapture coursed through her veins as she convulsed in mindless ecstasy, the blood flowing from her neck and thigh empowering her lovers.

The two vampires purred as their lover calmed, their tongues laving the wounds they had made. William pulled her back up so that she rested on his chest, and Angelus blanketed her back as he leaned over her to kiss his Childe. Buffy shuddered and relaxed in their embrace, her eyes slipping shut as she drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sounds of her sated lovers. *

Hours later, Buffy achieved a hazy sort of consciousness, but fighting for more clarity would have required more energy than she currently had, so she simply floated in a sea of half awareness. She was more comfortable than she had been in days, and even through her haze she knew that it was because her lovers were wrapped around her.

"Will he be a problem?" William asked, his voice low so as not to disturb their sleeping companion.

Angelus frowned. "I dinna know, Will. He's got verra little support amongst the Septs, but he does have a claim by right of blood. He's old Hugh's Childe, after all."

"And you don't think he'll exploit that?" William snorted.

"Mmmph. Mayhap he will, mayhap he willna," Angelus drawled. "We must look to Eleusinia or St'lynovich for support in dealin' wi' Harold."

William frowned. "But if you still support the Chinese and Japanese clans, St'lynovich will promise Harold to support his claim to the Order of Aurelius if he will support them."

"Aye, Will, aye. We must hope that Eleusinia is more receptive."

Somehow the seriousness of their conversation penetrated the lethargy surrounding Buffy, and she fought her way to the surface and took a few deep breaths. Her lovers immediately stopped their conversation and turned to her as she stretched, arching her body from head to heels. She opened her eyes to find their gazes burning into her, worry hidden behind a mask of determination.

After draining the glass of sweet wine that Angelus handed her, she licked the stray drops from her lips and asked, "Who's Harold? And how is he a threat?"

Angelus lit an Egyptian cigarette and inhaled before answering. "Harold is the Childe of Hugh FitzDougal, a high ranking member of Clan Aurelius."

"So?"

"Hugh and Heinrich Nest shared the same Sire, sweeting," William answered.

Several possibilities began running through her brain as the various scenarios played out. "I take it Hugh is dust?"

William nodded.

"So, because Nest is dead, am I right in thinking that this Harold claims he is the rightful leader of Clan Aurelius?"

"Aye," Angelus answered, his brogue coming out due to his worry.

"So where was he when you moved against Nest?" Buffy asked. "And didn't you say you controlled all the clans on the Continent?"

William chuckled and stretched out on the bed, glancing at Angelus. The elder vampire took another draw from his cigarette before explaining the situation to the Slayer. Said Slayer stretched once more then turned on her side to face Angelus, raising her eyebrows.

"When I said all the clans I meant all the Septs of Clan Aurelius, Buffy, the various branches created when Childer leave their Sires and form their own miniature clans. Many of them had been operating independently for the past century simply because Nest was too concerned with finding the Hellmouth than with dealing with Clan politics," Angelus began.

"Idiot bastard," Will muttered.

"Aye, Will, he was a bastard, an incomprehensibly stupid one at that," Angelus agreed. "More to the point, though, he and Hugh never got along. And when Antonius, their Sire, finally met his end -- how, no one is sure -- the two clashed over which one would lead the Order. Eventually the Septs decided for them by taking sides; each side was perfectly matched, and both Nest and FitzDougal knew that a battle would leave little or no survivors."

"They chose separate places, right?" Buffy questioned.

William made an affirmative noise.

Angelus continued. "However, both Nest and FitzDougal still attempted to assassinate one another. As a precaution, each turned someone to whom they entrusted the responsibility of leading the Clan should one succumb to an assassin; for Nest, it was Darla."

"And for Hugh FitzDougal it was Harold," Buffy finished, her mind making the connections. "But still, where has he been? I'm assuming that you would have killed him otherwise."

Angelus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Buffy snorted. "You are anything but stupid, Angelus. If he had a stronger claim and you had the opportunity to destroy him without repercussions, I know damn well that you would have done so. That he's here now proves he's either been in hiding, or so far away that he didn't realize what happened after your coup."

William chuckled. "She's right, Sire." Turning to Buffy he elaborated. "Old Harold has been in Australia for over seventy years; he left one of his Childer in command, but Roderick fell to a Slayer not a decade later. Communication was cut off then, because the other Septs had taken a dislike to Harold; he was nothing like old Hugh, from what I could discover. Then, last month, he shows up looking to reclaim his place, and with the intention of trying to do what we did in January -- kill Nest and take over. Imagine his surprise ... "

"And now?" Buffy asked.

