Lineage

St. Petersburg 1901

January...

"Is there a reason we're standing here freezing our arses off?" Spike asked irritably, both hands shoved under his armpits as he stamped his feet to ensure that he could still feel them.

Even for a vampire, it was bloody cold to be standing in snow-covered Isaakievskaya Square in the middle of the night and in January no less. There wasn't a soul to be seen, just two vampires waiting around in front of the Monument to Nicholas I.

"I told you, we're going to meet someone," Angelus replied.

"We're going to meet someone," Spike mimicked, in a mockingly deep baritone he often employed when impersonating his grandsire.

Angelus didn't bother reacting. It seemed the older vampire had long ago decided to merely allow the young vamp to vent his frustrations, as Angelus continued to stare rigidly ahead despite Spike's attempts to rile him, his long black coat wrapped around him to combat the chill in the air. The silence between them lasted all of ten seconds.

"Who exactly are we meeting? And how come we have to traipse all the way out here when Darla and Dru got a fancy escort from the hotel?" Spike asked, gritting his teeth at the memory of the smarmy git who'd shown up at the hotel earlier for the ladies.

Angelus stiffened and looked away to his left. Spike stared up at him, frowning suspiciously. Angelus sighed and shifted his feet. Spike remained motionless keeping his eyes locked on his grandsire, the first time Spike had stopped dancing on the spot since they'd arrived. Eventually Angelus gave in.

"What?" he snapped, whipping his head round to glare at Spike.

"It's your fault, isn't it?" Spike asked.

"No," Angelus countered, turning to stare sulkily ahead.

Spike looked up at the cloudy night sky, shaking his head and grinning before turning back to Angelus, pursing his lips and cocking his head.

"So what did you do then?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No," Angelus turned to glare at Spike again, "I didn't," he finished through gritted teeth.

"Well you can't blame it on me, because for once, I didn't do anything. This is the first time I've been brought to meet Mr. Mysterious, so if we've been left out in the cold it has to be because of something you did," he said pointing at Angelus' large forehead.

Angelus huffed and kicked the snow at his feet. He turned away again looking at the Cathedral across the street. Spike waited. Another ten seconds of solid staring got him an answer.

"He doesn't like me very much, all right?"

"Who's he and why not?" Spike asked. "Not that I'd expect anyone to like you, mind."

Angelus gave Spike a sideways glance and sighed again, apparently resigned to the fact that Spike would keep pestering him until he came out with it.

"He's the Master."

"The Master of what?"

"The Master of the Order of Aurelius," Angelus answered, grimly.

Spike's eyes widened and he turned to stare at the snow in front of him for a moment. He vaguely remembered reading about the Master in the Watcher Diaries once. He was reported to be incredibly old and fearsome. He was also Darla's sire. Spike blinked. Which would make him Angelus' grandsire. Smirking Spike looked at Angelus again.

"So, we're going to visit your granddad then? Huh. I take it he's not very fond of his famous grandchilde? Well, well, well. Isn't that bloody interesting?"

"It's different," Angelus snapped.

"Oh yeah? How?"

Angelus folded his arms and rolled his eyes before facing Spike, who leaned back against the monument, waiting expectantly.

"I insulted him. I took Darla, his most loyal and prized worshipper away from him so he's not very enthusiastic about me paying him a visit. It's why Darla and Dru got an escort and we're left waiting for one of his minions to turn up and show us the way. Happy now?"

Spike nodded thoughtfully, slowly crossing one ankle over the other and adjusting his position against the cold marble to appear more comfortable.

"I see. So, Darla takes you home to Daddy. You offend him by not paying due respect, convince his childe to travel around with you, protecting you, when all he wants to do is dust you, correct?"

Angelus stared at Spike sourly. Fifteen seconds of silent staring passed this time.

"Like I said, it's completely different," Angelus muttered, turning away again.

"Oh yeah, completely," Spike answered, straightening up and taking a step forward so that they were side by side again.

