Chapter 3



The room they stepped into was huge. Buffy had never seen anything like it, outside of the things she had either read in books or seen in movies. High, large windows reaching practically to the ceiling with thick black velvet drapes to cover them, and polished marble floors glittered in the light cast by the numerous candles scattered throughout the room. Everything was done in tones of black, silver or gold, with a hint of red to be seen here and there throughout the room. The effect was striking, yet its size and splendour went unnoticed save the initial the first glace upon her entrance.

Buffy’s senses were in overdrive the minute she stepped through the doors. Vampires—she could feel them all around her.

They were lining the walls of the room, hundreds of beings with milky white skin, clad in clothes of leather and lace—all in black. Some were stretched decadently across chairs, some across each other, all however seemed to be watching the new arrivals make their way into the room.

The butterflies in her stomach had increased to an almost nauseating level and Buffy found herself glad that she had been unable to get anything down earlier. She let her gaze slide across to Melanie wondering how she was feeling having consumed the large glass of blood in the car. The thought of it all coming up now had Buffy wanting to gag and run from the room.

This was a bad idea, Buffy, a stupid, bad idea. Should have run when you had the chance. The room was buzzing with muted sound as Buffy and Melanie finally came to a halt near the end of the room. Buffy looked up towards the clustered group of vampires before her, they were separated from the rest of the clan by a small row of steps that led to their elevated level. The Order of Aurelius—the core of the clan—a family she would either be accepted into by the end of the night or meet her final death at the hands of. She didn’t know which fate was worse.

Her eyes landed on the form of her sire and Buffy was unable to stop the small snarl that left her throat. Even now he looked barely sober and only half conscious. How could a family so obviously concerned with the blood they allowed to enter the fold welcome such a lowlife of no consequence into their ranks?

A deep chuckle resounded throughout the room at Buffy’s actions and her eyes shot to the man seated at the fore of their group. His eyes were boring into hers and she could do nothing to prevent the obedient lowering of her head as her demon submitted to his dominance.

Buffy knew this vampire could only be the Master. Out of all of them, he looked to be the oldest and most self-important. The vibes emanating from him demanded respect from her demon and she was powerless to do anything but. He nodded his head in a sign of acknowledgment and out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw Melanie quickly lower her head as well.

The woman who had drifted in behind them floated up to the table and took her place between a vampiress with long curly red hair and Penn. Her sire didn’t look up from the point on the floor at which he was staring. He looked neither remorseful nor even aware of her presence in the room, but Buffy knew he knew they were there—they after all, that was the point of the meeting.

“Childer…” The buzzing in the room fell silent at the sound of the Master’s voice as all attention snapped to him, “though you have not been in the world long as a vampire, your blood—your demon—comes from a great ancestral line. Only those of superior making are allowed admittance into the familial fold which sits before you now and as you blood determines, you are both now eligible to be part of this council.”

Buffy let her eyes stray along the faces of each of the ten members of the Order who being spoken of. Not one of the assembled looked as though they wanted to be there. Her eyes scanned along the row before coming to rest on a pair of piercing blue orbs that were staring at her intently. The owner of which smirked at Buffy as he caught her gaze and she began to fidget under his intent stare. Her nerves were already at near breaking point.

“You both, no doubt, make stunning creatures; however, I think it appropriate that you are first tested.” The Master nodded to someone who had previously stood unnoticed in the corner of the room, half hidden by shadows.

Buffy was unprepared as two vampires walked towards them and unceremoniously shoved the sign of the crucifix into her face.

Buffy flinched violently as her demon roared in outrage and took over for the first time since her turning. She felt the sudden surge of power within her as she battered the offending cross out of her face without thinking. So caught up in the moment, she forgot to be nervous as she lashed out and sent a punch flying across the face of one of the vampires before grabbing the cross out of his gloved hand and throwing it across the room.

The force behind the throw sent it flying straight into the group of vampires watching from the sidelines. One vampiress screamed loudly as it singed her flesh before clattering to the floor.

Buffy’s eyes were flashing dangerously as she stared down the vampire before her now without a crucifix but still decidedly not helpless. She growled loudly as he reached for the stake he had concealed and reacting instinctively, she stopped the arc of his arm as he tried to plunge the stake toward her heart, her knee crashing up into his groin before she pushed him to the floor and kicked him once across the face knocking him out cold.

She felt a pulse go through her as whatever adrenaline she had been harbouring faded, and Buffy turned and ran out of the room ignoring Melanie’s shrieks as she tried to defend herself uselessly against demon holding the cross to her face. She had to get out of there and away from whatever had made her lose control like that. She had felt it, skulking beneath the surface—she had almost become the monster that had turned her. It was a part of her now, but something that she wouldn’t allow to define who she was.

Buffy pushed her way out of the grand room and into the hall, running for the front of the mansion. She burst through the front doors like the hounds of hell were on her tail and flew down the front steps. This time, the beauty of the house went unnoticed.

She looked around frantically for something to drive, suddenly realising that she had no idea where she was. The sigh of relief she breathed as her eyes fell on the man that had driven them to the mansion was audible and he turned and looked at her. He was leaning against the front of bonnet of the limousine, calmly smoking on a cigarette as Buffy ran over to him and hauled him into a standing position by the lapels of his jacket.

“Get in and drive.” The edge of panic could be heard clearly in the cut of her voice.

“Miss Summers?”

“Just do it, damn it!” she said as she skidded around to the other side of the car and got in the passenger seat foregoing the luxury of the main part of the limo. The driver got in the car quickly and started the engine just as someone came jogging out the front doors after them.

The driver swung the car around and headed for the gates.

