Solstice

SOLSTICE
Part 5/10

I wake from the dream of the other place, a place where, strangely, my heart seems to be beating, although I am still myself. As I re-enter your reality, I find that the beating is real. I am holding Buffy tightly, and she is hammering on my chest. Her face is pressed against the hollow of my neck. As she feels me rouse, she breathes a sigh of relief.

“Let go! I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.”

I kiss her on the forehead and lift the sheet. We are both naked, except for our scars. Memory of this reality comes flooding back, and I do my best to push it away, for the moment.

“I’ll find you a bathrobe or something.”

“You know, you’d think I’d remember getting married, but I don’t.”

My heart may not beat, but it can definitely sink.

“We didn’t get as far as the ceremony.”

I pull the sheet up a little, and run my finger over her scar. It’s still pink, but I can see it will fade. When it’s appropriate, I will make sure that it fades without leaving so much as a silvery line to mark her flawless skin.

“You were shot.”

I don’t want to dwell on this, so I allow the sheet to fall again and start to turn over. Bathrobe, that’s what she needs. She stops me, and pulls the sheet back a little. This time, it’s her finger that traces some of my extensive network of ugly but fading scars.

“What happened?”

Her voice is flat, one that will brook no flummery. It’s then that she sees something over my shoulder. I glance backwards, and see Willow and Tara in deep conversation with Aurelius, in the adjoining room.

“Hey guys, you got a Buffy-sized bathrobe there?”

Saved by the bell, so to speak. I hardly recognise my voice, harsh from various wounds.

“It’s about time you two woke up.” Willow walks over with a thick white terry robe. Aurelius makes a graceful exit, calling back that he will await us all in his study, when we are ready. As Buffy pulls back the sheet and rolls off the bed, she gets a clearer view of me. She realises that the scars extend over my face as well as my body. Her hand comes up to her mouth as she sees the extent of the damage.

“Someone’s going to pay for those,” she whispers. Damn right, they are. Faith.

She holds me tight for long moments, and I know that she is close to tears. I make small, soothing noises for her, and tell her that it’s all right, we’re both all right, and we will both heal properly. These sort-of sentences are punctuated with kisses to the top of her head, the only part that my lips can reach. Eventually, she pulls away and takes a more considered loo me. me. Then she kisses each of the facial scars before casting me an apologetic glance as she heads for the bathroom.

I go to my own room for a shower, making do with a sheet wrapped around me, and I’m first to join Aurelius. He has blood for me, and a large tray full of dainties that will appeal to a human newly risen from their sickbed. I look them over carefully – I want to make sure that they are good, nourishing fare for my girl – and find that he has included all the necessary food groups.

“Satisfied?”

I nod happily.

“Well, there’s something we need to settle before the girls come in. Neither Willow nor Tara will tell Buffy anything yet. What do you want her to know?”

I understand clearly what he means. Riley. If I don’t tell her, it will be a lie that will stand between us forever, one that might well come out since others know. Others who hate me, such as Xander Harris or Cordelia. There’s only one thing to do.

“The truth.”

“Very well.”

His voice is bleak, but he seems relieved. When the three come in, he shoos me away to one of his more than comfortable armchairs, and tends to their wants himself. Dishes of tiny slices of sweet melon, spiced fish, little bowls of couscous, slices of chicken, tomato and cucumber salad, stuffed dates, apricots and almonds, fruit juice and mint tea. It’s an eclectic mix that all three will enjoy, but that will be sure to tempt Buffy’s appetite. It works. But, as they eat, and I sip my blood – into which, I find, some of his own has been mixed – he recounts what happened at the church and afterwards. Buffy continues to nibble at the delicacies as the story unfolds, but her eyes harden when she hears the identity of the would-be assassin. She says nothing as he tells her that information had to be forced from Riley – he doesn’t go into specifics – but she watches me steadily through that part of the recital. I can’t meet her gaze. Willow and Tara clearly know much of this, but not all.

He doesn’t mention Faith, and he doesn’t mention my injuries. As he tells her about his decision to bring us all to Cairo, where he can best care for us, she cuts across him, but speaks to me.

“What happened to you?”

She has some idea of how bad the original injuries were to still look like this after almost two weeks.

“It doesn’t matter.” I jump up and walk over to the table for more blood. I’m starving. It doesn’t concern her. I’ll deal with it myself. She doesn’t need to know. Then suddenly, she’s behind me, and has turned me and slammed me into the wall. She’s almost back to Slayer strength, then. Aurelius looks on with amusement. Willow and Tara look a little flustered. They will have to get used to just how *physical* we are with each other. She presses her advantage.

