Both Spike and Xander were sobered by the whole encounter. They both always been the obscure figures standing outside, or at best at the edge, of any politics and power before, now it was clear, they were firmly… the focus.
Following the ‘consolidation’ of Spike’s power and the acknowledgement of Xander’s position, they slept away a rather disturbed morning intertwined. Both awoke knowing it was Anton they needed to regain some balance.
Hand in hand they entered his quarters to strains of Chopin’s Nocturne in E flat, something that should not really have surprised them… it fitted…. The Piano sung out and the gentle strains wandered through Anton’s suite along with the sweet scent from the numerous vases of freshly picked, late spring alpine flowers.
Xander couldn’t help but smile. Anton once admitting to them, in their last visit, that he only owned works of people he knew personally. Of course he had met and associated with Chopin, and an eclectic music collection was a given, but Xander noted a sudden tear in Spike’s eye as the next CD began… Somehow as Rigoletto’s ‘Gualtier Malde’, sung by the now retired diva, Joan Sutherland, touched the ‘punk rocker’ in a way that Xander had no way of accessing… He thought he heard a sigh and whispered word ‘Perfection’, wondered again at how little he knew of Spike but decided now was not the time to ask personal questions of his vampire.
Spike broke from the reverie of his listening to see the slightly worried look in his consort’s face He squeezed the warm hand, but there was really no need… the love and pride flowing across the link in both directions was so profound and so strong…. Xander pulled the pale hand up to his lips and kissed it… Words were sometimes so… redundant.
The doors to the wide balcony had been flung open. Anton was sitting, his back to them, in a classic design, wicker chair, with his feet on the balustrade. A thin trail of smoke from a clove cigarette wound its way up before dissipating, the pleasant, unmistakable odor permeating his rooms ever so slightly. Xander could see a glass of red wine being held loosely. It was the picture of a man relaxed and comfortable in his surrounds. The cigarette bearing hand waved them in with an accompanying, “Come through, William, Master of Aurelius, and Consort Alexander, you are welcome. We have much to discuss.”
Spike and Xander joined their host, Spike accepting a cigarette and both guests pouring themselves drinks. Anton had two bottles under the small table and glasses for three. He’d been waiting for them. There was a platter of flatbread, dips and anti pasta, plus a large bowl of fruit on offer.
“Expectin’ the troops mate?”
“Just you two…” Anton paused and gave an uncharacteristic sigh, “William, I wonder, will you do me the courtesy of using your true accent this afternoon? I am feeling… a little melancholy.”
Spike was both confused and distressed that he might somehow have hurt his new Sire, their host. He complied immediately, but the panicked look on his partner’s face and Anton’s ‘pained expression’ distressed Xander also… the feeling flowing freely through the link. Spike reached again for his consort’s hand. It was readily given and squeezed. The vampire master addressed the Immortal as requested. The ‘King’s English’ was never better expressed, “I’m sorry Sire, it is habit… and was never done with the intent to offend.”
Anton pulled his feet down from their resting place and turned to face Spike,“ Oh my dear William, you and your consort are my pride and my solace, especially today. You have not offended, it is merely that I wish to speak to the soul and the demon, and it will be easier today…. just today… if that might be in your ‘natural’ tongue… dear Childe, you willingly do me this favor and I am grateful. I confess that the last few weeks have been a little draining. The soft tones of your original speech were always so soothing…”
Spike looked at the Immortal and realized that, despite the relaxed pose, he appeared very tired. So taking a chance, and replied in the ancient Greek tongue he’d studied so many years ago. “Would you prefer I spoke in your mother tongue, Sire.”
Anton sighed, smiled lovingly with eyes that threatened tears, then replied also in that language, “Will this not offend your Consort?”
“I think he will understand, Sire.” Anton nodded at Spike’s words and closed his eyes with unfettered fatigue as the vampire quietly explained to Xander that he and the Immortal would converse in Greek, but that Spike would translate everything they needed to know, and that he and Xander would discuss all matters concerned together pre dinner.
Xander had seen the near exhaustion of their host, and decided on his own slightly different course of action. “If it is OK with Anton and you, Master William, I would prefer to go for a ride around the property… Sire?... Anton? … would your riding master put up with a rank amateur?!”
Anton turned to Xander with a genuinely relieved smile on his face, but the address was as much for Spike as the consort when he replied, “You are indeed the diplomat and the heart. How unsurprising the new Master of Aurelius took you as Consort, or that you were found worthy by the most powerful Vampire court in the world… And equally, it is pleasing that I am able to be both grateful and thankful that you are part of my family.
