Part 35

Germany, 1885

Damon, the fourth Blood-Childe of Heinrich Nest, stood off to the side watching the proceedings. Lower in rank than his three older brothers, Luc, Angelus, and Anton, he did not command the attention they did so often his presence went unnoticed.

At times, the vampire found this to be advantageous. He was like a fly on the wall, hearing and seeing things, filing information away, remembering. Known for his brutality and strength, no one really suspected that underneath his muscular body was a very sharp, intelligent mind.

He watched with interest as his Sire, and the consort, Darla questioned the newest Bloodline vampire of the Clan, William. The new Childe was a beauty. Unfortunately, there was an air of 'wrongness' about him. The scent of humanity was obvious, and Damon knew that both the Master and the consort had smelled it.

"So tell me." Heinrich Nest studied the young vampire in front of him. He could hardly believe that this undersized, scrawny looking creature was the product of his favorite, the physically imposing Angelus. "No vampire in this Clan or any other has been able to match your Sire in viciousness. He is a legend with our people. No one can torture a victim like he can. So Childe, what talents or skills have you inherited from your Sire? Tell us about a particularly sadistic kill you've had."

Frightened and intimidated by the High Master and the crowd of people watching, William had no idea how to answer. He had never tortured anyone, and although basic instinct told him to lie, his mind was a blank.

Walking around the new Childe, a jealous Darla inspected him carefully. Seeing and smelling fear, she guessed his 'truth'. "You've never tortured anyone, have you, boy? Just how many kills have you made?"

Sighing to himself, Damon quietly and unobtrusively made his exit through a side door. He could see the handwriting on the wall for young William. The Master did not tolerate weakness, or any kind of humanity in his blood offspring, especially after the huge fiasco with Nic, his younger brother.

Stopping a moment, Damon debated whether he should head for the vestibule and have a word with Angelus, when a minion hurriedly came through the door. "The Master has called for the executioner." He announced to those present.

Hands in trouser pockets, Damon watched the minion rush to find the vampire who carried out the Clan's official death sentences. Eyes bleak, he showed no emotion, but inside his stomach churned. He knew that his Sire had been merciful to Nic by just ostracizing him, but would now take out his frustration and rage against the new Childe. And his brother Angelus would allow it because he was in line to be named Successor, and would certainly do nothing to jeopardize that position.

Not knowing William, but still pitying him, Damon turned to leave. He didn't want to watch his Sire put to death his own blood because deep down he knew that it was fundamentally wrong. "My Father just doesn't understand." He muttered to himself as he exited the lair.

Even though his mother had been human, Damon was still a favorite of Heinrich Nest, and despite his misgivings, he was deeply loyal to his Sire. So loyal that the thought of objecting or questioning his Father never crossed his mind.

**

Angel and company had successfully slain the Drokken with the help of Lorne's cousin, Landok. The Anagogic demon had made a surprise appearance in the library, courtesy of an unknowing Cordelia who had accidentally opened up another portal. While battling, Landok was bitten by the Drokken; a bite that was fatal unless he was sent back to his home world for an antidote.

"We need to get him back where we know a portal exits." Sitting in the front of the car between Angel and Wesley, Cordelia thought back to her vision, remembering the details.

"We could go back to the library, but since it's closed, I'm thinking that the Caritas would be our best bet."

"So we get him back to a portal, and then what?" Making a sharp u-turn, Angel couldn't keep the edginess out of his voice. He just wanted to get back to the hotel and check on his Childer.

"He needs to read from the book. The portal will then send him back." Her vision and intuition had given Cordelia the answer as to how to send Landok back to his home dimension.

"You're sure about this?" Wesley asked doubtfully.

"My vision was telling me that that's what happened to that girl Fred. The portals works both ways."

Pulling up to the Caritas, Angel had no intention of getting out. "I'm going back to the Hyperion. You guys can figure out how to send. . . ." He glanced at the Anagogic demon who was getting out of his car. "Landok back."

"Angel, just a few minutes longer." Wesley still had his doubts and wanted the reassurance of the vampire's presence. "We might need you yet. What if when we open the portal, instead of sending Landok back, it sends something here again. Hopefully not, but stay just in case. This shouldn't take too."

Sighing, Angel reluctantly got out of his car. Walking around, he grabbed Landok's arm, and helped the Host guide his cousin into the Caritas.

Entering, Lorne gestured with one hand toward the club's stage. "There. Up on the stage. There's where the portal opened, and the Drokken came through. Talk about upstaging me."

"Get him up on the stage then." Cordelia ordered as she handed the book from the library to the Anagogic demon. "Just read out loud from it, and you'll be home before you can click your heels three times." She crossed her fingers. "Well, that's the theory anyway."

"To defeat the Drokken, you must be a great and noble warrior." Making his farewells, Landok addressed Angel, respect plainly written on his face. Then he turned to Lorne. "Goodbye, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan. I feel we will meet again some day."

"Oh, god. I hope not." The Host was horrified at that thought.

Opening the book, the Anagogic demon began reading. Moments passed. The ground began to shake, a bright light appeared, and a gust of wind blew through the room.

Briefly blinded by the intense light, Angel felt a sense of nothingness and then a sense of falling. A moment of unconsciousness and then opening his eyes, he found himself lying in a patch of sunlight on the ground. "Goddamn it!" Jumping up, he scrambled for cover. "The sun!" Yelling over to a confused Wesley. "Wes, I need a blanket or something. . . ." Stopping as he realized that he wasn't bursting into flame. "Why am I not on fire?"

"Well. . .I. . .the sun." The ex-Watcher looked up into the sky. "Or suns. We must be. . . ." He looked wildly around. "We must be. . . ."

"In home sweet hell, gentlemen." The Host interrupted him. "Welcome to my world. Welcome to Pylea."

**

"Fucking Angelus! The next time I see him, I'm going to rip out his insides and boil them in holy water." Two days had passed since Angel had left to help kill the Drokken demon. Two days of wondering and worrying had Nic beside himself with anger. "Well. . . ?" He looked over at the scouts who had just come back. "Did you find that motherfucker? Did you find our esteemed *High Master*?"

"My Liege." The elder of the scouts stepped closer to Nic. "We tracked their scents to a warehouse, and then it appears that. . . ."