“It matters to me. Tell me. I want no secrets between us.”

I pull away from her and walk back to the chair without answering her. She looks a mute appeal to Aurelius to continue. He shakes his head and looks at me.

“Angelus, only you know what happened exactly. I think you should tell us.”

I feel too weak and weary to argue. That’s the result of too much healing and not enough blood. That’s why he’s given me some of his own, discretely.

“It was Faith. She felt she had a grudge against me that she needed to take out of my hide. She’s your sister slayer, Buffy, but that won’t stop me from killing her.”

All the three girls pale a little, but it’s Aurelius who answers.

“Why would you do that?”

I look at him in astonishment.

“Why do you think?”

“She saved Buffy’s life. Why would you kill her?”

He sees what must be a look of total befuddlement on my part.

“She didn’t explain to you, afterwards?”

“No. She took a phone call, then walked out.”

He sighs, and his brows knit together in what seems to be a tic of anger.

“Why would she do that?” He seems to be talking to himself, rather than us. Then he returns his attention to his perplexed audience.

“She did what was required to break the magic holding the poison in Buffy’s body.”

He sees everyone’s look of incomprehension, and starts further back.

“Every spell must have a way out.”

The witches nod. They understand this.

“An experienced magic user will make that way out as unlikely as possible, so that the spell cannot be broken by chance, or by good guesswork. Giles had very little difficulty in persuading Rack to…”

“Rack…”

I’d almost forgotten Rack’s part in this. Almost. I should have run him out of Sunnydale long before this, instead of thinking that I might use him.

“Yes. Rack. He gave Giles the information on how to break the spell. It was a way out that he didn’t believe would ever happen, because he based it on his knowledge of the average vampire. He didn’t understand the vampire he was dealing with. What was done had to be done to you specifically, and you had to accept it willingly. Giles had decided that it was his responsibility, but Faith had ideas of her own. She just took off for the mansion. She hasn’t been seen since Giles called her there to say the magic had broken.”

He doesn’t tell me any more, although he knows that I will ask, and he doesn’t ask me how Faith did it – I’ve no doubt he will, later, and I’ve no doubt I’ll have to tell him. Buffy says nothing either, and I know the same will apply to her. She’ll want to know everything. The witches are silent.

I’m not convinced, though. None of this came through on Faith’s scent. Except… there were tears at the end. I won’t kill her straight away, then. I’ll allow her to speak first. Aurelius is well aware of the discomfort and confusion in the room, and he turns the conversation adroitly to the girls’ plans for the next few days, before Willow and Tara go to spend a little time with the magic users of Adras. It distracts them but it is not a topic that is going to go away.

In deference to his guests, the diurnal rhythm of his palace has been overturned. In future, my mate – and the witches, if they come again – will be expected to adjust to his household’s rhythms, but for now, bowing to the need to recover, the nights are tranquil, and are for sleep.

We have separate rooms, but she comes to me. She doesn’t want to talk about what has happened to us – that will come later. She simply wants to love and be loved.

Up to now, we have always made love in whatever light was available, greedy for the sight of each other, finding nothing more exciting or erotic than the vision of the other’s passion. Just now, I cannot bear that. I want to be in absolute darkness. I have a certain self-image, and this does not include the way in which my flesh has been hacked and hewn. She will still feel the writhing scar tissue, but she need not see it. Worst for her must be the jagged scar through my right eye, running from temple to mouth. Faith took a long time to saw that wound. The eyeball has healed and my sight is restored, but the scar is taking longer. Aurelius has told me that, whilst I was…elsewhere, he has given me both his own blood and blood from Sekhmet. Without that, my healing would have taken a deal longer.

She resists me, saying she wants to see me, saying that I could never be repulsive to her, but eventually she gives way, and the lights stay out. Her vision is not as acute as mine, although more so than other humans, and darkness helps. Neither of us is in any real pain now, just the intolerable itch of healing flesh.

She decides that she wants it to be ladies first. That’s fine by me. I lie with my fists wrapped around the struts of the bed head, to give her easy access. She runs her fingers over all her favourite places, just teasing at first. Whenever she encounters a ridge that shouldn’t be there, she traces the line of it, gently, delicately, as if creating a new map of me in her head, and in her hands. Her lips close over mine, and I can barely restrain myself from crushing her to me and ravaging her. This is not about sex – or not entirely about sex. This is about affirmation of life, of love and of need. Mental need as well as physical need. My need to affirm is almost overwhelming.

She lifts a hand to my face and traces the new map that overlies my features. Her fingers come to rest on my eyelids. She knows that I can see better than I want to just now. If I cannot see her, then she won’t be able to see me. It’s a mistake that the young of all species make.