“Gregor will take you riding, simply ask for him. The stable hand will arrange you both with a horse (or a quad bike!)” At the last statement Xander gave a look and a near ‘bounce’ so akin to
a sixteen year old who had just been told he could ‘take the Porsche for a spin’, that Anton laughed out loud… “Quad bikes it is then!” and contacted Gregor’s cell phone to that effect.
Xander kissed Spike and left his two Greek speakers to discuss vampire matters for an hour or two.
Anton was still smiling at Xander’s thoughtfulness but as the man left, he dropped all pretence of human interest and spoke in his original tongue, “Come sit by my feet, Childe.” Spike complied without thought and bared his neck as he did so. As Anton took a cursory draft and offered his wrist to his ‘Childe’, the mood relaxed.
“What did Angelus teach you of the old Masters, William?”
“Not a great deal … um… Only the basics really… Oh Sire, Angelus was *never* about absolute vampire power or politics, that was Darla! I umm, I … need your help now… Sire… none would teach me. And Dru just…” Spike halted again, this time knowing that accusing his family, grand sires and sire(s) of neglect was, both disrespectful and a betrayal, even a century on.
Anton knew the reason for the pause, and rather than take offence, kissed the forehead of the youngster in his charge, his new Master of the European clans. Anton felt the surge of pride that any guardian relative might of the successful son who had matured, and proved a worthy family successor. “There is no need for fear or apologies dear William. I bow to you now also… and offer you my service.”
“No Sire… *no* you can’t! I won’t…! It’s… Please Sire… I need your help not your tribute!” Spike was very close to inexplicable tears, but instead knelt up in front of his mentor, his now Sire.
Anton took the floor with him. “There is no need Childe… no need for this… I am so proud of you…”
“But…I have no idea what it is I need to do… Sire?”
“This is only my opinion… as *you* are The European Master not I, but it is my thinking… the first and foremost priority is to address the concerns of the various clans. Once done, you must appoint the successor to Mistress Alenka.”
“Well that’s all well and good, but what are their concerns? They have obviously come to you before…?”
“No Childe. They would not approach me for such solutions. Each clan has asked for time with *you*. We have allowed each fifteen to twenty minutes’ audience with you to put their case. I wonder if you might take a little advice.” Spike’s respectful gaze and a nod caused the Immortal to continue, “You should deliberate during the evening, then convey your wishes in the morning. To proffer your opinion in any shorter time would be seen as impolite, and indicate that you not considering their case or their clan worthy of your attention. To alienate the clans so early would be an unwise move for any new Master.”
Spike rolled his eyes a little and did a quick mental calculation. There were seven major clans involved and a smaller bunch of affiliated minor courts who would see him as a group. It would be two to three hours of meetings. Longing thoughts for time with his consort shot across their link. Xander replied with love and trust and a small measure of ‘thrill’.
Spike sat at the end of an impressive library room, complete with leather bound tomes to the ceiling and ladder for access. He was a little dwarfed by the enormous, deep burgundy leather chair, yet that simply seemed to add to his mystique. Anton sat off to one side like the benevolent relative he was. He appeared disinterested, merely present to idly thumb through his ancient text as each delegation entered with their appeal to their new leader.
Spike was initially surprised at the deference afforded him, then a little shocked as master vampire after master vampire began their audience by kissing the Aurelian ring Angel had gifted him. It was the first time since the first decade or so of his turning, that he felt part of the formal vampire society. And certainly the first time he understood his ‘regal’ position in it.
William the Bloody had run as a ‘maverick’ member of the formal Aurelian court for most of his existence. Angelus was hardly one for the court, though (as it turned out now, thankfully) Darla had beaten traditional protocol into all of her direct line. They had all been presented and accepted by the ancient Master.
He found Dru in Geneva toward the end of the war… having scrambled back to Europe any way he could, after the nasty ‘Nazi sub incident’. He had been somewhat shocked to find Drusilla happily ensconced in a lovely chateau on the Geneva Lake, courtesy of the local vampire master. Her visions were invaluable, though in truth, mostly indecipherable, nevertheless the other master was enamored by the dark mistress and she had found sanctuary.
Darla had apparently departed for the USA in the late nineteen eighties to join the old Aurelian Master, who had left Europe a couple of decades earlier, intent upon establishing himself as ruler of the Hellmouth in the ‘New World’.