"Appears!" Grabbing the minion by the throat, Nic was so wishing he were Angel. "I don't want to hear your guesses. I want facts!"

"We then tracked them to a nightclub. It was closed and empty. And from there, the scents just ended." Now on his knees, a strong hand wrapped around his throat, the scout managed to gasp this out. A Bloodline vampire, Nic was stronger, faster, and deadlier than any common vampire.

The famous Tremeren temper, Nic had inherited it as well. "Ended? That's fucking impossible. If they weren't in the club, then. . . ."

"He's gone, uncle." Lying on the hotel's front desk, Spike had been camped out in the lobby since he had begun his vigil for Angel. "The scouts are right. My Sire has disappeared again." He said the words softly, with a quiet despair.

"What do you mean, William?" Letting go of the minion, Nic stepped closer to his nephew.

"I can't feel him." His voice was now a whisper. "He's gone. Just like. . .Romania." He clasped the glass jar that he had been holding against his chest tighter. "Right, Djoser? You can't feel him either, can you?"

Looking over at his other nephew who had stepped up to the front desk, Nic nodded head, signaling for an explanation.

"No, I can't feel him either." The dark vampire admitted as he gently took his brother's hand in his. A small gesture that comforted and reassured.

By exchanging and sharing blood vampires forged a bond with each other. A blood bond, stronger than any chain made by man or magic. But somehow the blood connection with their Sire had been severed.

"Jesus fucking Christ. Don't tell me that some gypsies cursed him again." Shaking his head, Nic couldn't believe his bad luck. Newly named sponsor to the two Heir Apparents, and Angelus decided to pull his famous disappearing act. "Son-of-a-bitch never could follow through on his responsibilities." Cursing his brother again, the vampire gathered his thoughts. In a moment of weakness his inner demon whispered in his ear. "Leave them. Go back to Mexico. To your businesses. To your mistress. After all they're not your Childer."

Sensing these thoughts, Spike raised his head up to look at his uncle. And it was his face that vanquished Nic's inner temptation. Face so young looking, so beautiful, but eyes haunted, giving the impression of an ancient weariness.

"Listen." Nic tried to speak with a confident tone. "I've got a plan. We get our asses on the first flight to Germany. We'll go to the lair and Damon. You'll both be safe there, and then I'll. . . ."

"We're not going to go to Germany." Djoser interrupted him.

"Oh, Christ." Looking up at the ceiling, Nic could feel an argument coming on.

"Djoser. . . ." He spoke slowly. "The plan all along was to go to Germany. Angelus was just waiting for William to be cured of the poisons. Now. . . ."

"My Sire is gone. . .or possibly dead." Djoser interrupted again. "That makes me the Master, and I'm telling you that we're not going to Germany."

"Why not?" Despite his hopelessness, Spike couldn't help but be curious. "Our

Fath. . .He told me that the lair in Germany was better than any fortress. We'd be safe there. And we also would be reunited with our uncle and. . . ."

"William, you can't trust Damon anymore." Voice matter-of-fact, Djoser squeezed his brother's slim hand. "We're on our own again. We'll send his minions back, and. . . ."

"DJOSER!" Nic took a threatening step toward his nephew. "Stop your bullshit right now! You're scaring William. Damon is your blood uncle. He's your Elder, and being such, he'll be the Clan's regent, until you're ready."

"He'll want us out of the way." Looking up, Djoser's expression was harsh, but determined. "With us out of the way, he can take over as High Master. He's the eldest surviving Blood-Childe of the Old Master. He now has a Blood-Childe of his own. Those two factors would make him the logical choice of many to be the next High Master. The only stumbling block he has is. . . ." The warrior vampire looked down at his brother. "Us."

"Oh, for christ's sake!" Nic swore loudly. "Were you reading King Richard the Third last night, and now you think we're all in a Shakespearean play? Damon is the evil Richard the Third, and you and William are the poor orphaned nephews. Get a fucking grip!"

"Damon is not on our side." Djoser argued. "When my Sire rebelled against the Old Master, he fought against us."

Memory dulled by time, Djoser erroneously remembered Damon fighting against them. He knew for a fact that his uncle had not fought with them, so his natural conclusion was that his uncle had sided with the Old Master. So convinced of that fact, the warrior vampire actually had false memories of Damon fighting against them. And Nic, who had been living an ocean away during Angelus' revolt, knew nothing to the contrary.

"Goddamn-son-of-a-bitch! I need a fucking drink." Turning around, Nic saw the scouts watching them with interest. "Get down in the sewers! You can help stand guard." He ordered them away, angry that he had allowed minions to witness them arguing.

Bowing their heads, the scouts began to back away, but did not make it very far as at that moment, a hundred or more vampires came swarming into the Hyperion. They attacked through the front door and the sewers, dusting all the minions in their path.

"Fuck!" Nic leaped to Angel's weapon cabinet with Djoser and Spike right behind him. Pulling out a sword, he faced down the enemy, standing protectively in front of his nephews.

Dusting the scouts, the vampires closed around Nic, Djoser, and Spike, but did not attack. Blocked in, the three looked wildly around, trying to find any kind of an escape. Then the sea of vampires in front of them parted, and a tall, elegant figure walked toward them. It was Judelin, the Ventrue High Master.

**

"IN PYLEA!" Hands resting on his knees, Gunn was standing doubled over. He was too shaky to do otherwise. "Your world! So what the fuck just happened to us?"

"We must have gotten sucked through the portal along with. . . with. . . ." Gathering his wits, Wesley looked around for Landok. "Where's your cousin?" He asked Lorne as he took notice of those present. "And CORDELIA? WHERE'S CORDELIA?" Panic filled him as he began to scramble around, searching madly for the missing woman.

Sniffing the air, Angel tried to catch Cordelia's scent, but only came up with traces of the two male humans and the Anagogic demon. "She's not anywhere in this area. She must have come through the portal and landed somewhere else."

"Somewhere else where? The other side of the planet. . .err, this is a planet, right?" Gunn looked questioningly over at Lorne.

"Yeah." The Host was looking distractedly around. "I just hope that she's with Landok because Plyea is no place for a. . . ."

