London 1880

October...

Dark—dark everywhere. Can't move, can't breathe. Trapped. Struggling. Have to get out. Have to—have to move, need space, stuck. No. Solid all around. Can smell the earth, smell wood—smell, but no breath—can't breathe. Can hear—hear things crawling, moving around, all around. Something—wrong. Can't hear, no, can't feel the beating. No rhythmic thump, thump, thump. No flow, all still. Must get out.

Claw—claw at the surface. Cracking, splintering, smell of copper. Keep going. Soil falling down. Doesn't matter, can't breathe, don't need to breathe. Keep going. I'm breaking… YES! Through! Now climb, dig, dig, dig. Dig upwards. Keep going up. Closer now, so close. Keep going. Now! Smell of grass, smell air, smell mist. Claw, rip up the grass, keep going. There!

Out, outside. Brighter, but not day. Night. Can see—see the mist, see the grass, the stone—the hole. Back away. Bad place, not going back there, get away from the earth. Breathe. Don't have to breathe…can breathe, will breathe. Noise—carriages, horses, voices, an owl. All so loud! Too much noise, deafening, make it stop! Another voice, closer this time, too close, here. A shape, a figure. Her—it—mother, no, sire.

"And my Dark Knight finally rises. Welcome, my Black Prince. The world is all new now, and I shall lead you in such a pretty dance. A dance of discovery, of pain, of life…of death," Drusilla called, gliding towards her new childe.

Sire, teacher, master.

"That's it, my boy. Come to Mummy. I'll show you how to feed the burn inside you. Here," she said, squatting down and offering her wrist to the demon sitting before her.

He looked at it for a moment, studying the milky white skin and the blue veins under the surface. He leaned forward, eyes fixed on her offering. His mouth dropped open, exposing sharp, lethal fangs. Drusilla smiled. He snarled and grabbed her wrist, pulling it to his mouth and sinking his fangs into the soft, yielding flesh. She gasped and laughed. Blood poured into his mouth, flooded down his throat, and he sucked and ravaged the delicate skin beneath his fangs for more. It flowed through him.

"Yes, my pet. Feed, remember, awaken."

Blood! Life—borrowed life. More, need more. So hungry! Flashes—faces, voices, men, women, demons, dust, blood, fire, family, torture, sire, pain, black—all black. Will.

He snarled and pulled away, staggering backwards, wiping the blood from his mouth and looking at the dark liquid coating his fingertips. He looked back at Drusilla, who was licking her bleeding wrist with glee. She grinned and her face shifted.

"Welcome back, my William. Come," she rose to her feet holding both arms out to him, "it's time to feed properly. Let me show you the world again."

***

Was he ever really one of them? They flocked around the perceived upper class like sheep, moved through the narrow streets and alleyways like cattle at a slaughterhouse, sat at the feet of their masters like dogs, begging for scraps from society's table. He could smell them: the stench of animals crowded together, the smell of prey. He could hear their hearts beating. The pounding of their pulses drummed a beat in his head that he could have danced to. They were unaware of the wolves amongst them. They brushed against the shoulders of killers without a second thought. It was all so easy, so revolting.

Drusilla observed him silently. She read the expressions on his face: the hunger, the curiosity, the disgust. She leaned into him, one hand around his waist, the other resting on his shoulder as she whispered in his ear.

"You see now, don't you? How pointless it all is. You tried to save them when they aren't worth saving. They have their uses, their pleasures." She growled and licked his neck, humming in satisfaction. "They are for our use, and I have raised you from that desperate existence. I've given you power and new eyes. Your fate is your own now, William; the lock is broken. Play our game, mustn't keep the dollies waiting. The king will be sad if the feast is not prepared." She giggled and spun away from him, disappearing into the crowd.

He glanced at the space where she had disappeared then emerged from his shadowed corner of the street. Stalking slowly down the path he watched everyone that he passed, felt nothing for them. Men taller than him averted their gaze when he made eye contact. Women admired him, then hurried away when his cold eyes met their own. He gave off an air of danger now, a warning to stay away or suffer the consequences. A woman up ahead dropped her bag, her possessions spilling out onto the cobbled street. She bent to pick them up, struggling to avoid being knocked down by the crowd of people walking past her, almost trampling her in their hurry to get to their destination. He tilted his head as he examined her. Making his decision he walked over, and dropping down on one knee, assisted her in picking up her things. She looked up, startled.

