Buffy - New Order - Christopher Golden and Thomas E. Sniegoski.

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Prologue

Sunnydale, California - 1937

The Master gently ran his pale, clawed hand across the wall that surrounded the altar of the
abandoned church. A thick accumulation of dust, mould and dirt fell away to reveal the
faded, painted image of a golden cross with a beautiful white dove in flight above it.

The vampire lord averted his eyes from the holy symbol. "I wonder if the devoted will still
retain their faith when their pathetic reality is torn asunder and the Great Old Ones return to
reclaim that which once belonged to them?"

Across the broad, circular chamber, Lorimer - one of those in the upper hierarchy of the
Order of Aurelius who had been gifted with the title of Deacon - looked to his master
briefly and then returned to his task. He was busy making certain that the body of the dead
eight-year-old girl with the curly blonde hair and pink lace party dress was sitting up
straight.

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"Who's to say?" he grumbled as he tried unsuccessfully to keep the child's head from lolling
to one side. "The humans often prove themselves to be anything but predictable."

With a disgusted sigh, Lorimer turned his attention to two other dead children propped in
wooden chairs beside the first: another girl perhaps a few years older and a cherubic, dark-
haired boy no older than six.

The Master moved gracefully across the altar toward his Deacon. Others in the Order busily
working within the chamber scuttled from his path and averted their eyes.

"Lorimer, do I hear the taint of displeasure in your tone?" He stopped beside the vampire
who continued to fuss with the children's corpses. "Is there something you wish to share
with me?"

The general stood and brushed dirt from his knees, made eye contact, then quickly looked
away. "It is nothing, my lord."

The Master reached out and gently stroked his servant's chin with long, spidery fingers.
"Come now, Lorimer," he urged. "We've been through far too much together to keep
secrets now."
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Lorimer slowly gazed into his master's eyes. The Master could sense the others watching,
listening, waiting for the general to speak his mind.

"It is nothing, my master - only that... " Lorimer shook his head and again looked away.
"Perhaps now is not the time."

The Master chuckled, a low rumbling sound that came from somewhere deep in his throat.
"Faithful Lorimer, now is as good a time as any. Please, share with me the cause of your
grief," he cajoled. "What upsets you also upsets me."

Lorimer pointed to the three dead children sitting in the chairs upon the altar. "This, this is
what displeases me - the waste of it." Lorimer's stomach gurgled. He clutched at his belly
and looked to his master with embarrassment. "We are starving, and here sit three delicious
morsels whose lives were snuffed out not with fang but with a feather pillow as they slept. I
know they are an important facet of the ceremony but surely the Old Ones would not deny
us sustenance as we prepare to restore them to power."

The Master shook his head and clucked with disappointment. "The youth of today have no
appreciation for ritual." He placed his hands behind his back and began to pace. "The fast
that I imposed upon the Order is to purify and cleanse your spirit, for you are soon to be in
the presence of gods."

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His voice echoed throughout the chamber and his followers shuddered and flinched to hear
it. "Imagine my embarrassment if the Old Ones were to be greeted by an Order of the
Aurelius stinking of human cattle." The Master touched his chest with a clawed hand.
"How do you think that would reflect upon me?"

Lorimer bowed his head in respect. "Then why do you tempt us so with the likes of these?"

The Master stopped pacing and glared at him. "Must I explain everything? The ritual to
sunder the Hellmouth is a complex one and special guidance is required if we are to be
successful." He approached the children. "These three shall be the instruments for this
counsel." The Master patted each upon the head. "Three untainted vessels are needed to
communicate with those who wait beyond the veil."

Lorimer fell to his knees in front of him. "It was not my intention to question your
greatness, Master. It is just that we are so hungry... "
The others upon the altar quickly looked away, suddenly concerned with their individual
tasks.

The vampire lord raised his hand for silence then motioned for the Deacon to rise. "That
will be enough, Lorimer. There will be no grovelling on this extraordinary day."

Lorimer climbed to his feet as his master came to him. "You are most merciful, my lord."

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The Master smiled, sidling closer. "It's quite all right."

He reached up and again stroked Lorimer's chin, gently at first, but then grabbed it firmly in
his clawed grasp and turned it to face him. Viciously he wrenched the vampire's jaw to one
side and then the other. Lorimer shrieked as the flesh tore and the bone cracked and his
lower jaw was ripped from his face.

"Just don't let it become a habit."

The Master tossed the bleeding mandible into the Deacon's waiting arms. As Lorimer
attempted to reattach the section of his damaged face, his tongue flapped about, gruesomely
exposed. Blood spurted from the terrible wound and sprayed across the altar - and the pale
faces of the three dead children. The Master was just about to reprimand the Deacon for
making a mess when he noticed the slightest bit of movement behind one of the corpse's
closed eyes.

As if awakened from sleep by the falling of a gentle rain, each of the dead children opened
its eyes to reveal sockets filled with darkest ebony.

The Master smiled beneath their bottomless gaze. "Ah. From the mouths of babes. I see that
we are now in the presence of greatness."

Although her mouth did not move, the little girl in the party dress was the first to address
him. "Heinrich Joseph Nest," she said in a guttural language older than recorded history,
"we have come to help you pave the way for our return."

"The ritual must be performed precisely," said the second child. "Only then will the barrier
between worlds be torn away so we might again walk the earth."

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The Master was nearly overwhelmed with a wave of nostalgia. He bowed his head in
obeisance to his ancient deities. "It has always been my most fervent desire to serve the true
masters of the world. May I be so bold as to ask with whom among the great Old Ones I
now speak?"

The eye sockets of the child in the party dress glimmered as if filled with jet-black ink. "I
am Laibach, him who brought the blood rains to Markatha-Vol, him who crushed the
armies of Gaorg the Usurper and fed upon the virgins of -"

"No dancing this day," a screeching voice interrupted, issuing from the little boy seated at
the end. "A time for rejoicing it will not be."

"Silence, Ereshkigal!" Laibach bellowed. "Your words of disparagement are not welcome
here!"

"Gigim-Kutu will hear no more of this loathsome prattling," the third demon snarled
through the lips of the eldest child. "Now is the time for readiness, now is the time for
ritual, now is the time to make it all ours once more."

The Master sidestepped Lorimer, who still stumbled about trying to correct his face, and
calmly walked to the centre of the altar. He positioned himself within an intricate circle
upon the wooden floor. It had been laid there earlier, constructed of a fine white powder
derived from the pulverized bones of a demon prince who had once succeeded in opening
the Hellmouth - if only for an instant.

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The vampire lord faced the three dead children, vessels for the ancient gods. "I couldn't
agree more. The time for ritual is now. Who of the three will guide me?" he asked as he
spread his arms wide in invitation.

Laibach was the first to respond. "It will be I, vampire. Laibach shall lead the way to our
unholy supremacy."

"Splendid," the Master said, rubbing his hands slowly together in relish. He turned within
the circle to see if his servants were ready. The Order of Aurelius stood prepared, many
holding ancient texts that would be required as the Master slowly peeled away the
bothersome obstacles of reality to unlock the door that was the Hellmouth.

"All is in readiness," he said with a razor sharp grin filled with confidence, "let us begin."

A vampire wearing scarlet robes embroidered with gold brocade approached the Master
with an enormous text bound in the flesh of a great, scaled beast. The lackey bowed in
reverence, handed the book to him and stepped away. Holding the book in both hands, the
Master lifted the cover. He listened to the binding crack as an aroma of ages long gone
wafted up to entice his heightened senses. It was the smell of knowledge lost for countless
millennia that excited him, the scent of the forbidden.
The Master began to read aloud from the ancient text, his voice booming in the cavernous,
dilapidated house of God. As he recited the lines written in a language not spoken in
thousands of years, he looked out over the church to see his followers sitting in the pews,
their eyes locked on him in rapt attention.

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This is what the Order has been waiting for, he thought, ancient words spilling from his
lips. This was his moment to fulfil his promise to them. In a matter of minutes, the Order of
Aurelius would walk beside gods of old and the world would tremble in their shadow. They
would be king of this fleshy realm, not merely over humans, but over demons and other
vampires as well.

"Enunciate," Laibach ordered angrily from its vessel of tender flesh, curly blonde hair and
pink lace. "If the words are not properly spoken it will all be for naught!"

The Master glowered at the child's corpse and continued, paying even closer attention to the
pronunciation of the ancient words that danced from his tongue.

"It will not be," Ereshkigal shrieked from within the boy child. "Can you not sense it? Can
you not feel the tremble in the air? No. It is not the time, not the time at all."

The vampire lord continued to read, looking to Laibach for an explanation of Ereshkigal's
lack of faith.

"Pay him no mind," Gigim-Kutu responded, the black eyes in the skull of the eldest child
bulging as if to pop. "I sense the end to an infinity of waiting. The barrier - it tears beneath
my claws. Read on, vampire. Read on and make us free."

The Master paused, exhausted. He closed the tome and handed it to a follower who waited
at his side. Another had come up on his other side, this one adorned in robes of blue, and
placed a scroll in his hands.

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"Fortify yourself, Nest," urged the demon Laibach, "we are closer now than ever before."

This is it, he thought, and carefully unwound the final piece needed to open the Hellmouth.
He looked down upon the yellowed surface of the scroll, at the letters written in blood
countless millennia ago. The Master cleared his parched throat and in a voice filled with
renewed vigour, began to read.

"Excellent," cooed Laibach. "Only a matter of moments."

The Master read with power, looking out over his congregation, their expressions of
adulation and expectation spurring him toward completion. But he had to be careful, each
word had to be recited precisely or the barriers would remain strong.

The air was charged with an unearthly energy the likes of which he had never encountered
before. His undead flesh tingled as he began to read the last section of verse scrawled upon
the timeworn parchment. How can the demon Ereshkigal mistake this for anything but
sweet victory? he thought with glee.

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"So close," Laibach gurgled contentedly. "So very close."

The floor began to vibrate. The Master looked up, cold heart thrilling at the notion that the
barriers had begun to fall. He wanted to scream his joy to the heavens, to proclaim that
goodness and light would soon be crushed beneath his boot, torn under his fangs.

Another tremor passed beneath the church and ancient, dust covered chandeliers began to
sway. He frowned in confusion. Excitement bled to fear across his followers' faces.

Something was wrong.

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"Keep reading!" Laibach screamed as an even greater quake rocked the structure.The
church began to crumble.

The floor beneath his feet shifted and the Master lost his balance, fell to his knees. The
scroll dropped from his hands and slid across the uneven floor. Bits of ceiling rained down
as the tremors became more sustained, growing in intensity.

Laibach grew more frantic. "Damn your soulless hide!" The Old One screamed. "Pick up
the scroll and finish what you started!"

The Master scrambled to snatch at the scroll as the floor bucked and heaved beneath him.

"It is too late," muttered Ereshkigal, his voice fading as he began to depart the earthly
plane. "As was foretold, our time has not yet come. Another time, perhaps. Another time."

On his knees, the Master of the Order of Aurelius again held the scroll open before him.
His eyes moved over the text, trying to find the point from which he had been interrupted.

"The barrier, it bends beneath my assault - but it does not yield!" Gigim-Kutu whined.
The Master read as the church fell down around him and his followers fled into the night.
Some were crushed beneath the weight of falling mortar as the earth rebelled against them.

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The Master struggled to his feet as what remained of the once holy building began to sink
beneath the earth.

"What is happening?" he asked of Laibach. "How can this be?"

The body of the girl in the pink party dress had toppled from its chair and now lay limply
upon the altar, her once pretty features pressed obscenely to the floor.

"The earth has delivered a most destructive blow," the elder demon said sadly. "As the
barriers began to fall so did the wrath of nature."

Lorimer panicked before the altar, a macabre jester with one hand holding his bloody jaw
against his face as though it might be possible to repair it. A thunderous crack split the air
above him and a ceiling beam snapped in two like so much kindling, plummeting to impale
the body of the Deacon, pinning him to the floor. The Master watched as his faithful
servant exploded into dust, his remains mixing with the falling detritus that rained down
from the crumbling ceiling.

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The town of Sunnydale was in utter chaos. Cracks appeared in roadways and buildings
were torn apart, a falling smokestack crushed a car that had braked to a halt on the Shore
Road. The ground bucked and shook and people ran screaming for shelter beneath tables
and beds and the narrow, presumed safety of doorways.

In the clock shop owned by Arthur Harris, all of the time pieces - new merchandise for sale
and old clocks brought in for repair - had chimed in unison just before the ground began to
shake. Now the walls split and the glass windows at the front of the shop shattered, clocks
were shaken off shelves and crashed to the floor, exploding into pieces, and the terrified
proprietor was thrown from his feet. He fell to the surging floor onto his knees and a
grandfather clock tumbled over on top of him, pinning him there and breaking his right arm
and three ribs.

China cabinets vomited their precious contents, now merely shards, school desks turned
over, cars collided, telephone poles crashed down onto streets and homes and stores. Terror
reigned.

In his quaking office inside City Hall, Mayor Richard Wilkins Sr. crouched under his desk,
a deep and angry frown creasing his forehead. "I didn't authorise this," the Mayor muttered.
Back where it had all started, the Master roared in fury.

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The church moaned in protest as the earth shifted and pulled it deeper and deeper beneath
the ground. The light from the stars in the night sky crept in from the shattered stained glass
windows and gradually winked out as earth and rock obscured them. The church had been
swallowed whole.

His plans usurped, the Master gazed frantically about him, trying to save the texts and
scrolls needed to complete the ritual.

"This is not over," he muttered as he gathered the materials that he had toiled so long and
killed so many to acquire. He glanced a final time at the vessel of flesh that had once
housed the elder demon and took his leave of the altar. "Another place, another time, great
Laibach. This I swear."

The Master struck something solid and recoiled away from it. It was as though something
had been placed in his path. He snarled savagely and again attempted to leave the
collapsing church. When he collided with the obstruction this time he was repelled
backward. In growing rage the vampire lord dropped the multiple volumes and scrolls at his
feet and with fangs bared threw himself at what halted his escape from the sinking church.
He struck the invisible barrier but it did not yield.

"What magic is this?" the vampire hissed. Again he slammed against the obstacle with all
his supernatural might - but to no avail.