"No place for a what?" Wesley was staring intently at Lorne, sensing that the demon was holding something back.

"No place for anyone who looks. . .human. Now, I'm going to optimistically assume that Cordelia and Landok came through the portal together. He'll go to the family home, so all we need to do is head there."

Angel, Gunn, and Wesley all exchanged looks. "I can't stay here." Angel stated to the three other men. "I must get back to my Childer. We still have too many enemies, and they need my protection."

"Believe me, big guy." Checking his surroundings, Lorne got his bearings and began walking in the direction of town. "I have no desire to spend one minute more in this godforsaken place than I have to. The sooner we all leave the better. Landok was reading the book when the portal was opened, so he must still have it. We'll find him, Cordelia, and the *book*, and be back in LA for evening cocktails. Anyone got any objections to that plan?"

**

"Listen Jude. . .err. . .Ventrue High Master. . .err." Holding his sword in front of him, Nic tried to remember the proper address for a Clan High Master. "I was the one who committed treason against you and your. . .mighty. . . ." He figured that a little flattery wouldn't hurt his cause. "Clan. My nephews here had nothing to do with it, so take me and let them go."

"I know who you are." Judelin eyed Nic with interest. "The disgraced youngest Blood-Childe of Heinrich Nest. We have never met, so I will forgive you your ignorance. . .but just this one time." Stepping forward, the Master vampire's objective was to disarm, but Nic read his intent and swung the sword, aiming for the other vampire's neck. The sword hit its target, but instead of slicing through skin and flesh, the blade just broke in half.

"What the fuck?" Nic watched in disbelief as the piece of metal clanged to the floor. "What kind of tinker toy weapons does Angelus keep here?"

"As I was saying. . . ." Judelin seized Nic by the throat. "You do not know me, so you do not know how much I *hate* liars." With no effort at all, the master vampire threw Nic across the room like he was a rag doll. "I will not kill you, just break all the bones in your body."

Hitting the wall with a tremendous force, Nic was immediately knocked unconscious. Pushing Spike behind him, Djoser now faced down the Ventrue Master. "We are the Blood-Childer of Angelus. By attacking us, you will have declared war against our Clan, against our Sire." He bluffed. "Angelus, High Master of the Tremeren Clan, Scourge of Europe will. . . ."

"Funny thing." Judelin grabbed Djoser by the front of his shirt. "I have been here for a good while, and I have not caught one glimpse of your Sire. Which can only lead me to believe that he does not care enough for his brother or Childer to risk himself. But as far as declaring war. . . ." Tightening his grip on Djoser, he showed his demon countenance. "You, Childe have already declared war on us."

****

Author's Notes: Elisabeth sent this part back to me with some big question marks, so I'm just going to do a short recap to clarify for anyone who like her, lost this thread of the plot.

Summary: After Djoser had been sent to the Ventrues he collaborated with the Toreadors to take one of the Ventrue Blood-Childer hostage. The Toreadors did this in retaliation to the Ventrues aggressively taking over the other vampire clans. In return for Djoser's help, the Toreadors gave him information on the Council's poisons. Because of Djoser and the Toreadors, Judelin's GrandChilde ended up in the hands of the Council and was poisoned. Enraged, Judelin put out a death warrant on Djoser and then took over the Toreador Clan, killing their High Master, Abenrey.

Part 36

"Father. . . ." The vampire's voice broke as he looked away from the figure who lay before him. A blackened, skeletal shape. His Childe. His Heir. His beloved son.

"Go, my Childe." Judelin, High Master of the Ventrue Clan, placed reassuring hands on the vampire's shoulders. "I will take care of. . .everything. Go and grieve in private and be comforted by the fact that our enemies are now paying the price for their treacherous act."

Hearing the voices, Spike struggled to consciousness. His head pounded, and his mouth felt like he had gargled with sand. Prying his eyes open, he found himself shackled to the floor by long chains. Trapped, his instinct for survival kicked in. Senses alert, he began ascertaining the situation as his eyes took in the Ventrue Master, the exiting vampire, and. . . Djoser. The sight of his brother pinned by hundreds of metal skewers to two wooden planks in the shape of an X, brought him to his feet in shock. "Djoser." He whispered in a strangled voice.

"A just punishment. . . ." Turning to Spike, the formidable Ventrue Master addressed him while motioning to the blackened, poisoned form of his GrandChilde. "For his crime."

"My Lord!" Falling to his knees, Spike couldn't decide which sight was worse, Djoser or the dying Ventrue vampire. "This is my fault. My brother was only trying to help me." Voice falling to a whisper. "I. . .we never meant for anyone from your Clan or family to be hurt."

Attitude softening slightly as the master vampire sensed that Spike was telling the truth. "I know that you, William, Blood-Childe of Angelus, are innocent of this transgression. You will be spared. *You* have nothing to worry about." Without another word, Judelin turned away and in a movement so swift that even Spike's vampiric sight couldn't track it, pulled out a stake and buried it in his dying GrandChilde's chest. "May the pain end for you now, my Childe." Watching the body dissolve, blood tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the dust of the now dead vampire.

Head sagging, Spike felt the master vampire's anguish and realized that although the Ventrues were their rivals, they were not the 'evil enemy.' They had lost and suffered as much as the Tremerens. Tears ran down his face as he looked at his tortured brother and the grieving Ventrue Master. There would be no winner in this fight, only losers.

Noticing the tears, the Ventrue Master turned to Spike with curiosity. "Who are you crying for? Did I not tell you that you would be spared?"

"Please, my Lord." Spike raised his head but still stayed on his hands and knees. "Would you consider condemning me in place of my brother? Release Djoser. He's special, you know. Our people need him to continue our Bloodline. Take your revenge by killing me instead."

"You offer your life for your brother's?" Judelin was intrigued. "A Tremeren vampire is actually offering his life for that of his brother? In all my years, I have never witnessed such a loyal act from one of your Clan. Tell me, Childe, why would you make such a sacrifice?"

"I love him." No thinking was required as Spike simply answered the question truthfully.

Staring hard at Spike, Judelin could smell his sincerity but was still having a hard time believing it. "If I put your brother to death, then you would become your Father's Successor. Is that not what you want? You of the Tremeren Bloodline, who are known for your ambition and your thirst for power."