"Oh. Thank you, sir. There's no need to trouble yourself, really," she stammered, taking the last of her things from him and returning them to her bag.

They stood at the same time and she met his gaze. He smiled at her, and her eyes widened a little. He could hear her pulse increase. It wasn't a reassuring smile. It was predatory. He felt a slight thrill at her reaction.

"Well, thank you. I-I had best be off. I'm expected back home. G-goodnight."

She bowed her head quickly and shuffled off. He waited: one, two, three, four, five—now. He followed her, making sure to keep just out of sight, eyes trained on her. He noticed with faint amusement that she sensed his presence. She looked over her shoulder every so often, her pace increasing. It didn't take long. Around the next corner she turned off the main street. It left her exposed, but it would make a pursuer easier to see…if the pursuer was human.

He employed his new abilities to swiftly scale a nearby building, and hopped down to a wall that ran alongside her path. He stayed in the shadows and continued to stalk her. Again she turned around, and again quickened her pace. As she reached the end of the street, she turned a corner and could see the lights ahead that signified more people. Sighing in relief, she hurried forward. She was twenty paces away from safety when he pounced.

She screamed when he grabbed her around the waist and shoved her into a dark corner. He covered her mouth and wasted no time, barely catching the frightened recognition in her eyes before his face changed and he dived into her neck. Her muffled cry of pain went unheard as the warm blood entered his mouth. It was amazing. It was so different from Drusilla's blood. He greedily drank it down.

So warm, so delicious. Life.

It pulsated through him, warming him up from the inside. He felt his strength and senses increasing, sharpening. It truly was an elixir of life, and he wanted it, needed it, thirsted for it. He felt her waning. Her feeble struggles died down, and he could hear her heart fluttering weakly. He pulled the last few mouthfuls of blood from her body then tore away, ripping the flesh of her neck as he did so. Releasing her, he watched the lifeless body slump slowly to the ground, her glassy-eyed stare facing the night sky above. He growled when he sensed a presence behind him, but softened the noise when he realized who it was.

"Well done, my boy. You've made a lovely mess. Such a dainty young thing, so sweet and—mannerly."

He faced his sire, a grin spreading across his now human mask. He walked slowly towards her, stepping into her embrace, his eyes closing in pleasure when she licked at the blood staining his chin and mouth. One of her hands ran through the soft curls of his hair.

"Now you've been fed, I think it's time I show you something else wonderful, something sinful and—effulgent." She brought one of his hands up to caress her breast through her dress. "Would you like that?"

He watched his hand's movements as she guided him, a teasing smile on her face. He sighed happily and nodded, leaning into her. She backed away slowly. His disappointment faded when she crooked a finger at him, her face full of mischief. He smirked and drew closer, following her into the dark night.

***

"It's been almost a week. When are you going to give up and just wait for her to come back on her own? You know how she gets. She'll turn up sooner or later, babbling about how the pixies wanted her to have a picnic, or the moon wanted to dance for her or some other nonsense. I really don't understand why it surprises you when she does this." Darla sighed and studied the ring that now adorned her finger. Moments before, she'd pulled it off the corpse at her feet.

"It's because it's been almost a week. Drusilla never stays away this long, not from me. And she didn't just disappear, she did something. She took him," Angelus snarled furiously, pausing his pacing to punch the weakened man tied to a chair next to him.

As soon as he'd discovered the Hunter was missing, he'd known Dru was to blame. He called for her, searched everywhere, but it was as if she'd just vanished. It irritated and infuriated him. She never left his side for more than a night or two, and he was enraged that she would have stolen his prize, something he'd worked hard for. Initially, he'd devised a multitude of ways to punish her for her actions, but as the days passed with no sign of her, he began to wonder if maybe the boy had managed to kill his childe and escape. He swore he'd flay him alive if that were the case, but the Hunter had vanished as thoroughly as Dru had. Needless to say, Angelus was boiling with rage. He'd massacred a small gathering of people they'd stumbled across in a park one night, and he'd taken a few back to the house to work out his frustration. The man in the chair was the last left alive.

