Prologue

Edward Francis Clarence Culpepper III searched the gathering gloom. The night was falling gently, and despite only being a few days before Christmas, the air was warm and soft. Out-of-season cicadas skre-eed from the live oaks dotting the massive backyard garden. His eyes flicked over the lit pool and shrubs iced with Christmas lights. Turning slightly, he shifted his grip on the crossbow and took a swig of whisky, swirling the melting ice to hear the faint clink.

He could hear rustling in the sitting room behind him, and he hoped he wouldn't have to remind them that he wasn't to be disturbed. He was on his thinking porch, and didn't want to have to think about disciplining someone else. He had enough worrying to do.

Damn fool didn't think I would find out? He ate my goddamned gardener! Does he have any idea how hard it is to grow real roses in this climate? Now where is he hiding, I told him to trim the gardenia bushes. He shook his head slightly and sharpened his eyes, letting the gold shine through. Ah, there he is. Carefully, he raised the crossbow and aimed it at a man of medium build bending over some immaculately pruned, though currently flowerless, bushes on the far side of the pool. This is such a shame, he never could control himself. Well Randolf, you almost made a good minion. Your loss. With that last thought, he released the hammer and the bolt sang through the dusk, embedding itself between the startled eyes of poor Randolf. Damn, I missed. C.C., as his childhood friends had called him, loaded another bolt slowly, watching Randolf flop around in agony. He hoped he wouldn't fall into the pool--he'd have to clean the whole thing again. Letting loose the second bolt, Randolf disappeared into a flurry of dust. Satisfied, C.C. dropped the crossbow on a nearby chair and sipped his drink once more, contemplating the honey brown light that refracted through.

It occurred to C.C., not for the first time, that he was bored. He had the world, or at least the world that mattered, in the palm of his nearly 300-year-old hand. He had been at the Alamo, he had fought the wars. He had wildcatted for oil, he had ranched the longhorns his beloved Texas was so famous for. He had conquered Texas-well, as much as was worthwhile anyway-ruling his domain from a series of ranches and oil patches, ever circling closer to Dallas- Fort Worth. Not that there was any particular draw to the area. No history, no future, just drive and determination to exist, like C.C. He liked the pointless self-importance, the tacky sense of fashion, the larger-than-life personas. He fit right in and made it his own. He had bought the politicians, fixed the elections, run the drug rings. He rode the technological roller coaster. He went to the sporting events. He was there from the beginning of this godforsaken place. He did it all. And he even conquered death.

And now he was bored. No one was left to challenge him here, and he didn't wish to leave heaven, or as close as he was going to get, the mother country. Oh, sure, Tritt was getting big in his britches, and was smart enough for an above-average minion. Smart enough to know he was too stupid to pull off the kind of coup it would take to dethrone C.C. He was no threat. C.C. had heard of the rise of the newly reborn House of Aurelius, and it intrigued him. How they moved in and claimed whichever city they wanted. He respected that attitude, or more likely recognized it in himself. The House was a worthy opponent, but they didn't have anything he wanted, except a fight. He smiled slightly. Maybe I'll get me one o' those after all, thinking of the news that had filtered in earlier that day.

"Luis!"

A minion scurried out of the lit room behind him to kneel at his feet. C.C. grabbed the back of his head, twanging softly, "Send someone to dust-bust Randolf, but first tell me about our visitors…"

Chapter 1

This is winter? It's as bad as LA. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce sniffed and stroked the back of Drusilla's hand. She was paying no attention to him, whatsoever. She was staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows and cooing softly to herself. She raised her free hand and traced the patterns the lights made on the pane.

Drusilla had seen a postcard of downtown Dallas at night. It was from a great flood a few years ago and the brightly lit buildings shone double in the watery reflection. One that caught Dru's particular attention was Reunion Tower. The slender tower rising out of the Hilton Hotel overlooked the old Reunion Arena. Though Reunion Arena had long since fallen into disfavor, the Tower loomed above it, topped with a golden ball of lights surrounding a revolving restaurant and bar. Dru had pronounced it 'human fairy lights!' and demanded they visit. Naturally, he would not refuse. The trip cross-country with their daughter allowed for a perfect time to stop. Faith was off playing with some of Spike's younger childer, and would be joining them on Christmas Day before heading back to California.

Now he sat with her in early twilight, scanning the slowly spinning skyscrapers with mild amusement. That was his typical reaction to Dallas. He hadn't been impressed. It was flat and architecturally boring. Vast expanses of concrete linked the multiple burbs together like some great cancerous mass. Despite the bleak visual outlook, the weather had been pleasant. Too pleasant in fact. Wesley liked his winters to be wintry. A good cuppa by the roaring fire, thankful to be out of the elements, relishing humanity's triumph over nature. Here, on the other hand, people were moaning about the chill in the air at 50°.

Dru's giggles brought him back to his current situation as he smiled warmly at her. "Is there anything you want, my dear?"

Flashing her steel blue eyes, she whispered, "See that on the next table? It's so blue and lovely. It would make my insides blue, like the sky. I want my insides to see the sky; may I have one?"

Glancing behind him, Wes saw the garishly decorated neon blue cocktail. With a wry smile, he waved the waiter over. Whatever my lady wants, she gets.

The waiter carefully avoided looking at their non-reflection in the window pane, and inclined his head in question. Scribbling, he backed away from the table, Wes's eyes following him with a frown. So he's familiar with vampires. And hasn't been eaten. Wes knew the workplace talk regarding the master of Dallas. The lowdown was he kept to himself, no one knew his real age, he didn't take kindly to strangers, and was a general recluse. Hmm, can't be that much of a recluse, if people recognize vampires. He must have good control over his minions, too, if they aren't eating the populace. Perhaps it's best to stay out of his way until we're gone. Another few weeks at most.

Dru fairly squeaked with delight at her frou-frou drink, grasping it with both hands and taking a large gulp. A small grimace at the sweetness and she was taking another drink. Grinning, she batted her eyelashes at her lover.

"My tongue! It's cold!" Her tongue snaked out of her mouth to lap neatly at the corner of her lips before she turned her head once more to gaze at the Dallas skyline. They would stay until midnight, then traverse the few miles northward to their suite at the Mansion at Turtle Creek. It had come highly recommended, but Wesley thought it a bit overdone. Plus, there was the downside of poor hunting. The trip back tonight should take care of that need nicely; the slums of any downtown were boring but thankfully almost identical. He took up her hand as she began humming softly once again.