Fear for Djoser and fear for himself had put Spike on his best behavior as he tried to be reverent and speak formally, but that effort could only last so long with him. He still stayed on his knees, but to continue being so proper was not within his abilities. "Not this Tremeren, mate. And besides, not fit to be High Master. Constantly screwing up. Let the Slayer bounce an organ on my head. Let some military humans put a chip in my head, and then when I got them to take it out, they poisoned me. Can't depend on me to hold up my end in any kind of fight. . .and I'm flawed too." Adding this last part for good measure, he'd used every argument he could think of.

Judelin's first encounter with Spike at the Hyperion had left the elder vampire with the impression of an obnoxious, undisciplined youngest, which had only confirmed to him that the Childe was not worth saving. But now, the Ventrue Master was thrown. In all his years, he had never met anyone like Angelus' youngest. Staring down at the kneeling vampire, Judelin had to smile slightly. "So you say that you are imperfect. Inferior to your brother and your Sire."

"Right." Spike nodded with relief. The Old Fart was getting it. "My Father and my brother are a credit to the vampire race, but me. . .too human, not demon enough. My GrandSire knew it, and my Sire knows it."

Quietly contemplating, Judelin moved his fingers ever so slightly, signaling for his minions to unchain the prisoner.

Free from his manacles, Spike immediately raced over to Djoser and began removing the skewers from his brother's tortured body.

A large skewer had been shoved through the mouth, over the tongue and through the throat, preventing the warrior vampire from speaking. As soon as it was pulled out, he tried to gurgle out some orders to his younger brother. "Wi-il. . . ."

"Shh. Save your strength." Spike whispered. "I've got the situation under control."

"Wil-l. . . ." Finally gasping out his brother's name, Djoser found that if he reverted back to that nasty human habit of breathing, he could make his voice work again. "Will, stop!" Arms still pinned down, he jerked them both up, letting the skewers pass through them. Looking over at the Venture Master, he addressed him. "My brother had nothing to do with the treason that was committed against you and your Clan. Let him go. Take him back to my uncle. Nic will find a way to take care of him."

"You also plead for your brother's life?" Judelin's brilliant eyes studied the two Tremeren vampires. "How is this possible? Your Sire would have gladly offered up the heads of his brothers, if given the opportunity. Less competition for him."

Still working on the skewers, Spike stopped for a moment. "Our Father doesn't want Damon and Nic dead, does he?" He asked Djoser in a low, confused voice.

"He's not referring to Damon and Nic. He's talking about Luc and Anton, our Sire's full-blooded brothers. Years ago, the three of them battled over who would be the Old Master's Successor."

"Need to draw me a bloody family tree sometime." Spike grumbled. "I can never keep them all straight."

Listening to the conversation, the Ventrue Master had to laugh. "Did your Sire not teach you about your Bloodline, Childe? Angelus was certainly remiss in your upbringing."

"He tried to teach me." Turning his head, Spike answered the Ventrue while pulling out a particularly big skewer that had been lodged through Djoser's intestines. "I just never listened."

"What a remarkable Childe you are." Judelin was now eyeing Spike with interest. "A Tremeren Heir Apparent who has no desire to become the Successor and loves his brother to the point that he would sacrifice his own life. You are more of a credit to the vampire race than Angelus ever was."

The Ventrue Master's surprising words made Spike pause for a minute in shock. That anyone would think he was superior to Angel in any way was laughable. "Right, mate." Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulled the last of the skewers out of Djoser and began licking his brother's wounds.

Watching the two siblings, Judelin came to a decision. "I will spare your brother, William, Blood-Childe of Angelus, but with a condition."

Turning his head to look at the master vampire, Spike answered him quickly. "Name it, and it's done. I'll die for him."

"William!" Djoser hissed a warning wishing he could use a little force with his brother to shut him up, but so weakened he was just having trouble standing.

Unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a hard, muscular chest, Judelin opened his arms. "Come to me, my Childe." Eyes mesmerizing, the tall, seductive vampire master beckoned to Spike, who showed no reservations about obeying. Taking a step before a bloody hand grabbed him.

"William, no!" Djoser moved to stop his brother but was easily pulled back by Ventrue minions.

Strong arms wrapped around him, and Spike found himself drawn in and taken over by the Ventrue Master. Clothes removed, his cool body was pressed up against a large body not unlike his Sire's, except the scent was different. It was all wrong. A sharp sting on his neck, and he felt his life's blood being drawn out of him.

**

Wrists shackled together and surrounded by armed guards, Angel realized that it was now or never. A risk had to be taken. "We're getting out of here." He whispered grimly to his three companions.

After making their way to the Host's family homestead, Angel and company had found Landok but no Cordelia and no book! Continuing their search, the four men had an unfortunate run-in with the local authorities. Taken prisoners, they were incarcerated for a time and were now being brought before the ruler of Pylea to face a sentence of death.

"Follow my lead." Angel then turned and slammed his manacled fists into a guard's stomach. Wesley, Gunn, and Lorne also attacked, but before the brawl could get ugly, they were interrupted.

"Ahem." Sitting on a throne, Cordelia, resplendent in jewels, crown, and a shimmering outfit cleared her throat loudly. When four sets of eyes turned her way, she smiled broadly in greeting. "Hi, guys."

**

"So what happened to you?" Speaking freely now that Cordelia had dismissed the Pyleans, Angel stared at the young woman while the other three men were busy cramming food into their mouths.

"What's it look like? They jabbed me with hot pokers for a while and then. . . ." Cordelia walked over to a full-length mirror and began preening. "Made me a princess."

Speaking with his mouth full, Wesley was thoughtful. "That doesn't make sense. I mean, in a world where humans are slaves and chattel, why would they elevate one to monarch?"

"You had a vision, didn't you, pudding?" Swallowing his food, Lorne looked over Plyea's new monarch. "That explains it."

"How so?" Gunn asked.

Done eating, Lorne sat himself down on Cordelia's throne while he proceeded to explain. "The ones in power here, the priests of the Covenant of Trombli, a humorless bunch, teach of a coming messiah. A cursed one. A being with the pure sight, who one day will claim the throne and restore the monarchy."