“Close your eyes.”

Her instruction to me has a peculiarly sharp poignancy, like a sword thrust through the gut, but I obey. My voluntary captivity and blindness act like an aphrodisiac, unneeded though that is, and it now is not only my healing wounds that have an intolerable itch. Still, she works her way slowly down my body, tasting and caressing and relearning every swell and curve of muscle, every slope and plane of skin.

Then her lips catch up that straining, yearning part of me, as artfully as any lover I have had, and I give myself over completely to pleasure. Her fingers, however, forbid me, circling me tightly. She teases and torments and will not give me release. She pushes me to the edge, and then denies me, over and over. I promise myself that, if she ever does this again, she’ll spend the rest of her life with her hands tied behind her back; or perhaps that will be if she never does this again. I don’t know and I don’t care, mindless as I am, and deep in her thrall. The end, when she allows it, is so wonderful that it hurts.

When it’s my turn, I pay her back with interest, with lips and tongue and teeth, savouring the sweetness of her as if she were life itself, which she is to me. As I bring her to a rapturous completion, I make her peak again by drawing my fang gently down the healing scar on her breast, lapping at the drops of blood, suckling at the wound as the flow of blood ceases, reopening the skin so that I can lick it closed again. Nothing from my fangs will ever scar her, except for the mating bite. By scoring over this wound, making it heal over again for me, not for the bullet, I have made sure there will be no scar at all to mar the perfection of her breast.

As we lie together afterwards, my cheek resting on her head, feeling the golden silk of her hair against my skin, I wonder why I should love this woman so much. She used to be my plaything; now, I might as well be hers. I used to think that she might have been created just for me; now, I wonder whether I might have been created just for her. Her protector, guarding her life with my blood and my pain. Morbid thoughts, and I try to shake them off. They have no place here. But I keep remembering a poem that she likes, one that we all know. The Tyger. She thinks of me as the tyger, and perhaps I am.

‘And what shoulder, or what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?’

Twist, as in make, or forge. And that is what she has done. She has twisted a heart for me, a heart that only recognises her as its master. She is my creator.

I told Drusilla that the sun would stand still in the sky before I allowed the Slayer to change me. I had forgotten. It does. Twice every year, the sun appears to stand still in the sky, and then to reverse its course. The two solstices, summer and winter.

We fall asleep locked in each other’s embrace. That’s where I intend her to stay. I won’t let her fall into danger again.

****************

Shopping. There must always be shopping. I’m five and a half thousand years old, and while I have learned that there must be shopping – yes, it was tame ame all those millennia ago – I still do not understand it. Why must women always want to do this? Nevertheless, I have hired a guide for the three of them, who will also show them some of the more interesting places of Cairo, but Angelus and I will take them to see the more wonderful sights by night. There is little more beautiful than the Pyramids at Giza by moonlight, or the Nile from high in the desert in the Egyptian night. But first, there must be shopping.

When Doronit arrives, I suggest to the girls that they allow her to negotiate for their purchases, unless they wish to have the perhaps obligatory experience of being cheated in the souk. Thinking about it, that might do them good. She will have them back by nightfall, or when they are tired, or when they have spent the money I have authorised Doronit to spend. They objected to the money but they are still nervous of me, and a flash of amber and a small growl ensured that I had my way. Being a vampire among humans can be useful. They aren’t likely to exhaust my funds, so it will be one of the other two. My household will breathe a sigh of relief. They are finding it a strain to have the Slayer here. I think they’d better get used to it.

When they are gone, I invite Angelus to come and sit with me. He is a different demon to the one who came here looking for Spike and Drusilla five years ago. He’s a very different demon indeed to the one who first came here with Darla in 1774, thinking that he would find another Master to despise, just as he had despised Darla’s own sire. I know that he was born of rage and hate and a desperate need for love and approval. I also know that Darla told him that what we were informs all that we become. That is so. What she didn’t tell him, because I don’t think she knew, is that it doesn’t stop. There’s that cliché about the love of a good woman, but it’s a cliché because it’s true. He has met a woman with the power to influence him. There’s more, though. He doesn’t understand it yet, but he now has, from Angel, a hundred years worth of memories and emotions and all the other things that make us what we are. They didn’t go away when Angel gave up his soul, and they, too, will inform all that Angelus will become. He could never be Angel, but he is, indeed a different demon. I want a little time to get to know this one better. I liked the old one. I love this one.