***

C.C. sat in an oversized leather armchair, stroking the head of the Walker hound he favored. Luis had done his job better than expected, and the information on his interlopers was most distressing. He supposed he should be pleased: the House of Aurelius had sent one of their most distinguished members to his town--The Lady Drusilla. She seemed to have brought a minion or companion of some sort, though he was quite young. C.C. frowned. Young or not, this Pryce person was reputed to have 'powers' of some sort. Irritating. It would be much easier if they had sent some worthless childe needing a lesson. He could swat the fly and move on with his life. I reckon I should be pleased they sent the Lady. Shows they know proper respect. That aside, C.C. was a bit concerned they had not announced themselves. This discourtesy would not go unpunished. Sighing, he stroked the soft ears and skull of his hound and drifted into thought.

***

The previous night's hunt had been productive, not to mention entertaining, and they had slept until close to sundown. One of the advantages of becoming a vampire had been the synchronicity of their schedules. He was no longer bound to be awake during the day, and whatever work he did for both Angel Investigations and the family could be done at his pace--he was a real member of the family now. No one would dare flout his claim as a true prince in the family, not that they ever did.

Rolling onto his side, he traced Drusilla's outline through the sheets. She lay perfectly still, but he knew she watched every move he made. Curling up behind her, he nuzzled the back of her neck, inhaling the essence of Drusilla, nightshade and belladonna, his addictive princess.

"Are you ready for some more lights, my love? I've found something that may interest you."

She rolled over to face him, her skin glowing from sleep. Running her fingers lightly over his jawline, she smiled. "I know, my Wesley. You have found me more fairy lights. I only wish you had some fairies to go with them."

He laughed. "No, my dear, you do not. You know how nasty fairies can be, messing things up for fun. They'd ruin your lovely frock, and we wouldn't be able to get you a new one till tomorrow. You'd have to run around all naked!"

His eyes glinted in the failing light and Dru purred. "That wouldn't be so bad, you know. I like naked."

"I know, my dear, but then we wouldn't get to see the lights. You want to see them, don't you?" Pouting softly, she snuggled deeper into his embrace.

"Of course. Shall we? We will have a most interesting evening, I assure you. I wouldn't want to miss it for anything." With that they propelled themselves out of bed, into the shower.

***

The annual lighting of the SMU Christmas trees was somewhat of a Highland Park tradition. People from all over appeared on campus to listen to the student body sing holiday-related music and illuminate thousands of tiny white lights. As he predicted, Drusilla loved it. Many of the songs performed were of old Christmas origin, some from as long ago as Dru's actual childhood. Humming merrily, she swayed back and forth in her seat, before 'ooo'ing with the rest of the crowd as the lights burst into flame, lining the main quad of campus.

All a-twitter with Christmas cheer, they walked down the main sidewalk through the center of the quad, stopping at the fountain. Some mischievous undergraduate had poured a bottle of bubbles into the fountain, creating cascades of fluffy white bubbles, glittering like living snowballs in the sparking lights. Wesley thought his heart would burst like the fragile wisps of soap and water as Dru kilted her skirt and kicked off her shoes, lightly leaping into the middle of the frothing water.

He watched entranced as his lady cavorted, not caring whether her skirt was soaked or her hair undone. She was her own music as she twirled and danced, and Wes could hear the song in her soul. Abruptly, she stopped, staring wide.

"My Wesley, the games have begun. Tell me, do you hear?" He cocked his head and let his senses flow into the night, as she had taught him. Faintly, so very faintly he thought he imagined it, he could hear the weeping of a girl. Raising a questioning eyebrow, Wes turned to Drusilla, already climbing out of the fountain.

"It always starts with the smallest detail, my love. And the world follows suit. Come, we have work to do!" Faintly bemused, Wesley followed his lady as she strode through the trees lining the boulevard, out into the darkness.

Chapter 2

Drusilla ran through the bleeding dark, her ebony hair blending with the shadows; the false play of streetlights against her skin swirled like camouflage and Wesley was filled with wonder. This nightlady was his and his alone. She turned to face him, the topaz in her eyes glowing like tiny fires.

"Delicious, don't you smell the fear? But she will lead us to much more interesting prey, a delightful game. You like games, my dear, games to slash and cut. Delicate games, with delectable spoils." She grinned the gamine grin of a hunting cat and pulled him around a large live oak. Her features melted back to human and she smoothed her skirts.

Kneeling on the ground beside the stone bench was a fragile-looking girl, no more than nineteen years old. She was weeping and trying to scrub at her hands with sand from the cement ashtray.

Rocking slightly, she murmured to herself, "Bad, must get clean, can't let them see, must get clean, been a bad girl, must get clean." She screamed as Drusilla touched her shoulder, but didn't run. "Who-- who are you?"

"Hush now, dearie, we're here to help." Dru stroked the girl's hair back from her feverish forehead. "We can make it all end, you know. The past is irrevocable for most people, but for you, we can change your future." Wesley moved around the bench to crouch at her feet. She smelled overwhelmingly like violence and sex, fear and shame, a heady combination to a vampire.

He added his assurances to Drusilla's. "My lady and I, we can be your avenging angels if you tell us what happened. You'll find that many things are possible if you believe," he added with a small smile. Wesley wasn't sure what Drusilla was playing at, but she'd rarely led him wrong before. If she believed they could convince this young woman they were avenging angels, it would certainly add an element of whimsy to the evening.

Drusilla sat on the bench and pulled the girl up into her lap.

"You- you're cold. So very cold." She started rocking again, "Bad, bad, bad, bad." Her short black skirt was torn up the left edge and the blue and yellow sorority t-shirt was smeared with blood. "I just wanted to go with the others. They said to go to him and he'd fix me up. They didn't tell me the price…" She started shaking and Drusilla began to wordlessly croon. It wasn't hard to figure out what the price had been.

Wesley ground his blunt teeth. He hated rapists, whatever their stripes. He'd enjoy taking this one to pieces, the one who forced sex as a price for whatever it was the girl wanted.

"Shall we see what she was up to, my love?" Drusilla placed her cool hands on either side of the girl's temples and Wesley laid one of his on Drusilla's hands and the other on the girl's cheek. Drusilla closed her eyes and pushed and she and Wesley were watching what the girl had seen, doing what the girl had done.