Dru and Spike spent much of the mid to latter decades in Paris, Amsterdam, Rome and Athens with healthy doses of Brussels, Nice and London. The period was (if Spike were truthful) one of ‘cool parties’ and decadent behavior behind closed doors! Dru and he, the Aurelian couple, were quite part of the ‘in’ crowd, the ‘jetset’ of late fifties through to early seventies in Europe. After that, Spike had indulged his dark Princess and moved to New York for a time, returning to Europe with yet another Slayer scalp to his credit. They had left after the incident in Prague, to seek out help from their direct line, all of whom had now apparently emigrated to ‘the colonies of tea partying traitors’.
The rest was a very bizarre history, and now as Spike listened to the rather petty concerns of each clan, he was somewhat pleased he’d endured it all. Anton smiled to himself from his ‘observation post’. He saw the mature vampire, the true Master of Europe, and was confident that the region was in good hands. And he loved ‘his boy’ just a little more.
Spike took notes on a tiny tablet computer happily provided by Anton. The sleek silver object was perched neatly on a convenient side table, and already loaded onto the database was a summary of each region he was meeting, their powerbrokers and a brief history. Some of the more traditionalists attending the new supreme Master were rather taken aback by his obvious ease with the new technology. Others saw it as a fine sign that their new leader had a command of all the tools naturally required by a ‘powerbroker’ of the age.
Spike knew from the outset that the evening was to be a necessary but rather tedious one.
First up, there was the petty squabble between the two German clans over ‘supremacy’ regards the naming of their Childer. The ‘Master’ put a quick stop to the debate, dismissing them all and emphasizing his displeasure at being dragged in to such a ridiculous family squabble regarding the ‘true line’ given that the original Masters had been twins and turned simultaneously. Despite this, Spike also expressed his magnanimous willingness to resolve the matter with ‘a decision by tomorrow evening’.
Next, the clan who controlled the south of France, came with concerns that three of their wineries were still classed as ‘Cru d’ Chateau’, and were desperate to improve their standing. Another clan from Spain were similarly challenged with the marketing of their fine tequila and absinthe (the latter still legal in Spain). Spike asked both groups for their marketing strategy, and following a brief summary, suggested that they look at one that broadened to encompass countries outside Europe. He casually pointed out the merits of a merger under the Aurelian umbrella, thereby availing themselves to the use of the court’s international contacts. However again, did as his ‘Sire’ suggested and requested that both groups come back for a second meeting in two days’ time to work through the details of such a venture.
He was then faced with quite a different issue. The dear vampires ‘managing’ an existence on the Steppes of the old USSR were worried that the human population were suffering due to political persecution, industrial pollution and severe weather, and simply were asking for some sort of three year subsistence support from the Aurelian line which would (apart from keeping the clan alive for the next three months) enable them to bolster crops and stock… the humans who were living happily with their philanthropic vampire neighbors, would also benefit and be more willing to barter and ‘donate’ (animal and human blood), as had been their tradition for some hundred or so years. Anton nodded, Spike gave his agreement without slowing down, however still requested a second meeting, asking them to consider what they thought a ‘reasonable amount’.
Various other squabbles from the UK and the Ukraine were tabled by what became a seemingly endless line of representatives.
The group from Alenka’s court entered looking rather lost and very nervous. Theirs was a problem he knew of. They had no need for worry, as it turned out. Spike was magnanimous and conciliatory in his approach, and promised to resolve the leadership issue by the morning.
The next conversation regarding some international banking concerns due to the Euro and a number of ‘hunting territory issues’ around the Czechoslovakian border. It was almost ‘more of the same’, but as Xander stepped into general view, it seemed that the room shifted. The delegation speaking at the time was somewhat relieved that Spike brightened at the entrance of his Consort, and appeared more willing to review their case for the morning. They took their leave quickly.
Xander (and Gregor for that matter) looked deliciously handsome, all covered in sweat and dirt. The human wearing a boyish grin and the combined scent of petrol, dirt, ‘the outdoors’ and arousal. Spike smiled as Anton scented Gregor as well, and wondered for a moment … then dismissed the notion as he saw the loyal assistant’s gaze drift toward a rather lovely blonde chef du jour, who apologetically entered the room to confirm the dinner arrangements with Anton. Gregor’s slow blink and a reciprocal shy smile from the young chef confirmed Spike’s suspicions, and as he turned to his new Sire who was gifting his loyal servants with a paternal smile each, and was equally pleased. Anton had much to teach ‘Master William’ yet Spike felt that there could be no better role model than his current Sire.