When he comes, his first question is predictable. Will they be safe? I can reassure him on that. Doronit is not all she seems. She is a Sabas demon, well versed in self-defence, and very strong. Other members of her family will keep the group r obr observation all day. Between them, they will manage. That relieves his mind, and we sit, then, talking of small things, exploratory things. Shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings. After a while, I open a bottle of good Irish whiskey, and he doesn’t refuse. On the third glass, in a moment of quiet, as he sits picking at the scars on his hand, he abruptly changes the subject. We had been talking about something that I wish to commission for them. Portraits. Perhaps he will choose to tell you about them, but I shan’t.

“Where is Rack?”

Ah. I wondered when we would come to this.

“He is secure.”

“I want to see him.”

“To kill him?”

“Yes.”

“We shall go to see Rack soon.” He must be satisfied with that, for the moment. He knows enough not to argue, but he will not let the subject lie for long.

He has kept his gaze turned from me ever since he came to my study. I know what the problem is. He may no abl able to see in a mirror, but a vampire always has a complete visual picture of itself. That’s how demons like us can heal back the way we were, how creatures like us can manage without a reflection. Even you humans have this inner map, and you are most aware of that when you lose it. Remember when you were a teenager, and growing, beyond any hope of your mind keeping the map up to date? How clumsy you were, falling over your own feet, missing your handholds, dropping things? Only when your mental map of your body could keep up with the size and shape of that body did you regain your normal grace. Ours is simply stronger, clearer, and more visual than any human’s map. He knows exactly how he looks, and he doesn’t want others to see him. Not until he is healed. If he doesn’t look at me, his subconscious hopes that I won’t look at him. Or maybe, that he won’t have to see his reflection in my eyes. My poor boy.

“Why have you chosen to help me?”

That is how we start to talk about the large things.

“Is it so incredible that I should choose to help one of my masters?”

“You must know how much I’ve hated you…”

Do we have a past tense there?

“… and never looked to you for anything. Why do you help me, and the Slayer? Aren’t you afraid I’ll bring the clan into disrepute?”

There is a note of defiance there. If I asked him, he would say he didn’t care, that it mattered nothing to him. It does, though. Vampire bonds are strong between families, and even Angelus cannot be free of them. Again, I feel the urge to unburden myself to him, to tell him of that shameful bargain with Seth. To tell him of the prophecies that he and the Slayer will somehow mean life for all of us, instead of absolute extinction. But I ask again, what good would it do? If he knew of the weight of prophecy, he would be borne down by it. If he has no knowledge of it, then whatever he does will fulfil a true prophecy. So, I keep my silence.

I tell him, instead of Palestrina. I have never spoken to him like this, of my soul mate, but I tell him now of her life, our love, and her death, stoned by a mob because of my fang marks in her neck. As I finish my story, for the first time, he looks at me.

“Would you have turned her?”

“Never.”

“Would she have accepted you as a vampire? Accepted what you are and what you do? Or would you have chd?”
d?”

I know this troubles him.

“She *had* accepted me as a vampire, and I had changed, even more than when...”

No, I am not ready to talk to him about that. About my own soul. I’m almost sure he knows of it, though.

“I asked myself what I needed to keep more than I needed to keep her. I think she did the same. Without even discussing it, we came to a place where we could live with the actions of the other, the needs of the other. Even Sekhmet was prepared to compromise.”

I do not tell him that Sekhmet and I made virtually all the compromises. He knows that it must have been so. He nods, absently. I’m sure that he has decided to do the same. He will sacrifice some things, and find they are no sacrifice at all. So will the Slayer. There is something else, though, that troubles him.

“I have dreamed of a woman who looks exactly as you describe. It was the last time I was here.”

If I had a beating heart, it would have pounded. With a little prompting, he tells me about his dreams, and Palestrina’s appearance. There can be no doubt it was she. I tell him then of how I ended her life out of mercy, and how her echo remains within me. He hasn’t learned how to do that yet, with a mate, so I explain. I hope he never has to use it, although I fear that he will. And it seems that an echo of that echo has passed to him. I was sure that it would be so, and I am pleased. He has a little of Palestrina, and I have a little of Buffy, taken in when he and I have shared blood. That seems right.

I am sure of what is happening. He has taken enough of my blood and with it, that of Palestrina, to have acquired some unusual gifts. I believe he has come by some gift of prophecy. Nothing big, or earth shaking; perhaps nothing that affects others; perhaps it will be reserved only for events affecting himself and his mate. It may be rather like his mate’s slayer dreams. If he wishes, he can fuel that acquisition, give it more power, as well as gaining some other abilities, perhaps. I don’t need to explain further. He understands what I am saying.

He picks at the scars again, not really knowing that he is doing it.

“Tell me about Faith, and breaking the magic.”