"You mean, they think she's. . . ." Gunn pointed to Cordelia. "The messiah?" Giving Cordy another look, the young man couldn't help but bust out in gales of laughter.

Glaring daggers at Gunn, Cordelia considered going over and punching her co-worker in the stomach. It's hard to laugh when you're doubled over in pain. "Hey, laughing boy, I'd make a damn good messiah, and you never know, it could happen."

"It has happened." Wesley interjected. "At least that's what these Trombli believe. And so long as they do, we might actually stand a chance of surviving this place long enough to find our way out."

"And that's what we need to do. . .now." Finally joining in the conversation, Angel had been quietly brooding. He couldn't feel his Childer. While his blood bond with them had been broken when he had been sucked into the portal, an uneasy gnawing was burning in his stomach. Even being in another dimension couldn't break his parental bond. He knew that something was terribly wrong. "I can't FUCKING stay here anymore." Picking up a decorative pot, he threw it against the wall.

"Hey!" Walking over to Angel, Cordy grabbed the second pot he had picked up. "Stop breaking the 'princess's treasures. And I can see that a certain vampire is still walking around in a foul mood."

"MY CHILDER! My Childer are in trouble and I need to get to them." Voice now raised, he looked around at the people in the room. People who he had helped. "Don't any of you understand or care?"

"We do care, Angel." Speaking quietly, Wesley hoped to calm the vampire. "I want to get you. . .us back as soon as possible, but I'm missing both a book and a portal."

"I can't help with the portals, but. . . ." Cordelia chimed in. Her conscience had been pricked by Angel's words. "They've got books here. Those trombonal guys? They used some when they swore me in."

"I've got to see those books. Angel. . . ." Wesley decided that giving the vampire a task would help keep his mind off worrying. "While I, with Cordy and Gunn's help, search for the proper incantation, it might save time if you and Lorne hit the streets and see if you can document any portal activity. Go see his cousin Landok again. Speak to his family."

"Whoa, whoa, back up the bus. You want me to talk to my family. . .AGAIN? On PURPOSE?" Lorne's recent meeting with his mother and family was still giving him indigestion.

"Well, it's that, or face the possibility of *never* returning to our own dimension again." Wesley explained patiently.

Reluctantly standing up, the Anagogic demon sighed heavily. "Alright. Come on, crabbycakes." He grabbed Angel's arm to pull him along. "Ironic, isn't it? I'd give my left horn never to see my family again, but I'm forced to. While you, on-the-other-hand, would give your left fang to be with your family, and you can't. Life's just a bitch even for us demons, isn't it?"

**

Drowning another mug of blood, Nic was determined to speed up his healing process, even though his stomach rumbled uncomfortably. It felt sick, not hungry, and was sending him that message loud and clear.

"Ok, this is what I need you to do." He stared at the last two remaining Tremeren minions. They had escaped the fate of their comrades because they had not been at the Hyperion when the Ventrues stormed the hotel. "One of you needs to go to Germany, pronto. Do either one of you speak German, or are familiar with the country?"

The two minions exchanged looks, and then one slowly raised his hand. "My Liege. I took two years of German in High School."

"You took German in High School!" Repeating the minion's words with annoyance, Nic's first reaction was to throw something, but remembering that was Angel's habit, he instead took a deep, unnecessary breath. "The fucking fate of our Bloodline rests with a minion who took German in fucking High School." He muttered angrily to himself while taking another gulp of blood. "Just how fucking old are you two?"

Exchanging looks again, the minions felt their superior's anger. "We were both turned more than two years ago when our master. . . ."

"Never fucking mind!" Nic interrupted him crossly. "I'm going to send you to Germany. Once there, do you think that you just might be able to find our lair and give my brother Damon a message?"

"Sir." The minion stood up straighter. "My master trained us all in tracking. Once in Germany, I will have no problem in finding him and the lair."

"Thank the gods that Damon trained his minions well." Nic now eyed the two lower vampires with appreciation. "Good. Here's a credit card. Call the airlines and find out when the first available flight to Germany is and reserve a ticket. Don't suppose you have a passport? I've got some fake passports, but we'd have to doctor the picture. . . ."

"Sir, I have a passport."

"Fucking A! The first fucking break I've had." Just when Nic thought he surely must be cursed by the gods, a small bit of good fortune fell on him. "Get on the phone to the airlines now, then go pack a bag." He ordered the minion. "And when you arrive in Germany, locate Damon and tell him that our High Master is missing and that the two Heir Apparents have been taken by the Ventrues. Not that he's going to be able to get here soon enough to do anything about it." The last part was mumbled softly.

Kneeling briefly, the vampire took the credit card and went and sat at Cordelia's desk to call the airlines.

"Now you." Nic addressed the second minion as he finished off the last of the blood he had been drinking. "You're going to help me recruit some demons. We're going to build an army and fast. Comprendes?"

The young vampire had no idea what Nic was talking about, but still nodded his head in agreement and awaited his next orders.

**

Pacing the floor, Barshon, the red-robed priest of the Covenant of Trombli was not pleased with their current situation. Stopping his pacing, he turned to address his leader, a red-faced demon. "Silas, to allow her to wear the crown is a sacrilege!"

"She is cursed. She has the sight. We all agreed."

"Not all. . .why would the powers choose as their vessel this craven beast?"

"It doesn't matter why. She is our sovereign now and no harm must come to her. At least not until after the Com-shuk."

Resuming his pacing, Barshon continued his grumbling. "That traitor, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan, and one of the princess' cow friends left the palace a short time ago."

"Really?" Hearing that news, Silas was thoughtful. "How interesting. I think that it's time for us to make a statement. A strong statement so she might never forget who is the master here and who is the servant. Tell the guards to find those two friends of hers and kill them. And Barshon. . . ." Silas stopped the other priest as he headed for the door. "If the guards see an opportunity to take the heads of the two cow friends who are still here in the palace, tell them to take it."

"Should I send the guards to the throne room?"

"No, don't kill them in front of the princess. The Groosalug has been summoned and will arrive before nightfall. Let's not upset her before the com-shuk. After the com-shuk. . .well, if they all still live, then we show her the heads of her cow friends before we take hers."