The Master looked to the body of the little girl for guidance. "Are you still here, great
Laibach? What is happening?" He continued to push at the invisible impediment.

The eyes of the child, which had closed, languidly opened to again reveal orbs of liquid
black. "We were so close, Heinrich Joseph Nest," the Elder intoned, "closer than ever
before."

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"What is it?" the vampire pleaded. "What keeps me in this crumbling house of worship?
Tell me, damn you!"

A bubbling gurgle escaped the child's body before the demon responded. "Rein in your
tongue now, for you speak to your true Master now. We have been thwarted for the
moment, and badly. For a brief instant the barriers began to fall and the world that was once
ours beckoned - but as Ereshkigal pronounced, it was not our time."
The Master strode over to the body of the child and lifted it from the ground by the front of
the pretty party dress. He shook the limp body viciously, glaring into the eyes of shiny
black.

"Why can I not leave this place?"

"You dare much, Nest."

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"I am ever your humble servant," the Master replied, forcing himself to be calm, yet still his
lips curled back to reveal his fangs. "I trust you'll forgive my frustration, but if you don't...
well, it appears we'll both have to be patient while awaiting your next opportunity to punish
me for my cheek. Now what the Hell happened?"

"As the barriers fell, the earth quaked and the rite of passage was disrupted - but not before
trapping you between worlds," the demon explained. "Fitting, perhaps. We are both denied
our freedom now."

The Master again shook the child. Its head flopped about like that of a rag doll. "What do
you mean, trapped? If I did not succeed how can I be trapped?"

The child's eyes gradually closed as Laibach answered. "The barrier began to open, then
sealed itself again. You filled the gap like a cork stuck in a bottle." The Elder's voice trailed
off as the demon discarded the vessel that had allowed it to communicate. "So close," it
said, the voice barely audible.

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With the girl's body clutched beneath his arm, the Master strode toward the barrier. Bits of
ceiling and wood rained down upon him but he did not notice. Again he pushed at the
preternatural obstacle that blocked his way, desperate to escape.

"Great Laibach... how can I be set free? Tell me," the Master pleaded.

The voice was faint, all but a whisper as it passed over the lips of the dead child. "In time,"
the elder demon hissed. "In time."

Chapter One
The overwhelming aroma of the two Parisian women made the demon's mouth salivate
uncontrollably. Nykos of the Lothgar brought the sleeve of his dark brown overcoat up to
his mouth and wiped thick drool from the coarse hair upon his chin.

He pulled his collar closer about his neck, adjusted the old fedora upon his misshapen head
and continued to follow the scent. The women had been shopping and one had bought
perfume. Nykos could smell the powerful odour of lilacs beneath the redolence of their
sweet young flesh. It made his flared nostrils twitch in eager anticipation.

They were twins, and he wondered if there would be any discernable difference in the taste
of the meat. His stomach gurgled. It was well over a week since he last fed and he was
anxious to consume this latest prey. The monster followed them through the streets at dusk
as the lamps began to gleam and the city of lights came to life. But even as lovers and
business-suited men and tourists flowed along the boulevards, across the bridges that
spanned the Seine, through food and flower markets and past shops and bakeries... even
then, the alleys remained dark, travelled only by those who knew the intricacies of the city's
shadows, or who dared not to fear them.

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The twins turned abruptly into one such alley but Nykos was too slow to reach its mouth
and the alley too short. He followed as quickly as he could without being seen and picked
up their trail on another boulevard beyond the alley. The girls stopped before a tiny café,
perusing the menu in the window before they entered. The demon cursed beneath his breath
and stepped back into the shadows thrown by one of the aged, stone-carved buildings of the
Latin Quarter. If he wanted these two, he would have to wait.

What was it that his father had said? Patience is as much a predator's skill as strength and
speed, tooth and claw.

The demon smiled. He had not thought of his sire in ages, since challenging him to a battle
of dominance where he tore the flesh from the old demon's throat and ended his life.

His father had been a most excellent hunter and teacher.

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Hours quickly passed and at last Nykos was stirred from his thoughts by the scent of the
women. The two had emerged from the café smelling of wine and poultry heavy with
garlic. The alcohol coursing through their young veins would surely enhance the taste of
their flesh, he mused. Nykos watched them wave goodbye to the waiter through the
window of the café. They giggled as they proceeded up the street and leaned on one another
for support, obviously feeling the effects of their dinner libations.
The demon detached himself from the shadows and followed. It always amused him how
oblivious humans were to the dangers that existed around them in the darkness - but then
again, it was to his advantage that they remained ignorant.

There was a sharp chill in the air but Nykos barely noticed. The thick fur that covered his
muscular body afforded him ample protection against the elements. He couldn't wait to
shed the coat and hat before taking down his prey, couldn't wait to see the look in their eyes
as they gazed upon his monstrousness.

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The twins made their way toward the Sorbonne and Nykos realised they must be students -
that would explain their arrogant confidence in their own safety. They knew the area, but
only a little, and yet felt a sense of propriety only students ever felt. The minds of the Latin
Quarter were not so brilliant as they had been in Peter Abelard's day. The girls turned down
Rue Patrice Duvic, a narrow, winding cobblestone path that would lead, perhaps, to their
flat, but was devoid of life.

Nykos growled with pleasure as he removed his hat. If they progressed any further they
would be too close to the Sorbonne and more likely to encounter other students of the great
Paris University. No, this narrow rue would be the end of their journey. journey. It amused
him to think that once upon a time he might have feared to tread these streets, but the
gargoyles that had been placed atop Parisian architecture to frighten demons away had long
since lost their power.

The Lothgar demon shrugged off his heavy coat, allowing it to fall to the ground and began
to gracefully bound toward the women. Their scent grew stronger in his nose and he
quickened his pace. He would take them with ease, rip open their soft throats to immobilize
them and feed upon their succulent meat. Then, sated, he would return to his den deep
within the sewers of Paris to rest and digest, until hunger and the need to hunt roused him
once again.

Two figures disconnected from the shadows in front of the twins and stopped them. Again
Nykos cursed beneath his breath and pressed himself flat into the deepest darkness against
the side of a building. His stomach rumbled with the expectation of food.

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The demon peered up the street at the humans now numbering four, the twins, a man and
another woman. He listened. One of the twins was apologising for not having matches. The
man responded in English, his voice thick with a British accent.Nykos snarled. Of all the
places he had hunted, England had been the least to his liking. The food there was all so
bland, he recalled.
He wrinkled his nose with distaste as he continued to watch the four chattering, blissfully
unaware of how close they were to danger. The demon smiled again. If he attacked now, he
would have more than enough meat to sate the hunger that gnawed at his gut and still have
some to take back to his lair to snack on later.

Spurred to action by this thought, Nykos began to move stealthily up the cobblestoned
street toward the small herd of prey. His heart raced as he quickened his pace and he felt his
body begin to change. The claws at the end of each long finger began to extend, the hair on
his back and arms stood on end and a thick digestive fluid pooled in the hollows of his
mouth.

The demon was almost upon the four and could clearly see the details of their appearance.
In the eyes of a human being, he imagined the twins would have been considered quite
desirable, but to Nykos, the two were only food. It was the man and woman who intrigued
him. There was an air about them, a scent that did not seem quite right. What was it that
caused his primeval senses to suddenly sharpen?

The male ran a hand through his slicked back, white-blond hair and the demon's question
was abruptly answered as he watched the man grip one of the twins at the shoulders. Both
the man and his female changed suddenly, their faces growing monstrous, their teeth
elongating.

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Vampires. And they were stealing his meal. The female vampire with her hair like black
silk threw the other twin savagely to the ground.

"No!" Nykos roared as he leapt through the air to land in a crouch before the feeding
vampires. "This meat belongs to me."

The white-haired vampire slowly removed his mouth from the ravaged throat of one of the
women and glared at him, scarlet staining his mouth. "To you? Sorry, mate, but I think
there's been a bit of misunderstanding. Or p'raps you've never heard that old saying?
Finders, keepers. Losers get lost!"

Nykos tensed as the female vampire languidly removed herself from atop the other twin.
She wiped blood from around her mouth with the sleeve of her black velvet dress and
smiled. "Oh look at the teddy bear, Spike," she cooed, madness in her wild eyes. Then she
frowned as if her feelings had been hurt. "Is the circus in town? You never take me to the
circus."

The woman held out an alabaster pale hand as if she wanted Nykos to sniff it, like he was
some frightened dog in the street.
"Don't think he's from the circus, Dru," Spike replied. "Looks like a Lothgar demon. What's
more, he bloody smells like one. You don't forget a stench like that. How they manage to
be catch any prey at all, rank as they are, I'll never know." The vampire ran his tongue over
his bloody lips. "Seems the stink oughta screw up the stealth bit, yeah?"

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The demon was furious and insulted, but mostly he was perplexed. He had never known a
vampire not to fear him. Lothgar ferocity was well known throughout the myriad demon
races. They were not to be trifled with.

The one called Dru continued to move slowly toward him, hand still held out before her.

"Hello, my dancing bear," she said in a sing-song voice. "Oh, my, you're a precious one,
aren't you? Not a teddy at all but a strapping grizzly." As she said these words she clawed at
the air.

Nykos had had more than enough of the vampire scavengers' insolence. He tensed the thick
muscles in his legs, bared his rows of sharp teeth and sprang.

Spike reared up to meet the attack, faster than Nykos would have expected. The ferocity of
the vampire was startling as they collided in mid-leap and tumbled to the street, tangled
with the beautiful, unconscious girls. The demon rolled and quickly leapt to his feet, ready
to battle for his right of prey. They were not dead yet. They were his.

Spike held up a hand to stave off further attack. "Hang on there, Pigpen. Sorry we
sniggered yer meal, but we did get here first. How about I buy yer a pint and we'll call it
even?"

The female moved up beside her mate and clung to him, but her mad eyes stayed on Nykos.
There was something both infuriating and seductive about her ethereal madness.

"Oh, yes, pet. What a wonderful idea. We'll be great friends, shall we?" She clapped her
hands together happily. "Just think of all the clever tricks we could teach him."

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Infuriated, the Lothgar lunged again, his claws raking through the air in search of flesh to
rend and tear - but they fell upon nothing. Nykos staggered and snorted fetid breath into the
alley. How could they move so swiftly?

Nykos whirled to face them. They simply stood there, seemingly oblivious to his ferocity.
Spike had produced a cigarette as if by sleight of hand and it dangled from his lips. Even as
Nykos fumed and advanced once more, a lighter appeared in the vampire's hand and he set
the tip of his smoke ablaze. When he spoke again, the words were mumbled around the butt
of the cigarette.

"Yeah, he's a tricky one all right. But if he knows what's good for 'im, he'll take his furry
little ass out of here and find another pair of French tarts to nibble on."

In all his five hundred years, Nykos of the Lothgar had never encountered anything quite
like these two. Yes, he'd had battles over prey before but never had he encountered
adversaries filled with such - indifference.

Spike stared, his eyes intense. "There's a good boy," he smiled showing off his pointed
incisors. "It's nice to know that not all the rot I hear about Lothgars is true."

The vampires then did the intolerable. They turned their backs on him and began to leave.

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Nykos was torn as he watched the two stroll arm in arm up the street, deeper into the Latin
Quarter. His stomach was still empty and they were leaving behind the meat that he could
very easily put to use - the twins still breathed and the scent of their delicate flesh and rich
blood tantalized him - but could he allow these vampires to walk off unscathed? Even
worse, what would the others in his clan think if they learned that he had taken the scraps of
a hunt from lowly blood drinkers?

On all fours, the Lothgar demon bounded toward the vampires, a roar of rage exploding
from his mouth. They would learn not to turn their backs on him, to toss him scraps as if he
were a lowly mongrel. The vampires would feel his rage as he tore them asunder. Their
ashes would rain upon his naked body as they exploded to dust in death.

Nykos leapt, the most fearful predator of all.

It happened so fast. He was expecting Spike to act but it was the female, Dru, who met his
attack. She turned quickly, eyes a vivid yellow. She lashed out at him as he landed in a
crouch mere inches from them. Nykos tried to laugh at her pathetic attempt to fight - but the
laughter would not come. In fact, he was finding it rather difficult to breathe.

He stepped back, brought a hand to his throat. It had been slashed open and his life stuff
was spilling from the gaping wound to stain the fur that covered his chest.

Page 10

"Not a teddy at all," said Dru as she licked her fingers with a long, pointed tongue. "Not a
bear but a stinky ape. A naughty little monkey. Bad monkey!"
Spike flicked ash off the end of his cigarette, his face shifting back to its smooth, human
aspect. "Not to worry, love. We'll get you something cuddly to play with."

The stunned Nykos tried to retreat but stumbled over the cooling carcasses of the twins and
fell to the ground. As his blood pooled on the cobblestones, he tried to rise, tried to return
to his den in the sewers beneath the city of lights, but he was too weak. He lay on the
ground, the scent of death and cigarettes all around him. The world began to darken and he
could hear the vampires talking.

"That was a very bad monkey, wasn't it, Spike?"

"Yes it was, pet," Spike responded. "Very bad."

Their voices grew softer, more distant.

"Spike, what do you think bad monkeys eat?" Dru asked intently.

The vampire was silent for what seemed a very long time, as if he had to put much thought
into the question before he answered. When his response came, it was as though he had
been struck with an epiphany.

"Why, rotten bananas of course."

Then the darkness gathered about Nykos and he heard the voices no more.

Page 11

Paris was a gigantic carnival of the macabre in Drusilla's eyes. The beautiful, stone bridge
that arched over the river Seine appeared to her to be made entirely out of disembodied
human heads, each of their mouths open in a mournful wail of sorrow.

Drusilla brought a hand to her ear and cupped it, listening to the plaintive cries that drifted
across the river of blood.

"Mmm, Spike," she said turning to gaze at her lover, "the chorus is brilliant. What a
wonderfully wretched harmony. I wish I had a record of it to play for my dollies. Can we
get one, do you think?"

Spike lit up a fresh cigarette and looked out at the bridge and the few boats that slowly
passed beneath it. "A little jaunt to gay Paree is just what the doctor ordered for us, love.
Help us restore our priorities, it will."

She moved closer and snuggled her head against his neck. "You're not still cross for what I
did with Angel, are you?"
"How could I stay mad at you?" he asked as he pulled her closer.