"He intends to petition the Council, to appeal to them because the Septs will have naught to do with him. His claim is valid, for all he's bumbling idiot," Angelus finished.

Buffy shifted, still not sure what was happening. William glanced at her and gave her a grim smile before enlightening her. "Now, sweeting, we have a choice. We either find Harold and finish him before midnight tomorrow, or we take our chances with the Council."

Angelus stirred. "I would prefer him dust, simply on principle, but he's hidden himself well. I doubt we will see or hear from him until the Gathering, so killing him is no longer an option."

"So," Buffy said.

"We plan for the worst," Angelus told her grimly.

"And hope Clan Eleusinia regards Harold as a bumbling idiot," Will finished.

With that, the two vampires pulled her close and settled in for the day's rest. Buffy felt a sudden lurch and knew the sun had risen, so she laid her head on the cool chest of one of her lovers and tried to ignore the stifling heat and the ominous storms that were brewing on the horizon.

As parties went, this one was an orgy, Buffy decided. Vampires and their token humans writhed in an ecstasy of passion that only partially resembled dancing while their Sept and Clan heads were closeted in a separate part of the house. Pushing through the throng, she was amazed at the level of autonomy she was granted. However, Angelus had assured her that all humans (even Slayers, apparently) who arrived with Clan or Sept heads were considered private property and not for public consumption.

Pity the same couldn't be said for the other mortals.

Brushing off the feelings of guilt because she knew there was nothing she could do, she found the edge of the crowd and exited the massive ballroom. A long hallway beckoned, and Buffy resisted the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her dress as she passed couples and groups coupling against the walls and on the floor, knowing that she would only mar the cream silk that was completely covered by a layer of lace made of real gold thread. It was slightly heavier than the linen sheaths she had been wearing of late, but far lighter than the gowns she wore in London and much more revealing. Buffy giggled inwardly as she recalled Angelus and William arguing over exactly how much of her to reveal at the party, and when the final consensus was reached she was fitted for the dress she now wore. Done in the Regency style with a high waist, the silk clung to her figure so closely that it was impossible to wear any sort of underclothing. As a result, it emphasized her natural figure and curves, and she wasn't forced into one of those abominable corsets to achieve the adored "s" shape.

Raising a hand to push at a nearby door, she shook her head as the lace on her arm caught the light and shimmered. In addition to clinging to her body, the decolletage was scooped, coming off her shoulders with sleeves made of gold lace that ended in a point on her wrist. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a loose arrangement of curls that were decorated with tiny freshwater pearls and more gold thread. Tiny gold and pearl posts decorated her ears, and a gold and pearl necklet encircled her throat and rested on her bare shoulders, its weight heavier than that of her dress.

A rush of air caressed her face as she stepped through the door, and Buffy sighed in relief, leaning back on the door as she closed her eyes. Several deep breaths later she opened her eyes and pushed away, taking in her surroundings for the first time. The sounds of the revelry were not even audible here, and she appeared to be an immense underground conservatory filled with night blooming and shade loving plants. Jasmine climbed a wrought iron trellis to the vaulted ceiling, and Buffy gasped to see what was clearly an unknown species of rose thrive in this lightless place.

Magic, she realized with a start. This room positively reeked of magic, it covered everything and Buffy suddenly knew that not all the plants here were nightbloomers. Many were sun loving, but thrived here nonetheless. Pushing farther into the room, thoughts of waiting for Angelus and William in the second floor alcove flew from her mind, and she gleefully twirled through the foliage, coming to rest at a small fountain in the center of the room.

This place is incredible, she thought. Even the conservatory in London paled in comparison to this one. All the beautiful flowers and all the scents ...

Buffy was so lost in her thoughts, her senses so overwhelmed by the magically cultivated garden, that she failed to notice she was being watched. At least until a voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, my garden is beautiful, is it not? And you, bright one, look so out of place ... yet it is as if you belong here."

The Slayer whirled around to face the owner of the disembodied voice and came face to face with the most exotically haunting and disturbingly beautiful woman she had ever seen. Only slightly taller than Buffy herself, the woman exuded a supreme confidence and Buffy could feel the power curled within the new arrival. Ebony hair flowed down her back, an ebony unmatched anywhere but in her eyes; skin the color of pure alabaster glowed in the darkness and was offset by the black chiton with bronze and gold clasps she wore regally.