"Oh yes, the Hunter. Maybe they killed each other? Either way I doubt you're going to find them now. Can't we move on somewhere else? At least to another city. London's becoming so—boring lately," Darla whined, flopping down into a chair and resting her head on her hand, her other arm draped across its back as she watched him prowl back and forth in front of her.

"We're not moving on until I find her!" Angelus shouted, backhanding his captive and making him groan loudly. "Shut up!"

"I don't think he's coherent enough to pay attention to you, Angelus, and the more you hit him the more noise he'll make," Darla pointed out.

Angelus snarled and stomped back to the man. Grabbing the almost unconscious victim by the head he twisted roughly, snapping his neck and putting an end to his suffering and pitiful moans once and for all. Angelus then resumed his pacing. Darla rolled her eyes.

"I suppose this means we have to go find some more toys for you to play with until you break them?"

He turned on his heel sharply, looming in front of her, annoyed by her constant complaining. He yanked her head back by the hair and growled low in his throat.

"Keep testing me, Darla, and I might just take my anger out on you instead."

"Promises, promises," was her reply, and she smiled lazily at him.

He raised a hand in the air, intending to strike her when a noise at the door caught his attention.

"Oh look, she's back. What a shame," Darla murmured, untangling her hair from Angelus' grip, knowing his attention was elsewhere now.

Angelus faced the door. He could sense Drusilla's presence on the other side. He could also sense that she wasn't alone. She'd brought a companion back with her, and it wasn't a human. He snarled, ready to show both vampires about to enter the room who was in charge. The door swung open and Drusilla stumbled in, giggling hysterically. A strong arm reached forward to wrap around her waist, pulling her back against the man entering the room behind her and Angelus glared at the offensive limb wrapped around his childe.

"And just where have you been off to the past few nights, Dru?" he asked, sternly.

Her giggling ended abruptly, and she pouted slightly as she finally acknowledged her fuming sire.

"Don't be mad, Daddy. I had to take care of my Dark Prince. He's come to look after me, to fuss over me when you're busy hurting Mummy."

"That's what you've been up to? Dru, I would have been more than happy to see to your needs if you'd only asked. Instead you've brought some boy here without my permission. You think I'm going to allow some dog you found on the street to join our family? And what did you do with my Hunter? He was mine, Dru. I had plans for him."

"I know, but the spirits had other plans for him. I haven't lost him. Look. He's my Knight," she said, stepping aside so Angelus could see her companion.

Angelus finally spared the fledgling a glance and did a double take when he realized just who he was looking at. A pair of icy blue eyes glared back at him, flashing amber for a moment before returning to blue. He was dressed in new clothes, acquired from a victim they had pulled off the street, and was now attired in brown trousers, heavy dark brown boots, a somewhat dirty white shirt and a long brown coat. The familiar sandy blonde locks fell around his face, loosely tied at the back. His sharp cheekbones and solid jaw, so characteristic and unique to him seemed somehow different, more predatory perhaps? Drusilla smiled at her sire's shocked expression.

"Such fun now he joins our family. Haven't I surprised you, Daddy? I think you'll find he's far more special than a street urchin. There's much more fight in him too. He's a naughty one he is, a big, bad dog. Rrrruff." She barked into her new childe's ear, running a hand along his chest and scratching her nails down the fabric of his shirt.

Angelus was too shocked to speak at first, his former victim holding his gaze without blinking, not even turning away to Drusilla's attentions.

"Well, this is certainly interesting," Darla commented, stepping up beside Angelus to get a closer look at the newest Aurelian.

Finally Angelus regained the power of speech—and exploded.

"You turned him? Dru, I know I rattled your head up a fair bit, but I honestly never thought you were this crazy! He's a Hunter! We don't turn his kind, especially not this one, just like we don't turn Slayers. Why the hell did you pick him? I would have given you anyone, and you turned him?"