He looked at her then and she saw something in his eyes that she had never noticed before.
Hurt. There was hurt in his gaze and it danced about and waved its spidery arms and
gnashed its horrible teeth before fleeing to hide somewhere in the dark recesses of his skull.

Page 12

The hurt was gone from his eyes, but Drusilla knew it was still there. She couldn't bear that
and would do anything to make Spike trust her, to make him belong to her completely
again.

The screaming bridge was suddenly eerily quiet, then began a new, more mournful dirge.
Drusilla pulled away from Spike and listened.

"Do you hear it, Spike?" she asked as she began to spin in a delicate pirouette. "They're
singing our song, the heads are."

She watched him as she danced. Spike did not seem as enthralled by the song as she, but
Drusilla suspected there were often times her man did not quite see things the way she did.
She was just about to call to him, to promise on the stars above that had grown plump with
blood, that she would be forever his when a voice called her name.

"Drusilla," said a sibilant whisper in her ear.

She stopped her dance and turned to peer into the shadows of an alcove away from the
river.

Page 13

"Come to me," it cajoled. "Come to me and a world of blood and pain will be yours for the
taking."

Drusilla smiled hungrily. "Oh, I would certainly fancy that," she said as she moved away
from Spike and the river's edge toward the alcove, which revealed itself upon closer
inspection to be a narrow gap between two buildings. She felt her features begin to
transform, her teeth growing sharp with expectation.

Dru heard her lover call to her but she did not stop. A world of blood and pain was
something special, the perfect gift to prove to Spike that she loved him most of all. She
would share this special world with him and they would be happy in it together forever and
ever.
The gap between the buildings was utterly dark.

"Come," said the voice from the perfect shadows.

"With pleasure," Drusilla replied as she entered the darkness - and the darkness entered her.

Page 14

Spike sucked the last bit from his cigarette and flicked the remains toward the Seine.

"Drusilla," he called again as he watched her wander off in the direction of two old
buildings - more specifically, a swath of deep darkness between the two. Then he muttered
under his breath. "Oh, what the bloody hell has gotten into her head now?" A list of
possible distractions went through his mind, ranging from a stray cat to starlight reflecting
off the foil of a gum wrapper.

"What is it, Dru?" Spike asked as he started to follow her. "What's caught your fancy?"

He heard her speaking softly, but knew it was not to him. Again he peered into the darkness
that seemed to be her destination. All he could see was inky black. The hair on the back of
his neck stood on end. Spike was startled by the frisson of fear that raced through him and
he paused uncertainly. Drusilla was about to reach the patch of shadows.

Page 15

"Dru, stop!" Spike warned.

His lover ignored him and he began to run to catch up with her. But he was too late. She
was lost within the shifting darkness, the shadows that now seemed to coil in that gap
between buildings.

To all his senses she was gone. He could no longer see, hear or smell her presence in the
cool Parisian air. Spike began to panic, his features taking on a more ferocious
countenance. Something had happened to the creature he held most dear in his undead life;
it didn't matter that most of the time she was completely insane or that her faithfulness to
him was often in question, he belonged to Drusilla alone. She had made him what he was
and there was nothing short of a final death that could ever sunder their bond.

Spike lunged at the undulating shadows - as Drusilla staggered out and into his arms. He
wouldn't have imagined that he was still capable of experiencing the kind of overwhelming
emotion that he felt as he gazed upon the China doll features of his lady love once more.
He gripped her shoulders and squeezed her, stared into her eyes. "There you are, pet. Gave
the Big Bad a bit of a start with your disappearing act."

Drusilla was uncharacteristically silent, and that was when he noticed the strange black
mark on her forehead.

"Got a bit of a smudge here." He moved to lovingly wipe the stain of dirt from her cool pale
skin.

Page 16

Drusilla struck him, the force of the blow hurling him backward to the street. He recovered
quickly and sprang to his feet, staring at her in bewilderment. They liked it rough, the both
of them. But the way she'd hit him... this wasn't a game.

"That wasn't nice now, was it?" he growled.

Then he noticed the look in her eyes and the way she held her body, so stiff and unyielding.
Spike frowned. There was an intelligence glittering in her gaze that had none of her lunacy.
Whoever looked back at him with those eyes, it was not Drusilla.

"You've got about three seconds to give her back to me," he snarled.

The symbol in the centre of his lover's forehead seemed to glow as a murderous grin, not
her own, broke across her face. She began to speak in a jagged-worded, guttural language
that he recognized as one of the ancient tongues, but he had no understanding of it.

"Why not try that again in the King's English," he said, stalking closer. Drusilla's face
twisted in disgust before she spoke again. This time, the alien voice responded in a
language he understood.

"Is this what you prefer, vampire?" it asked. "The language of animals?" Spike glared. "It's
not opera, but it beats that gargling with razor blades you call a voice. What do you want?"

"So full of fire and bluster," said the monstrous voice with genuine amusement, even
fondness. "You shall serve Laibach well."

Chapter Two

Spike snarled, lips curling back from his fangs, and he furrowed his thickened brow as he
glared into Drusilla's eyes at the new awareness in them, at the thing that had taken her
over.
"Seems you've got me mixed up with some other chap enjoys havin' his chain yanked," he
said. "I suggest you vacate the premises or things'll get more'n a little ugly."

Drusilla tossed her head back but the laugh that issue from her perfect lips was cold and
unearthly. It belonged to the presence within her, this thing that had introduced itself as
Laibach.

"Most excellent," the thing said. "Even in the face of superior might, you continue to
posture. Yes, you will do nicely."

Spike clenched and unclenched his fists. He wanted to strike, to tear it apart with his bare
hands and make it scream, but the only thing there to strike at was Drusilla's perfect
alabaster skin.

"Right, then, stowaway. What is it you want with us?"

Page 2

Drusilla cocked her head oddly and Laibach stared at him with her shiny dark eyes. "She is
in here with me. Your lover is fine - for now. Do as I tell you and she will continue to live.
Act foolishly and I guarantee she will suffer horribly."

To his dismay and disgust, the first thing that crossed Spike's mind at these words was
Sunnydale, the place he hated most in the world. Thing was, if this had happened back
there, he could have tracked down the stuffy Watcher, Giles, or the cute little redheaded
witch girl who spent so much time with the Slayer, and forced one of them to figure out
who this Laibach was and how to get him out of Dru.

But they weren't in Sunnydale. It made him sick to think he might be better off if they were.
With a slow nod, Spike reached into the inside pocket of his long leather coat and plucked
out his cigarettes. He stuck one in his mouth, then leaned against the wall, eyeing Drusilla
carefully, feeling the sinister gaze of the thing within her weighing heavily on him. He
didn't know anyone in Paris who didn't want to kill him. No one to help. Time to parley.
Talk was best.

For now.

Page 3

"First things first," he hissed, pulling out his lighter. "What's your story - and why me?
Why us?"

Laibach blinked Drusilla's eyes slowly, sluggishly, reminding Spike of a crocodile he'd
once fed a Montacqeua demon to in Africa. "I am the Laibach, vampire," the rumbling
voice said. "That you do not recognize the name of one of the Old Ones, one of the Elder
Gods of the Universe, reveals you as ignorant. I hope that you are not also stupid."

The ancient demonic deity spread Drusilla's arms in presentation. "Your mate is inhabited
by greatness - you should be honoured."

Spike was silent as he lit the tip of his new cigarette and slid the lighter back into his
pocket. He took a long drag and blew smoke from his nostrils before responding. "An
Elder, eh? Always wanted to meet one of you blokes. Y'know, have a chat over a pint or
two, find out what makes the universe go tick-tock. Don't suppose it's as simple as that, is
it?"

Drusilla shook her head, a disturbing smile spreading across her pale features.

"Didn't think so," Spike said as he took another toke from his cigarette.

"If things were simple, my kind would have been returned to our rightful home three score
ago," the thing inside Drusilla said.

"What's the old adage? Good things come to those who wait."

"Your arrogance offends me," Laibach said with a rumbling gurgle. "If I did not need you
to assist me in gathering the surviving members of the Order of Aurelius, I would destroy
you where you stand."

Page 4

Spike brought the cigarette down from his mouth and stared. "Order of Aurelius?" he
asked. "Sorry sport, but I'm not a member o' the club. I'm sort of a third cousin, once
removed. My great granny vamp, Darla, she was a lady of the club. Angelus, for about two
seconds, maybe. But Dru and me, we never even played their golf course. Can't help you -
now, can I have my girlfriend back?"

Laibach cocked Drusilla's head to the other side, confusion in her gaze. "You led the Order,
yes?"

"Yeah," Spike said with a sigh. "You caught me. I thought you were talking about the old
days. I led 'em, but only for a little bit. I was looking for a gang; they were looking for a
leader. You know how it is. All a matter of convenience really. Fella you're looking for was
called the Master. Afraid to say he's dead now. Killed by the Slayer."

Laibach stiffly raised Drusilla's arm to point at him. "Fool. You think there is no pattern to
these events? The Order of Aurelius cannot be led by any soulless husk. You are of the
bloodline of Heinrich Joseph Nest, him who you called the Master. He led the Order. At his
destruction, they followed you because they sensed his blood in you. Now you shall help to
re-establish the Order, then we shall revive your Master."

Page 5

Spike threw up his hands in protest, cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Let's just stop right
there, shall we. He was never my master. And besides, the Slayer ground his bones to dust.
Don't know of any black magic that can return a bloke from that journey."

Drusilla moved awkwardly toward him, a snarl on her lips. "You know nothing." She
stopped and looked up into the starry night sky. "For my return - and the return of other Old
Ones, the Order must be re-established." She lowered her head and gazed at him with eyes
not her own. "And when this is done, you shall return to Sunnydale, there to be met by the
necromancer Matereani - whom I have also called. He will aid you in returning Nest from
beyond the pale."

"Like hell I will," Spike spat as he flicked the still smouldering butt of his cigarette to the
ground. "I've had my fill of that burg, thank you very much. Find another member of the
Aurelius fan club to burden 'cause this bloke is not going back to... "

Laibach presented Drusilla's body to him, gently touching her face and neck. "You love this
one?" Laibach asked, interrupting the vampire's rant.

Spike remained silent as he watched Drusilla's hands move over the curves of her body.

"Your silence answers my question. You will do everything I ask or your lover will suffer."

Page 6

Spike bared his fangs to the ancient deity. "You'll leave her alone. This is between the two
of us."

Drusilla grinned and raised her hand. Slowly she drew a sharp fingernail down her face,
carving a slice in her skin, blood dripping down her cheek.

"Oh, the terrible things I could do to her. Let me count the ways." Laibach began to count
on her fingers. "I could scar her. I could walk her into the sun. I could deprive her of
sustenance, revelling in the pain as she withers away with starvation. Crushing her already
fragile psyche to send her even deeper into the grip of madness could be entertaining. And
then I could always... "

Spike held up a hand for Laibach to stop. "Right. Got it. Give you dusty old gits a mouth
and you can't shut up," Spike said, resignation in his tone. "I'll do what you ask, as long as
you release her unharmed."
Laibach grinned. "Wonderful," he hissed. "I knew you were a reasonable beast. Do as I ask
and when the Master is reborn, Drusilla will be released."

The dark god outlined its plan. Spike nodded and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of
his coat, seething with rage. How it ate at him not to be in control.

"Got a question for you, Laibach," he said when the demon had finished. He took another
cigarette from the crumpled pack in his pocket. "Are you planning on giving me a hand or...
"

Page 7

Drusilla suddenly stiffened, her head bending back on her delicate neck, eyes closed.
"There are other tasks I must attend to. For the moment, you may have the female back,"
Laibach said. "Do not disappoint me, vampire. I have waited far too long for this plan not
to bear fruit."

Spike took a drag from his latest cigarette and blew a plume of smoke into the air. "Don't
you worry about me, mate. I'm all about pleasing the great Old Ones. What I live for,
really," he said with a malicious sneer.

Drusilla's eyes fluttered and then closed and she swooned. Spike swore loudly and caught
her as she began to fall. Then, slowly, as if rising from a deep sleep, she opened her eyes
and performed a feline stretch in his arms.

"I went away for a little bit, didn't I?" she asked, as though the idea were pleasantly
naughty.

"Just a bit," Spike agreed, caressing her face where the gash Laibach had made was already
healing.

"It was the strangest place and so beautiful, " Dru said airily. "All the screaming and the
floating things, like sea monsters in the air. Like a dream, and the world was built with
queer geometry. "

"Well you're back now, poodle. And Spike is gonna keep you safe. Not to fret about it; not
at all."

Page 8

Drusilla's right hand sketched the air as though she were brushing cobwebs away from her
and then she touched her fingers to her forehead where the archaic symbol of Laibach still
adorned her.
Whatever pleasure she had taken from the experience of being possessed, it fled now and
her eyes glazed over slightly. Abruptly she leaned into him and Spike caught her, held her
as she fell weakly into his arms.

"My head's all fuzzy and crowded." Drusilla brought her hand away and gazed at her lover
with troubled eyes. "Got something old and dusty inside my skull, Spike. Don't like it at all.
It doesn't hear the calliope music, nor see the sparkly lights. It's all dirty, and not at all in
the good way."

As he looked into her eyes, Spike felt nothing but rage. "Not to worry, love," he assured
her, "your Spike'll make things right. Right as rain."

supporting her as gently as he could manage, he began to guide her away from the patch of
shadow where the ancient evil had made its passage into the world.

"We're going on a trip, aren't we, Spike? The voice in my head tells me it's so."

He pulled her closer. "Yes we are, love," Spike replied, cigarette dangling from the corner
of his mouth. "Truth of it is, we're going home. The Big Bad has got some business to
attend to in jolly old London town."

Page 9

Spike walked into the Fatted Calf Pub on London's East End with a limp Drusilla leaning
against his shoulder as though she had one too many pints of bitters. She had been growing
progressively weaker since leaving Paris, barely touching the conductor he had brought her
on the train that passed beneath the English Channel.