"Come on, Annie. If you don't get a fake ID, you'll never be able to go out with us. I mean, the Green Elephant even checks IDs sometimes. Look, Tom knows this guy, and he can get you anything. I mean anything. Lucy went to him last year and no one gives her a hard time. It's like, a perfect copy. Just trust me."

Annie nodded and followed her friend out of the sorority house, a wad of cash tucked into her pocket. Tamara's boyfriend Tom was waiting at the curb, his new BMW convertible's top down.

"Hey ladies, nice night. So, Annie, you've decided to ante up and play with the big boys? We'll drop you off at the residence halls and you just go ahead to room 212. Roy'll be waiting for you. His roommate is out, like always." The girls climbed in the back and screamed as Tom roared away from the curb. Tamara flicked her cigarette butt at the windshield of a passing car, laughing as the car slammed on brakes and the driver flipped her off. All too soon, they were at the block of upper-classmen dorms overlooking the swimming pool.

Annie climbed out of the car and straightened her skirt. "So, I'll see you guys back at the house later? Then we can all go out?" The other two nodded and peeled out of the parking lot.

Gathering her courage, she climbed the stairs to room 212 and knocked. A thin, scruffy kid with tinted glasses opened the door. "You'll be Annie then, the freshmeat who wants to go play. Come in."

Swallowing her nervousness, she followed Roy into the room, starting as he locked the door behind her. "I hear you make fake IDs?"

He laughed. "I make anything, sweetcheeks. But since you asked, I do. I make more of them than anyone in the southwest. I run the biggest fake ID ring out there and I'm dammed proud of it. You've come to the best."

Roy studied her for a minute. "Sit here. And be still while I take your photo. Try to look old." Two clicks of a flash and he was loading the pictures into the computer. Only seconds later, a freshly minted ID dropped out of a regulation machine on the other side of the room. Annie had taken the few minutes to look around and was startled by what she saw. Scales and blocks of weed were stacked on the bookcase. A miscellaneous white powder sat in baggies in a drawer and she was pretty sure she could see a gun case under the bed. She would be glad to leave.

He handed her the ID, but didn't let go. "Now, now. What's the hurry? You still owe me payment."

"Oh! Sorry, how much is it?" She pulled the wad of cash from her pocket. "Will this be enough?" Roy took it and rifled through the bills, never once letting go of her hand.

"Tom was right, you are a pretty thing. As a matter of fact, no it won't be. I have something better in mind." He twisted her wrist until she dropped to her knees in pain. Roy grabbed the edge of her skirt and yanked it, ripping the seam. Annie started to whimper as Roy shoved her backwards…

Drusilla yanked them out of Annie's mind. "There's no reason for her to relive this again." She hissed and bared her fangs, all the while stroking Annie's hair.

"Child, we'll fix this for you, but you have to promise us something." The girl lifted tear-filled eyes to look Wesley in the face. "Go home. Don't try anything so stupid again, and get new friends. You don't need the ones you have." Sniffling, the girl nodded. "The world is a frightening place, don't go looking for trouble. And remember, you did nothing to deserve this, no one ever does." He laid his hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. A gentle glow emanated from his fingertips, and the girl visibly relaxed.

"Let her go now, Dru. I've fixed it such that she will think this is a dream." Annie stood and started walking back to sorority row, weaving slightly. "She'll be fine, or as fine as she can be." He shifted so the delicate eye ridges cast faint shadows on his face. He ran his tongue down his gleaming incisors and lifted Drusilla to her feet. "Let's go hunting."

Hand in hand, they struck off across campus, weaving through the live oaks that lined the boulevard. They passed the natatorium on their left and prowled up the shallow stairs to the upper-classmen courtyard. They turned to the building on the far left and with one pass of Wes' hand over the sensor, the doors swung open. The common room was mostly empty, and the few students there paid them no mind as they turned up the stairway to the second floor.

Reaching room 212, Wesley raised his hand to rap on the door. A few seconds later, the door cracked open.

"What do you want?"

Wes smiled his most charming smile, "We heard this was where to come when we needed anything. That you're the man to get whatever we need." The door cracked open a little bit more.

"You got cash?" Wes nodded and pulled a bulging wad of hundreds out of his pocket. "Why didn't you say so? Come in, come in." Roy opened the door completely and led the couple in. "Hang on, would you, I'm on the phone." When they nodded he cupped his hand over the mouthpiece. "Yeah, Tritt, I'm here. Two English types want something. Yeah, tell him to double the drop next week. Got a couple new clients and things are looking good. Yeah. Fine. Same time next week." He hung up the phone and shoved a pile of dirty laundry off a barca lounger and sat down. "What can I do for you?"

Drusilla wandered over to his stereo and flipped through the CDs. "Oooo, I like this one, can we listen to this one, my Wesley?" One inquiring eyebrow later, Roy pressed play on Lords of Acid. Drusilla clapped her hands and twirled. "Lovely, she must, she must, she must increase her bust!" She giggled and slunk across the cluttered room to pounce on Wes.

"My lady and I, we're looking for entertainment, actually. And we think you're just the man to provide it." Roy shrugged and gestured around the room.

"Pick your poison, man, I got it all. And if you want live entertainment, my boss has quite a stable to choose from."

Drusilla danced her way behind the lounger and ran her fingers down Roy's cheek. "You don't seem to understand, dearie. We want you to be the entertainment." With that, she slashed his cheek wide open.

"Bitch! What did you do that for!" He scrambled out of the chair and tripped. Dru wove her head from side to side and licked her fingertips, sliding into her demon visage and blowing him a kiss. "Shit!! Shitty shit shit!" Roy pushed himself backwards only to find himself smack against Wesley's legs.

"Oh no, you mustn't disappoint my lady. She wishes to play with you. Now behave yourself or we'll have to tie you up. And believe me, you'll like that much less."

"You're both fucking psycho!" he shrieked as he scrambled for the gun case under the bed.

Wes sighed. "All right, be tiresome if you must." He waved his fingers and the cords used to tie the packages of dope together swirled into ropes that bound him securely to the bedpost. "You know, Dru, I never properly thanked you for showing me how to do that. It comes in most handy." He leaned over the now bound Roy. "Are you going to keep quiet or do I have to gag you as well?" Roy trembled but kept his mouth shut.