He was broken from his reverie by Xander’s very public kiss as the final appointment was led into the room.
Spike noted the particularly arrogant London Master and his ‘P.A.’, both grumbling about the delay due to ‘the human pet arriving’ (all within easy vampiric earshot), followed by several snarky comments comparing the ‘service’ to ‘High Street Specialists’ and ‘pretentious new QC’s’.
Master Reginald, and his PA Stephen, had missed the original meeting and were apparently reluctant to agree with the ‘European groupies’ of Anton’s regarding the ‘trumped up claim of some renegade Childe of Angelus’.
Reginald refused to kiss the Aurelian ring, merely waving his lips over it, then took his seat in front of Spike, legs apart, leaning back in the chair and obviously challenging the new Master. He began without appropriate greetings and a tone that spelt disrespect, “Right well, we have several demands that you need to deal with…”
Anton raised his eyebrows at the behavior, and whispered, “Some individuals should really…” But before he was finished, Spike was out of his chair, and in a flash of speed that surprised even the immortal, had the recalcitrant Reginald hauled down and pinned to the floor with his fangs penetrating his subject’s thick neck. Reginald’s second, Stephen, fell into game face and was about to react in defense of his master but instantly found the human Consort Xander standing calmly, with a stake mere millimeters from his unbeating heart. The vampire stilled, wide eyed, then slumped and submitted to whatever punishment the new Aurelian Master, or his Consort, decided to incur.
Spike took three long drafts of the other Vampire’s stolen blood, continuing to pull the liquid until he heard a whimper and felt the shift in the body. The blood began to carry traces of fear and compliance, and finally full submission. Spike withdrew, stood and returned to his chair. As Reginald slowly retook his own seat, Xander moved back to stand behind Spike’s chair, the ex-Scoobie realizing with some amusement that ‘Reggie’ had lost his toupee in the foray and was quite bald but for the fluffy mouse brown hair that skirted his now nude cranium. Somehow the defeated, and ‘follicly challenged’ vampire, now had a rather pathetic air about him, and his offsider seemed even less confident, curling almost into himself and keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.
Spike licked the last of the other’s blood from his lips, then leaned back and began to review Master Reginald’s ‘holdings and associations’ on screen, before addressing the meeting as though nothing had happened.
“Now, you had some concerns Master Reginald. I appreciate your appeals and am happy to review your requests but it is late in the day, so if you would do me the courtesy of Emailing them, even submitting them via fax would be fine, I guarantee I will give them due consideration, and request that we meet again in a day or so… I trust this is agreeable to you?”
The contrite vampire simply nodded then all but whispered, “Very good Master William, Stephen will arrange a time that suits you.” The two ‘guests’ rose and scurried from the room.
Anton could not suppress his grin as he picked up the forgotten ‘fur piece’ from the floor between finger and thumb, holding it rather like a deceased small animal, before dropping it into a large envelope, and marking the stationary in prominent black letters, “UK delegation, lost property, Master Reginald”. All present were smirking by the time Anton rang for one of his household assistants to return the item to its owner.
Gregor excused himself politely shortly after, and closed the library doors as he departed.
Anton was the first to speak, “Once again Master William, Consort Alexander, you have proven yourselves. I do not believe there will be further internal challenges for some time. Reginald has much influence. His submission to you Master, and the act of your consort, will be long remembered.”
“Thank you Sire.” Spike and Xander had spoken in unison without thinking, both grinned a little sheepishly, then were rewarded by Anton throwing his head back in a swish of black locks, as he gave a wonderfully welcome belly laugh.
“Ah my spectacular boys. The Clans have so much to learn, to gain, with you at the helm. Now let’s take some exercise while dinner is prepared.”
Xander groaned a little, “Ummm Anton? Spike? Stinky human here…” But gave up his protest as Spike nuzzled into his neck, lightly cupped his consort’s fast hardening groin and purred… “Smell fantastic pet… all musk and man… feels like your ‘up and ready’… Now ‘Cmon luv… Old Anton here might even give us some space and we can have a nice roll around near the poplars at the front.” Spike grinned toward his ‘Sire’. There was a subtle nod.
Dinner would be obviously be 'late'.