"You're the one who belongs here," Buffy blurted out before she could stop herself. And although she smacked her hand against her mouth, amazed at her audacity, she realized it was the truth. This stunning creature before her was as unique as the rare flowers blooming in this room, which was covered in a web of spells.

The woman smiled, a tiny lifting at the edges of her mouth. Her lips were painted a luscious red, the only color on her beyond the gold and bronze she wore at her shoulders. Buffy stared, somehow riveted to the spot as the woman drew nearer, and it came as no surprise to the blonde that her new companion was a vampire.

What did surprise her was her reaction when the vampiress trailed her finger down Buffy's hand. Tiny bolts of lust flared and shot through her when the pale hand slid over her fingers, pulling the younger woman's hand from her mouth. The pale hand lifted Buffy's hand to those red lips, and the Slayer started when the woman brushed her lips over it as might a gentleman upon meeting a lady, but this greeting involved a little something more.

Buffy gasped when fangs scratched the back of her hand, and a tiny whimper emerged from her mouth when a cool tongue laved the wounds. And, against all reason, she felt her breathing quicken and legs become unsteady as she swayed slightly. Cool arms steadied her, and Buffy found herself being pushed against a nearby wall, the cold from the stones seeping through the thin silk causing her to shiver.

Those lips leaned close and brushed the shell of her ear. "Ah, ah, little one. We must be careful with you, petite, for you are far too important and sweet to be damaged. Far, far too sweet ... "

"Who are you?" Buffy whispered, her eyes wide.

The black eyes sparkled and cool, full lips brushed against warm pink ones as she whispered, "You may call me ... Indara."

Buffy started to speak but found her mouth held captive by Indara's, the vampiress ravaging the Slayer with a tender brutality. Cream silk was crushed against black linen and Buffy found that she was unbearably aroused by this stranger, a feeling that, until now, only Angelus and William had provoked in her. So when she felt Indara lift the gold covered silk she made no objection, but arched and moaned as cool fingers came into contact with her ripe, dewy sex.

Moments later a breathless Buffy hit her first climax, one that was quickly followed by two more as Indara kissed swollen lips. The Slayer slumped against the wall when she felt the silk gown fall into place, and she watched with curious fulfillment as the vampiress inhaled the moisture that glistened on her hand just before she licked herself fastidiously, much like a cat grooming itself.

"Sweet ... delicious ... "

Buffy's head jerked up and she once again found herself drowning in those ebony eyes, only this time the dark orbs look displeased. "He should know better," she murmured, fingering the extravagant necklet adorning Buffy's shoulders.

"About what?" Buffy questioned, her voice low and husky despite all attempts to the contrary.

Indara smiled. "It is not you, my precious, but this ... *thing* about your neck."

"What's wrong with it?" Buffy asked, stung.

Cool fingers once more soothed her as the vampiress responded, "Nothing ... if you are an Empress or a whore, for they are the only ones who would dare to adorn themselves so ostentatiously."

Buffy blushed and stammered, but Indara solved the matter by opening the latch and flinging the offending jewels into the nearby fountain. The sound of splashing water could be heard throughout the room, and Buffy closed her eyes and tried not to imagine what Angelus would say.

"Only an Empress or a whore," she murmured once more. "Is that not correct, Angelus?"

A rush of air left Buffy's body as she saw her lovers across the room. The two powerful males seemed torn between snatching her from the vampiress and fear of coming too close to this study in black and white. Three pairs of eyes met and Buffy swallowed, lowering her head suddenly and refusing to meet their eyes.

Angelus' jaw tightened for a moment before he answered. "Quite correct, my lady, and I thank you for remedying the situation."

Indara waved her hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it. Now, Marius tells me you wished an audience?"

Angelus' eyes skittered toward Buffy for only a fraction of an instant, but Indara intercepted the glance. "I'm sure you can say whatever you wish in front of your Buffy, can you not?" she purred.

Buffy stared as Angelus murmured something obligatory, and in her shock she once again blurted out, "Just who are you!?"

Her lovers looked shocked, and Indara turned to Buffy and smirked. "Little one," she chided. "I thought we settled that earlier."

The Slayer blanched at the memory that returned so quickly, re-igniting the banked fires of desire. The vampires could, she knew, all smell her but at the moment she didn't care. It was Angelus who intervened, fearful that Buffy would anger the Ancient.