He helped Dru to the back of the tavern where he sat her in one of the cosy wooden booths.
It was strange, walking the streets of this old neighbourhood again. They'd been here
together so many times, had spent time in this very pub more than a century earlier, when a
human predator's bloodlust had outmatched that of every vampire in London and claimed
the attention of both the papers and of Scotland Yard. He drew so many Bobbies into the
streets, that careless lad, that Spike and Drusilla themselves had nearly been caught one
night with their fangs in the neck of a Whitechapel whore. They'd left town after that,
waiting for things to cool down. But before they left, they ate the young man who had
nearly cost them everything. So much for the "Ripper. "

Now Spike watched as Drusilla's head lolled back against the white plaster wall. The rage
had left him for the moment. All his thoughts had been consumed by concern for her well-
being, and that meant that for now, he would do whatever Laibach instructed him to do.

Dru's eyes fluttered open to look at him. Something was missing from her gaze, the spark
that made her what she was, held in check by an ancient power. His Drusilla had been taken
from him and he would do anything to get her back.
"Rest a bit, love. Got to see a man about a spot of business. I'll be back to collect you
shortly."

Page 10

Her eyes rolled upward and she smiled. "The nasty kitty has eaten up all the squeaky little
mice, Spike," she said as she reached up to weakly caress his face. "Crushed their bitty
mouse skulls in his teeth. Be careful he doesn't try to eat you up too."

Usually he would try to find the hidden meaning in her bizarre ramblings, but tonight he
just didn't have it in him. His patience had grown incredibly thin over the past twelve hours.

"Cats and mice. Right. All very helpful," he muttered as he turned to gaze about the pub.

The establishment was nearly empty. The barkeep stood at his station drying the same glass
mug over and over and a patron played a solitary game of darts. A guitar-screeching
remake of the old Aretha Franklin tune Chain of Fools was on the sound system. Again his
mind skipped back over the long years of his existence and he recalled an age of great
composers and fine opera, an era before electricity changed music forever. Then rock, and
then punk, and images skittered through his head of mop-top boys and screaming girls, and
then boys and girls both with spiked hair and painted faces and an anger they could never
put a label on.

London was always evolving. And no matter how far he strayed away from the city, Spike
evolved right along with it.

Spike was on his way to ordering up a pint when he sensed that something was wrong. He
had been so caught up with Drusilla that he hadn't noticed the pungent smell mixing freely
with the fragrant aromas of the old watering hole. Despite the stench of cigarettes and urine
and stale beer, that one smell, that coppery aroma, made his mouth water.

Page 11

Blood, lots of it. Spike stopped mid way to the bar and carefully glanced about his
surroundings. There, stacked near the entrance to the restrooms, were the bodies of the
patrons of the Fatted Calf. A quick glance at the few tables where living customers sat
rigid, staring at him, drinks untouchedin front of him, and he smiled. This was interesting.
Maybe this assignment wouldn't be so difficult after all.

He approached the bar where the bartender continued to dry his mug, a look of absolute
terror carved into his red, spotty features.

"Give us a pint," he said slapping the bar top in an attempt to get the man's attention.
The barkeep stared dumbly over at the only living customer who did not seem paralysed
with fear, the man playing darts. Spike reached across the bar, grabbed a mug and helped
himself to the tap. Then he approached the dart player.

"Service is bloody awful in this place," Spike said as he sipped the warm and frothy dark
ale from his mug.

The man didn't respond but let a dart fly into the board very close to the bulls-eye. Spike
studied him as he readied another shot. He was big, powerfully built with slicked jet-black
hair and skin the colour of burnt copper. Indian or Pakistani, he guessed. The man moved
with an unusual grace not common to humans and as he readied to throw another dart,
Spike noticed the mark on the back of his hand, very similar to the one that currently
adorned Drusilla's forehead. There was no doubt that this was the person he was supposed
to be looking for.

Spike drank some more as the man pulled back and let another dart fly. "Not one for small
talk. I can respect that," he said. "Let's move along then, shall we? You're Malik, yeah?"

Another dart flew, but this time the player faltered and the projectile thunked into the wall
above the dartboard.

Page 12

"Thought so," Spike noted, though with little of the satisfaction he might have felt if
circumstances were different. "I've got a job for you. You're to let your little Order of
Aurelius mates know that they're to gather in Sunnydale for a reunion of sorts."

The vampire playing darts chuckled deep in his chest; the sound reminded Spike of the
rumbling growl of some great jungle beast. "Oh, that's rich. William the Bloody has a job
for me? Or do you prefer Spike these days?"

His accent sounded more American than British, but with the length of time some vampires
walked the earth, it was often impossible to tell where they came from merely from the way
they spoke.

Spike grinned evilly. "It appears my reputation precedes me," he said as he toasted the man
with his mug and then took another sip.

The large vampire whirled to face him. "Your reputation is shite!" he bellowed. "Pretender
and fool, that is your reputation amongst the Order. The Master is no longer with us and
you cannot hope to replace him. Or did you think we would forget that you tried this once
before, that you killed the one he himself had anointed to follow him?""
Spike sucked back the last of his pint in one long draught. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said
as he placed his empty mug on the bar. "Really awful of me." He noisily licked his lips,
savouring the residue of the alcohol. "As I was saying... "

Mailik snarled. "The Order has seen your idea of leadership," he spat, "your failures in
defeating the Slayer. They will never be your lackeys again."

Spike sniffed, nostrils flaring in quiet fury. "Tell you the truth, mate, if I needed lackeys I
might be better served lifting up the nearest rock. That lot are about as fearsome a bunch of
vampires as you'd find in a bowl o' Count Chocula."

Page 13

"Blasphemy!" Mailik bellowed, eyes were wide with rage. He drew back his arm and let fly
the three remaining darts in his hand.

The darts hit Spike's chest dead centre with a hollow thud, punched through clothing and
skin, and stuck there. He stumbled backward and gazed down at the feathered protrusions.

"No thanks," he growled as he plucked the three darts from his flesh and tossed them to the
floor with a clatter. "I don't care for the game meself. I fancy something with a bit more
physical contact."

He launched himself across the pub and struck a blow that connected with the vampire's
midsection. They hit the floor in a flurry of limbs and brutal assaults. Spike grabbed Mailik
by his thick black hair and drove his head back viciously into the floor once, twice, three
times.

"Yeah, that's more like it," he said with a toothy grin. "And what's your problem with
breakfast cereal, anyway? It's the one damn thing the Americans do right."

Mailik bucked savagely and threw him off. Spike quickly got to his feet, a billiards table at
his back. He snatched up a cue stick and brandished it like a spear. "Not quite sure how ol'
Laibach'll feel about me turning you to dust, but right now I just can't seem to care."

Page 14

The other vamp stood across from Spike in a coiled crouch, his long black hair hanging in
front of his dark, foreign features. His yellow eyes gleamed eerily from beneath the hanging
tresses. "How dare you utter the name of the greatest of the Old Ones. This blasphemy
cannot go unpunished."

Spike stalked closer, billiard cue at the ready. "Well then, don't keep me waiting."
"So be it," the vampire hissed, tearing at his clothing as he got down on all fours, his body
beginning to tremble. "Witness the power bestowed upon me by the Elders."

Spike laughed. "What, pretending to be a pup, are we? I want to shove this stick through
yer bleedin' heart, not have you fetch it."

His enemy responded with a guttural moan, face contorting in pain as his skull began to
change. Spike winced at the sound of popping joints and stretching ligaments. Mailik 's
limbs grew thicker and longer; reddish brown hair sprouted from his pores to cover the
exposed flesh of his body.

Spike watched in awe as his vampire opponent changed into a massive, demonic thing like
some nightmarish Bengal tiger. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

Mailik let loose with a deafening roar and bound toward him. Spike tensed, preparing to
skewer the monstrous cat on the end of his cue. But the bestial Mailik skidded to a stop
before him. One of its enormous paws lashed out like lightning, swiping the stick from his
grasp. Spike gazed down in horror to see that deep furrows had been torn in his right hand.

Page 15

The giant cat purred as it licked Spike's blood from its paw with an enormous pink tongue.

Spike backed up and away from the beast until his back hit the bar. The barkeep was still
working on the glass - hollow-eyed and drooling - as the tiger slowly padded closer. He
watched for any telltale sign of attack, the blink of an eye, the twitch of a claw.

The muscles in its flanks suddenly tensed and Spike knew that the great cat would be upon
him in an instant. As it leapt, Spike spun around grabbed the man by the shirtfront and
hauled him into the path of the tiger. The monstrous beast dragged the man down to the
floor and begun ripping him apart before realizing it was not his intended prey. Mailik, his
white muzzle stained with the blood of the bartender, looked up as Spike came at him with
a broken bottle.

"It's not much," he said thrusting the jagged edge into the throat of the tiger with all his
vampiric strength, "but it should do the trick."

The demon-cat shrieked with pain and leaped back as blood squirted from the wound and
spattered the tavern floor.

"There's a pretty kitty," Spike hissed, bloody bottle still in hand.

The bleeding from the tiger's throat slowed to a trickle as it positioned itself low to the
ground, preparing to pounce again. Their eyes locked, each predator searching for a
weakness in the other. Spike thought he had won when the tiger's eyes suddenly shifted
away.

Page 16

Drusilla.

All through the melee he had tried to keep Mailik 's attention away from her. She was too
weak even to defend herself, too...

Spike's thoughts faltered as he saw that Dru had left the relative safety of the booth and was
walking toward them.

"Drusilla, get back!" he barked at her.

Mailik purred. Then he lunged for her. The demonic beast landed in front of Drusilla and
pulled back one its front paws, preparing to swipe at her.

Spike scrambled to reach her.

The monstrous tiger reared back its great head and roared. Drusilla clapped happily, then
tossed back her head and roared as well, her long black tresses trailing down her back.

The tiger did not complete its strike. Slowly it brought its paw down and leaned closer to
study its prey. It sniffed Drusilla's face and she began to giggle.

"That'll be enough of that, puss," Spike heard his lady love say as she placed her hand on its
muzzle and pushed the large face away, as though playing with a simple house cat.

Page 17

Spike finally reached her, knocking her to the floor out of the path of the savage cat.

"That wasn't at all nice, you nasty man," she spat angrily, raking her nails down his face
and drawing blood.

He recoiled. "I was only gettin' you out of harm's way," he said and turned to face the tiger.
"Maybe I should've just let him eat you whole."

Mailik had returned to human form and was on his knees, head bowed in reverence.

"What in Hell?" Spike sputtered.

The creature that was a vampire but also much more raised his head to look at Drusilla who
now stood unsteadily beside Spike.
"She bears the mark of Laibach," he said and placed his fingers to his forehead briefly. "It
is true, you do speak for the highest powers and I have no choice but to listen." He again
bowed his head.

"I told you he'd try to eat you," Drusilla whispered into Spike's ear. She began to lick the
wounds she had just inflicted on his cheek. "But you're not a little mousey, are you? Not
my Spike. He's a big dog."

Spike took one of her hands in his, brought it to his mouth and kissed it. "That you did, my
love, that you did. You'd think by now I'd have the common sense to pay attention."

They moved toward Mailik, who still knelt in obeisance.

Page 18

"As I was saying before you used me as a bloody dart board," Spike said with disgust.
"You're to gather up the members of the Order still in England and head to Egypt. We'll
meet in Cairo."

Rashas raised his head and looked at them. "It will be done."

Spike led Drusilla to the door where he stopped and turned back to the shape shifter. "Just a
friendly reminder, Tigger," he said as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket
and placed one in his mouth. "I'm calling the shots in the Hundred Acre Wood.
Understand?" He lit the cigarette and waited for the other vampire to reply.

Mailik said nothing but nodded his head.

"Right then," Spike said, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. He pointed the smouldering
cigarette at Mailik. He smiled devilishly and escorted Drusilla out into the night.

"Are we going to Egypt now, Spike?" Drusilla asked wearily as the door slowly closed
behind them. "To see the tombs?"

It had started to rain.

"That we are, pet," Spike answered.

"Fantastic," she responded. "I wonder if the desert will remember me?"

Spike held her close, steering her down the street. "How could it forget you?"

Page 19
In the darkness of the ship's hold Spike gazed at his lover, fast asleep. There was a fine line
of drying blood at the corner of her mouth and he resisted the urge to reach out and gently
wipe it away.

The young prostitute they had recently fed upon moaned in the grip of a nightmare. They
had found her trawling the docks for business as they searched for a ship with the
appropriate destination. The girl proved quite knowledgeable of the vessels in port and
pointed out the steel transport, Eye of Ishtar, bound for Egypt that very morning. They had
thanked the young whore by biting into her throat and dragging her into the dark hold as
sustenance for their long journey. There should be enough juice in her to last until we dock
in Egypt, he thought, as long as we don't get greedy.

He turned his gaze back to his sleeping lover - to the pale curve of her throat and the gentle
sloping rise of her breasts - but he had things to do.

Spike reached into the pockets of his leather coat and removed the items he had acquired
from an occult bookstore after his conflict at the Fatted Calf. Pennywhistle's Ancient
Arcanum was a store he had frequented often in his early days and he was glad to find that
it was still in business.

Page 20

He placed a copper bowl before him and filled it with dried herbs that the knowledgeable
shopkeeper had said would be necessary to complete the spell he wanted to perform. Then
he removed the rare text on spirit banishments from his other pocket and found the sections
that had been marked.

The shopkeeper had been closing up when he and Dru had arrived. It only took a small bit
of persuading on Spike's part to convince the man to stay open a little longer. And it wasn't
long before the old bloke and he were chatting about spiritual possession and how to evict
an unwanted entity. After all, Pennywhistle remembered him from his last visit, when the
now old man had been barely thirty, and the time before that when he'd been just a lad.
Spike had known his father, and his father's father. The current Mr. Pennywhistle had a
solid respect for his heritage that would have warmed Spike's heart if such a thing were
possible.

Now Spike used his lighter to ignite the herbs just as the shopkeeper had instructed. He
fanned the cloying smoke toward the resting Drusilla and began to read from the ancient
tome. He wasn't sure exactly which forgotten language he was reading, but if it drove
Laibach from his lover's body, it was certainly destined to become one of his favourites.

As he read the words from the yellowed pages, the flames within the bowl burned a variety
of vibrant colours, just as the shopkeeper had told him they would. He removed a gnarled
root, wrapped in plastic, from his pocket. The old man had called it the Limb of Impetus, a
rare growth that resembled the malformed arm and hand of some tiny elven creature, the
final ingredient.
Page 21

Still reading from the text, Spike stuck the root into the flame and allowed it to catch fire.
He brought the burning tuber to his face and blew upon it, extinguishing the flame. Gazing
at the smouldering growth, he was amused to find that the heat of the flame had contracted
the finger-like offshoots into a tiny fist.