Part 10
Both Spike and Xander were sobered by the whole encounter. They both always been the obscure figures standing outside, or at best at the edge, of any politics and power before, now it was clear, they were firmly… the focus.
Following the ‘consolidation’ of Spike’s power and the acknowledgement of Xander’s position, they slept away a rather disturbed morning intertwined. Both awoke knowing it was Anton they needed to regain some balance.
Hand in hand they entered his quarters to strains of Chopin’s Nocturne in E flat, something that should not really have surprised them… it fitted…. The Piano sung out and the gentle strains wandered through Anton’s suite along with the sweet scent from the numerous vases of freshly picked, late spring alpine flowers.
Xander couldn’t help but smile. Anton once admitting to them, in their last visit, that he only owned works of people he knew personally. Of course he had met and associated with Chopin, and an eclectic music collection was a given, but Xander noted a sudden tear in Spike’s eye as the next CD began… Somehow as Rigoletto’s ‘Gualtier Malde’, sung by the now retired diva, Joan Sutherland, touched the ‘punk rocker’ in a way that Xander had no way of accessing… He thought he heard a sigh and whispered word ‘Perfection’, wondered again at how little he knew of Spike but decided now was not the time to ask personal questions of his vampire.
Spike broke from the reverie of his listening to see the slightly worried look in his consort’s face He squeezed the warm hand, but there was really no need… the love and pride flowing across the link in both directions was so profound and so strong…. Xander pulled the pale hand up to his lips and kissed it… Words were sometimes so… redundant.
The doors to the wide balcony had been flung open. Anton was sitting, his back to them, in a classic design, wicker chair, with his feet on the balustrade. A thin trail of smoke from a clove cigarette wound its way up before dissipating, the pleasant, unmistakable odor permeating his rooms ever so slightly. Xander could see a glass of red wine being held loosely. It was the picture of a man relaxed and comfortable in his surrounds. The cigarette bearing hand waved them in with an accompanying, “Come through, William, Master of Aurelius, and Consort Alexander, you are welcome. We have much to discuss.”
Spike and Xander joined their host, Spike accepting a cigarette and both guests pouring themselves drinks. Anton had two bottles under the small table and glasses for three. He’d been waiting for them. There was a platter of flatbread, dips and anti pasta, plus a large bowl of fruit on offer.
“Expectin’ the troops mate?”
“Just you two…” Anton paused and gave an uncharacteristic sigh, “William, I wonder, will you do me the courtesy of using your true accent this afternoon? I am feeling… a little melancholy.”
Spike was both confused and distressed that he might somehow have hurt his new Sire, their host. He complied immediately, but the panicked look on his partner’s face and Anton’s ‘pained expression’ distressed Xander also… the feeling flowing freely through the link. Spike reached again for his consort’s hand. It was readily given and squeezed. The vampire master addressed the Immortal as requested. The ‘King’s English’ was never better expressed, “I’m sorry Sire, it is habit… and was never done with the intent to offend.”
Anton pulled his feet down from their resting place and turned to face Spike,“ Oh my dear William, you and your consort are my pride and my solace, especially today. You have not offended, it is merely that I wish to speak to the soul and the demon, and it will be easier today…. just today… if that might be in your ‘natural’ tongue… dear Childe, you willingly do me this favor and I am grateful. I confess that the last few weeks have been a little draining. The soft tones of your original speech were always so soothing…”
Spike looked at the Immortal and realized that, despite the relaxed pose, he appeared very tired. So taking a chance, and replied in the ancient Greek tongue he’d studied so many years ago. “Would you prefer I spoke in your mother tongue, Sire.”
Anton sighed, smiled lovingly with eyes that threatened tears, then replied also in that language, “Will this not offend your Consort?”
“I think he will understand, Sire.” Anton nodded at Spike’s words and closed his eyes with unfettered fatigue as the vampire quietly explained to Xander that he and the Immortal would converse in Greek, but that Spike would translate everything they needed to know, and that he and Xander would discuss all matters concerned together pre dinner.
Xander had seen the near exhaustion of their host, and decided on his own slightly different course of action. “If it is OK with Anton and you, Master William, I would prefer to go for a ride around the property… Sire?... Anton? … would your riding master put up with a rank amateur?!”
Anton turned to Xander with a genuinely relieved smile on his face, but the address was as much for Spike as the consort when he replied, “You are indeed the diplomat and the heart. How unsurprising the new Master of Aurelius took you as Consort, or that you were found worthy by the most powerful Vampire court in the world… And equally, it is pleasing that I am able to be both grateful and thankful that you are part of my family.