"Tsk, tsk. He was not meant to die in a dungeon all broken and bruised in the dark. This one is going to play in the sunshine. He's going to storm across the pages of history in blood and legend and torment. My brave boy is going to burn as bright as the light he extinguishes. Roses sang to me and told me their secrets."

"I can't believe this," Angelus muttered, wiping a hand over his face.

"Well what are we going to do with him?" Darla asked. "She wants to keep him, and I don't think she'll give him up easily. Like it or not he's part of our line now. Who knows? Maybe he'll be of some use. We already know he can fight, and he has a killer's instincts. I take it you fed him?" She addressed Drusilla with her last question.

"Oh yes. He made a terrible mess. The poor girl cried but no one could hear her. He drank her down and left her for the gutter rats."

"There, you see? He's fed already. The bloodlust is there, and he has no problem acting on it. All he needs is the right—encouragement and he'll be just like the rest of us," Darla said, putting a hand on Angelus' arm to make him face her.

Angelus considered her words, knowing Darla didn't care either way, but she'd be much happier with someone around to give Drusilla the attention she required, and was more than willing to pass the crazy vampiress over to someone else. He didn't like the thought of allowing a turned Hunter to join their group, but it was a fair point that he was a killer at heart. Darla was right. With the right guidance, maybe he could become a fearsome predator like the rest of them, worthy to appear in the history books, weaving a path of terror and bloodshed through the ages as Drusilla claimed. The idea began to intrigue him the more he considered it. It could be interesting having another male around to slaughter innocents with. Of course he'd have to ensure the boy's insolence was beaten out of him. Angelus didn't like the way he was staring at him, as though he didn't fear him. Angelus was someone to be feared. He would impart that lesson sooner rather than later.

"A killer, eh? Let's get a look at you then, boy. You've spilled enough demon blood and dust during your years as a mortal, but I wonder if you have the stomach for a good massacre as we do?" Angelus asked, prowling closer to the fledge, who stiffened but refused to look away.

Standing in front of him, Angelus grabbed the former Hunter's shoulder in a painful grip, squeezing with vampire strength while he smiled at him in a friendly manner. He didn't know whether he should be impressed or disappointed by the lack of a response to his rough treatment.

"What's the matter, lad? Drusilla hasn't cut your tongue out has she? Speak. Let's hear that cultured voice of yours now, vampire."

Blue became amber and the young vamp snarled loudly, shoving Angelus' hand off his shoulder and growling. Angelus never flinched, instead narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips as he contemplated the reaction.

"I thought as much. You might be one of us now, well, a vampire at least, but you're not happy about the fact, are you? That Hunter hatred for what you are now is still there, hidden deep down beneath the demon, isn't it? Only now that hatred is turned back on yourself. You had too strong a will for it to break just because you were turned."

Angelus' arm shot out, grabbing the young vamp by the throat and lifting him up off the floor. The fledge struggled in Angelus' grip, thrashing and snarling, but the older vampire was determined to teach the upstart a few things if he was about to join them.

"That is why we don't turn your kind or Slayers if we can help it, unless they're weak-willed that is. There's too much righteousness in your veins to enjoy the freedom of the demon. Killing the innocent just hasn't the same thrill for you as it does for the rest of us, which is a shame because since vampires don't feel anything but the excitement and satisfaction of a good hunt, it means that you feel nothing at all, except disgust for everything around you, and most of all for yourself. Of course, just because you don't enjoy killing doesn't mean you won't kill." Angelus dropped the fledge and walked away.

He heard the other vamp rising from the floor, growling sinisterly before attacking. He turned at the last second and brought his fist to the fledgling's gut, stalling him long enough for Angelus to sweep his feet out from under him and send him sprawling to the floor. In an instant, Angelus had reached the chair containing the dead man's body and snapped a leg off the chair, ignoring the corpse as it and the three legged chair fell sideways to the carpet. He brought the stake to his opponent's chest and held it firm, staring into the hate filled gold eyes.

"I should kill you right now and put an end to your miserable existence once and for all. The reasons I won't do that are one, because Drusilla wouldn't like me to harm her new pet and I'd have to replace you, two, a bit of male company would make an agreeable change no matter how charming the ladies are, and three, because that would be giving you what you desire most and I'm just not that charitable."