"Buffy," he called sternly, and she could sense the fear in his voice. "This is Indara of Cyrene, the Covener of Clan Eleusinia ... a position she has held for three millennia."

Blood drained from Buffy's cheeks as the implications hit her. The woman who had just thoroughly ravished her was not only over three thousand years old, she was also the one to whom Angelus intended to appeal for assistance. The blonde pushed herself fully from the wall and stood on shaky legs, determined not to be a passive object in this discussion.

Little did she know that she would have no choice in the matter.

Indara turned back to Angelus and considered him for a few moments, idly fingering the blooms on an African lily. "You have quite a dilemma, Angelus. By simple lineage, the Council could easily turn control of the recently solidified Clan Aurelius over to Harold, regardless of ... other factors. I, however, find myself wanting to set things to rights, and Harold would only ruin everything."

Buffy's breath caught. Angelus jerked his head up. William's eyes widened.

"But convincing the Council to see this may take considerable effort, for, as you know, although they supported the destruction of Master Nest, few expected you to solidify the Clan and become its new Covener. There are those who feel that, despite your experience and personal power, you are too young for the position," she continued.

Angelus grimaced, but deferred to the Ancient. "I will do whatever I must to assist you, my lady, if that is what you wish."

Indara raised her inky eyebrows. "Yes, I know. Just as I know I can sway the Council to my way of thinking; discrediting Harold will not be too difficult once they hear the 'evidence.' So, yes, I will help you, Angelus, though not for the reasons you may think," she remarked, turning to face Buffy. "I have no wish for a buffoon such as that idiot to have any claim to this exquisite creature."

Buffy blushed and Angelus bit back a growl.

The Ancient was silent once more, content to lightly stroke the Slayer's cheek, oblivious to Angelus' feelings. No, Buffy realized, not oblivious. Careless. Indara could care less what the dark-eyed male felt at the moment, and her actions showed it.

"My lady," Angelus began. "What do you wish of me?"

"What I wish," Indara drawled, turning to him and meeting his eyes. "What I wish ... is your lovely Slayer."

Buffy choked on air as Angelus' eyes flashed and William started violently. The mood in the room shifted, and the tension all but crackled as the two vampires faced each other. Eventually Angelus bowed his head and looked away; long moments later he looked back to Indara and asked, "May I have a moment with her?"

The Ancient acquiesced with a tilt of her head, and the next thing Buffy knew Angelus was standing in front of her, his hands on her shoulders as he pulled her close. Buffy clung to Angelus in fear and desire, burying her face in his chest as her demon lover soothed her with little nonsensical words. How had this happened? What could this woman, this Ancient vampiress want with her? A flash heat coursed through her and Buffy remembered, shivering at the memory of being trapped between her cold body and the cold stones of the wall.

Angelus brushed his lips over her throat as he whispered, "You must do this, Buffy. Obey her as you would me, take nothing for granted and remember your place. We will come for you soon."

He pulled away after a fierce kiss and faced Indara. "Three nights," he stated.

"Three nights," Indara agreed. "And rights."

Angelus stiffened, but nodded agreement. A moment later he took William's arms and left the room, ignoring Buffy's sudden sobs.

He did not look back.

On the fourth night after the Gathering, Buffy paced the length of Indara's magical garden, her nervousness fueling her on. The last three days and nights, she reflected, had been beyond anything she had expected to experience. Indara had taught her so much more than she had ever expected, a feat Buffy believed impossible after living with Angelus and William for the past several months.

That first night the Ancient had taken the Slayer to an elegant bedchamber and proceeded to initiate the blonde into new acts of love, making the girl weep with pleasure. Buffy, though, quickly caught on, correctly realizing that her future and Angelus' hinged on keeping Indara satisfied with her half of the bargain. And so it was that when the vampiress left Buffy in a state of half awareness on the bed, the Slayer curled herself into a ball and wept.

What was she but a whore?

Of course, upon returning Indara easily determined what the younger woman was feeling and stared into the green-gold depths as she explained. "You are hardly a whore, little bird, no more than countless other women have been whores. Alliances have been made over the body of a woman for countless millennia -- why should now be different?"

Buffy emerged from her cocoon with a flushed face, bright eyes and a tangled mass of hair. Heedless of Angelus' warning, she retorted, "But I have a mind, damn it! I have feelings! I'm not some object to be tossed around like a child's toy ball!"

A grim smile formed on those red lips, which Buffy had discovered were not painted and yet seemed to be the only color on the vampire. "Yes, you do have a mind and feelings. Remember that."