"He tastes yummy. He's been naughty and we must make him pay. Can you make him pay for me, my Wesley?" The snick of the opening switchblade made Drusilla's eyes dance. "We've been so busy with family for so long, we haven't really had time to play."

Nodding his assent, Wesley tilted his head, an artist contemplating his canvas. "I think just here and here, what do you think?" Drusilla hmmmd and licked her lips as the blade left thin trails of blood on the sides of Roy's arms. She curled up on the bed next to him and licked his arm from top to bottom, her eyes glowing.

"You simply must taste, my love; he's like a nice brandy, a bit young, but with great promise."

Wes made another cut across Roy's cheek to match the nail slice on the other side. He leaned forward and laved his victim gently. "You're right, my dear! Delightful." Wesley straddled Roy and stuffed a sock into his mouth. "Sorry about this, but I need to make sure you stay quiet. So few have the mental fortitude to remain silent, and sadly, you don't strike me as the type." With that Wesley began to play in earnest, his lady a willing participant.

A few hours later, they washed up in the tiny dorm room bathroom. They walked out of the building as unnoticed as they had been when they entered. Laughing, Wesley swung Drusilla around by the waist. She grinned down at him.

"See, my Wesley, I told you that you'd like the game."

"Oh, very much. You're too good to me," he said with a wink. "Why don't I take you home and show you how much I appreciate you," he purred to her throat. Giggling, Drusilla nodded and they wandered off to find where they had parked their car.

~~~

C.C. slammed the phone back into its cradle and threw his glass into the fireplace. Snarling as it shattered, he shouted for Luiz.

"Get your hide in here, Luiz!"

Quivering, Luiz knelt on the floor by C.C.'s desk. "Yes, my lord?"

"Tell Tritt to take the Hummer and go pick up our visitors. It seems they need a lesson in proper courtesy. Bring them to the hangar on Lemmon." Luiz scuttled out of the study.

They cut off my dealer. They cut up my dealer. I haven't had any luck on that uppity campus till I installed Roy and now they go and eat him? Sick shit too, if the police report is anything to go on. Well, they'll soon see what it is to mess with me.

He steepled his hands in thought before rising to unlock his wall safe and pulling out a few wrapped packages. Let's see what they make of these.


Chapter 3

Dusk had recently fallen and the night air was turning brisk. Wes could hear the sounds of the nearby traffic as he walked to the valet stand, Drusilla on his arm. The attendant snapped to attention, remembering the generous tips from previous evenings, and trotted off to collect the Jaguar. It had been a gift from his sire upon his turning, and Wesley adored the hunter green machine. Seemed sad that Jaguars were no longer made in his home country, but at least they ran more than 100 miles in a row now. Drusilla released his arm and sat on one of the nearby benches, primly crossing her ankles.

"Dru, dear, what are you doing?" She cocked her head in response but said nothing. He tried again. "My sweet, if we don't leave now we won't catch the performance." Dru merely smiled.

"I'm waiting, my Wesley. Our time will come soon enough." The Jaguar pulled around in front of the Mansion, followed closely by a large black SUV. Wes accepted the keys from the attendant, and turned back to his wife only to see her being approached by two well-dressed vampires. His hackles rose at the intrusion and he stalked back under the awning.

"May we help you?" he hissed. They completely ignored him and addressed their remarks to the dark vampiress.

"Lady, our master sends his regards and requests your attendance this evening." They moved to flank her, but she waved her hand at them negligently.

"No need for threats, children. We will come willingly. We've been waiting for you." She stood in one graceful flowing moment and reached for Wesley's hands. At her touch, he heard her sweet voice ringing in his head. 'Don't cause trouble. We need to go with them; our dance is yet to be done. Just remember, you could very easily lose.'

His first instinct was towards violence. The newcomers were no match for him, and it was insulting to deal with them in this manner. One glance at his consort, however, convinced him that perhaps more was at stake than first appeared. Feeling a bit lost, Wes handed the keys back to the valet, who was watching the exchange with veiled curiosity. Everyone knew what those black SUVs meant--that the kind foreign couple may not return. He shook his head sadly as he drove the sleek car away.

The former Watcher held the rear passenger door open for his lover and climbed in after her, barely containing a snarl as the sandy-haired man slammed the door shut on them. Strangely enough, he also caught a flash of irritation from the dark-haired young vampire that drove the vehicle. 'Not all well in paradise, love?'

He felt Drusilla's giggle, 'Not by half. Though that may work to our advantage. Have you seen the game yet? I told you that that delicious young man last night would be the start of something better.' Wes mused on this last thought as the SUV pulled away from the curb in silence. The tension in the front seats was palpable, but nothing that felt new. Merely old rivalries rearing their heads in confined quarters.

Despite his concern at the arising situation, Wesley wasn't that apprehensive. He could feel nothing other than a calm blue acceptance from Drusilla, and that reassured him more than anything else he could think of. She was his rock, the answer to all his prayers whispered in vain so many years ago. The salvation in the dark alley as a boy, the salvation in a tea-dress as a man. He trusted her implicitly.

The hostile pair offered no destination, and the two journeying members of the Pride were content to keep their own counsel. They turned right on Lemmon Avenue, and Wes vaguely recognized the path to Love Field. Rows of warehouses lined the road, most housing the small airplanes that primarily used the regionally restricted airport. He was hardly surprised when they turned into one of them, and the SUV pulled directly into the hangar. As soon as they entered the space, however, he heard Drusilla hiss and felt a flash of fear, tinged in gold.

"He's changing the rules on us, naughty man. Naked you shall be." She set her face in very cross lines. Wes could feel her turmoil mounting, though she kept her face carefully neutral and regal. The doors were opened from the outside and Wes stepped out first, his senses straining to the limits. He shook his head briefly, trying to rid his mind of unwanted cobwebs, but was unable. Frustrated, he handed Dru outside and straightened, peering into the gloom of a half-lit warehouse.

Ranging around the perimeter were a number of vampires. At the far end of the space was a small dais with a high-backed chair. In the chair lounged a vampire of medium build with sandy brown hair. Not strikingly handsome, not physically intimidating, he was merely sitting. But both Dru and Wes noticed immediately that he was old. Not Darla or The Master old, but old enough to be a serious opponent. And he did not look happy, despite retaining his human features. He clicked his nails on the wood armrests and stared down at them for a few moments before finally speaking.