“Gregor will take you riding, simply ask for him. The stable hand will arrange you both with a horse (or a quad bike!)” At the last statement Xander gave a look and a near ‘bounce’ so akin to
a sixteen year old who had just been told he could ‘take the Porsche for a spin’, that Anton laughed out loud… “Quad bikes it is then!” and contacted Gregor’s cell phone to that effect.
Xander kissed Spike and left his two Greek speakers to discuss vampire matters for an hour or two.
Anton was still smiling at Xander’s thoughtfulness but as the man left, he dropped all pretence of human interest and spoke in his original tongue, “Come sit by my feet, Childe.” Spike complied without thought and bared his neck as he did so. As Anton took a cursory draft and offered his wrist to his ‘Childe’, the mood relaxed.
“What did Angelus teach you of the old Masters, William?”
“Not a great deal … um… Only the basics really… Oh Sire, Angelus was *never* about absolute vampire power or politics, that was Darla! I umm, I … need your help now… Sire… none would teach me. And Dru just…” Spike halted again, this time knowing that accusing his family, grand sires and sire(s) of neglect was, both disrespectful and a betrayal, even a century on.
Anton knew the reason for the pause, and rather than take offence, kissed the forehead of the youngster in his charge, his new Master of the European clans. Anton felt the surge of pride that any guardian relative might of the successful son who had matured, and proved a worthy family successor. “There is no need for fear or apologies dear William. I bow to you now also… and offer you my service.”
“No Sire… *no* you can’t! I won’t…! It’s… Please Sire… I need your help not your tribute!” Spike was very close to inexplicable tears, but instead knelt up in front of his mentor, his now Sire.
Anton took the floor with him. “There is no need Childe… no need for this… I am so proud of you…”
“But…I have no idea what it is I need to do… Sire?”
“This is only my opinion… as *you* are The European Master not I, but it is my thinking… the first and foremost priority is to address the concerns of the various clans. Once done, you must appoint the successor to Mistress Alenka.”
“Well that’s all well and good, but what are their concerns? They have obviously come to you before…?”
“No Childe. They would not approach me for such solutions. Each clan has asked for time with *you*. We have allowed each fifteen to twenty minutes’ audience with you to put their case. I wonder if you might take a little advice.” Spike’s respectful gaze and a nod caused the Immortal to continue, “You should deliberate during the evening, then convey your wishes in the morning. To proffer your opinion in any shorter time would be seen as impolite, and indicate that you not considering their case or their clan worthy of your attention. To alienate the clans so early would be an unwise move for any new Master.”
Spike rolled his eyes a little and did a quick mental calculation. There were seven major clans involved and a smaller bunch of affiliated minor courts who would see him as a group. It would be two to three hours of meetings. Longing thoughts for time with his consort shot across their link. Xander replied with love and trust and a small measure of ‘thrill’.
Spike sat at the end of an impressive library room, complete with leather bound tomes to the ceiling and ladder for access. He was a little dwarfed by the enormous, deep burgundy leather chair, yet that simply seemed to add to his mystique. Anton sat off to one side like the benevolent relative he was. He appeared disinterested, merely present to idly thumb through his ancient text as each delegation entered with their appeal to their new leader.
Spike was initially surprised at the deference afforded him, then a little shocked as master vampire after master vampire began their audience by kissing the Aurelian ring Angel had gifted him. It was the first time since the first decade or so of his turning, that he felt part of the formal vampire society. And certainly the first time he understood his ‘regal’ position in it.
William the Bloody had run as a ‘maverick’ member of the formal Aurelian court for most of his existence. Angelus was hardly one for the court, though (as it turned out now, thankfully) Darla had beaten traditional protocol into all of her direct line. They had all been presented and accepted by the ancient Master.
He found Dru in Geneva toward the end of the war… having scrambled back to Europe any way he could, after the nasty ‘Nazi sub incident’. He had been somewhat shocked to find Drusilla happily ensconced in a lovely chateau on the Geneva Lake, courtesy of the local vampire master. Her visions were invaluable, though in truth, mostly indecipherable, nevertheless the other master was enamored by the dark mistress and she had found sanctuary.
Darla had apparently departed for the USA in the late nineteen eighties to join the old Aurelian Master, who had left Europe a couple of decades earlier, intent upon establishing himself as ruler of the Hellmouth in the ‘New World’.