Afterwards they slept, rising before sunset wherein Indara supervised Buffy's toilette. A servile vampire dressed the Slayer in a chiton similar to the one the Ancient wore, only made of unbleached linen with clasps of ivory and bronze. Sandals were laced onto her feet, and her hair was styled in an ancient Grecian fashion, one that Buffy recognized from one of Louise's fashion plates.

A platter was placed on a table. Buffy lifted the lid to find foods of all types, from cheeses and fruit, to bread and wine, to crepes and croissants, and she glanced at the vampiress curiously. The woman waved her hand at the servant, who bowed and exited immediately, then joined her new lover on the couch, tucking her legs smoothly under her body as she sank into the cushions. She tilted her head towards the tray and Buffy obligingly poured the wine; the Slayer shivered as cool fingers brushed her own as the goblet was passed.

Buffy managed to swallow the wine, dislodging the lump in her throat before reaching for a nicely cut piece of cheese, a very fine Gouda that she savored slowly. Indara seemed content to sip at her wine while the Slayer silently worked her way through the various assortment of food stuffs, and it was only when Buffy placed the lid on the platter that she spoke.

"Why am I here?" Buffy asked quietly.

Indara smiled. "You don't know, little one?"

"I know you want me as compensation for helping Angelus ... but why me?"

"Why not?"

Buffy frowned. "From what little I know about vampires ... I would think you would ask for Angelus himself."

Indara laughed. "Why would I want him? Besides, it would create too much trouble; the Council would surely discover such a liaison and know the reason for my sudden, passionate endorsement of the young Master for the position of Covener of Clan Aurelius."

"Why not William?"

"While he might be fun, it was you I wanted. You, little Buffy."

The Slayer started. "Me? Why me?"

"I have been waiting for you, little one," the vampiress murmured huskily. "Do you think I have no connections? I knew what occurred soon after your arrival in this world, about the spells, that you stayed with Angelus and not the Watchers."

Buffy shivered at the thought that her life in England had been open to such scrutiny.

The Ancient continued. "After the coup, all the Sept leaders spoke of the beauty that Angelus had claimed as his own, an immortal Slayer from another world. I sent couriers to London to watch you, to make sure that you were what you seemed ... "

"And?"

Indara shrugged. "Once I knew the reports were true, I was driven to see you, hear you, touch you, taste you ... "

"Possess me," Buffy whispered.

"If need be," she shrugged again. "This is better, though; this way we all get our due. Angelus gets his Clan, and I have the right to you whenever I wish."

Buffy blanched. "And what do I get?"

Indara uncurled herself from the languidly, stretching her body as she stood. Reaching out she pulled Buffy to her, curling her fingers through silky blonde locks. "You, little Slayer? You will receive twice, nay thrice, the rapture born of desire."

In the garden, Buffy shivered once more as images of the past few days flashed before her eyes. Visions of Indara looming above her, fangs glistening with stolen blood caused her skin to flush in response to the memory. Memories of the 'lessons' she had received ...

The vampiress' voice rich with passion. "Put your hand there, little one ... just a little more. Ahhh, there sweet, do you feel that? Your lovers know you well, yet you do not know yourself ... "

And after their bath, their bodies slick with scented oil, Buffy learned the mysteries of loving a woman, Indara guiding her movements as she drove the Ancient toward a rapturous ecstasy.

Pacing once more, the Slayer allowed her mind to drift. Perhaps even more intriguing than the sexual experiences were the conversations the two had over bottle after bottle of aged wine; philosophy, religion, women's evolving roles, vampires, Watchers and Slayers all were subjects freely discussed. Buffy learned things she was sure Angelus had no knowledge of, especially about the death of Antonius and his Sire, the famed progenitor of Clan Aurelius.

The most astonishing discovery, and the one that had her pacing, were Indara's feelings about Watchers and Slayers. All day, she had felt that there was something a bit off ... in fact, there was something off about Indara, period. The answer had come obliquely when Buffy brought up Giles and the Cruciamentum. The Ancient had stiffened, then grew angry as Buffy continued to outline her experience and what Alicia had told her in Bath.

"Nothing changes," Indara growled. "They still believe they own the women, who are in truth not much more than girls, whom they are supposed to guide and protect. And whenever the girls grow beyond their power and begin to realize their true potential, they do whatever they must to destroy the very ones they are supposed to protect."