Spike moved closer to the sleeping Drusilla. As he read the last page of the banishment
spell he brought the Limb of Impetus closer to her face and touched it to Laibach's mark on
the smooth pale skin of her forehead. Then he read the final words and waited.

Drusilla's lids flickered open and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body convulsed as if
some great battle were being fought within her. Spike took her thrashing form into his arms
and held her. As quickly as the convulsions had begun they now ceased and Drusilla
relaxed, eyes closed once again.

Did it work? Seemed a bit too simple, dinnit? he wondered, fixing his eyes on the thick
smudge of ash on her forehead. Gently he brushed it away and saw that Laibach's mark still
prevailed beneath. Spike gritted his teeth and tried not to show the fear and rage he felt. Dru
had been growing worse with time and he suspected that if he did not get Laibach out of her
soon, she would die the true death, an eternal death. He wanted to be patient, to trust that
Laibach would know how much she could endure-but Laibach was a demon, one of the first
of them. And demons could not be trusted.

Drusilla's eyes fluttered open.

"There's my girl," he said, looking deep into her beautiful dark eyes. "How are we feeling?"

"Betrayed," said the voice of Laibach from Drusilla's mouth. Her hand clamped around his
throat in a vice like grip before he had a chance to react.

Page 22

"Vampires. Your kind has always been selfish," the Old One said as he brought Drusilla to
her feet, still clutching Spike's throat with her hands. "It's a miracle the Master of the Order
was capable of looking beyond his singular, petty needs."

She threw him across the hold of the ship. His body landed against a stack of steel girders
and he slid to the floor in a heap, the taste of his own blood in his mouth.

"I don't suppose you're willing to give me a chance to explain myself?" he asked as he
hauled himself up.
"I have no time for your lies, vampire." Laibach said, striding toward him in Dru's body,
violence in her gaze.

Spike spat blood from his mouth as he prepared for further thrashing. "Yeah, guess you're
right, well, let's get on with it, then."

He straightened just as she struck him a blow hard enough to snap his head around and
drive him back against the wall of the hold again. His skull struck metal with a clang. The
pain was excruciating and Spike wanted to lash out, to rend his attacker limb from limb, but
he couldn't. Not that it was beyond him to bruise his delicate flower now and again, but that
was the slap-and-tickle they always played at, knocking each other about. If he got into this
bout in earnest, one of them would be dead, and Spike could not abide either possible
outcome.

Page 23

"All right, your ancientness, what next?" He offered his arm to Drusilla. "You want to
break it? Make you feel all-powerful and full of fury to cripple me a bit? P'raps you'd like
to scoop out an eye?"

Laibach shook Drusilla's head. "No, violence against you appears to be futile."

Spike brought his arm down and leaned back against the girders. "Wore you out, have I?
Always the way. Haven't the patience to deal with William the Bloody?" Tenderly he
touched his bruised jaw. "Don't feel bad, you're not the first."

Drusilla looked about the hold as if seeing it for the first time. Her gaze fell upon a large
wooden crate labelled "machine parts." Spike watched with curiosity as she approached the
box. She tore a section from the corner of the crate and turned back to him, brandishing a
nasty looking dagger of wood.

This is it, Spike thought. "Gonna put me down for the big sleep? Who'll gather your Dirty
Dozen then?"

She stopped before him and smiled. "You misunderstand my actions, vampire. This is not
for you."

Spike was silent, cold fingers of dread racing up and down his spine. Laibach tore open the
front of Drusilla's dress, exposing her slight breasts. Spike pushed away from the girders,
hands up in front of him.

"Here, here, there's no need of that," he said, nervousness creeping into his voice.

Page 24
"Oh but there is." The Elder god placed the sharp piece of wood against her chest, over her
heart, and pressed the tip of the stake into her skin. A small bead of blood blossomed to run
down her bosom.

Drusilla, not Laibach, gasped aloud.

"You've made your soddin' point," Spike said inching closer. "Leave her alone and I'll do
what you say. I give you my word."

Laibach laughed, the stake still held against Drusilla's heart. "Your word. You say that as
though it meant something."

"Give me another chance." Spike bowed his head. It galled him to have to do it, but for now
he had no choice. He vowed that he would find a way to save Drusilla but at the moment
Laibach still had the upper hand. At length, at last, he said, "Please."

Laibach let the makeshift stake fall to Drusilla's side. "I am feeling merciful today. But
understand this, vampire, the next time I even suspect treachery on your part, the pretty
thing I now inhabit shall be reduced to cinder and ash. Have I made myself clear?"

Spike bit down on the inside of his cheek trying to control his rage, the taste of blood again
filled his mouth. "Crystal," he answered.

Chapter Three

The bathroom was cramped, the air heavy with moisture and heat. A towel wrapped around
his waist, Spike emerged from the shower and stepped into the dingy hotel room, drawn by
the sound of Drusilla's voice. She had been quiet for the rest of their journey to Egypt, in a
kind of deep trance from which she woke only infrequently to share with him something
about hedgehogs and silver tea sets.

He stripped off the towel and dabbed with it at his face and neck. The heat of Cairo was
unbearably oppressive. The sluggish ceiling fan that served as the Osiris Hotel's air
conditioning system offered little relief from the climate of the Egyptian capital.

Under the cover of night, he had helped Dru from the hold of the cargo ship. They were met
on the docks of the Suez Canal by members of the Order of Aurelius. Acting on
instructions from Malik, the vampires brought them to the Osiris where they'd spent the last
two days resting while trying to locate another of Laibach's chosen ones.

Page 2
Spike watched with curiosity as Drusilla danced before six members of the Order who had
gathered in their room to admire the one who was host to Laibach.

"Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field and he said to the woman..."
Dru paused. "I don't remember what her name was," she said, finger to her mouth, "but I
think she was starkers quite a bit."

She smiled and Spike thought it was one of the most wonderful things he had seen in days.

"And the serpent asked the naked lady, did the Lord God forbid you to eat from the Tree of
Knowledge? And the naked lady said, yes."

The vampires had come to bask in her presence, but as Drusilla spoke to the audience like a
nanny to a room full of barely-weaned tots, they began to glare at her. Any rational mind
would see the hostility rising in them - but they weren't dealing with a rational mind. Not
even close, thought Spike.

"So the serpent got the naked lady and her equally naked boyfriend to eat some of this oh
so special fruit and... "

Page 3

"And they were cast out of Paradise," said one of the Order. "We told you, we are all well
versed in-"

"Not at all," Drusilla interrupted, frowning sternly and shaking a finger at him. "Not even
Miss Edith was ever so rude. Further interruptions will result in a nasty paddling. I
shouldn't think you'd enjoy it, either."

"Now then," she continued, and she smiled as she seductively clutched at the front of her
dark, cotton skirt. "The starkers couple ate the fruit and became as smart as the Lord and
went about their business, and the serpent went on his way continuing to help all those in
need of his special skills."

Drusilla slowly hiked her skirt, revealing long, shapely legs. "Don't you just love a happy
ending? I find them so very exciting." Her dress continued to climb.

"I've heard enough," said one vampire, jumping to his feet. "My head is ringing from the
madness you've been spouting."

Spike cleared his throat and sauntered into the room. "Yeah, well given she's playing
incubator to the Lord of Mosquitoes or whatever his title is in the nether realm, you might
want to consider being a more polite audience."
Page 4

The vampire backed down, returning to the others with a pathetic grumble.

"Hello, dearheart," Drusilla said happily. "I feel as though I've been asleep for days. I've got
ever so much energy. Would you like to hear a story?"

He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. His eyes could not help but stray to the
symbol on her forehead, a constant reminder that they were in the grip of a higher power.

"That's all right, turtle. You can tell me a story later. Me and the campfire lads here have
some business to discuss. Why don't you be a nice bird and go count the stars on the
balcony."

She hugged herself happily. "Yes, what a lovely idea. Maybe they'd like to hear a story."

"I'm quite certain they would. Go on then." Spike patted her rump and steered her toward
the balcony.

"I know just the one," she said. "It's about a beautiful maiden whose love would do
anything for her to be able to see her reflection in the mirror again." She walked to the open
double doors that led out onto the balcony overlooking Cairo. "I hope they don't mind that
it ends sadly."

"We are tired of waiting," one of the Aurelius members said as Drusilla left the room.

Page 5

"If the Order is to be reborn, let it be now. All this waiting is driving us to madness,"
another said.

Spike retrieved a pack of Egyptian made cigarettes from a bedside table. "I certainly
sympathise with your impatience, believe me I do." He lit the smoke and tossed the pack
back onto the nightstand. "But higher powers are calling the shots here and I'm not about to
let a case of twisted knickers foul things up."

He blew a cloud of smoke in the their direction.

One of the vampires hissed and bared his fangs. "We swore Malik answers to your
commands?"

Spike blew a ring of smoke up into the ceiling fan and watched as the blade dispersed it.
"You've a lot of bluster in you, haven't you? Here's the truth, then, and no playing about.
Laibach gave me the job. Don't especially want it and if any of you can convince him to
give you a promotion and let Dru and I be on our way, I'd be eternally in your debt. And
eternity, well, it's an awful long time.

"If you can't talk the big spook into letting me alone, though, well, you'll just have to shut
your gob and do what I tell you, before the eldritch power of the Old Ones decides to roast
your carcass on the fire of eternity and feed your flesh to maggots. Again and again.
Forever."

The vampire who had spoken smiled in terror. "Forget I mentioned it."

Page 6

"Done. And now that we've got that sorted, you'll wait like a good gaggle'a lackeys until I
tell you it's time to put things in motion."

The six vampires scowled as the door to the hotel room swung open and the shape-shifting
vampire, Malik, strode into the room. They jumped to their feet in anticipation as they saw
what the vampire had with him. A small, dark skinned boy nervously looked around the
room, eyes wide and white.

"I told you to bring us information about Scylla - not a bleedin' Happy Meal," Spike said,
eyeing the frightened youth.

Malik reached down and grabbed the boy by the ear. "Looks can be deceiving," the
vampire said as he gave the ear a nasty twist. "I have done what you asked."

The boy yelped and Spike watched as he began to tremble with fear.

"Come out of your shell, demon," Malik ordered. "Show yourself or we will rip open this
costume of flesh and expose you ourselves."

The little boy began to cry, looking around the room and muttering in Arabic. Spike
recognized a word here and there, most of them having to do with blood drinking demons
and being sorry for his sins.

Enraged, Malik leaned over and bellowed in the child's ear, "Show yourself!"

Page 7

The child instantly stopped crying. "All right, all right," he said in a petulant voice that
would have sounded more at home in Brooklyn than on the streets of Cairo.
Spike was intrigued. He watched with fascination as the child's body began to undulate as if
made of something other than flesh and bone. He opened his mouth then and it grew wider
and wider until the jaw popped from its alignment.

"This is interesting," Spike said with a grin, as he folded his arms and watched.

A noisy expulsion of foul smelling gas and a thick viscous fluid erupted from the darkness
within the child's body. Something crawled around in there. Thin spindly arms appeared
first, followed by a strange, bullet-shaped head. The creature pulled its long, slug-like body
from out of the boy's mouth and dropped to the hotel floor.

"That has to be one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen," Spike said.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said the slug demon as it brushed thick dark, slime from its stick-like
arms, "like sucking blood from somebody's throat is the freakin' ballet. We're monsters.
Disgusting is what we're about."

"Azz is a Trehadji demon," Malik said, his voice a low rumble. "They inhabit the bodies of
dead children and use them to lure their prey. This one happens to be privy to some
information that could help us."

Spike puffed on his smoke, eyeing the foul little creature squirming around in brownish
liquid that seemed to exude from its thick, muscular trunk of a body. "That so? On with it,
then. Not getting any younger. 'Course, I'm not getting any older, either."

Page 8

The demon shook its oddly shaped head. "I've got no idea what you guys are talking about.
I don't know who've you been talkin' too but you've got the wrong Trehadji. As I told tall,
dark and feral here, I don't know nothing about any blood swillin' sweetie goes by the name
a' Scylla."

His movement like lightning, Spike reached down and grabbed the demon around what he
believed to be the throat and lifted it to his face. Eye to eye. The Trehadji demon squirmed
in his grasp as foul-smelling liquid leaked from its body and spattered to the floor.

"C'mon," Azz sputtered. "There's no need to get rough. If I knew anything I'd tell ya, I
swear."

Spike gave the creature a good shake and brought him closer. His features had gone feral as
he sniffed around the demon's body. "Never tried the blood of a Trehadji before. Hear it's
an acquired taste. Once you get past the bitterness, that is."

"All right, all right," Azz shrieked. "I'll tell you what I know but some other customers ain't
going to be happy with me."
Spike let go of the demon and it plopped to the floor in a puddle of its own excretions.

"Talk," Spike demanded.

Page 9

The demon stroked its leathery throat where Spike had been holding it. "Give me a second,
will ya? Let me catch my breath." Azz took a deep breath and then began. "All right, about
a week ago I was approached by the Order of Sages and they-""Who?" Spike asked.

The creature sighed, annoyed by the interruption. "The Sages? They're kind'a like Watcher
wannabes. You see 'em more out this way than back in the States. Can I continue?"

Spike nodded, finishing the last of his cigarette and dropping the ash to the floor. The still
burning embers sizzled in the demon juices.

"The Sages come to me 'cause the word is out - obviously - that I know stuff. They're
looking for a vampire with a difference called Scylla. Just so happens I saw a vamp that
went by that very description during a little field trip I took over to Luxor a few days back.
I'm very observant that way."

"Yeah, good for you. And?" Spike prodded the foul beast with the toe of his boot.

The creature shook its head, obviously ticked that it wasn't getting through to its audience.
"And, they paid me for my services and headed for Luxor."

Malik looked at Spike and then to Azz. "How long ago was that?"

The demon shrugged its bony shoulders. "Three days, give or take."