**

"Guess every family has its problems." Angel couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for the Anagogic demon as the two made their way through the countryside. A second visit to the Host's mother had resulted in a second dance of shame, a second spitting upon, and a second 'May you rot in Tarkna.' "At least we got a lead from Landok on where there might be another portal."

"Family!" Lorne couldn't help but say this with some bitterness as he stopped to look around. "What's the saying, 'you can pick your friends, not your family'."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I've spent a good part of my existence trying to kill most of my family. And even my beloved Childer, I've abused, ignored, and abandoned."

"Yeah, I guess it could be worse. . . ." Lorne studied the landscape, trying to spot the area where Landok had said he had fallen through the portal. "I could be related to you. Now I think that. . . ." Breaking off as a young woman, fleeing at top speed came into view, with soldiers on horseback right on her heels. "Oh boy, soldiers. That's not good."

"What? They're chasing that girl. They're not interested in us. Now. . . ." Angel was unconcerned. "Your cousin said the portal was by two big boulders. There are two boulders over. . . ." Breaking off as the soldiers spotted them, stopped their chase of the woman, and turned their horses in the pair's direction.

"Did you just say they weren't interested in us?" Lorne looked around for a place to hide. "Because the aura that I'm reading is that they're very interested in us. So interested that I think they're planning to come our way." The Host got ready to run as the soldiers slowly began to advance on them.

"Don't worry." Grabbing the Anagogic demon, Angel stopped him as he allowed his demon side to emerge. "I'll take care of them. I've been waiting for an opportunity to take out my frustrations on someone."

"Did I say oh boy?" Lorne commented as he watched Angel walk in the direction of the soldiers. Angel's visage was that of no vampire but that of a pure bestial demon. "I meant to say OH CHRIST!"

****

Part 37

Finding an excuse to separate Cordelia from Wesley and Gunn, the priests of the Covenant of Trombli then attempted an assassination of the two men. Barely escaping the palace with their lives, the pair made their way through the countryside, looking for Angel and Lorne.

"So tell me again Englishman, what's the plan?"

"We find Angel and the Host, and then the four of us will sneak back into the palace, rescue Cordelia, and steal one of the priest's books. The book will then open a portal, and we can all go home. Shouldn't be too hard." Wesley tried to sound confident.

"Ah huh." Gunn was skeptical. "Not too hard at all, except we can't even find Angel and Lorne. In fact, the only thing we've managed to accomplish is getting ourselves lost."

"Nonsense." Wesley was adamant. "I've been following the sun. We're headed due west, back toward the village."

"Which one?"

"Which village? The one that's near Lorne's family. . . ."

"Which sun? There're two of them. Remember, alternate dimension." Interrupting, Gunn gave the ex-Watcher a contemptuous look. "Fuck Wes, I told you we were lost."

"Listen, this can't be that hard. We've both been. . . ." Breaking off as the sounds of screaming and the unmistakable voice of the Host yelling, reached their ears.

"Well, I think we accomplished step one of your plan." Gunn shouted to Wesley as the two men took off running in the direction of the noise. "I just hope those aren't the sounds of a vampire and an Anagogic demon dying."

**

"Jesus fucking Christ! This is the best you could get?" Broken leg now mended, Nic paced the hotel floor in front of the minion and the scraggly group of demons that had been recruited.

"Sir." The minion explained. "The Ventrues not only have the Watcher's Council on the run, but have taken over the Toreadores and the Malkavians. Judelin, their High Master, is on a rampage. Vampires, demons, humans. Everyone is terrified of him and his Clan now. No one wants to go up against them."

"That's just fucking great!" Falling down into a chair, Nic wondered if by now it was too late. Perhaps both his nephews were already dead. "And why are these. . . ." He nodded toward the recruits with curiosity. "Demons willing to fight against the Ventrues?"

"They're willing to do anything for a couple of bucks. Means a fix or two." The minion looked over the demons with hopelessness in his eyes. He too knew that they stood no chance of saving the Clan's Heir Apparents with this sorry group of recruits.

"Christ!" Nic contemplated for a moment. "Don't know if Djoser and William are even still alive, but if they are, then the only other option I have is to start calling in some markers. . . .Feed this bunch." He ordered the minion. "We'll keep them around for now. They're all we've got. In the meantime, I'll make some phone calls."

**

"Lorne!" Rushing up to the Anagogic demon, both Gunn and Wesley were happy to see him alive and well.

"What's up? And where's Angel. . .whoa!" Gunn couldn't help but take a few involuntary steps backward at the sight in front of him; a demon-beast tearing up the palace guards. "What the hell is that?"

"That's our vampire friend." The Host had been yelling and waving his arms at the bestial Angel. "He's lost all control. Worried about his Childer. I've been trying to bring him back to his senses."

"Why's he look like that?" Glancing down, Gunn noticed some small stones. Picking some up, he began throwing them at Angel, trying to get the vampire's attention.

"My guess is that Angel's vampire-self has been sublimated somehow by this dimension." Wesley observed thoughtfully as he surveyed the scene. "And who is that?" He asked noticing for the first time a young woman who stood frozen in fear behind a boulder.

"Probably a run away slave. Ahh Gunn. . . ." Lorne held up a finger. "I don't think you should be throwing things at Angel right now. He's not in the best of humor, and. . . . Breaking off as the vampire turned toward them. "As I was saying, I don't think he's going to appreciate stones being thrown at him. . . .You know I'm not liking the look he has in his eyes."

"Really?" Stopping his stone throwing, Gunn glared over at Lorne. "And what kind of look does his eyes have?"

" I read them to say that he's going to come over here and tear all our limbs off." Glancing around, the Anagogic demon readied himself to run.

"Angel! Can you hear me? Angel!" Grabbing a branch, Wesley held it in front of him, prepared to use it if needed.

"He can't hear you, Wes." Speaking slowly, Lorne couldn't believe the stupidity of his human companions. "That's one hundred per cent demon walking toward you. Tell me, do you want to tangle with Angelus' pure demon self?"

"He's got to snap out of it. We can't break into the palace without him." A resolute Wesley held his ground. "Angel! The priests have the books. The books we need to open a portal. Angel!"