Dru and Spike spent much of the mid to latter decades in Paris, Amsterdam, Rome and Athens with healthy doses of Brussels, Nice and London. The period was (if Spike were truthful) one of ‘cool parties’ and decadent behavior behind closed doors! Dru and he, the Aurelian couple, were quite part of the ‘in’ crowd, the ‘jetset’ of late fifties through to early seventies in Europe. After that, Spike had indulged his dark Princess and moved to New York for a time, returning to Europe with yet another Slayer scalp to his credit. They had left after the incident in Prague, to seek out help from their direct line, all of whom had now apparently emigrated to ‘the colonies of tea partying traitors’.
The rest was a very bizarre history, and now as Spike listened to the rather petty concerns of each clan, he was somewhat pleased he’d endured it all. Anton smiled to himself from his ‘observation post’. He saw the mature vampire, the true Master of Europe, and was confident that the region was in good hands. And he loved ‘his boy’ just a little more.
Spike took notes on a tiny tablet computer happily provided by Anton. The sleek silver object was perched neatly on a convenient side table, and already loaded onto the database was a summary of each region he was meeting, their powerbrokers and a brief history. Some of the more traditionalists attending the new supreme Master were rather taken aback by his obvious ease with the new technology. Others saw it as a fine sign that their new leader had a command of all the tools naturally required by a ‘powerbroker’ of the age.
Spike knew from the outset that the evening was to be a necessary but rather tedious one.
First up, there was the petty squabble between the two German clans over ‘supremacy’ regards the naming of their Childer. The ‘Master’ put a quick stop to the debate, dismissing them all and emphasizing his displeasure at being dragged in to such a ridiculous family squabble regarding the ‘true line’ given that the original Masters had been twins and turned simultaneously. Despite this, Spike also expressed his magnanimous willingness to resolve the matter with ‘a decision by tomorrow evening’.
Next, the clan who controlled the south of France, came with concerns that three of their wineries were still classed as ‘Cru d’ Chateau’, and were desperate to improve their standing. Another clan from Spain were similarly challenged with the marketing of their fine tequila and absinthe (the latter still legal in Spain). Spike asked both groups for their marketing strategy, and following a brief summary, suggested that they look at one that broadened to encompass countries outside Europe. He casually pointed out the merits of a merger under the Aurelian umbrella, thereby availing themselves to the use of the court’s international contacts. However again, did as his ‘Sire’ suggested and requested that both groups come back for a second meeting in two days’ time to work through the details of such a venture.
He was then faced with quite a different issue. The dear vampires ‘managing’ an existence on the Steppes of the old USSR were worried that the human population were suffering due to political persecution, industrial pollution and severe weather, and simply were asking for some sort of three year subsistence support from the Aurelian line which would (apart from keeping the clan alive for the next three months) enable them to bolster crops and stock… the humans who were living happily with their philanthropic vampire neighbors, would also benefit and be more willing to barter and ‘donate’ (animal and human blood), as had been their tradition for some hundred or so years. Anton nodded, Spike gave his agreement without slowing down, however still requested a second meeting, asking them to consider what they thought a ‘reasonable amount’.
Various other squabbles from the UK and the Ukraine were tabled by what became a seemingly endless line of representatives.
The group from Alenka’s court entered looking rather lost and very nervous. Theirs was a problem he knew of. They had no need for worry, as it turned out. Spike was magnanimous and conciliatory in his approach, and promised to resolve the leadership issue by the morning.
The next conversation regarding some international banking concerns due to the Euro and a number of ‘hunting territory issues’ around the Czechoslovakian border. It was almost ‘more of the same’, but as Xander stepped into general view, it seemed that the room shifted. The delegation speaking at the time was somewhat relieved that Spike brightened at the entrance of his Consort, and appeared more willing to review their case for the morning. They took their leave quickly.
Xander (and Gregor for that matter) looked deliciously handsome, all covered in sweat and dirt. The human wearing a boyish grin and the combined scent of petrol, dirt, ‘the outdoors’ and arousal. Spike smiled as Anton scented Gregor as well, and wondered for a moment … then dismissed the notion as he saw the loyal assistant’s gaze drift toward a rather lovely blonde chef du jour, who apologetically entered the room to confirm the dinner arrangements with Anton. Gregor’s slow blink and a reciprocal shy smile from the young chef confirmed Spike’s suspicions, and as he turned to his new Sire who was gifting his loyal servants with a paternal smile each, and was equally pleased. Anton had much to teach ‘Master William’ yet Spike felt that there could be no better role model than his current Sire.