“You were the key. You had to accept the pain that you had inflicted on the magic wielder – Riley – plus a large proportion more, accept it thinking that you did so in lieu of Buffy, yet without knowing the true reason why. The average vampire is never so unselfish as to suffer willingly for another. And both ends of the pain/pleasure continuum had to be called into play, at a level beyond the ability of most demons to endure. Rack clearly thought that there would never be a way out through that possibility, and he left no other.”

It takes him a few minutes to digest that. I want him to talk about it, to lance the abscess that might stop him from believing that Faith did what needed to be done, but I won’t ask him here. I’ll wait until I have him in my bed, and can trace out the scars, and draw out his pain. I’m sure that the Slayer has compassion enough to do the same. One of us should succeed.

“I don’t seem to be healing so well recently. Not as quickly as usual.”

On this, I can put his mind at rest. He is not losing his power. He has suffered some mighty injuries in a relatively short period. His body is conserving its strength. When he can go for a couple of months without being shot or stabbed or tortured half to death, his healing ability will be replenished. He’s actually healing extremely well. Vampires recover very quickly from minor injuries. Major trauma is different, and it takes a powerful vampire to recover quickly from that. Most vampires, faced with a tithe of what he has endured, would have withdrawn from the world for a while, and slept.

“You don’t mind me bringing the Slayer into the clan?”

“I will welcome her, provided she doesn’t try to stake us all.”

He smiles thinly. Well, it was a thin joke.

“You can’t have her, you know. I won’t stand for it.”

Now, how should I respond to this? He has shown his clan master open defiance. Every member of a clan is the property of the clan master, and is available whenever required. I knew this would come, though.

“I’ll stay away from her if you stay away from Palestrina when she returns. Unless we mutually agree something different, of course…”

With that downcast gaze, his smile seems shy, an unusual expression for Angelus, but I know that it is more one of relief. He knows the worth of the concession he has wrung from me, too. Buffy will not be alive when Palestrina returns. If she returns. There is a hurdle that must be cleared, though.

“Buffy has a few drops of my blood now, but she will need a little more, and I will need some direct from her. You won’t object to that.”

That is a statement, not a question. He signifies assent. Good. She must be accepted as a rightful and ranking member of this clan, if she, too, is to have the strength of the clan around her.

We have talked more, and more as equals, thanr ber before and I am pleased. There is something else I want to do now, while the opportunity is here. I take that scarred hand and lead him into my bedroom. Sekhmet is curled on a couch and looks up briefly as we pass. She purrs in pleasure, and it is to the sound of her purr that I strip away his barriers and devote myself to him. And at last, I make him look me in the eyes and see that I still think him beautiful. None of his wounds matter, especially since the intimate ones are now only a tracery of silver lines and do not prevent his ultimate pleasure.

When we are quite finished, we shower, and then go down into my cellars. To my dungeons. Rack is there, safely bound by spells and magics that even he cannot break. I know a trick or two.

I loosen Rack’s bonds sufficiently to make him accessible, and then stand back, ceding precedence to the one that this creature has hurt. Angelus, however, gestures me to come forward with him. For the first time, we share a meal, and even have the opportunity to play with our food for a time. It bonds us a little more, and I hope it won’t be the last. It hasn’t troubled my conscience at all. My minions will deal with the corpse later. In some ways, I am sorry that we will be unable to deal with Riley in the same way. I’m sure that it would have been much healthier for Angelus. Now, though, the mutilated carcass is simply rotting somewhere.

When the girls return, they are hot and sweaty and giggly. They are also loaded down with packages. It seems they have had a wonderful time, and want to do it all again tomorrow. Why do I suddenly feel too old for all this? When they are washed and changed and rested, we take them off into the night. The only thing that is lacking, so far as they are concerned, is that as yet no mysterious berobed nomadic Arab has offered to buy them for half a herd of camels and an unspecified amount of desert gold. I shall have to do better next time – I can think of at least four who would happily oblige. I’m not at all sure that the slave-masters would fully appreciate what they were getting, though…

***************

We leave after another week, by which time Buffy and I are both fully healed – and scar free – and the witches are in Adras. I think that Aurelius’ household must breathe a deep sigh of relief, but everything has been perfectly managed. It’s a standard I want my own household to aspire to.

We’ve eaten in some of the best places in Cairo, met some of the best people – and non-people – in Cairo, and seen some of the more wonderful sights. The girls have given a whole new meaning to ‘shop ‘til you drop’. I’ve tried to reimburse Aurelius, but he just gave me an old-fashioned look and said he’d never had a daughter-in-law before. I pointed out that he hadn’t got one yet, and he just glowered at me until I told him that I intended to rearrange the date for the equinox. The time when day and night are equal. We’ve got a little over two months.