"Hypocritical, controlling bastards," she swore, tossing her still full glass into the fire.

Buffy remembered the fear that shot through her at that moment, fear that continued when Indara continued to stare into the flames. When the vampiress finally faced her, Buffy gasped at the pain she saw in those ebony depths. Pain and anger and outrage and hurt and betrayal ...

"You were a Slayer," she whispered.

A grim smile settled on those red lips. "Yes, I once was a Slayer."

"How ... " the question was left unasked.

Indara grimaced. "The Cruciamentum ... "

"You were turned during ... "

"No," Indara shook her head, black tresses falling about her face. "I passed their little test, but I was loath to trust them afterwards. Eventually they decided to get rid of me so that another would be Called; my Watcher had no stomach for it, though, so he poisoned me with the herbs and turned my death over to a hired thug. The thug decided that since I was young and strong he would sell me to the slavers and use the money to escape his employers."

Buffy's face reflected her horror. "But ... "

"And by the time the Watchers discovered the deception, I had been bought by a powerful vampire who recognized me as a Slayer," she continued. "He turned me as a joke ... he never suspected ... "

"What?"

Indara faced her young companion. "I went mad for a time when I woke, and when I came to my senses I had destroyed my Sire and taken control of the Clan. I had a power no vampire had ever seen, especially in one so young, and I knew to reveal what had transpired would surely end in my destruction and I did not want that. So, my little bird, I did whatever I had to do to survive."

Buffy shuddered and was about to open her mouth when there was a knock on the door. Marius, Indara's second, entered.

"The Council has reconvened and called Angelus and Harold before them. They most graciously request your presence, my lady," he told her.

Indara nodded. "I will attend, anon, Marius. Escort my guest to the inner garden."

So Buffy paced once more, her thoughts spinning in a whirlwind that threatened to spiral out of control. Indara had been with the Council for over an hour and there had been no word yet. What if the elders refused to be swayed? Would this Harold have some sort of claim to her, or would Indara be able to claim prior rights via Angelus? What would happen to Angelus and William? What would happen to her?

"Stop it, Buffy," she told herself fiercely. "Just stop it."

As if in answer to her worries, Marius appeared at her elbow to escort her to the hall. Upon reaching the large room, she saw Indara and Angelus in conversation as one of the servants carried her things to the carriage waiting just outside the open door. As one, they turned to face her.

Angelus stretched out his hand. "Come, Buffy. It's time for us to return to the house ... Will is growing impatient."

This more than anything assuaged her doubts, and Buffy all but flung herself at him in relief. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and pull a light wrap around her as he guided her towards the door. However, Indara intercepted them and brushed her lips over Buffy's lightly, a parting kiss that promised later renewal.

"Soon," she whispered, before disappearing into the cavernous house.

The silence in the carriage was awkward in a way that silence between them had never been before. Despite Indara's protestations, Buffy still felt used and a little hurt and wondered what her lovers felt about this new twist in their relationship.

Angelus must have read her mind. "It does not matter, Buffy."

She snorted. "Doesn't it?"

"No," he told her seriously. "I was not happy with this arrangement, but it is to our benefit. Harold is no longer a threat, my leadership is assured and you gain another protector. Indara has promised not to stand in our way if we wish to travel; I have no doubts, though, that our movements will be at the very least traced by her couriers."

Buffy turned her head and glanced out at the Paris night. When she spoke, there was a trace of repressed anger in her voice. "And how do you think I feel? You used me, Angelus, both of you used me ... like some cheap, disposable whore!"

Angelus shook his head, half in exasperation and half in sympathy. "We do what we must, my sweet. I did what I had to do to prevent Harold from gaining power, as did you, my love. You are not a whore, Buffy, even if an alliance was sealed over your body and mind. If anything your status will rise as you are seen, or known to keep company with the Covener of Clan Eleusinia."

Buffy went silent again and Angelus pulled her into his arms, cradling her as he purred to try and ease her worries. They fell silent then, save a few angry sobs and the sound of a vampire's purr. And by the time William wrenched open the door to assure himself that they were both accounted for, both Slayer and Vampire had calmed.

"It will be fine, sweeting," William told her as they held her close.

"You're home now," Angelus added. "No more worries, not now."

"We're together again," William insisted.

Buffy slowly nodded, pushing aside her anger and fear momentarily as they walked into the house.

"Yes, I'm home."

For now, a voice whispered.

But for now, she told the voice, for now I'm home.

The End