Spike rubbed his hands together as he looked from Malik to the member of the Aurelius
order. "Well, looks like we're taking a trip to Luxor then. Let's hope that Laibach's little
honey has been able to keep one step ahead of the Sages."

The demon chuckled from the floor. "Yeah, that'd be really awful if you didn't get to her.
All this time wasted, your time - my time." Azz cleared his throat and held out his
misshapen hand nervously.

Page 10

Spike glared at the creature. "Your concern's quite touching. I'll be sure to pass that on to
Scylla if she should ask who sicced the bloody Sages on her." He turned toward the balcony
to retrieve Drusilla when he felt something tug at his pants leg.
Azz was holding onto the material, looking up at him with dark, beady eyes. "I don't think
you understand what I'm getting at. I need some payment for the dirt I just gave you."

Spike began to chuckle amiably. The Trehadji demon joined in.

"Believe me, I know how it is," the demon said, letting go of Spike's pants. "You get so
caught up in what you're doing, you forget things. Happens to me all the time."

The demon held out his hand again. "Just pay up and I'll be on my way."

Spike knelt down to the demon's level. "Hate to put a damper on your night, but we're a bit
tight on cash right now. Tell you what I will do though."

The demon clenched its tiny fists.

"I'll put a good word in for you with the great Old Ones and I'll bet they'll be so tickled by
your help that they'll put aside some vestal virgin or something equally attractive for you to
crawl into once they return to earth. How does that sound?" Spike asked with an
intimidating grin.

Azz quickly turned from him and began to slither up the leg of the child's body. "Yeah,
sure. That'd be great. Appreciate it. Skinflint" He forced himself into the open mouth,
gradually disappearing inside the hollow of the child's body.

Page 11

Spike watched as the boy's eyes blinked and his overly extended jaw began to close,
returning noisily to place. The body, suddenly animated, headed for the door.

"Thanks for the info, Azz," Spike said cheerily as the demon pulled open the door.

"Don't mention it. Now I remember why I don't do business with vampires." The demon
slammed the door as it left.

Malik turned back to Spike. Averting his eyes he asked, "What do we do now, Spike?"

Puffing himself up a bit, Spike gazed toward the balcony where Drusilla stood looking off
into the night. "Bring the car around front. I'll fetch the missus."

The vampires filed out the door as Spike moved to the balcony. "Drusilla?" he called softly.
"We're going to Luxor now. A little birdie tells me we'll find our stray there. Well, a nasty
little slug, but nevertheless."

She continued to stare out through the darkness at the city below.
"Dru?" he called again.

"I feel eyes on me, Spike. Dirty eyes," she said turning slightly to look at him fearfully. "I
was telling the stars my sad story when I felt them touch my body."

Spike enfolded her in his arms. "There, there, pet. Nothing out there but snacks." He kissed
her tenderly on the neck. "Let's get our things together and be off, shall we?"

Spike turned her gently from the balcony's edge but she could not take her eyes from the
night.

"The wind has my scent and finds it delicious. He's out there, Spike," she said, a trace of
fear in her voice. "He's out there waiting for us."

Page 12

Azz muttered beneath his breath as he stepped from the lobby of the Hotel Osiris into the
sweltering heat of the Egyptian night.

"Vampires," he growled as he walked toward one of the many labyrinthine alleyways that
wound their way through Old Cairo. "Bring me nothin' but trouble, every time I deal with
em, nothin' but headaches. When am I gonna learn to stay clear of blood suckers?"

The demon in the body of a child headed toward the Moushi Bazaar. He pulled up the
tattered sleeve of his coat and gazed at the illuminated dial of a Rolex. Seeing the time he
swore loudly and turned abruptly down a tiny side street - a short cut. He was going to be
late for an important appointment with a sorcerer in need of a very rare crystal used to hold
extracted human souls. It was a deal he couldn't afford pass up and now he quickened his
pace - and collided with a large figure that seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was dark in
the alley but he could see that the man was quite big, wearing a wide brim hat and a heavy
overcoat. For a brief instant, the demon pondered the question of why someone would wear
so much clothing on such a hot evening.

"My apologies, good sir," Azz said in his most childlike voice. "I did not see you."

He tried to move around the large man, but the figure moved to block his path.

Azz manipulated the muscles of the child's face and smiled angelically. "A thousand
pardons sir, but if you would be so kind as to let me pass, I shall bother you no more."

The demon stepped back with a heavy sigh. He felt his soul crystal deal flying right out the
window.

Page 13
"Look pal," Azz said, annoyance creeping into his now adult sounding voice. "Get the hell
out of the way before I kick you in the nuts."

"The vampires," responded the man, his voice nothing more than a whisper. "You have
spoken to them?"

Azz slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "The friggin' vampires, again. Yeah, I
spoke with them. What's it to you? They owe you money too?"

The man slowly removed the hat from his head to reveal a shock of dark wiry hair. He
moved closer to Azz. "I need to know why they are here," he said in a barely audible voice,
his hand moving to undo the top button of his coat.

The man stepped into a patch of moonlight and Azz saw that he wasn't dealing with a man
at all. The thing was horrible, a bestial demon whose countenance sent a surge of primal
terror washing through him. Azz sniffed the air to confirm his suspicions. It was a Lothgar
demon, and probably on the hunt. Then, with the face of a child, Azz smiled. If the Lothgar
was hunting those vampires...

"Easy does it there, pally," he said putting up his hands in surrender. "The vamps are no
friends of mine, they even stiffed me on the bill."

The Lothgar brought a hand to its throat and Azz could see that something had recently torn
into the dark flesh. The damage looked to be so extensive that Azz wondered how it could
have possibly survived. Now he knew why the guy was whispering.

Page 14

"Tell me everything," the Lothgar demon hissed.

"What's to tell?" Azz said with a shrug of the child's shoulders. "They're looking to find
some vampire broad and I sent 'em to Luxor. Looked like they were plannin' to be on their
way tonight."

The Lothgar seemed to think a moment, a hand drifting back to the puckered scars in the
flesh of its throat. "Then that is where I shall slay them."

Azz smiled up at the primitive looking monster. "Can't say I'll shed many tears for that
bunch. Vampires, I can do without 'em if you catch my drift." He reached out and gave the
Lothgar a friendly pat on the arm. "It's been great talkin', but I'm late for an appointment
and..."

He tried to make it past the Lothgar but again found his way blocked.
"Look," Azz said angrily, "I told you what you wanted to know, what else do you want
from me?"

The Lothgar demon held out one of its large hands and Azz watched with perverse
fascination as thick black claws slid from each fingertip.

They look sharp, he thought - just before they rakeked the front of his body.

Page 15

"I have not fed since leaving Paris," the demon said in a sibilant whisper.

The child's body was ripped open from throat to crotch and Azz tumbled out of the exposed
cavity in a state of shock.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Azz screamed as he writhed about on the filthy city street. "What's
with the violence here? You want food? I'll get you food, there's no need for the rough
stuff. Please... "

The Lothgar demon shook its shaggy head slowly, thick ribbons of saliva dribbling from
the corners of its mouth. "No time," it growled as it reached down with its horrible clawed
hands.

Azz tried to get away, to squirm across the rock and brick, but the beast was too fast. It
grabbed him, razor sharp claws sinking into the flesh of his body. He fought valiantly, but
as he was brought inexorably closer to the demon's mouth and the rank smell of its breath
filled his nostrils, he knew that this was the end. As the first bite was taken from his
midsection and his life fluids spattered the ground, he again ruminated on the reason why
he seldom did business with vampires.

Nothing but trouble, he thought as another hunk of his body disappeared down the gullet of
the Lothgar demon and his life gradually came to an end.

Nothing but trouble.

Page 16

Within the temple of Amun-Ra, the vampire Scylla wound her serpentine body around the
Obelisk of Queen Hatshepsut and waited for her pursuers to arrive.

They had come for her at dusk, rousing her from her resting place in the basement of the
Luxor Museum of Antiquities. She pressed her face against the Obelisk, feeling the
coolness of the pink Aswan granite and allowed it to calm her. She used the brief respite to
reflect upon the attack. It bothered her that they had not attempted to destroy her as she
slept, even though they'd had every opportunity.

In her mind's eye she saw them as she awakened, how excited they became as her body
began to transform, gaining the deadly attributes of an enormous serpent.

"Yesssssss," she hissed to herself as she recalled the words of the man who was their
leader. "Bind her at once. The Order of Sages will reap much knowledge from this one."

They had wanted her to awaken. They wanted her alive, so that they might discover how a
mere vampire had come to possess the power to alter herself so.

Scylla slithered around the pillar further to peer at the entrances into the temple and
listened. Had good fortune smiled upon her? Had she lost these Sages who hunted her?

Page 17

The sounds of boots falling upon sand and hushed whispers chased away any foolish notion
she might have had about good luck. The vampire tensed as she watched and waited. She
would study her prey before she attacked, assessing their weaknesses and using them to her
advantage. That was how she'd survived these hundreds of years and Laibach willing,
would continue to survive.

Scylla saw them, cautiously creeping into the temple with handheld flashlights, the
darkness dispelled wherever the powerful beams touched. Some carried lanterns and began
to place them about the great ceremonial room. Their heads were covered in hoods, their
bodies wrapped in flowing dark robes, and they were well armed. She could feel the arcane
energies radiating from their weapons. They were not a hastily gathered rabble out to
eradicate evil from their homeland, she thought. No, this group was organized and had
access to items of great power.

She was trying to decide if it would be more prudent to flee deeper into the ruins, where
human body types could not follow her, when the leader strode into the temple. He was a
large man, with a long, grey beard and a look of great cruelty in his eyes. Normally she
would have found this an alluring trait, but it did little to arouse her now.

"Prepare yourselves, my brothers," she heard the leader say, his voice thick with an accent
she could not place.

He removed a dagger from inside the folds of his clothes. It appeared to be forged from
some kind of dark metal, perhaps bronze.

"The Dagger of Ayshaia will force this once sacred place to reveal where the evil is
hiding."
Page 18

She had never heard of the Dagger of Ayshaia but she did not like the sound of it at all.
Scylla was preparing to come down from the obelisk and slither off into the shadows when
the leader muttered an arcane incantation and threw the dagger down to impale the earth.

There was a flash of searing white light and then everything seemed to turn grey. Scylla
shrieked pitifully as she fell to the temple floor, numbed by the shock of supernatural
power.

"Wrap her in the Net of Nimrod." She heard the leader's commands from what sounded like
miles away. "It will keep her immobilized for the trip back to Vienna. Those pompous
assess in the Council of Watchers will burn with envy when they learn of our prize."

Scylla lay perfectly still, conserving strength as the Sages stalked closer. Through eyes
barely open, she saw that two of them were almost upon her. Each held a circular mystical
talisman in defence. These wards would do them little good, but if she did not act
immediately all would be lost. She could not abide imprisonment. Not ever.

Scylla rallied her strength and attacked. She pulled back her tail and snapped the end of the
great appendage like a bullwhip at the soft pink flesh of one of the men's throats. A mighty
crack filled the temple air and she took enormous satisfaction in the obscene bent of his
neck as he fell to the ground in a twitching heap.

The other foolishly attacked with his mystical weapon, a coin of sorts made from the purest
silver. He lunged at her, touching her chest with the artefact.

Scylla shrieked in both pain and rage. It felt as though she had been set aflame. How dare
this pathetic bag of flesh hurt her! She reared back and caught sight of four others coming
toward her with a net that shimmered with all the colours of the rainbow. It was almost
mesmerising, the colours warm and calming.

Page 19

Almost.

She dove with a ferocious hiss at the coin-wielding man, using the coiled muscles within
her lower body to propel herself forward with terrifying speed. She dodged beneath another
attempt to burn her with the sacred coin and buried her fangs deep in his throat. His blood
tasted of foreign spices and she drank deeply.

A new strength surged through her serpentine form. She tossed the empty corpse aside,
reared back and snarled at the others.
"Come, then," she hissed, licking the blood of their brethren from her lips with a red forked
tongue. "If you want me, come and take me."

They hesitated briefly and then rushed at her. There were more than she had realized and
they swarmed upon her, each using a blessed talisman that burned, shocked, froze or
nauseated with every touch.

Her claws became slick with the blood of the enemy but still they came. She was growing
tired, distracted. Too late, she sensed behind her the approach of the four men with the Net
of Nimrod.

Scylla spun around to face them but the net engulfed her. The colours of the confining
weave danced before her eyes and she felt the strength drain out of her. She slumped to the
ground.

"A most excellent acquisition," she heard the leader gloat as he gently kicked her shoulder
with his foot. "Those who gave their lives in obtaining this prize will be remembered as
heroes."

Page 20

As she lay beneath the weight of the mystical net she began to whisper a prayer; a prayer
she had last uttered more than two centuries earlier on an island in the Mediterranean. It
was a prayer to an ancient god, long forgotten by most of her vampiric kind. She had used
it, promising her fealty for power greater than what she had already possessed. It was a
selfish prayer, but she had heard Laibach was a selfish god.

On that night so long ago, the great Old One had heard Scylla's prayers and bestowed upon
her the power of the serpent.

On this night, she prayed not for power, but for salvation.

It was a truly amazing thing, she believed, to have one of the ancients respond to her
prayers - but to think it would happen a second time was a foolish wish.

Their hands were upon her as they lifted and dragged her mass from the temple. She could
feel the warm desert winds caress her fevered form beneath the net. The leader continued to
praise his men, talking of the untold wealth of knowledge they would gain from the
violation and dissection of her body.

She smelled the nauseating aroma of diesel fumes as she was hauled up and placed inside
the back of a transport truck. "Take her to the citadel in Aswan," she heard the leader of the
Sages say.

The voice she heard next was one she did not recognise.
"Come on, now, you uptight gits. That's no way to treat a lady."

Page 21

Her thoughts raced as she strained to twist her body around to see what was happening
beyond the back of the truck. It looked to be some kind of stand off between the Sages and
an odd looking couple, a man dressed entirely in black leather, his hair white blond, and a
beautiful woman dressed in a flowing gown of velvet. There was a menacing calmness
about the man's demeanour, Scylla thought as she watched him casually light a cigarette
with the Sages' circle slowly tightening around them.

"I don't suppose that you've put your hands on the woman we're looking for," he added,
taking a quick puff from his smoke. "Blood drinker named Scylla, has the flashy talent of
turning into a snake. Quite the life of the party, I'd imagine."