"So. You are the two insolent creatures causing me such bother. You oughtta have some manners on you, but I guess the House of Aurelius doesn't teach its children well anymore." He stood and walked forward, bowing stiffly before Drusilla in a parody of gentility. "Lady, I'm sorely vexed you did not announce yourself properly when you arrived. Then to go and eat one of my servants? Very bad manners, indeed." Drusilla remained still as death; the only reaction to his statements was to send a wave of comfort in Wesley's direction. "I'm C.C. Master of Texas, ruler from Dallas. Y'all trespassed and showed great discourtesy, so I'm afraid I have to punish you."

Despite the restraining hand on his arm, Wes snarled and stepped in front of Drusilla. She smiled a charming innocent smile at C.C. and shook her head. "Tea parties for naughty children should never have cakes," she intoned with great seriousness.

C.C. wrinkled his brow and addressed his comments to the tall man, aggressively standing in front of his desired target. "You, boy-- you must be the young one. Only a few years from what I hear told. You don't seriously think you could defend her, do you?" He laughed. "You got balls, I give you that."

Wes sneered coldly. "I assure you, I am more than capable of defending us both. My lady never needs to fight unless she wishes it. Do you, my dear?" He favored her with a fleeting glance of adoration before turning back to the threat at hand. "You say we showed you discourtesy. We never intended for that. We merely wished to keep out of your way and did not believe we would be staying long." Unfortunately for Wesley, he knew very well which servant was in question, and didn't feel guilty about eating a drug-dealing rapist, connections to the local powerhouse or not.

C.C. narrowed his eyes before gesturing towards the dark-haired minion that had driven them. "Luiz, get the lady a seat. Alright, boy, we can fight. I admire a vampire who stands on his convictions. Sometimes convictions are all you have in this world," he mused. "And after I kick your ass into a sad pile of dust, I'll give the lady the punishment she deserves and send her back to Angelus's brood as a warning not to come messing around in Texas again. Ever."

He backed away into the center of the hangar, Wesley following closely behind. Drusilla sat calmly on the chair, Luiz standing at her shoulder to prevent her escape. What he didn't know was that she had no intention of moving until the fight was over. Her seemingly inane babble earlier was merely the truth. If they were indeed naughty children to be punished, then why did the stars tell her she could have cakes to eat and toys to play with when the evening was over? It was a most delightful riddle, her new anxiety aside. She hummed slightly as Wes and C.C. took their places on either side of the circle.

Neither vampire was wearing his true face, and Wes took the opportunity to study the man before him. He moved with the grace of a longtime fighter, and the cautiousness of someone who hated to lose. Wes kept his own movements minimal and leaned into the magic around him. C.C., it seemed, had no magic of his own. All in all, Wes decided, one well-placed spell and this was going to be a very short fight.

They circled each other hungrily, each man eyeing his opponent for weaknesses. As Wes decided enough was enough and prepared to cast, he heard C.C. speak. "Oh, and boy? I've heard of you and your lady's fondness of magic. There'll be no mojo here tonight. The hangar has been warded, all magic is prohibited." He gestured to the four corners of the building. "See those stones there? Picked them up years ago in some filthy rainforest down south. Thought they may come in handy someday, don't you agree?" He sneered at the brief widening of Wesley's irises.

Feeling the first thread of panic, Wes tested the environment for mystical energy. It was there, but it was inert. That was what caused the fuzzy feeling earlier! He cast a sharp glance at Drusilla, but she offered no insight other than a vague feeling that this was his fight, to win or lose. He was no longer something to be protected; he needed to show the world what he was worth.

He was still turned away when C.C. entered the fight with a sharp uppercut that sent Wes flying to the floor. His lip was split and blood flowed freely down his face. He snarled and bared his fangs before lunging after the older vampire with a frenzy born of desperation.

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was a good fighter. He'd been trained at an early age in all manner of weapons and was proficient in several martial arts. In all of his fights in recent days, however, he had not been fighting for his life; not truly, since he knew his magic could solve almost any problem. He loved the blood and the violence as much as the next demon, but he loved existing more. And now, finally realizing the situation he was faced with clearly for the first time, he was shocked. Here he was, pitted against a stronger vampire, fighting not only for his life, but for the safety of Drusilla. It was a painful wakeup call.

Almost as painful, as a matter of fact, as the slash across the chest that C.C.'s nails inflicted, slicing his clothes clean through and down almost an inch into his flesh. He couldn't completely suppress the howl of pain that ripped through his throat. In retaliation he slammed his knee into C.C.'s leg, killing the feelings in his nerve endings. From then on, the fight became dirty. At some point, they both slipped into their true faces, their eyes glowing topaz in the murky light.

They flashed like mating fireflies, first rising then falling, and sounds of ripping and tearing of flesh echoed from the metal walls. Drusilla remained still throughout the vicious fight; the only indication that she was watching the events at all came in the sparkles of gold that flitted through the deep blue irises. The fight began fairly evenly, but deteriorated rapidly. Wesley was tiring, and faced with becoming the loser his father had always believed him to be, he closed in on himself. His eyes were nearly swelled shut, and his left arm was broken. C.C. hadn't fared much better, but sure of his victory, he pressed forward.

With one last roundhouse kick, C.C. knocked an unmoving Wesley to the floor; his face smashed to the concrete. He stood over him, bloody and battered, and grasped the back of Wes's skull. C.C. turned to the vampiress seated at the edge of the fight and snarled out roughly, "Let this be your lesson, Lady, never to come here again. Your punishment will not be as harsh; he fought better than I expected. Keep in mind this was meant for you." He reached both hands around his foe's neck, and prepared to rip his head from his shoulders.

As he felt the fingers close on his throat, Wes tilted his head, opened his eyes and looked at his salvation, sitting quietly in a metal folding chair across the hangar. He remembered the first time she'd come to his apartment, in full daylight, politely asking him to tea. He saw the first man they'd killed, the first lives they'd saved, the family he loved so dearly. It was unthinkable that the end should come before the world crumbled into dust. With one last painful effort he flung himself upwards into a parody of an embrace, C.C.'s fingers wrapped around his throat, their faces only inches apart. Startled, C.C. paused, his eyes going wide.