Angelus tossed the stake away and rose to tower over Drusilla's new toy. Darla and the dark-haired vampiress looked on from a nearby corner, mildly curious about the male posturing.

"I'm not the thing you hate most anymore. It's too bad you no longer have a reflection, but I suppose at least you don't have to look at yourself every day, thinking of all those dirty deeds of yours. I enjoy misery, it's a well documented fact," Angelus said, in his thick Irish brogue. "I'm going to enjoy yours for as long as possible. So if you really want to put an end to all those horrors you've been facing, I suggest you meet the sunrise. Otherwise, you put away those teeth until they're wanted, learn your place and just maybe, we'll get along."

Drusilla glided over to stand just behind Angelus, looking down at her Dark Prince with a knowing smile. After a second's pause and the occasional glance at his sire, the boy changed back into his human features and slowly rose from the floor. Standing a few steps back from Angelus, he scowled and lowered his gaze a fraction. It was enough for now. Angelus had plenty of time to beat the lesson into him.

"Smart move, boyo. Now, since you've already fed and it's daylight out, I suggest you clean up that mess," Angelus jerked his head in the direction of the dead bodies strewn about the floor, "before it starts to reek in here then get some rest for the night ahead. I'm going to teach you a few things about being one of us. By the time I'm through with you, William, you'll be one of the most feared and perverted killers in history…that or dust."

Angelus watched his reluctant new pupil back away and turn his attention to the bodies cluttering up the floor. He made sure the boy was doing as he was told then spun around to Drusilla and quickly grabbed her around the waist, pressing her up against his chest roughly.

"You've been a very bad girl, Dru. I think punishment is in order."

Angelus smirked at the sound of a warning growl behind him and raised his other hand to stroke Drusilla's face in a gentle caress. Drusilla purred appreciatively and leaned in so her face was inches away from his own.

"Daddy mustn't be cross. You'll see what a lovely star I've made. It shimmers from the blackness like a tiny spark that burns with a blinding passion, but hides in the presence of the blazing sun. It will all come tumbling down like a house of cards."

She seemed to drift away in her thoughts, staring past Angelus and into the distance. He sighed and released her. She stood there in a daze, her head cocked to one side and an awed smile graced her lips. Angelus shook his head and walked off in search of Darla. The boy had two bodies, one over each shoulder, and was leaving to dump them downstairs, out of sight and out of mind. Darla was in the bedroom sorting through an array of expensive looking dresses. Angelus sat on the bed and watched her.

"You still think it's a mistake don't you," she stated, disinterestedly.

"We don't turn those who kill our kind Darla, and we don't turn people like him, with beliefs as strong as his were."

"You mean people like he was, he's not human anymore. Besides," she turned to face him, dropping the dress in her hands to the floor, "he's already past saving himself. He's become a killer, and he will kill. After his first kill he proved that we don't have anything to worry about. You can show him who's in charge and he'll keep Drusilla happy. It seems like a good arrangement to me."

She fell down onto the bed on her back and stretched her arms out behind her, heaving her bosom upwards which Angelus took full notice of.

"Now that they've returned can we leave this dreary place?"

Angelus leaned back so he rested on one arm beside her.

"I suppose, but I don't want to leave London just yet. There's a couple of loose ends I want to tie up first, and I need to make sure he can keep himself alive if he gets into trouble before we take him with us. Give me a week, two at the most and we'll go anywhere that you desire, I promise."

"Your promises mean nothing, Angelus, and neither does your word. Just do what you have to and then take me out of this place or I'll go somewhere my desires will always be met."

Angelus snarled and sat up angrily.

"You'd really leave and go back to him, wouldn't you?"

Darla grinned and rose up from the bed, running a hand smoothly along his back.

"You know I would. You promised to show me the world, Angelus. Don't expect me to remain in the squalor of London because you're too caught up in your games to leave."

She stood and went back to sorting through her dresses. Angelus watched her in annoyance. He knew she meant what she said. He was in no hurry to leave, but didn't like to think he might lose her to the Master so easily. He'd just have to do as she said and put an end to his games then get them all out of here, with just enough horror in his wake for them to live up to their fame.