Then I tell him something that I’m sure I’ll get punished for, although not by him. I want to do the mating ceremony on the same night. He laughs at me, laughs until he is crying. Then he teme Ime I need an award for bravery. What is it about my nuptials that seems so hilarious to evee? e? Don’t answer that, because I know the answer very well.

More than ever, now, I feel myself to be part of the clan, part of a family, and yet I am not restricted or defined by that. My plans are my own. Ties of blood can never be escaped, not completely. You simply cannot understand how they bind us. A vampire clan is a family such as you have never known. Oh, we love and we hate, and a family feud is a thing to write history about. But love and hate are both fuelled by the same thing. Passion. Demons have an excess of passion but like you, love can become hate, and vice versa, almost in the blinking of an eye. Look at how the Slayer and I hated each other at first. If we had not faced the trials that we have endured, who is to say that we might not have continued in that hatred? Perhaps one of us would have killed the other before we had time to understand that unconditional love could spring from the same well. Before we could understand that we were soul mates. You should do what I intend to do, and guard the Slayer well. She stands between you and Armageddon.

On the way back, I ask her to try the wedding ceremony again on the equinox, on 22 September. She likes the idea, so that’s on, provided I can get the priest. The arrangements will be a little different. She is uneasy about doing everything exactly the same, and I do not blame her for that. I don’t ask her about the mating ceremony yet, but I’ll have to do it soon. The invitations will have to go out. I just have to choose my moment. How many men have said that, I wonder? Suddenly, I feel an unwonted sympathy with just over half of humanity.

We stop off at Los Angeles, and visit St Jude’s. The priest seems genuinely pleased to see us, and the date is agreed. This time, the ceremony will be at the mansion. I’m taking no chances. He asks for a few moments alone with me, and I think I know what’s coming.

“I have the service that you agreed to perform for me. It concerns Wolfram and Hart.”

I really am all attention. The Soul had a great deal of trouble with these; I’ve just killed a litter brother of theirs who tried to take over the world, so I’m sure I’m not their favourite vampire; and now they have tried to assassinate the Slayer. They would also have assassinated Faith. They told Riley it was so that a new Slayer, one uncontaminated by me, could be chosent I t I believe it was to weaken me, to prevent me from building something that the Slayer will be proud of. Something that might even, in time, be a danger to them if only in a small way. If they think they can play me as they did the Soul, they will soon learn different. I think he sees some of those emotions passing over my face because he shakes his head a little.

“You wish to destroy them, and I confess that I would like to make that the service I require of you. I cannot, though. You will need them in the future, and so you will destroy them in a different way. You will weaken them until they cannot fight you any more. Then you will negotiate with them. You will negotiate a peace for mankind. You will be humanity’s representative, and you will enforce that peace. Will you do it?”

I argue with him. I do not want a single atom of any of them to remain in existence, but he is adamant. He is also adamant that I will need them, will use them for my own purposes, in the future, and that my mate and I will never have eternity if I destroy the three fiendish demi-gods that are the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart. He is unconcerned about their minions – I may do as I please with them. He is certainly unlike any priest that I have met before. How can he possibly know these things?

In the end, I agree. When all is said and done, you can wreak so much more vengeance on a living godling than on a dead one. I try to forget the part about being humanity’s representative – that surely is Buffy’s job, not mine. I’ll just help her with it if she needs me to.

We don’t go straight back to Sunnydale. This was meant to be a honeymoon, and I have bought a cabin on the shores of Lake Tahoe, in the wildest, most beautiful part. It’s there that I ask her about the mating ceremony – outside, so that she cannot wreck the cabin. Fortunately, there is no living human soul within earshot. A great deal of wildlife is scared away, though. For at least four days, I have to go a long way to hunt for my meals – and hers. And a number of trees are destroyed. I have several cracked ribs that take a day or two to heal, and a very sore back. Those tree trunks were thick. The discussion isn’t over yet.

***************

We are back in Sunnydale, and it’s less than two months to my second wedding. Doesn’t that sound weird? I need to talk to my friends, and I really nee tal talk to Tara and Willow. But, they are still in Adras, courtesy of Aurelius, learning to handle the magic of the Hellmouth, and it’ll be two weeks before they get back. I really need someone to talk to now, and I don’t know if I’m up to telling the others before I’ve talked it through with Will and Tara. It’s the mating ceremony. I don’t know if I can do it. Angelus has said that if I don’t want to, then we won’t. He also tried to explain why it’s a good idea, but I wouldn’t let him. That was when I beat the stuffing out of him. He made no effort at all to stop me, just tried to protect himself from the worst of my anger. I don’t know why I took it out on him like that, but I did. Must have been hormones. Or pride.