Wesley had his hand buried deep in his chest, wrapped around the heart. He leaned in closer and said in a dead even tone, "My name is Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, you pillock. No one ever calls me 'boy.'" He yanked back, ripping the heart out into open air. In the instant before the Master of Texas turned to dust, Wes was surprised at the emotions flitting across C.C.'s face. The older vampire was almost excited, and definitely surprised. 'This was definitely something new,' his eyes seemed to say.

In the silence following death, Wes collapsed on the floor. Dru ran across the hard concrete floor, dropping to her knees at his side. She slit the vein at her wrist with a fang and held it to his lips as he drank gratefully. She leaned down, her raven tresses forming a curtain around them. "My Wesley, I told you once you'd be the king of your own castle in the sun. Now do you see?"

He smiled a bit ruefully. "Yes, dear, I think I have the general idea. Would you mind terribly helping me up?" Leaning on the dark beauty at his side, he stood tall to address vampires nervously ringing the foreign couple.

Suddenly, Luiz dropped to his knee and bared his throat in submission. He stated in softly accented English, "I pledge my loyalty and allegiance, Master." Most of the other vampires followed suit until only a few remained standing. Wesley flicked his eyes over the crowd, his nimble mind already planning.

Should he refuse the mastership, it would cause not only immediate bloodshed amongst the ranks of C.C.'s former offspring, but it could potentially have grave consequences in the human population as well. His non-beating heart felt squeezed tight; he never wanted this. Wesley was content with his wandering life with Drusilla and Faith. He had a family, albeit a bit dysfunctional at the moment, that he loved dearly. To be thrust into the role of Master in his own right, younger than his mate by far, would cause problems. He felt Drusilla run her hand down his arm, and looked into her indigo eyes, knowing full well that she had seen this as one of the many outcomes, and was pleased. And if it pleased his love, he would move mountains.

He spoke, his voice gravelly and bruised. "Who was his second in command?"

One of the standing vampires stepped forward, eyeing them aggressively. "I am. Tritt Culpepper." At Drusilla's intense gaze he leaned back slightly.

She lifted her lips in a feral grin. "Mean to challenge us, do you? Your time to dance is not this hour, but soon enough." Startled, Tritt shook his head, wondering why his resolve suddenly disappeared. She leaned down and touched Luiz's hair. "But yours has just begun."

At Dru's nod, Wes continued. "Luiz, is it? Call a meeting of the clans for tomorrow night. We want all of the duchies to meet us at our new quarters. Send someone for our things at the Mansion at Turtle Creek. We wish to inspect what is ours as soon as possible. I trust you will make this transition as easy for all of us."

Luiz dipped his head as he stood. The two men looked each other over, and Luiz's dark brown eyes sparkled. "As you wish." His gaze met Tritt's and he snarled softly. Transitions of power could be so fascinating, particularly when you were the one moving up. There was a certain spring in his step as he opened the car door once again, not for captives, but for Masters.

Chapter 4

The ride to the former master's house was silent. Wes cradled his broken arm, drawing what healing energies he could from the surroundings, difficult while moving, and tried to order his thoughts.

He was Master of Dallas, and if the stories were correct, Master of Texas. That meant that he'd have vast tracts of land and millions of people under his protection. He didn't have any idea what state the Mastery had been in at C.C.'s death, nor what childer he left behind that might be interested in fighting for his territory. He didn't know what the man's business ventures had been, what his income was from, what kind of residences he maintained. It was exhausting just running over the possibilities.

Drusilla laid a hand on his arm, smiling up at him brightly. His lady was pleased, and he would do whatever it took to make her happy. She must have seen this as a possible outcome from visiting, and it seemed she'd seen this all those years ago during that debacle with those ridiculous spider-scorpion demons. And he knew she believed in him.

He blinked as they drove down Lover's Lane. "I'm sorry, but did we just pass a statue of Lenin?"

Luiz called from the front seat, "Yessir. That's Geof's Burgers. He bought that a right many years ago."

Drusilla giggled and Wes nodded absently. He was master of a town that used Lenin to advertise burgers. It was all a bit surreal. The car turned right into Highland Park, and left again on Beverly Avenue. The Hummer rolled up to a tacky white mansion with swirling white staircases on the outside of the house. The four car garage opened, and Luiz drove right in. He hopped out of the car and came around to open Wes's door.

Handing his lady out into Luiz's arms, Wes caught his eye. In that moment, as before, they understood each other. Luiz was theirs. They'd make a more formal blood oath before too long, to cement things.

Luiz wove through the servants quarters of the house and climbed a set of stairs that opened into the study where only a few days before C.C. had received word of his visitors. Wes surveyed the room with dismay. There must have been every kind of animal imaginable stuffed and mounted on all available wall space. A flock of wood ducks flew over the doorway. A moose loomed over the couch. A grizzly bear roared in the corner. A stuffed gray wolf stood guard over the bar. A miscellaneous collection of waterfowl swooped along the far wall, flapping over the raised head and bared teeth of a tiger.

"Er, this is… interesting." Wes shook his head and edged along the far wall, the only wall void of stuffed creatures. Drusilla took one look and burst into giggles. "Luiz, is there a room that we can meet in without a lesson in taxidermy?"

The dark haired minion frowned. "I believe there's only a stuffed beaver in his bedroom." Wes raised his eyebrows. "The kitchen is free though. If you don't mind looking over the files there, I can have one of the other servants bring down the relevant information."

Wesley nodded his assent and they turned around and went back down the stairs. He looked around more closely on this trip, silently groaning at the décor. It was a museum to the wonders of Texas. A glimpse out the window showed even the swimming pool was shaped like a cowboy boot with the diving board over the heel, marked out like a spur. There even seemed to be a miniature working pumpjack in the lounge pumping water over a pile of what he could only guess were Texas rocks.

The kitchen, when they finally made it, was moderately better. It had Texas shaped place mats on the table, and a few rustic barbed wire decorations, but at least it was animal free, except for the very live hound dog drooling in his basket. It raised its eyes when they walked into the room, then turned its back on them, whuffling softly. Luiz whisked the placemats away into the drawer at Wesley' depreciating glance.

"Master, what would you like to see first?"

Wes rubbed his eyes. Drusilla hadn't even sat at the table, rather she was crouched on the floor by the dog, rubbing its ears and whispering. "The financials, I think. Bring a listing of all the properties and who governs them, a list of the family, and the staff that runs at least this house. But first, Luiz, we need the phone."

