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Aurelius

Spike's eyes narrowed as he glared at the perfectly calligraphed names that were written in the book he held. The Order Of Aurelius. The name itself brought with it an onslaught of memories he had hoped to remain buried in the past, but they refused to be contained. Beneath the scripted writings of his covens origins name was the leader. Old bat-face himself. The Master.

He'd never actually met the guy himself, but knew from the stories he had been told by his sire and her compatriots that he was a right wanker of a vamp. The coven had split long before his introduction to their world, something about Bat-face not liking his favourites pets new flame.

"Not that I don' blame the guy. Angelus.... is a dick. " Spike mused, eyes scanning the open pages.

Still, he remained one of the most ruthless vampires to date and was not one to be trifled with. Whether or not the old codger was still in existence was unknown to Spike, but as long as he kept his ugly face out of his own un-dead existence, he didn't much care. The master was the beginning of the sire line; well that's what the booked depicted, a fact he was unsure about and raised an eyebrow in question at the dates written down. He was as old as dirt itself, a demon so ancient that whatever human features he had once possessed had long since left him, leaving his demon to completely take over.

Bat-face permanently on display.

Spike shuddered at the sketched image below The Masters name, scrunching up his own features. He hoped that he would be fortunate enough to never become so grotesque in appearance. It wasn't that he was vain by any means... who was he kidding! He was totally vain, running a hand through his hair on impulse before returning to his reading.

The book labeled The Master as 'king of the vampires' and it wasn't far-off the mark from the stories he had been told. The Master had pretty much ruled over them all, starting The Order of Aurelius. For a vamp he was quite selective of those who he chose to feed off of and those who he chose to turn.

Spike rolled his eyes at one particular name that stood out among the long list of minions that he recognized.

Darla

Bat-face's favorite.

The perfect calligraphed script had the words Dear One written next to her name which caused him scoff in protest.

"God, she was a bitch. Dear one my arse." He grumbled under his breath, flicking through the pages at a faster rate while trying to push back the unpleasant memories her name brought with it.

Darla was The Masters most beloved and loyal of servants who was sent out at his request to sire more vampires for their order. Spike knew what had come afterwards as a result of her actions, leaving a long legacy of infamous vampires; cunning and tenacious in her wake. But, there was one among the select chosen few that the bitch had sired who turned out to be the absolute worst.

Angelus

"Bloody git." Spike grumbled, glaring at the sketched image of the two vampires who had tormented his own existence for years. "You really missed the mark with that one grandma."

The next few pages of his book detailed the years Darla spent doing The Masters bidding, only breaking out from under his control and permanently dividing their coven after he had not taken too well to her choosing Angelus over him. She spent years frolicking around with the great poof himself before finding a young woman, so innocent and childlike who possessed the gift of sight.

Drusilla

Darla had practically offered her up to Angelus on a platter. He had ruined her. Used her innocence to his advantage and tormented her like a plague. He used her gift of sight against her, causing her to slowly lost her grip on reality, unable to completely comprehend what was happening around her. Angelus butchered her entire family in front of her and made her watch as he ripped them all apart. He made her scream and beg until there was nothing left. Her sanity was gone, leaving her in a constant state unawareness.

His dark princess; permanently broken by Angelus's sick games.

Spike traced the lines of his sires sketched image as a spoken admission from Angelus's entered his mind.

"She was my opposite in every way. The dutiful daughter. Devout Christian. Innocent and unspoiled. I took one look at her and I knew. She'd be my masterpiece."

Spike felt nothing but sadness, wondering for a time what she would have been like if she had never been tortured and tormented. What kind of vampire would she have made? But she had been and she was. So instead, he chose to see her insanity as a childlike state, someone who needed constant care and devotion.

How he had loved her.

"Oh, I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strength, his vision, his glory. Your wealth lies here... and here. In the spirit and... imagination. You walk in worlds the others can't begin to imagine."

Spike's eyes narrowed as he turned the page angrily, rage building up inside.

And yet, she had still left him.

"Bloody bitch."

The four of them had been happy for years, Angelus content with Darla and he completely besotted with his sire. Nothing could stand in their way, they were the fanged four. A scourge on the earth, killing and feeding whomever and wherever they liked. All it had taken was one argument. ONE bleeding fight between the great pillock and that blonde bitch before everything had fallen apart. Darla had run back to The Master, leaving Angelus for good and then all of a sudden he set his eyes on his girl.

A deep rage and anger overtook him as he glared at the book in his lap, the lines of script detailing the vampires lineage and division of their coven causing an array of emotions to break free. He had loathed Angelus with a fiery passion after Darla had departed their group and Angelus had turned his attentions towards Drusilla. She was supposed to be his; his girl and his alone. But no, Drusilla had wanted to play with 'her daddy' and had gone and bloody kicked him out.

He had felt inadequate for a long while after, wondering what it was he had done wrong. Had he not pleased her enough that she sought the comfort of another? Did he not do all of what she asked? Had he not bent over backwards to give her everything? Had she simply lost interest in him?

He had been dismissed from his own home without a second glance and then as soon as she was gone, she was back in his arms. Whispering promises to him as they fucked and killed, telling him secrets in the night that Angelus didn't want him to know. Stroking his ego to new heights only to crush him further. And then she was gone again, leaving only a maniacal giggle in her wake as she sauntered back to her sire.

He had been played for a fool and had loathed himself for falling for her tricks.

He had shut himself in a castle as far removed from the pair of them as he could, remaining isolated with only a select few within his company that he had come to grow quite fond of. Friends, and dare he say it, family. He had tried not to love Drusilla, but knew it was a hopeless task. A part of him always would.

After all Drusilla was his sire, his creator.