So, I’m patrolling, although I’m pretty sure he’s not made any new fledglings since we got back. Still, there might be other things, and now I do indeed feel a vamp close by, and it isn’t him.

Oh. It’s Estevan.

“Slayer.”

He gives me a courtly bow.

“Estevan.”

I’m a bit curt, because I wanted some alone time if I couldn’t have Will and Tara time. He doesn’t say anything else, so I move off and he falls into step beside me.

“I wished to speak to you about the mating ceremony, Slayer.”

“What? Did Angelus send you to plead his cause?”

I’m infuriated at the thought.

“No. He would beat me unmercifully if he knew I was speaking to you about this. I came to tell you that all the household hope that you will agree to the ceremony.”

“You’ve all been talking about me? Behind my back?”

I’m really getting angry now.

“No! I… I lurk.”

Now, where have I heard that before?

“The different sections of the household have whispered about it. They know that you two have argued about it. Some of them did not understand why you would refuse, so they have taken it upon themselves to research. There is little to find here, but in, say, Hylek, there is more. They are interested in your well-being. They are concerned that if you do not consent, you will die sooner than you should. Slayer, we do not want that. And would you mind putting that stake away, please?”

I am standing facing Estevan, and I realise that my stake is pressed against his ribs. I do move it.

He looks around and sees that we are next to a large tomb.

“May we sit down, please?”

I nod, and walk over to the tomb. I don’t sit on it though.steastead, I slide down onto the grass, and prop my back against the stone slab of the wall. Estevan perches on the edge.

“May I explain why Angelus wants the ceremony?”

“I suppose he talked to you about it? About his reasons?”

If he has, that might just put the tin lid on everything. Why would he talk to a vamp who’s not much better than a minion at present, even if he was a master vampire be Ang Angelus bonded him? Estevan seems shocked.

“No! Of course not. But I am old enough to have learned these things. Mating itself requires no ceremony, simply for the two concerned to declare themselves mates, and to have exchanged blood in a private ritual. This applies to two vampires or in the very much rarer case of a vampire and a human. However, there *can* be ceremony, and often is, especially if one of the mates is to be introduced to a new clan, as would be the case with you. That, I believe, is what Angelus once had in mind. It does not need to be complex and is almost always used when a human partner is involved, rare though that is. It replaces a wedding for that person.

“Now, the case is altered. What Angelus wishes is to declare that you are eternal mates. Those of us with senses to tell us so all know that you have mated in this way already. You know that, should he predecease you, you must go to Aurelius, who as clan master is the only one who can prevent your own death. He can release you from the earthly bond, although we vampires believe that the spiritual bond will remain into whatever comes after this life. You will understand that there is not very much actual precedent for us to go on. Only once has this ceremony been carried out with a human and a vampire, and the ceremony for them was not the same as the ceremony for you. The vampire in that case was a new fledgling, not an old and powerful clan beta with a court of his own. Do you comprehend that much?”

“Yes.”

I’ve never been much for doing the studying, as you know, but it’s different when it affects you in this way. I don’t know any more than this, though.

“The eternal mate of such a powerful vampire has never before been human, but even two vampires have found things to be difficult if they have not consented to the ceremony. A simple mate may be challenged in a way that a recognised eternal mate may not be. Any vampire envious of your mate and your station, and wishing to take your place by his side, may challenge you to a fight to the death. Angelus may not help you. If he chooses to do so, and we think he will, he will start blood feuds that will live on for millennia. If he does not choose to help you, to kill your challenger for you, we have no doubt that you will be able to acquit yourself well. But that is now. What will be the case when you are older? When you are forty, or fifty, or more? He will not stand by, do you think? Because, if he does not help you, you will die, and he will be forced to watch that, and to take your killer as his mate. Although again, I think you must agree that he will not do so, and that will lead to more than blood feud. If the challenger comes from another clan, it will lead to clan wars. As the Slayer, you might be pleased to think that the vampires of the world will be killing each other for thousands of years to come, or until one clan or the other is extinguished, together with all their allies, but do you think that humanity would not be affected by this? Do you wish to see him fight these battles?

“Alternatively, other vampires may covet you – you will be a powerful status symbol – and may challenge him. Do you think he will tolerate that, either? Especially since, unlike him, they would certainly want to turn you at the first chance they got. Do you think he won’t try to wipe out any such temerity? Do you think that you, yourself, will stand idly by, rather than fight at his side? And we are then back to blood feud or clan warfare.
OnlyOnly a recognised eternal mate is safe from all this. The relationship, though exceedingly rare, is inviolate, and none would dream of making such a challenge. If they were foolish, or rash, enough to do so, no one would expect them to win anything except death. There would be no consequences.