"A party with snakes," his ethereal female companion added happily. There was an edge of
excitement to her sing-song voice. "Imagine how fabulous that would be? All that hissing
and slithering about. Let's do it, Spike, let's have a party and invite only snakes."

"That'll be the first thing we do, love," Spike said. "Soon as we bring the Master back from
the dead zone and restore the Old Ones to power, it'll be my number one priority."

Spike. Scylla had heard of this one. And if this was Spike his companion must be Drusilla.
More than a century before they had been part of the "family" that surrounded the
legendary Angelus. Scylla's mind raced. Why were they looking for her?

The Sages' leader removed an ornate crucifix from within his robes and held it out before
him. "We were unaware that the shape-shifter had allies, but I warn you vampire, the Order
of Sages is always prepared."

Page 22

Through hooded eyes Scylla watched as Spike and Drusilla averted their gaze from the holy
icon. Several other Sages began to move closer, brandishing blessed weapons of their own.

"Yeah," Spike replied, flicking his cigarette away, ember glowing in the desert night. "You
and the boy scouts. But I've eaten my share of those little monsters as well. The Order of
Sages. More like the Order of bloody posers."

Spike's features contorted, shifting to the guise of the vampire, his eyes flashing with fury.
He turned to face the Sage commander, reaching out and plucking the crucifix from the
man's grasp. The vampire's flesh sizzled where he held the holy item, but in a movement
like a blur, he plunged its pointed end into the leader's throat, then let the holy implement
fall to the sand.
"I've killed two Slayers and Dru a third. We've culled our share out of the Council of
Watchers," he said to the dying man as he shook the burning pain from his hand. "You
twits aren't fit to wipe their bums."

Drusilla put her fingers to her mouth and let loose with an ear splitting whistle. Scylla was
intrigued as the shadows all around the temple of Amun-Ra suddenly seemed to come
alive. A swarm of vampires streamed from the darkness to descend upon the Order of
Sages. They tried to defend themselves and several of the vampires were impaled or
decapitated, but the vampires' numbers were too great even for the sacred weapons wielded
by the Sages. Soon enough their screams filled the air and their blood showered the desert
floor.

Page 23

Was that a tiger tearing the head from one of the Sages with a single swipe of an enormous
paw? It was almost too much for her to comprehend. Her mind was awhirl, as if caught
within the hallucinogenic grip of a fever dream. Scylla craned her neck within the net and
saw Spike and Drusilla making their way toward her in the back of the truck. Drusilla held
Spike's burnt hand to her mouth, licking the seared, mottled flesh. Scylla wanted to speak,
to question them, but she was still too weak from the Sages' attack and the mystical
properties of the net.

They stood over her, staring at her through the enchanted netting. The woman's eyes were
wide with wonder.

"Oh look at her, Spike. Isn't she marvellous?"

"Course she is," Spike scoffed, reaching down to grasp a handful of the net. "Wouldn't
travel all the way to Egypt for just any snake woman."

He pulled the net from her and immediately she could feel the strength returning to her
leaden limbs. With a savage hiss, Scylla reared up on her muscular lower body, swaying
hypnotically before the two who had set her free and who had spoken of the Great Old
Ones.

"What do you want of me?"

"Easy, girl," Spike replied, his gaze wandering admiringly over her serpentine form.
"We've been sent to collect you for a very old friend."

Page 24
She looked out beyond the two to see the other vampires standing over their ravaged prey,
watching - waiting. "I do not understand," she whispered more to herself than to those who
stood before her.

The one called Drusilla came forward then and climbed up into the back of the truck. Scylla
suddenly felt calmer, almost peaceful.

"Do you not know me?" a guttural, distant voice asked from deep within Drusilla's throat.
The madwoman moved her hair away from her forehead to expose the mark there.

Scylla gasped. "Laibach." The notion that the Elder god had again answered her call was
almost too much for her to bear. She felt somehow both humbled and raised to glory, all at
once.

Drusilla reached up with her hands to hold her face. "I have need of you."

"I am yours," Scylla replied in a trembling whisper.

"Yes. Yes you are."

Their lips locked in a kiss of passion and utter devotion.

Page 25

Spike lay back against the feather pillow on the four-poster bed and closed his eyes. He was
in the master bedroom of the estate he and the Order of Aurelius had commandeered. The
blazing desert sun had risen outside but still he did not feel the pull of unconsciousness he
so desperately craved. He needed to rest, to recharge his battery for what was to come many
thousands of miles away in Sunnydale. He contemplated counting sheep but every time he
tried that trick the poor little lambs in his imagination were attacked and eaten by snakes
and tiger demons.

A high-pitched squeal followed by the sound of laughter filtered through the wall from the
living room next door. His eyes snapped open and he sighed with exasperation. It would
seem the Aurelius boys still hadn't finished with the house's former residents.

Spike glanced over to see if Drusilla had been awakened by the scream. But no, she lay
facing him, undisturbed. As he gazed at her he was amazed at how absolutely innocent she
could appear. Much like the sweet and fervently religious girl she had been when Angel
had first set about driving her mad.

They had travelled for hours trying to beat the sunrise when they came upon this rather
luxurious home on the outskirts of Dakhla. Spike had sent the comely Drusilla to the front
door for an invitation, a method of gaining entry that had worked for their kind for
millennia. Spike smiled to himself. The classics never went out of style. Drusilla had been
amazing to watch, masterful, playing the role of a lost tourist to a tee. It was only a matter
of minutes before she convinced the servant to invite her inside to use the phone. That was
all they needed. The house was theirs.

Page 26

Spike looked away from his love and closed his eyes. Watching the pleasure she got from
tricking the servant and then feeding upon him - it was almost like having the old, playful
Drusilla back. But deep down he knew that wouldn't happen until after they took care of
business in Slayer country. It chilled his bones to think what might happen if Buffy
interfered with Laibach's plans before the Old One released Drusilla. There was too much
at stake this time around. If the Slayer stuck her nose in, put Dru in danger, Spike would
have her guts for garters once and for all.

There was another shriek from the room next door. In a flash of anger he tore the boot from
his foot and violently tossed it at the wall.

"Here now," he yelled, "stop playing with your food or I'll bloody come out there and take
it away!"

It grew very quiet as he lay back down with an exasperated sigh. Maybe now he could
finally take a rest. Spike could feel sleep coming at last, as if he were resting comfortably
deep within the cold, dark earth. He began to sink deeper and deeper into its black embrace.
Yes, this was what he needed, this was-

"Spike?" Dru whispered very close to his ear.

He came awake with a start and turned to face his lady fair. "What is it, pet?"

She wriggled closer to him. "Did I wake you?" she asked coyly.

Spike rolled onto his side and put his arm around her waist. "No bother, I was only just
starting to nod off."

Drusilla ran her fingers through his white hair. "What's next, my love?" she asked as she
nuzzled his cheek. "We've done everything we were asked, where do we go from here?"

Page 27

Her affections toward him roused his desire. Spike began to nibble on her neck and
earlobes. "Once the sun sets we'll head over to the airfield in Luxor, grab a quick bite and
catch the first flight out of the land of the Pharaohs."
She grabbed his lower lip in her teeth and bit down hard, drawing blood. He flinched, but
did not pull away. Spike pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, his own blood smeared
between their mouths.

"I hate travelling by air," Drusilla said pulling her lips away from his. "All that planing and
deplaning to keep ahead of the horrid sun."

His hands slid down the small of her back to the gently rising slope of her perfect rear.

"And before we know it, we'll be back in Sunnydale."

The thought seemed to douse the flames of his desire and he pulled away to lie upon his
back again. "After our last visit, that's the last place I want to be," he said with a heavy sigh.

Drusilla rolled atop him and gazed down into his eyes. She smiled as she brought her
mouth down to his ear and began to squirm against him. Spike grinned, his arousal
returning.

"But you don't have a choice," said the voice of Laibach in his ear.

Repulsed, he gripped her by the shoulders and tossed her to the other side of the bed.
"Bloody hell," he spat.

Page 28

He watched her land on her back, a monstrous laugh escaping her mouth as she bounced.
"Just a reminder, Spike, in case you've forgotten how important this mission is to me."

"How could I forget," he grumbled, his desire for Drusilla as unattainable now as sleep.

Drusilla curled up in a tight ball and closed her eyes. "Good night, love," she cooed in her
own voice. "Sweet dreams." In seconds she was fast asleep.

Still unnerved by the Old One's intrusion he grabbed the pillow from his side and tossed it
to the floor. There was something about bedding down next to the woman he loved that he
now found frighteningly unnerving.

Spike lay down on the floor, closed his eyes and again chased the sweet oblivion of sleep.

Chapter Four
The Slayer pushed her blond tresses aside to expose the luscious milk-white tenderness of
her throat. "How did I ever think I could beat you?" she asked in a voice tinged with defeat
and longing.

Spike took her firmly by the shoulders and pulled her closer. He studied the fine curve of
her throat and watched as the carotid artery pulsed rhythmically beneath the alabaster flesh.
"How indeed," he said, baring his fangs in a malicious smile.

Buffy looked demurely up into his feral gaze. "I've been kidding myself," she said. "After
the first time we fought - I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to give myself to
you."

He leaned closer, his mouth drawing nearer to hers as he savoured the smell of her fear -
no, the smell of her desire. "It's nice to see that you've finally come around," he purred,
licking the skin above the throbbing artery at her throat.

"Take me, Spike," the Slayer whispered, tightening her grip upon him.

"With pleasure," he responded in a hungry growl.

He opened his mouth wider, about to bite into the delicious fruit, to suck upon its sweet
nectar, when he heard a scraping sound, as if some beast was scrabbling long claws across a
hardwood floor.

Page 2

Scritch-scratch.

Spike lifted his mouth from the creamy flesh of her throat and gazed about the nondescript
room. He had no idea where he was or why the room was filled with a thick, drifting mist,
but it didn't seem to matter. He only cared about the noise.

It came again. Scritch-scratch, scritch, scritch-scratch.

"You hear that?" Spike asked her.

"All I hear is your voice like the sound of the pounding surf or the crash of thunder. It's... "

"Yeah, yeah, besides all that," he interrupted, then stopped to listen intently.

Scritch-scratch! Louder this time. The noise seemed to come from all around him, echoing
off the shadows themselves.

"Is this some kind of Slayer trick?" Spike grabbed her and shook her.
She gave him one of her sunny, cheerleader smiles. He was surprised he didn't burst into
flames just being exposed to it.

"How could we possibly trick anybody as smart as you?" she said beaming. "Come on,
Spike. Don't'cha wanna drink my blood, rip out my throat, all that fun stuff? You've been
wanting a taste of me for ages. So come on, taste me."

Page 3

The room grew darker and the scratching louder. The Slayer glared at him, her sunny,
submissive disposition sucked away with the light from the strange room.

"I've had just about enough of you and your games, little miss." He threw himself at her
before he saw the stake in her hand. That wasn't there before, he thought as he descended
on her in slow motion.

Spike watched her begin to move toward him as he fell, stake clutched in her tight little
grip. Time stretched, slowed, as his death neared. He studied the simple piece of wood that
was about to destroy him. It was dark brown, the tip carved into a nasty point. It amazed
him that something so simple could fill him with so much dread.

The Slayer thrust the stake upward toward his long still heart. As the point punctured his
chest and he exploded into dust he could still hear the sounds that annoyed him so.

Scritch-scratch.

Page 4

Spike woke with a snarl. His hand went to his chest and he rubbed where he'd been staked
in his dream turned nightmare.

"Damn cheerleaders," he spat as he ran a hand through his sleep tussled hair, "can't trust a
bleedin' one of 'me." He glanced around for his cigarettes.

Scritch-scratch.

Spike froze. He glanced over to see if the sound had awakened Drusilla. She was asleep,
still curled in a tight little ball, thumb in her mouth. His cold, black heart ached with love
for her.

Scritch-scratch, scritch.

Brow furrowed intently, he listened carefully and attempted to locate the source. It seemed
to be coming from behind the heavy blankets over the window that had protected them
during the day from the burning rays of the sun. The scratching was replaced momentarily
by a low, snuffling sound. Spike relaxed slightly. Dead folks who owned the place must
have a pet of some sort, sniffing about now, looking for its dinner.

"Go away," said Spike, "or you'll be the evening meal."

The noise ceased and Spike grinned. He lay back upon the floor and began to contemplate
what would be in store for his merry little band this night, forcing thoughts of Slayers and
dreams from his mind for the moment.

Page 5

The glass behind the blankets exploded, shards of it tearing the fabric. Then those coverings
were torn away and a huge, shaggy, snarling form lunged into the room. With a ferocity
terrible to behold it leapt upon him, forcing him back to the floor as he tried to rise and
meet the attack. Its teeth gnashed and snapped at the air. He managed to force his arm
beneath its throat preventing it from biting off his face.

What kind of bloody pet did this family have? His mind raced as he fought to keep the
frenzied animal at bay. The stink of it filled his nostrils. It was the smell of dried blood and
offal.

It was a smell he knew.

"Nykos shall make you suffer before I turn you to dust," the beast spat in a strained whisper
as it bore down upon him.

"Oh, bloody hell."

It was the Lothgar demon they had run across in Paris. The one they thought they had
killed. Spike struggled to keep the filthy, thrashing creature at bay.

"Look, mate. I'm the only one around here allowed to talk about meself in the third person."

The Lothgar's head reared back and Spike got a good look at the four puckered scars
decorating the dark skin of its throat.

"Nasty scars," he said straining to push the demon from atop him. "Surprised to see you're
still up and about." Spike brought a knee up between the Lothgar's legs and flipped the
startled demon to the floor.

Page 6
Nykos scrambled to its feet, glaring at Spike, horrid features pinched with anguish. "To
steal prey from a Lothgar is the ultimate offence," the beast panted. "Hunt you to the ends
of the earth to make you and your woman pay for the indignity."

"You're joking. You followed us halfway around the bloody world 'cause we stole your
supper?" Spike asked with a confused tilt of his head. "Not pointing fingers, mind, but I'd
say someone's in need of some serious anger management counselling."

Nykos shrieked and sprang across the room. Its claws slashed down, black and gleaming.
"Die!"