The minion nodded and swiped a cordless off the counter. A Master holding court, however small, in the kitchen was an unheard of thing. But these were foreigners and members of the Aurelius house as well. There was no predicting what they'd do next. He handed the phone over delicately before retreating to find the necessary files from the study. If he was lucky, he could get it all handled before Tritt got back from the Mansion with the new Master's belongings.

Luiz disappeared down the hallway and Wesley stared at the phone. This was it, the moment when it all became real, the moment he called his Sire. Drusilla rose from her place on the floor and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, nudging under his ear with her nose. He took a deep unnecessary breath and dialed Jack's house in the Garden District.

It rang a few times and was answered by Paul. "Hello?"

Wesley was sure he felt his heart beat. Just for a moment, but that was ridiculous. "Paul. Is Baby available?"

"She's with Lord Jack at the moment."

Wesley frowned. "Could you please put me through? It's rather important."

Silence on the other end of the line indicated his assent, and after a few moments, and a rather loud squeal and giggle later, his sire came on the line. "Wes, what is it? Is something wrong?" He let the tones of her voice wash over him, soothing him in burgundy and gold.

He stifled a mildly panicked laugh. "Baby, Sire, it seems… well… it seems I'm a Master. Of Texas."

Silence.

"Baby?"

Laughter, loud, hard, raucous. And pride. Pride from his sire washed over him in waves, pushing out the doubt and fear, the apprehension and trepidation. In that one moment, he knew he'd done well. "My Wesley. I am proud of you, don't you feel it?"

Drusilla licked his ear and murmured into the phone, "Yes, Sister Niece, he does."

"Dearest, I do. And it's just… I mean… Texas?" and he laughed too.

"Wes, I have no doubt you'll kick their rednecked asses into place in no time. Though, I gotta say, what a weird place for you to pick. I would have seen you more the New York, or even the Seattle type."

He sighed. "Believe me, this was not my idea. Seems Drusilla and I got ourselves into something we didn't understand. Or I didn't."

Worry washed over him then, "Are you two alright?"

He nodded, even though she couldn't see. "Yes, we're alright. We've at least one loyal vampire here. I was wondering though, could you possibly ask Spike to borrow Beau?"

He could feel Baby's puzzlement from the other end. "Beau?"

"I know he hasn't done much with himself, and he's the only one of that generation not to have left and made his own city. But I think he's just what we need here. He'll make a good second in command if someone gives him a chance. If for nothing else, I think he can translate for the locals." Both Drusilla and Baby giggled at that.

"Sure thing, sugar. I'll go over to Rue Royal tomorrow and send him along with Faith. Those two've been cutting up the town anyway, since Claudia came to town to visit. I'll have Faith start out as early as she can tomorrow night, she should be there before sunrise. I don't know if Beau will be able to get away so soon, but if he can, I'll send him as well. Is there anything else you need from us?"

Wesley thought for a moment, what it would mean to have the family here, supporting him, making it all so much easier. But it wouldn't be, not in the long run. It'd just be another city under Spike, and he couldn't handle that. Not now, not when he's ready to make his own mark on the world, whether he intended it or not. "No, I don't think so. If you would, though, put Jack on the phone."

"We love you, Wesley."

"I know."

There was rustling, and Jack's tenor hummed through the phone line. "Wes, is it true? You're a Texan now? Whatever will we do with all the tea and crumpets we were going to send as a gift basket? If they see those you'll be lynched for sure." The two men shared a chuckle. "Seriously, though, congratulations. Bout damn time you had something of your own. And if you ever need anything…"

Wes smiled, tiredly, but genuinely. "Thanks, Jack. My regards to Remy and the others."

"Will do."

He clicked off the phone, feeling, if possible, more tired than before. Dru hummed along his neck, nipping gently, and he ran his fingers through her hair. This morning had been so easy, so simple. Just his wandering life with the woman he loved. Now, a whole world of responsibilities had been dropped in his lap. He motioned to the still form of Luiz in the hallway.

"Here, put them here. And I want you to direct our things to the least ornate bedroom in this house when Tritt arrives. If you would, make sure he removes all things… well, you get the idea."

Luiz nodded, and went to intercept the Jaguar and luggage. As strange as this Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was, he was definitely easier to work for the C.C. He hadn't smashed his face into the carpet once.

Wesley pulled Drusilla around into his lap with a free hand and opened the first set of folders. It contained a listing of the staff for the house that they appeared to be in at the moment. Almost all human servants of some sort, though a few minions were stationed as security. Luiz, Tritt and two others had rooms on the premises. The others came with the day shift. There were listings for several other properties in the Dallas area, as well as the listings of all the holdings in other cities. It seemed that most were run by low level minions under the direction of Tritt acting for C.C. Two cities, however, were not. One was San Antonio, and was run by an Elisandra Culpepper. The other, El Paso, was overseen by Margeuritte Culpepper, and both were the only childer he could find listed. Interesting. C.C. only had two legitimate childer, both female, and he trusted them to run two of the older Texan cities. He'd have to summon both, calling them to Dallas. If they would agree to swear fealty, he'd see about letting them live.

Drusilla ran her fingers down the pages, stopping at Elisandra's name. She narrowed her eyes and hissed. "She doesn't like tea parties; she always spills her cup and rips the other girls' dresses." Wes raised an eyebrow and noted the name.

He opened the next file and found the financial statements. All of them. There were hundreds of pages of accounts, all for different businesses under different names listed in different cities. Some were attached to ghost corporations, others were under C.C.'s name directly. Wes got a headache just looking at them. Technically, vampires rarely got headaches, but this was a very special occasion. He could catalog demons until the cows came home-he groaned at the thought that he probably did own cows now-and research a spell tirelessly, but when it came to money, he was lost.

He looked up and met Dru's sparkling midnight eyes. "When in doubt, time runs backwards and forwards."

Wes thought for a moment and broke out into a relieved grin. "Of course!" He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and ran down the numbers. At the right one, he flipped it open and dialed. Three rings later, a young girl answered the phone.

"Ello?"

"Annabelle? Is that you? This is your Uncle Wesley and Aunt Drusilla. Are your parents home?" He could hear scratching at the other end of the phone.

"No. I'm having chocolate-covered Cheetos. I like chocolate-covered Cheetos," she chirped out.

Swallowing a grimace, Wes continued. "Annabelle, who's staying with you?"

"Gregor. He's supposed to watch me, but he doesn't know I found a hiding place."