A figure slowly emerged from the darkness in front of them. They watched its approach cautiously. As it drew closer, they saw it was a minion. He was a small vamp, dressed entirely in black, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was a vampire, showing his ridges and fangs, proudly. Clearly, this was because humans had far too much sense to stand around an empty square in St. Petersburg in the middle of the night in the winter.

Stopping twenty feet away, the figure stared at them for a moment. Silently, he beckoned them over with a wave. They took two steps before he turned his back on them, walking back the way he'd come. They took this to mean they were to follow him, but had better keep up as he wasn't going to wait around. Sharing a look, they hurried after the minion.

After walking through the snow for quite some time, the creature came to a halt in the middle of the street. Spike and Angelus joined him and looked around. As far as they could tell, there was nothing there.

"Soooo," Spike drawled, "where's the Boss' lair then?"

The minion grinned at them and pointed down. Frowning, they looked in the direction of his finger and noticed a round metal cover at their feet. Looking up quickly, Angelus snarled at the minion.

"You've got to be joking."

The minion smirked. Spike glanced from the minion, to Angelus, and back to the doorway at their feet again.

"The sewer?" he asked in disbelief, turning to glare at Angelus. "The sodding sewer?" he growled.

Chuckling, the minion bent to lift and slide the cover out of the way then dropped down into the black abyss. A loud splash followed and both vampires stared down into the hole. Grimacing, Angelus released another long-suffering sigh and stepped to the edge.

"Let's go," he said, and before Spike could respond, he'd dropped down the hole too.

Another splash echoed up to the street above. Looking first left, then right, Spike clenched his jaw and, muttering a string of curses, bent and placed both hands either side of the hole, lowering himself down to the ladder. Once he'd gotten his head below ground level, he slid the cover back into place and then let go of the ladder, dropping down into the putrid sewer water. Some of the filthy water splashed up to his waist when he hit. He felt relief to discover that, upon standing, it was only ankle depth. Spreading his arms wide, Spike swore again then rolled his eyes and dropped his arms, shaking his head at the situation he'd found himself in. It was pitch black in the tunnel and Spike had to change to vampire form to see where he was going. Spotting Angelus and their guide up ahead, he jogged after them to catch up.

"More of granddad's hospitality, eh?" he commented, sarcastically.

"You were expecting a red carpet?" Angelus asked.

"Well considering Darla's high and mighty attitude, I figured she came from better stock than a sewer rat," Spike shot back.

"Appearances are deceiving," Angelus said, with a shrug.

They plodded on through the sewer, twisting, turning, this way and that before the minion ducked into a small alcove in the wall. With a quick glance at each other, Spike and Angelus followed. The hole in the wall opened up into a large passageway. Crawling through the gap, they entered the passage which was lit with torches sitting in sconces along the walls. It was still cold and smelly, but it was better than trudging through sewer water any longer.

"So, he prefers a dreary atmosphere to your posh style. No wonder Darla left him," Spike commented as they continued following the minion.

"He's of the old world. He believes vampires should live in caves and tombs instead of places built by humans." Angelus chuckled quietly, making Spike look over at him quickly. "Of course, it would be a lot more difficult for him to blend in the way we do."

Spike didn't understand what exactly Angelus meant by that, but he had certainly triggered a disapproving look, accompanied by a snarl, from their guide. Angelus just smirked at the minion and gestured for him to continue leading the way. Spike's curiosity about the Master rose. He expected a cold reception since it was apparent the Master had decided to treat him the same way he'd treated Angelus. Spike would never admit it, but he was beginning to see certain similarities between Angelus and himself in how their elders viewed them. Of course, that didn't mean he loathed Angelus any less.

Turning another corner, they met steps which had been carved into the cave floor. The steps ended at an imposing looking door. It was solid and made of iron, a gargoyle's head knocker glaring at them from its centre. Spike saw that the mouth was open and the metal ring lay secured between its sharp metal fangs. Grabbing hold of the ring, the minion banged loudly three times, and the noise boomed down the tunnel behind them. The echo faded away to silence, and they were left standing in the flickering torchlight again. Opening his mouth to speak, Angelus was cut off by the lock's screech as the door swung inward.