Spike sidestepped the attack and drove his elbow into the back of his attacker's head,
sending it crashing to the floor. The Lothgar rolled, claws scritch-scratch scrabbling at the
ground before it leaped to its feet again.

"Come all this way so I could finish the job all proper like, eh?" Spike asked as he lashed
out. His blow cracked bone in the demon's chest and sent it reeling against the wall. "Guess
I should feel honoured."

He struck Nykos in the face and thick, dark blood spattered across the whitewashed wall.
Always filled with bluster and swagger, Spike knew how to set off an enemy with the
appearance of arrogance. He'd gotten so good at it - and had the skill and savagery to back
it up - that he had almost forgotten it was for show. Not this time. The Lothgar was deadly
and enraged and if he didn't end this quickly, it might not end the way he wanted it to.

Spike grabbed the demon's head and yanked it down even as he drove his knee up into its
face. He stepped back and studied the monster as it struggled to stay on its feet. "Could be
you're no more a threat to me then a mountain of camel dung in the road."

Page 7

Through swollen and bloody features Nykos snarled. It lunged at him, slashing its razor
sharp claws across his chest. Spike stepped back and gazed down at the tattered remains of
his shirt and the bloody furrows in his skin.

"Now you've gone and done it," he spat and tensed to lunge again. "The shirt was one of
my favourites."

The doors to the bedroom crashed open and both he and the Lothgar demon paused to glare
at those who dared interrupt their conflict. Malik, Scylla and the Order of Aurelius spilled
into the room. They look like the bleeding Keystone Cops, Spike thought as they eyed the
Lothgar and screeched to a halt just inside the doorway.

Malik slowly lowered himself to all fours and Spike knew that a full-blown transformation
into a demonic tiger was only moments away.
"Wait!" Spike shouted, keeping a close eye on his opponent. "This is between me and him,"
he said as he ripped his torn and bloodstained shirt from his body and threw it to the floor.

The intruders nodded in understanding and proceeded no further into the bedroom.

The demon smiled and ran the back of his hand across his bloody muzzle. "You surprise
me, leech," the demon said. "You show honour when none is usually to be found in your
ilk. A shame that you will soon die."

Page 8

"Got nothing to do with honour, mate," Spike shrugged, preparing to continue the fight,
"s'just I'm selfish, see. It's gonna be a pleasure."

Spike threw himself at his enemy, raining blows relentlessly upon the Lothgar demon.
Nykos was certainly durable, taking the repeated punishment and still coming back for
more. It felt good to let go, Spike mused, to let slip the rage and frustration that had been
pent-up inside him since the whole business with Laibach began.

From the corner of his eyes he could see the grinning idiot faces of the Order of Aurelius,
amused by the savage violence. Spike imagined they would be quite perturbed to learn that
most of the rage he vented on the demon was not for the Lothgar, but for the ancient deity
they held in such high regard and who held his precious lover as ransom for his servitude.
Just the thought of it fuelled his rage to near madness. He kept imagining that the Lothgar
was Laibach.

He twisted into a high kick that took the demon in the centre of its chest and knocked
Nykos backward. It stumbled, half falling upon the queen-sized bed.

Drusilla had been lost in a sleep impossibly deep, but when the Lothgar crashed down
beside her, she woke at last. Her raven hair spilled in a veil across her porcelain features
and her eyes were wide with the innocence of the mad.

"Spike?" she called sleepily, gazing about, a tiny smile flickering at the edges of her mouth.
"Is there a party? Why didn't you wake me?" She rubbed sleep from her eyes with a fist.

"Stay right where you are, poodle," Spike said as he cautiously moved toward the bed.
"Daddy's just finishing up some business."

Page 9

Nykos gazed at Dru and then back at Spike. It smiled, its teeth broken and bloody from the
relentless beating. "You wish to protect her from me?" the demon hissed, bloody saliva
running through its thick fur. "You've failed." It quickly began to crawl up the length of bed
toward Drusilla.

Spike dove. He landed atop the Lothgar and attempted to pull the demon beast from his
lover.

Drusilla giggled happily and clapped her hands. "Oh, naughty Spike, we haven't done this
in forever."

Nykos slashed one massive hand down and sliced four deep gashes across the exposed flesh
of Drusilla's leg. Her scream of pain was like a stake to Spike's heart. Fury surging through
him he hauled the struggling demon from the bed and onto the floor. Spike slammed a
headbutt into the face of the frenzied beast. A flash of dark motion at the edge of his vision
distracted him - Drusilla lunging off the bed - and he did not move fast enough to avoid the
Lodger's next attack. Nykos extended its head, mouth wide, and sank its jagged teeth into
his shoulder.

Spike bellowed as pain exploded through his undead body.

"Aaaargh!" he roared through gritted teeth as he yanked on the demon's fur covered head.
"And me without a newspaper."

He felt his blood running down his side in rivulets and began to rain blows down upon his
attacker's face. He was having little success in removing the beartrap like grip of the
demon's jaws when the lithe form of Drusilla suddenly loomed over them.

Page 10

"Get back, Dru" he spat. "This isn't a good time for you to be mucking about." The Lothgar
burrowed his face deeper into the gushing wound with a low, rumbling growl as Spike
screamed. "Go on... be a nice girl and keep... keep from getting underfoot!"

Drusilla didn't move. She continued to stare at them.

"It is called the death bite," said the voice of Laibach. Dru tilted her head and leaned closer
to study them. "It is a Lothgar's final attempt to wrest victory from its opponent." She
pointed at his shoulder. "It will stay attached even after it is dead."

"Thanks for the infomercial," Spike said as he plunged his thumb into the demon's eye and
twisted it around. "But I think I have a way to make old lockjaw let go." The demon's growl
turned to a shriek but it did not relent. "And then again... "

"I grow impatient," Laibach said as he made Drusilla reach down to grab the Lothgar by the
scruff of the neck. Her fingers sank deep into the fur and flesh and the demon began to
thrash. It released Spike's shoulder to howl in pain and snap at the air. He tore himself
away, leaving flesh and blood behind in the demon's maw.

Spike watched as his love, in the grip of the ancient power, lifted the struggling demon
from him by the loose fur at its neck. Nykos gnashed its ruined teeth. Its single, undamaged
eye rolled in its head, caught in the grip of bloodlust.

"A new day is coming," said Laibach to the demon as he placed one of Drusilla's delicate
hands against its muscular stomach. "A pity you will not live to see it."

Page 11

Spike struggled to his feet, a hand clutched to the wound in his shoulder, oblivious to pain
as he watched Laibach deal with his attacker.

Drusilla's fingers sank into the first layer of fur-covered muscle and continued to dig. The
Lothgar bucked in agony, dangling above the floor, still held by the neck in her vise-like
grasp. Her hand plunged into the stomach cavity with a wet slurp. The demon's frenzied
movements began to slow as Laibach used Drusilla's hands to remove the creature's large
intestine and toss it to the bedroom floor.

"Such fragile things, these simple beasts with the audacity to call themselves demons,"
Laibach said as he tugged more organs from the cavity and threw them to the floor. "I will
have to give serious thought to allowing your race to exist in my beautiful, new world."

She let the demon's limp body fall from her grasp and then looked at Spike.

"The sun has set," Laibach said with his lover's mouth. "Now it is time for us to begin the
journey. Take us to Sunnydale so I may again walk upon the earth."

Drusilla's eyes fluttered and it seemed as though she noticed the dead demon at her feet for
the very first time. "Spike," she cooed as she brought a gore-covered hand to her nose and
sniffed it. "Is the little monkey sleeping?"

Spike went to her. Lovingly he lifted her dress to see the extent of the damage done by the
Lothgar's claws. The wounds had already begun to heal. "Nothing to concern yourself with,
honeybun," he said as he kissed the tips of her fingers and gently touched the gashes on her
leg. "Just a bit of nastiness left over from our trip to Paris is all."

Page 12

He gazed up at her and noticed that something had captured her attention. She smiled in the
direction of the doorway.
Spike turned to see what she found so amusing.

The Order of Aurelius had fallen to their knees, grovelling before she who was the vessel
containing the most sacred of the great Old Ones.

"Look at them," Drusilla said with a giggle. "Scrabbling about in the dust like great ugly
children playing marbles with eyeballs, like that time in Seville. What a night that was, with
the music of broken bones and cadavers dancing flamenco. Can we go back someday?"

"Someday soon," he vowed. "But first, back to California. Back to where it all went
wrong."

A grim shadow passed over his dead heart. Nothing good could come out of returning to
Sunnydale. For her part, Drusilla was still gazing at the worshipful vampires who knelt
across the room from her.

"It's like they've all lost something at the same time and are searching for it," she said.

He hugged her close and gave her a peck atop the head. "They haven't lost a thing,
dumpling," Spike said. "In fact, I think they've found exactly what they're looking for."

Page 13

The customs representative's body spilled from the hold of the cargo plane and tumbled
onto the airport tarmac like a load of sodden laundry.

"That's what I call customer service," Spike said as he peered out from the darkness of the
airplane's belly. "There wasn't even supposed to be a meal on this flight."

Drusilla joined him and sluggishly wiped blood from the corner of her mouth. She looked
down at the body haphazardly splayed on the runway below. "Dusty old scrolls, some
broken pottery, perhaps even a mummy or two: but he wasn't expecting to find us. I think
we scared the poor dear half to death," she said. She closed her eyes and swayed in the faint
California breeze. "The fear that spiced his blood sings inside me. The melody burns my
lips."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm very tired from the trip, my Spike. I think I'd
like to take a little nap."

Spike took her into his arms and leapt down to the tarmac. Gently, he placed her back on
her feet. "Just as soon as our ride arrives, we'll get you someplace where you can have a lie
down. Until then, lean on me, that's a girl."

Page 14
The other members of the Order of Aurelius emerged from the plane to join them. They
stood silently, gazing at their new surroundings. Spike looked about as well and saw only
that he had returned to the place that he despised more than any other. The look of it, the
smells that travelled in the night air, even the feel of the ground beneath his feet, all served
to remind him of the failures he'd experienced here. This was her place - the Slayer, and no
matter how hard he tried, he could not kill her.

"Well?" Spike snapped at Malik.

The large, dark skinned vampire looked at him in confusion. "Well what?" he growled.

"Did you arrange for a lift or should we stroll on up to the main terminal and call a bloody
taxi?"

Malik snarled as he glanced down at his feet. "I arranged a ride before we left Egypt," he
said in a measured tone. "It should be arriving shortly."

"It better," Spike growled.

A moment later a limousine followed by a van appeared on the runway heading toward
them. Most of the Order shambled to the van. Only Malik and Drusilla remained by Spike's
side. A vampire in a dark suit emerged from the driver's side of the limousine and hurriedly
opened the door for Spike and Dru.

Malik entered the limo from the other side, sitting opposite them.

Page 15

Drusilla moaned pitifully and Spike lovingly patted her hand. "There now, blossom. We'll
get you to someplace you can rest, and Bob's yer uncle."

"And rest she shall until you have completed the task I have set before you," said the voice
of Laibach.

Spike pulled his hand away and looked at Dru. The ancient demon now peered out through
her beautiful eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Spike asked, cold fear stoking a raging fire in his chest.

"There is still much for you to do, vampire," Laibach whispered. "The necromancer
Matereani awaits your arrival so that the ritual to return the Master from beyond may
commence."
Spike glanced away from Laibach - from Drusilla - to gaze out the tinted windows. He'd
rather look at traffic signs passing by than the ancient evil peering out at him through his
lover's eyes.

"And I intend to be very helpful to our necromancer friend. It's what I agreed to do." Spike
glanced back at Laibach. "I'll keep my part of the bargain, will you?"

Page 16

A thick, throaty chuckle emerged from Drusilla's throat. "If you cannot trust one of the
Elder Gods of the Universe, who can you trust?" It continued to laugh as it looked to Malik
and then back to Spike. "Your lover shall be collateral. In a dreamlike state she shall remain
until you have fulfilled your promises to me. When the Master is returned, so shall Drusilla
be to you. Do you understand me, vampire?"

Spike stared out the window again, jaws clenched with the effort it took for him to restrain
himself. He had played by the rules - for the most part. Now Laibach was really beginning
to tick him off.

"Do you understand me, vampire?" Laibach said again, this time dipped in petulance.

Spike turned his head and looked directly in his lover's eyes, stared at the ancient evil that
had taken up residence there.

"Completely," he said, gaze never wavering.

Drusilla leaned her head back against the plush leather seat and she closed her eyes.
Laibach was gone. Spike tentatively took Drusilla's hand in his again. She rested fitfully
against him.

Page 17

They had driven in complete silence for close to an hour when Malik spoke. The sound of
his voice was like the rumble of sudden thunder in the quiet of the passenger area.

"And what of the Slayer?" he asked.

Spike winced. His eyes were closed and he sat slumped, still holding onto Drusilla's hand.
She had slid over, her head resting on his shoulder.

"What about her?"

He had thought of and reviewed every possible scenario involving her and his mission since
touching down. He believed himself prepared. Now he opened his eyes.
Malik tapped on the glass with his finger. "This is her place. What if she tries to stop us?
What then?"

"Who says she's going to find out? We do this all stealthy like and she'll never know we
were here."

"And if we're discovered?" Malik prodded. "What then?"

Spike narrowed his gaze and glared at the shape-shifter, this vampire who had been gifted
with the form of a Rhakshasa. "The Slayer sticks her cute little nose into our business... " he
turned to stare grimly out the tinted window. "And it gets bitten off."

Malik retreated into silent contemplation.

Page 18

Spike closed his eyes and found himself drifting into a place where his obligation to
Laibach had been fulfilled and Drusilla was again in his arms. A future place. It was going
to be a different world, a world where the burning warmth of the sun had been
extinguished, thick clouds of black ash filled the sky- and the Great Old Ones held sway
over all.

The New Order didn't appeal to him very much. Not a great deal of fun to be had after the
apocalypse, he was sure. But at least he would have Drusilla back. And as long as they
were together, well, there was no such thing as Hell.

Dru burrowed against him, muttering softly to herself.

"That's it, love," he said bringing her hand to his mouth and giving it a kiss. "You rest and
let me fix things. I'll have that dusty old god out of your head soon enough."

One way or another, he thought. One way, or another.

THE END