The mage rolled his eyes. This was why he never had children, ever. Not that he didn't appreciate them, but honestly… "Sweetheart, it's very important I talk to your brother. Can you please go find him for me?"

"Will you make the flowers sparkle when you come visit next?"

"Yes, dear, now please go find Gregor." There was more scrabbling, and the creaking of a closet door. He could hear pattering feet on some sort of hard hallway and then a shout as Gregor saw his little sister.

"Belle!"

"Gregor, Uncle Wesley wants to talk to you."

"What?" Wes tapped his fingers on the table top. Drusilla elicited a smile when she nipped the fingertips with sharpened teeth, but Wes was still delighted when Gregor finally took the phone after reprimanding an unrepentant Belle.

"Uncle Wesley? Where are you?"

"Dallas. I need to find Anya. Do you know where she is?"

"She's taken Dad on some sort of demon sightseeing tour. She said they'd be about three dimensions over."

Wesley raised his eyebrows. Giles must really have needed a vacation if he'd taken his second wife's offer of touring with D'Hoffryn's girls seriously. He'd never been completely comfortable with Anya's return to the vengeance fold, and although they'd been married for several years, and had a daughter, he'd never socialized with anyone at her work. "Er, Gregor, would you happen to know if we can reach her? It is rather important."

The young man thought for a moment. "Well, she did say we could summon her in case of an emergency, but a woman would have to do it. Is Aunt Drusilla there? She could. I'll fax you the ritual if you want."

Wes called for Luiz, his hand over the phone. "What's the fax number here?" The minion informed him, and he relayed the information.

"Thanks, Gregor. We'll have them call you when they arrive. Please give our regards to Jelena and Sasha as well."

"My sisters are down at the Watcher camp this week. But when they come home, I'll be sure to let them know. And Annabelle wants to make sure you know that you're to do some extra special sparkly glow flowers when you come."

Wesley couldn't help but smile. "Of course. Have a good evening." He met Drusilla's eyes and smiled. Maybe things were looking up. He wandered over to the refrigerator, looking through the various bottle and jugs. Just as he's suspected, there was no bottled blood available. He'd have to send Luiz for some until they could go hunting for themselves. He could hear people moving about in the other rooms, and Luiz appeared, flanked by a petulant Tritt.

Wes gazed at them coolly. "Are our things arranged?"

Both men nodded. "Yes, Sir. We've put you in the blue room. Would you care for anything else this evening? You have a meeting set for two days from now for all the local family. Tomorrow, your lawyers will be here to go over transfer of ownership of the properties." Tritt couldn't repress the fleeting look of loathing at that statement. He wouldn't take this lying down, but a few more days couldn't hurt.

Wes inclined his head. "Good. Luiz, will you fetch the small black leather satchel with the initial A on the top, as well as the fax that will have come through. Tritt, please see to the security detail. Also, we expect to have blood provided for us tomorrow evening at dusk. Make the necessary arrangements, as we won't likely have time to go hunting." Both men nodded again and left the room.

Drusilla was watching him with the hooded eyes of a cat. She yawned, baring teeth, and stretched sinuously. Her dress was dusty from the floor of the warehouse, and her hands were smeared with blood and dirt. He wet a washcloth in the sink and came to kneel at her feet. She extended one hand and then the other, allowing him to wash his own blood from her hands, smiling slightly as he kissed her palms.

"Are you up for this, my love?"

She purred back at him, her hair sliding over her shoulders as she leaned forward to kiss him gently. "Always." A slight noise from the doorway alerted them to Luiz's presence and Wes walked forward to retrieve the bag and sheets of paper. The dark minion looked around apprehensively, having read the contents of the fax, and gave an unnecessary sigh of relief when he was dismissed. Magic was as unfamiliar to his world as Masters who met in kitchens.

Wes swept the island in the middle of the kitchen clear and opened his bag. He set out several candles and an earthenware bowl. He selected a few herbs, handed Drusilla the sheet of paper to read and dimmed the lights. The candles lit, he ignited the herbs in the bowl and gestured for Drusilla to begin reading.

"O Anyanka, patron saint of those abandoned by love, come to me now in my hour of need and wreak vengeance on he who hath scorned me." Dru couldn't resist snickering at the end of the invocation. They always sounded silly translated into English. Latin was much prettier, but it seemed that almost anything went in magic these days. No formality. Wes winked and passed a smoky crystal over the burning mess a few times. Then they waited.

A pink tinged foggy smoke permeated the center of the kitchen, lit from within by low lights. Suddenly a figure appeared, turning towards them while intoning in a deep voice. "I am Anyanka, I will wreak thy vengeance for- What the?" She took a step or two forward. "Wesley? Drusilla?" The veins on her face receded. "I interrupted my vacation for you two? Giles is going to kill me; I left him all alone with Hallie and Assymtimy. They are going eat him alive. Well, not literally, but last time I left him alone with Halfrek, she had him regressing to being a five year old in no time. It was awful and there were no orgasms for days." She looked around the room. "This isn't your house, any of the houses you use. Where are we?"

Wes cleared his throat. "Actually, Anya, that's what we need to talk about. How do you feel about a little business proposition?"

The irate gleam in her eyes turned to something much brighter at those few words. "Business proposition?"

Wes picked up the file from the table. "I seem to have acquired a few businesses tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like to be our chief financial officer. I think my lady and I agree," he looked at Dru who nodded her assent, "That in exchange for services rendered, we're prepared to offer you a share of any profits. That share is negotiable, contingent on what your husband decides to do with his offer."

Anya reached her hands out for the folder, flipping it open and scanning the numbers eagerly. "Go on."

"You see this property here?" She nodded. "It's a ranch set not too far north of Dallas proper. It has several facilities of interest, notably several training centers, good library facilities, a state of the art technology center, a dormitory, and various outdoor terrains. How do you feel about moving away from the Hellmouth?"

The vengeance demon regarded him carefully for a moment. The offer weighed heavily between the demons before Anya nodded. "May I take these? It seems I have something to discuss with Rupert." Neither vampire missed the gleam in her eye as she winked out of sight.

Slumping with exhaustion, Wes swirled Dru around in a tight embrace. "Well, my dear, it has been a busy night. What do you say we go and investigate the guest quarters? See what sort of dread stuffed beasties we can uncover." She giggled and licked his neck as he carried her out of the kitchen.

 

To Be Continued...

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