He was broken from his reverie by Xander’s very public kiss as the final appointment was led into the room.
Spike noted the particularly arrogant London Master and his ‘P.A.’, both grumbling about the delay due to ‘the human pet arriving’ (all within easy vampiric earshot), followed by several snarky comments comparing the ‘service’ to ‘High Street Specialists’ and ‘pretentious new QC’s’.
Master Reginald, and his PA Stephen, had missed the original meeting and were apparently reluctant to agree with the ‘European groupies’ of Anton’s regarding the ‘trumped up claim of some renegade Childe of Angelus’.
Reginald refused to kiss the Aurelian ring, merely waving his lips over it, then took his seat in front of Spike, legs apart, leaning back in the chair and obviously challenging the new Master. He began without appropriate greetings and a tone that spelt disrespect, “Right well, we have several demands that you need to deal with…”
Anton raised his eyebrows at the behavior, and whispered, “Some individuals should really…” But before he was finished, Spike was out of his chair, and in a flash of speed that surprised even the immortal, had the recalcitrant Reginald hauled down and pinned to the floor with his fangs penetrating his subject’s thick neck. Reginald’s second, Stephen, fell into game face and was about to react in defense of his master but instantly found the human Consort Xander standing calmly, with a stake mere millimeters from his unbeating heart. The vampire stilled, wide eyed, then slumped and submitted to whatever punishment the new Aurelian Master, or his Consort, decided to incur.
Spike took three long drafts of the other Vampire’s stolen blood, continuing to pull the liquid until he heard a whimper and felt the shift in the body. The blood began to carry traces of fear and compliance, and finally full submission. Spike withdrew, stood and returned to his chair. As Reginald slowly retook his own seat, Xander moved back to stand behind Spike’s chair, the ex-Scoobie realizing with some amusement that ‘Reggie’ had lost his toupee in the foray and was quite bald but for the fluffy mouse brown hair that skirted his now nude cranium. Somehow the defeated, and ‘follicly challenged’ vampire, now had a rather pathetic air about him, and his offsider seemed even less confident, curling almost into himself and keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.
Spike licked the last of the other’s blood from his lips, then leaned back and began to review Master Reginald’s ‘holdings and associations’ on screen, before addressing the meeting as though nothing had happened.
“Now, you had some concerns Master Reginald. I appreciate your appeals and am happy to review your requests but it is late in the day, so if you would do me the courtesy of Emailing them, even submitting them via fax would be fine, I guarantee I will give them due consideration, and request that we meet again in a day or so… I trust this is agreeable to you?”
The contrite vampire simply nodded then all but whispered, “Very good Master William, Stephen will arrange a time that suits you.” The two ‘guests’ rose and scurried from the room.
Anton could not suppress his grin as he picked up the forgotten ‘fur piece’ from the floor between finger and thumb, holding it rather like a deceased small animal, before dropping it into a large envelope, and marking the stationary in prominent black letters, “UK delegation, lost property, Master Reginald”. All present were smirking by the time Anton rang for one of his household assistants to return the item to its owner.
Gregor excused himself politely shortly after, and closed the library doors as he departed.
Anton was the first to speak, “Once again Master William, Consort Alexander, you have proven yourselves. I do not believe there will be further internal challenges for some time. Reginald has much influence. His submission to you Master, and the act of your consort, will be long remembered.”
“Thank you Sire.” Spike and Xander had spoken in unison without thinking, both grinned a little sheepishly, then were rewarded by Anton throwing his head back in a swish of black locks, as he gave a wonderfully welcome belly laugh.
“Ah my spectacular boys. The Clans have so much to learn, to gain, with you at the helm. Now let’s take some exercise while dinner is prepared.”
Xander groaned a little, “Ummm Anton? Spike? Stinky human here…” But gave up his protest as Spike nuzzled into his neck, lightly cupped his consort’s fast hardening groin and purred… “Smell fantastic pet… all musk and man… feels like your ‘up and ready’… Now ‘Cmon luv… Old Anton here might even give us some space and we can have a nice roll around near the poplars at the front.” Spike grinned toward his ‘Sire’. There was a subtle nod.
Dinner would be obviously be 'late'.