Angelus and Spike followed the minion through the doorway. The vampire who had opened the door stared at them through his yellow eyes as they walked past. Angelus ignored him, but Spike met his eyes and smirked. The vamp stared through him, then turned and closed the door with a loud clang.

This room was lit by torches and candles. Spike began to sense a theme. At least the smell wasn't so strong here. He tried to ignore the odor coming from his clothes. A large group of vampires all dressed in black, and all in their vampire forms, stood around the room in groups and fixed their attention on the two newcomers. Angelus glared around at all of them while Spike took it all in carefully.

Yeah, not gonna be liked much round here either, he thought, as he took in the amber eyes studying him with disapproval.

Their guide walked over to a shadowy entranceway and stood against the wall. He gestured with one arm that they were to step through into the chamber beyond. Angelus paused for a final glower at their audience before leading the way into the Master's domain. Spike followed quietly. He was eager to see this 'Master,' but was hoping to keep the attention off himself for a while so he could enjoy the predictably sour greeting between his two male family members.

Upon entering, the first thing Spike noticed was the large altar dominating the room, made out of stone and covered with intricate carvings. A groove ran down the front of the altar from the surface and ended above a chalice that was slotted into its base.

Adds to the ambience I s'pose, Spike thought.

Behind this altar was a throne, and it too was carved out of stone. Darla and Dru stood just to the right of it, and smiled as their male counterparts walked in. Both women were wearing their human faces. To the left of the throne sat a font, filled with what Spike identified as blood. Two ornate candelabras depicting grotesque figures writhing in agony were placed on either side of the font, casting a gloomy light upon it and the throne's occupant. Finally letting his gaze settle on the seated figure, he did a double take.

He understood immediately what Angelus had meant about the Master's inability to blend in. The ancient vampire barely resembled a human at all. His face was covered in bumps and ridges, his ears were thin and pointed, resembling a bat's, and he was hairless. The Master's skin was paler than anything Spike had ever seen and was covered with blue veins. Yellowed fangs protruded from thin, blood red lips, and his eyes were a glowing red instead of yellow. The red orbs observed Angelus with lethal disdain.

Spike gulped, suddenly glad to be hidden behind Angelus' hulking form. The Master's fondness for black was apparent in his own wardrobe too, adorned as he was in black leather. One long, pale fingernail tapped against the stone arm of his throne as he waited for Angelus to approach.

"Angelus," he said, and Spike was surprised to find that someone could inflect more loathing in their voice than Angelus did when he spoke to Spike.

"Heinrich."

Angelus' arrogant response provoked a disapproving growl from the throne. The noise reverberated through Spike's very bones and he shuddered.

"You will address me as 'My Lord,' Angelus, or suffer the consequences," the Master replied, grimly.

Angelus bowed mockingly and allowed his vampire features to melt away when his gaze once more met the Master's. The Master raised his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied Darla's favored pet.

"Travelling around the world hasn't improved your sense of propriety, I see."

"When you're at the top of the food chain, you don't need to consider it," Angelus responded, off-handedly.

"Well you're not at the top now, vermin."

The Master scratched his nails along the stone, as if he was imagining drawing them across Angelus' face.

"My Lord," Darla hastened to diffuse the tension between her childe and her sire, and Spike was taken aback by the timid sound of her voice. "Perhaps that is a lesson you should also impart to the newest addition to our line, Drusilla's pet," Darla turned a scathing glance in Spike's direction and her voice resumed its spiteful tone, "Spike."

The Master turned from his childe to where Spike stood, half hidden behind Angelus. One long and bony finger beckoned the young vamp forward. Spike drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, stepping around Angelus to face the leader of their Clan.

The Master's red eyes flicked up and down as he observed Spike slowly. He took his time, and Spike could feel the tension in him rising. It was all he could do not to fidget under the scrutiny, inwardly twitching and longing to tell the monstrous git to 'bloody well get on with it already.'

"Spike," the Master said at last, his gaze locking with Spike's. "So Drusilla brought a plaything home, did she?" The Master's gaze flicking to Angelus for a second as a smile tugged at his lips. "And why did our dear Drusilla decide to turn this one instead of feed off him?"