Wesley's words caught both Angel's and the young woman's attention as both stared at the ex-Watcher.

Fighting for control of his demon side, Angel willed his human face to emerge as the young runaway slave crept closer, so she could hear what was being said. "Wesley." He growled. "You have to get me home *now*. My Childer need me!"

"In order to get our hands on the books, we'll probably have to fight the priests, their guards, and perhaps some creature called the Groosalug." Lowering the branch, the Englishman spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. "I believe, I don't need to ask if you feel up to that task."

"I'll tear out and feed them their own hearts." Still growling, Angel turned in the direction of the palace. "Just lead the way."

**

Locked up in small cell, Djoser sat desperate and alone, worrying about what else the Ventrue Master was doing to his brother. Frustration and anger welled up in him as he cursed Judelin, the Ventrues, the Watcher's Council, and especially his own Sire.

"He comes back, but does He care for William? NO! William has suffered more since His return." The warrior vampire mumbled angrily to himself as memories flashed through his head.

**

Germany, 1997

"Believe it or not, I do have some good news for you." Walking into the room, the vampiress, Alex studied her injured nephew. "I've managed to find William."

"Where?" Sitting up in bed, Djoser groaned, fairly sure that some of his insides just fell out.

"California."

"California!" Djoser couldn't help the exclamation. "Stupid shit couldn't run off somewhere close, like England. Had to go to the other side of the world." The dark vampire grumbled to himself. Pausing a moment, he closed his eyes. He was tired. Tired of chasing William and Drusilla through countless countries, trying to protect them. The last incident in Prague had been a close call. He and Ramose had just barely managed to keep the mob at bay, so William and Drusilla could escape.

"Damn! Ramose was seriously hurt in Prague. Don't know if he can travel just yet." Djoser opened his eyes to look at Alex, hoping that she would volunteer to go to California and watch over William, while he and Ramose recovered from their injuries. "So the good news is that you found William, and he's in California. Hope you've got even better news for me, like *you'll* go to California. . . ."

"Actually that wasn't the good news. The good news is that none of us has to run to California immediately." The vampiress interrupted him.

"What do you mean?" Straightening up, Djoser gave Alex an inquiring look.

"William's in Sunnydale, California. Why he went there is a mystery to us all, but he's there, and. . . ."

"Sunnydale!" Ignoring his pain, Djoser stood up as he eyed the vampiress guardedly. She had been working with him the last one hundred years, helping him with William. Even so, the warrior vampire found it hard to completely trust her. Point-in-fact, he didn't trust anyone other than his long-time companion Ramose. "That's where the Old Master had relocated."

"The Hellmouth." Alex shook her head. "The old fool thought he could open the Hellmouth and release the 'the Old Ones', but instead he only ended up trapping himself."

"But the Old Master is dead, isn't he? I've heard rumors that he was killed by the Slayer. " Walking around to the back of the vampiress, Djoser sniffed her suspiciously.

"Those weren't rumors. Those were facts." Not flinching, Alex stood tall under Djoser's scrutiny. "The Old Master was done in by the Slayer, and the Consort, Darla, was also killed. . . ." Turning to look at her nephew, the vampiress' eyes met his. "Killed by your Sire."

Even the stoic Djoser couldn't keep the surprise off his face. "My Father is back? He killed Darla? How. . . ?" He stared unbelievingly at Alex.

"Yes, your Sire has returned." The vampiress explained. "And judging by the fact that he finally managed to cut the last tie with Darla, I do believe that he has finally grown up. An adult Angelus, ready to live up to his responsibilities." She murmured the last sentence more to herself. "He'll hear about William being in Sunnydale and at long last take control of that Childe again. You can stop being William's guardian. Take Ramose and go back to your homeland. Both of you could use some time in your native soil. Rest, recuperate, and regain your strength because I'm sure that you'll be getting a summons shortly from your Sire to join him."

"My Sire is back. And he did away Darla." Djoser muttered this in wonderment as an unfamiliar feeling spread through him. A feeling of hope. Wounded and tired, the vampire took his aunt's advice. He returned to his homeland with a badly injured Ramose to await his Father's summons. A summons which never came.

**

"And what happened." Sitting back against the wall of his cell, Djoser spoke quietly to himself. "My Sire still didn't care about us. He never acknowledged William in Sunnydale, just hurt him and let the Slayer hurt him. Alex, you were so wrong about everything." Thinking back, the vampire could not make up his mind if his aunt had just badly misjudged the situation, or if she had been playing some secret game of her own. A suspicion kept nagging at him that the vampiress had betrayed them. Betrayed them so that Luc, her husband could become the Next High Master of the Tremere Clan.

**

The body was pinned under him, and the demon, sensing victory, went for the kill.

"Angel! Stop the fight. Stop it now. Don't hurt him!" Rushing out to the courtyard, Cordelia threw herself on top of the vampire. "The head priest is dead. I cut his ugly head off his ugly body. We've got the books, and we can go home now. PLEASE, don't kill him." She pleaded for the life of the Groosalug.

Hooking up with the human rebels, Wesley and Gunn had stormed the castle, while Angel, with the help of the young slave girl Fred, created a diversion by challenging the Groosalug.

Easing up on the warrior's throat, Angel half turned to push Cordy off his back. This gave the Groosalug the opportunity to punch him hard in the stomach, throwing him backward on top of Cordelia.

Despite having a much bigger body land on top of her, Cordelia still kept fighting. Wrapping both arms around the vampire, she struggled to hold him down. "Stop the fighting NOW." She yelled. "The priests have been defeated. We've won."

"And him?" Rushing out into the courtyard after Cordelia, Wesley pointed to the Groosalug.

"He's a noble warrior and on our side." Feeling Angel's body relax slightly, Cordelia struggled to push him off her. "The priests were just using him. He has done nothing wrong."

Reason returning, Angel pushed down his demon. "I *want* to go home!"

"And so you shall." Wesley assured the vampire. "We've got the books, and Fred here has been telling me that she knows a lot about the portals. She's the missing librarian. The one from your vision." He addressed this to Cordelia.

"Well, I don't know a lot about portals. Only that the trionic speechcraft formulation/modification has to alter the dynamic reality sphere, and. . . ." Stopping to laugh a little hysterically, the young physicist student couldn't believe that she was actually going to go back to her own world.