There was however, another within his castle walls that had recently come to change everything. He had thought Drusilla lost to him forever and the news that she still lived had given him hope that they may one day return to one another. That dream had been torn away once again after finding out that she had mated with the pillock.

A union that was unbreakable, even in death.

He would make Angelus suffer.

And yet, amidst his anger and hatred something else stirred within him, shining like a beacon within the walls of his home that brought with her a new kind of hope.

They had an unlikely friendship to be sure, but there were moments when something sparked between them that lit him alight with sensations that he had never experienced before. Suddenly there was hope. Was she what he'd been searching for all along? Could she be someone to stand by his side as a partner? It was an arrangement forced upon them both; neither wanting, but having no other choice in the matter to become a mated pair. Could they one day finally find comfort in each others arms and be equals?

Spike glanced up from his chair to stare at the object of his thoughts, his eyes catching hers. His demon purred from within at the look that crossed her face and the flush that came rushing to her cheeks. Seeing her blush, he decided, was one of his new favorite images.

He focused on her heartbeat and had to hold back a smirk at hearing it fluttering beneath her chest before she quickly glanced away to resume her reading. He returned his gaze back to his book, a scowl instantly crossing his features as the Aurelius lines depiction continued, finding it not nearly as interesting as the pink hue on his mates cheeks.

He read for a while longer, attuned to Buffy's heartbeat as it hammered away in her chest. It slowed for a while as she resumed her reading, becoming more absorbed in the book in her hands. He placed his own book in his lap and stared at the pages blankly as he listened to her heart racing minutes later. He tried opening the connection they shared, but she was strong willed and did not want him peaking inside her thoughts and feelings.

He heard a shuddering gasp escape her and was up and out of his chair and halfway across the room before her book fell to the floor with a loud bang.

............................................................


Giles reclined further into his chair, one hand resting on the desk, the other propping up the papers in his hands. His eyes squinted together trying to make out the scrawled writings, the lines seeming to blur together after a while. The snowstorm was picking up outside offering so little light into his library that he had to light all the candles at his disposal just to continue reading.

The pages he had first read held a number of names he didn't recognize and dates so old that they traced back hundreds of years. It seemed that his dear friend had also been trying to trace his wife's lineage to find the source of her powers. His efforts had been extremely thorough as the stacks of detailed writings he had found among his belongings was extensive. Hank had traced the chosen bloodline back to the very beginning. To the very first woman to be Chosen and as he read, came to the haunting discovery that she had been created.

His breath stopped in his throat, eyes wide at what was unfolding in front of him. It was a very dark form of magic that had created this being and anything that tampered with the darker side of magic was sure to have dire consequences. His eyes read on with rapt attention.

The Slayer.

A human girl aged fourteen was taken against her will and turned into something unnatural. She was created. Not born!

She possesses superhuman strength, speed, reflexes and great agility. All traits that my dearest Joyce possesses and Elizabeth may well come into when she is of age. It is alarming though, to discover that the young girl, Sineya is her name, along with her new found abilities also has the demons predatory instincts and superior healing which could prove to be a detriment to her.

How much damage can one body suffer before it can no longer heal itself?

Sineya was the first; created and not born of the chosen blood. The first in her line and the strongest of all her kind. Her power was insurmountable. Her connection to The Shadowmen; the men who created her, strong and unwavering.

The journals I have found are horrifying to read. The things that poor child went through is unimaginable. Perpetually torn between sanity and madness as she was repeatedly raped and used for breeding. She bore many children to what was left of her people before finally being released to fight the demons who tried to kill them. Forced by her people into a sacred duty she had not asked for.

Sineya was said to never be the same again.

Too much of the demon was within her that her humanity was lost forever. It was not realized until years later after Sineya perished that only one in each generation would possess the strength of The Slayer. Each time their connection to The Shadowmen weakening.

I hope that this fate never befalls my Joyce and Elizabeth! To be of the Chosen bloodline is dangerous enough, with hardly any of them left in this world, but to live in constant fear of either one someday becoming The Slayer terrifies me.

The demon that took my wife will pay for his evils and I will relish the day that I exact reve-

Giles was startled from his readings by a loud crashing sound near the window. He glanced up to see Buffy looking white as a sheet, mouth agape in shock as her fingers trembled where her book had once been, eyes staring blankly ahead and unblinking.

Spike was at her side in an instant, already up and moving from his chair before the crash was heard. Feeling the distress within her that he could not.

"Are you quite alright dear?" Giles stood and made his way to where they both sat.

Spike had picked the book up from the floor and placed in on the seat before taking Buffy's shaking hands in his own. Her chest was rising and falling in rapid succession, a sign of shock with her clammy skin that he noticed as he got closer. Her eyes remained unblinking as Spike whispered reassuring words to her.

"I... I'm-" Tears formed in her eyes as she stumbled over her words.

"Shh, it's alright, luv." Spike edged closer, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Can you tell me what you discovered to cause such a reaction?" Giles was calm as he sat on the other side of her, both men protective and reassuring.

"I-it's a journal." Buffy had yet to look at either of them, her eyes casting a glance to her shaking hands where Spike had started to rub soothing circles on her wrists.

"A journal. One from my desk?" Giles cast a glance at his desk and the stacks of books that lay there.

"Yes. Something called to me," she stared at the closed book. "it wanted me to know." Tears slipped from her eyes. "I wish I didn't know."

"I do believe that we've just discovered the same thing." Giles offered her a small smile, knowing how much of a shock it was. "Sineya?"

Buffy nodded and burst into tears, a sight that had Spike pulling her into his lap on impulse.

"Who the bloody hell is Sineya?" His arms wrapped around her small frame, her head nestled into his neck as she cried.





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