"She believes he's destined for great things," Angelus answered. "Has a notion he can leave his mark on history in blood like the rest of us."

"Does she now?" The Master grinned coldly as his eyes swept over Spike again. "I've heard Angelus' get has a certain intuition. Tell me, Spike, are you worthy of such an opinion?"

Spike could feel Angelus' eyes boring a hole into him, waiting for his response. He was wise enough to realize that pissing Batface off would have him staked very rapidly. Without Darla's protection, Dru's fondness for him would count for nothing. On the other hand, he didn't want Angelus to have the satisfaction of seeing him cower, even to such a dangerous and old vampire as the one he now stood before. Plus, he didn't particularly want to bow down before the ugly sod.

Spike knelt before the Master on one knee and bowed his head low, showing due respect. The Master cocked his head. However, when Spike looked up again, it was with his human face. Darla scowled and the Master leaned forward in his chair slightly, both hands scratching at his throne.

"If I wasn't destined and all that, I wouldn't have been brought before you, would I?" Spike asked, staring into the Master's hellish red eyes defiantly.

"This is what you meant by his lack of respect," the Master said to Darla before turning his attention to Angelus. "It seems you can't keep your subordinates in line, Angelus."

"No more than you can, apparently," Angelus shot back.

The tension in the room rose. Darla wrung her hands, her eyes flicking between Angelus and the Master.

"I killed a Slayer," Spike said.

The chamber went quiet. Spike could hear a faint dripping noise in the cave he hadn't noticed earlier. All eyes had turned to him. The Master, who had been facing Angelus sinisterly, eased back in his throne again. Tilting his head to the right, he observed Spike with more interest.

"Did you now?" The Master's voice echoed around the room.

Spike maintained eye contact while the Master raised his right hand and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Cupping his head in his hand, the ugly vamp slowly tapped his index finger against his cheek, considering Spike.

"That's quite an achievement. Especially for someone who was only turned—?" His eyes flicked over to Darla.

"Twenty years ago, Master," Darla answered, bowing her head respectfully.

"Really?" the Master asked, his interest obviously piqued. "Well, well. Maybe Drusilla found herself a prodigy after all."

Darla's eyes narrowed before she lowered her head. Clearly, Miss High and Mighty was put out by having Drusilla's addition to their family admired while her own was cast aside and looked upon with disgust.

"Tell me, Spike, how did she taste?"

Spike thought for a minute, remembering the flow of blood from the girl's neck that had filled him with such power. The adrenaline rush had been overwhelming. The taste of it was…coppery, as all blood is, but something else was there too. A trace of something not quite human lay beneath the expected flavor, something cold, feral, demonic.

"She tasted," Spike began, pausing as he considered how to describe it. Looking up into the Master's glowing red eyes, Spike wondered why the hell he should care how he described it. The Master didn't—his interest amounted to mild curiosity at best. "She tasted like the Orient."

The Master frowned in confusion. At least Spike assumed that's what he did. It was hard to tell with all those wrinkles.

"It was during the Boxer Rebellion. She was from Peking," Spike clarified.

"I see," the Master murmured, displeased.

Spike sighed and inwardly rolled his eyes. He had to guard his outward expressions. He knew where that would get him.

"It was powerful. I'd never felt so—well, so alive," Spike added, deciding humor was out when talking to the big guy.

The Master's eyes seemed to brighten at that and his thin lips stretched around his fangs as he grinned. Drusilla giggled and he turned curiously in her direction.

"It turned my little doggie into a Big. Bad. Wolf." Drusilla laughed again, her eyes meeting Spike's and holding his gaze.

"It did at that," Spike agreed with a smirk.

"He's been difficult," Darla cut in, scowling at Spike as she addressed the Master, "but since he's managed to kill a Slayer we thought you might want to observe him yourself. You always said you could use stronger followers. If he is a," Darla paused, appearing to struggle to get the next word out, "prodigy," another glower at Spike, "then he could be useful to you."