Standing up, human face now in place, Angel brushed himself off. "Then let's go. My Childer await me."

**

Standing in the streets of LA, Djoser looked around, getting his bearings. The Ventrues had not been totally without compassion as they had left him not too far from the Hyperion. Weak from the Ventrue's torture, the vampire stumbled along, carrying his awkward burden.

"Just a little further, Will." He spoke to a comatose Spike, pretending to himself that his brother could hear him. "Nic will be at the hotel, and then together we'll go somewhere safe. We'll go. . .we'll go. . . ." The vampire had no idea where he and his brother would find a place of refuge.

**

Running ahead of the rest, Angel hurried into the Hyperion. He didn't have to be told that something was seriously wrong. "Nic!" The first person he saw was his brother. "My Childer! Where are. . . ?"

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in." Turning, Nic felt his anger begin to overwhelm him. "Fucking asshole! While you're off playing with your. . .your friends. . . ." He motioned to the gang who was coming through the front door. "That fucking Judelin and his Clan came here and took Djoser and William."

Body freezing as Angel realized his worst fears had come true. "And what are you doing about it?" He asked as he looked around the hotel lobby, noticing the group of demons sitting off in a corner.

"Recruiting a fucking army. What does it look like?" Nic could swear that his anger was beginning to throb in his head. A fact which surprised him, since he had no blood pressure.

"And our minions?"

"All but two were dusted by the Ventrues. I sent one of them to Germany to find Damon. Yeah, and you can also have fun explaining to him how it was your fucking fault that all his minions are now dust."

"We're going in." Heading for the weapons cabinet, Angel's whole body radiated determination.

"Angel! Wait, don't be rash." Rushing up to the vampire, Wesley tried to reason with him. "Going in with this. . .this. . . ." He waved his hand in the direction of the recruited demons. "This untested army is suicide. Let me contact the Council. They've been fighting the Ventrues. Perhaps they have some insight, or. . . ."

"They're the ones who started this whole mess!" Pulling out weapons, Angel began to hand them out. "They're the last ones I would go to. Now. Get. Out. Of. My. Way. Wesley." Staring at the human, the last part was said with a growl.

"All right." Backing down, Wesley looked over at Cordy, Gunn, and Lorne. Unspoken words were passed between them. They were in agreement. "You're going in, so let us back you up." He told Angel softly as he took the ax from the vampire's hands. "It's the least we can do in return for all the help you've given us."

Surprised, Angel could only stare at the ex-Watcher for a moment. Then in a low, quiet tone, he said. "Thank you." Looking around, he began to thank the others when his attention was caught by a tall figure standing in the doorway, desperately trying to hold another body in his arms.

"Ahh." Fred had been the first to see Djoser enter the hotel and had been poking first Cordelia and then Gunn to try and get someone to notice the newcomer. "He just came in, and I was. . . ."

Before she could finish her sentence, Angel was across the room, catching both his Childer as Djoser collapsed to the floor.

**

"Angel. May I come in." Lightly tapping on the door, Wesley waited, mug in hand for permission to enter.

"Come."

Opening the door, the ex-Watcher quietly entered, not wanting to disturb the sleeping vampires. "I brought you some food." He tiptoed over to Angel, setting the coffee mug on the nightstand. "Human blood."

"Human blood?" Tilting his head, Angel sniffed the mug. "Raid the blood bank?"

"No, it's my blood." Wesley smiled slightly. "I know you're in need of some good sustenance with having to feed both. . . ." Looking first at a sleeping Djoser on the bed, and then at a still comatose Spike who was lying on top of Angel. "Your Childer. . . .And how is Spike? Any sign of consciousness?"

"No." Shaking his head, Angel couldn't help but stroke his Childe's hair. "The Ventrue Master drained him totally. It will take time and blood before he'll come out of this coma."

"Angel. . . ." Wesley had been pondering what had happened to Djoser and Spike and found himself baffled. "Why would Judelin do this? I mean, it's wonderful that he didn't kill your Childer, but why drain Spike into a coma?"

"A warning to me." Angel nodded his head at a piece of paper that was lying at his feet on the hassock.

"This was pinned to Spike's. . .Spike's. . . ." Picking up the paper, Wesley looked over at Spike's black duster. After raiding Snow's compound, the Ventrues had recovered it, and Judelin had sent Angelus' youngest Childe back, naked and wrapped in it.

"If I'm not mistaken, this is written in vampire, no?" Studying the paper, Wesley thought he recognized one or two of the characters. "Do you understand what it says?"

"Yes. My Sire was very strict about us learning our language, both written and spoken."

"So, what did the Ventrue Master have to say to you?"

"He says that I was blessed with two beautiful sons, and that if I don't start caring for them better, he'll take them from me." Looking down at Spike, Angel couldn't help but rub his fingers lightly over two fresh marks on his Childe's neck. The Ventrue Master had remarked Spike with the Tremeren Blood-Childe symbol, but he had also left a mark of his own.

"Take them from you?" Wesley repeated Angel's words with puzzlement. "What, he would adopt them as his own Childer?"

"Yes." Angel nodded his head. "That's exactly what he means."

"How odd." Wesley had never thought that adopting Childer was a concept in the vampire culture. "I'd like to talk to you more about this subject one day because I really don't understand why a Ventrue Master of another Clan would want Childer of another Bloodline. Perhaps when Djoser and Spike have recovered, you can explain his reasoning to me."

Nodding in agreement, Angel lay back in his chair, hand holding Spike's head against his bare chest.

"I'll leave you now." Wesley could see the vampire's strain. He headed for the door, but before he could quietly shut it, the ex-Watcher heard a mumble.

"I'll go back to hell and take him with me before he gets my Childer!"

****

Author's Note: When I originally sketched out the outline of this fic, this was how I planned to end it with just the addition of a small epilogue of Spike waking up and having a discussion with Angel. (That part has been written and will be the opening scene of Part 38.) But with a certain S3 Angel event that plugs in so perfectly with one of my plotlines, I decided to continue this fic for a few chapters more. So bear with me, and be prepared for the next few parts to have some major S3 Angel spoilers. ~~ P'al Kwai

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