“You going to tell me what’s going on?” The driver asked as they managed to clear the gates without mishap.

“Just drive, take me back to the main part of town, I’ll be fine once I’m there.” They fell silent once again as he sped them back towards Sunnydale.

The further they got from the mansion, the more Buffy began to calm down. The tears began to fall unheeded and she turned her head away from the driver to avoid more questioning. It wasn’t what she had done to the other vamp—the damage she had caused in itself was minimal—but the darkness she had felt beneath it.

Buffy looked down at the palm of her hand, burned from where she had grabbed the cross. It was red and angry, sending bolts of pain up her arm every now and then. She poked at the blistered surface and watched with a morbid interest as it began to weep a clear fluid.

“It’s a nasty burn you’ve got there,” the chauffeur commented.

She didn’t answer him. Her tensed muscles began to relax as familiar sights began to whiz past her window. She was back on familiar territory, back to things she knew and understood.

“Just drop me off here,” Buffy said, indicating an area which was a block away from the hotel in which the agency had placed her. He slowed the car and pulled over to the curb. Buffy got out without a word to the driver and hurried off down the street. She needed to be alone. She wanted to forget what had happened. She wanted to call her mother and hear her tell her that everything was alright.

Buffy quickly made her way up to her room, shutting the door firmly behind her before resting her head against its surface.

She breathed deeply as she tried to calm herself, wiping the stray tears away from her face with her uninjured hand. In here at least she was by herself and the outside world couldn’t reach her. In here she could pretend it didn’t exist.

“Evening, pet.” With a small shriek, Buffy spun around quickly at the sound of an unfamiliar voice behind her. Her eyes went wide as they locked with a pair of blue eyes.

He was watching her with amusement from his reclined position on her sofa.

“Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my room?” she asked nervously. Now that she was aware of it, she could feel his signature pulsing deep within her subconscious. The power he held was radiating off him and she knew that should he decide to attack, she wouldn’t have time to even think of escaping.

“The name’s Spike,” he said casually.

“What do you want?”
Spike chuckled and stood up as he started walking towards her. “That’s a loaded question. But right now?”

Buffy nodded mutely.

“To talk is all.” As he neared her, he slowly reached out and took her hand. Despite her better judgement Buffy felt something in her stomach flip at the feel of his hand against her own and allowed Spike to lead her over to the couch. He pushed her gently into the seat before taking his, own making sure he was only far enough away to remain unobtrusive.

“Why did you run, pet?” he asked gently. His voice was rich like honey—smooth and deep—sending shivers down her spine.

Her mind told her not to open up to him, not to let him into her head, but her voice betrayed her and she found herself telling him what was wrong. “I didn’t like what I felt.”

Spike looked at her confused. “What? Powerful? In control?”

“Like a monster,” she whispered quietly, her eyes darting away from his to stare unseeingly at a point over his shoulder. Her eyes had glazed over with unshed tears and Spike frowned at her in concern.

“You didn’t act like a monster, pet.” She noticed the use of his word ‘act’ but didn’t make comment on it. Of course, she was a monster now, something demonic, a parasite that had to live of the blood of others to survive. Her stomach lurched again at the prospect of drinking blood.

“I could feel it though,” she said, coming back to the conversation. “I could feel it beneath the surface of my skin, waiting for the right time to claw its way out and then… I’ll be no better than my sire.” Her words were tinged with a quiet anger as her eyes focused on his again, daring him to refute what she had said.

“Penn’s going through a tough time,” Spike replied diplomatically, thinking back to how the vampire had spent the last month in a alcohol induced haze to try and dull the pain he was experiencing.

“And that makes it okay?” Buffy questioned, angrily shooting up from her seat to stare down at him. “That makes what he did to me okay?”

“No, I didn’t say that, pet. He knows it’s wrong and he has to pay the price for it.” Spike sighed and looked down at his hands that were dangling between his legs. “But the grief that he’s going through at the moment has killed him. Not many vampires last as long as he has after the death of their mate.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Buffy asked as she sunk back down into her seat again.

“You mean the mate thing? It’s a vampire marriage of sorts, I guess. When a vampire claims another as their mate they create an unbreakable bond that binds them together. Penn and Anna were as close two mates could be and very much in love. When she was killed it killed him too, just not in the literal sense.”

Buffy snorted. “So he thought he’d go on an illegal turning spree and punish others for his pain?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. “Well, I don’t accept that!”

“It’s wasn’t like that,” Spike sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Did you not notice the similarities between you and that other chit, love? All the girls he’s turned in the last month had the same look—long blonde hair, big green eyes, and a pretty face. You all look somewhat like Anna did. His drunken mind was trying to turn you so you could take her place as his mate, but after he had finished turning you he realized what he had done and that he couldn’t go through with it, so he left you.”

“So why didn’t he just kill us? Destroy the evidence?” She could feel her anger beginning to dwindle. She clutched at it desperately, not wanting to accept what Spike was saying, not wanting to see Penn as anything but a monster. Not that his reasons excused what he did, but it made him seem more real and she didn’t want that.

“You were all made as a childe—all six of you. It is as painful for a sire to lose a childe as it is for a childe to lose their sire. He has had to suffer the loss of five of them on top of his grief for his mate already.” Spike explained quietly hoping she would understand what he was trying to tell her.

“Melanie?” Buffy already knew the answer. There had been six turned and he had already lost five—she was the sixth.

“The other chit? Yeah, she was dusted.”

Buffy bit her lip suddenly as she grew nervous about his presence in her hotel room. “So is that why you’re here? To dust me as well?”

Spike smirked at her, which did little to ease her fears. “No, love, I’m here to take you back.”