So that's what this is really all about then, Spike thought. They want to fob me off on Batface. Get me out of their hair without dusting me. Well if they think I'm gonna sit around letting that sod give me orders and doing his bidding like some low life minion, they're in for a shock.

Spike glared back at Darla, his eyes narrowing. Predictably, she turned her pert little nose up at him in contempt and looked away.

Evil old bint.

"I don't doubt that he would be useful, my dear," the Master said, at last, "especially considering my current plans."

That caught the attention of all the Master's descendants. Spike could practically see the gears in Angelus' head turning as he became instantly suspicious, trying to figure out what the Master's latest plan was. They were all intrigued. The Master seemed oblivious to his rapt audience, but Spike wasn't fooled for a second. He knew the Master was aware of the effect of his words. Knew that it had been said to rouse their interest and give them no choice but to stay, out of sheer curiosity. Even if Spike didn't care what the old fart was up to, Angelus and Darla would simply have to know, and Spike doubted that Dru would leave without Daddy, and he didn't fancy an argument with her.

"It's the difficult part that makes me wonder," the Master continued, thoughtfully, tapping his finger against his chin again. "I know what an unruly member of the Clan is like," his eyes flicked over Angelus briefly, "and I certainly don't need two of them."

Angelus grunted and looked away. Spike's jaw ticced. He didn't want to be judged for Forehead's actions, even if he had no intention of lying down at the Master's feet.

"I suppose he deserves a chance to prove himself. Fine. He can stay. You all can," the Master announced, sitting straight up on his throne. "But you do exactly as I say or I'll have you cast out and you will never set foot in my domain again, understood?"

Darla nodded instantly, a cat that got the cream grin on her face. Angelus huffed and tipped his head in disgruntled acknowledgment. Drusilla clapped her hands, nodding eagerly, and Spike nodded once.

"Good." The Master smiled—an unpleasant sight. Spike preferred it when the old bat scowled. It seemed more natural and—fitting somehow. "Andrei!" the Master called.

A minion scurried into the room, dropping to his knees a little behind Spike and bowing low.

"Master," he said, never raising his head as he stood.

"Bring me the chest," the Master ordered.

Andrei bowed again and hurried off to a chamber behind the wall. When he returned, he carried a small black box which bore a symbol on all four sides and on the lid. It vaguely resembled the outline of an upright arrowhead with three lethally sharpened points. Andrei brought it before the Master, dropping to his knees again and holding the box before him.

The Master leaned forward and opened the box. He dipped his hand inside and pulled out a small object. He held whatever it was up between his thumb and forefinger, examining it in the poor lighting. Andrei scurried backwards and rose, moving to stand behind Spike again, still clutching the box dutifully. Grinning, the Master rose from his chair. He closed the small distance between himself and Spike and stopped, looking down.

Spike raised his head, waiting.

"Your hand, Aurelian," the Master demanded.

With the barest hesitation, Spike raised his left hand. The Master grabbed his wrist, squeezing painfully. Spike clenched his jaw but refused to cry out or wince. The Master brought the object down, and Spike saw that it was a ring. Slowly, the Master slipped it onto Spike's ring finger. The ring felt heavy, the large stone weighing it down, and the metal was chilly even against Spike's cold skin. It was a little tight and pinched him. The Master dropped his hand and Spike gripped his wrist, massaging it as he studied the ring. The band was nothing special—a solid dark metal, but it was the stone that caught his eye.

It was oval and black as coal, the faintest trace of grey flecks running through it. What stood out the most was the blood red symbol embedded in the stone, shining up at him; the same symbol that had been carved on the box. He realized he'd seen a ring similar to this one before. Darla had one she wore constantly, fondling it absently when her attention was elsewhere. Up close, Spike saw that the Master was wearing one as well. Spike finally caught the symbol's meaning. It wasn't an arrowhead, it was an A.

The Master stepped back. "Rise, Aurelian."

Spike did as commanded, feeling his knee creak and his muscles stretch painfully from genuflecting for so long on the cold, damp ground. He met the Master's eyes.

"Welcome to the Order, Spike."