“That is just the vampire dimension. The rest of the demon world may covet you, and try to steal you. Again, though, they recognise the union of eternal mates. It will protect from all but the young and inexperienced, the most stupid or the most ruthless, and everyone will say that they get what they deserve. If any demon tries to harm you, Angelus may wreak vengeance on them to his heart’s content, and only their closest kin are likely to take offence. The same applies if any try to harm him, and it is you taking vengeance.

“Believe me, Slayer, the proper ceremony will protect you both, better than anything else can, from this sort of aggression, for the cost of your pride on one single night. And if your pride is so important to you, remember what it will also cost Angelus. You know how protective he is of you. Do you think that this is what he would choose for the two of you, if there were another option that would keep you safe?

“If you were two nonentities, you could manage as you wished. None of this would matter. You could hide away and live a simple life with none of these grand politics. You are not. You are both of you famous and infamous at the same time. You must act the part. There will be many things that both of you must do in the future within the roles that you are casting for yourselves; many things that you will not wish to do, or that you will even hate. Nevertheless, they must be done, for the sake of the greater peace. This is perhaps the greatest of those things. But, rare and unusual as it is, it is the vampire way. If you do not accept it, you will foment a world of trouble for yourselves. Others will see that this has not been a union formalised in the accepted way by the two of you, and will interpret that to suit themselves.”

He gets up from the tombstone.

“I am sorry to have been so outspoken, and I beg your forgiveness for that. I will leave you to think, Slayer, but if you wish to know more, you have only to ask me. Oh, and when I leave, you will be guarded at all times, until Angelus gets here. Those are his orders, so please don’t stake your guards.”

He bows again, and leaves. Well, what can I say? I am stunned at his revelations. I can’t ask any questiyet,yet, because I can’te ine in what he has said. I thought that Angelus wanted to declare his pride of possession, regardless of my feelings in the matter, and that was why he wanted the ceremony, but it seems that I have underestimated him. Oh, I’m sure there is some of that involved, but there is a great deal more. Still, the question remains, can I lower my pride so much? You don’t know what I’m talking about? No, of course not. Stick around though, and you might find out. If I can go through with it, that is.

I hurry out of that cemetery, because I don’t want to take the chance of getting Estevan into trouble. I don’t want my demon scenting a long pause here with this master turned minion – he might misinterpret. He catches up with me two cemeteries later.

I can feel him clearly, but he is such a consummate hunter that he takes me by surprise. To be fair, though, I haven’t made any real efforts to avoid him. He takes me from behind, coming down from a thick old yew tree, and we go rolling in the grass, play fightinike ike kittens. It isn’t quite play, because bruises and scratches are involved, but it definitely isn’t serious fighting, because there is the casual brush of his hand on my breast, an accidentally-on-purpose nip on his earlobe from me. And so on. This is a terrifying vampire, scary in every sense of the word. Although I haven’t been afraid of him since our first stay on Hylek, I know my friends are. Willow hyperventilates almost every time she sees him. Yet, here he is, playing with me. I remember reading that someone once said, ‘God made the cat so that man might stroke the tiger’. I’ve got the tiger, and he acts like a kitten. I love him so.

When we are finally done, we are back under that old yew tree, and most of our clothes are on the ground instead of on our bodies. It doesn’t take long to get rid of the rest of the clothes – I have to restrain him there, because otherwise I’ll be walking home in the nude – and then we are just skin to skin, and we show each other how very glad we are that we are both still alive. It takes a long time, and we have to show each other again and again.

Afterwards, we lie cuddled together, still skin to skin. I snuggle back harder.

“This ceremony is important to you.”

I make it a statement, not a question. That way, he knows that he’s screwed whichever way he answers, and not in a good way. He does that to me sometimes, and it’s nice to get one back occasionally.

He runs his hand over me after that momentary hesitation that tells me he’s making up a lie, a really good one that he hopes won’t be found out. I’m getting to know him now. He seems to know me like the back of his hand, so it’s about time I caught up.

“If it’s not what you want, then it couldn’t matter less.”

Clever boy.

“That’s not true, though, is it? I’ve done some…” and the word that Estevan used comes to mind, “…research.”

He stiffens a little – no, not just that, his whole body – and stops the stroking. Oops.

“No. You haven’t. There’s nothing in the books that Giles will have access to. The Watcher’s Council have wanted to know about this ceremony and this mating for centuries. Who has been talking to you?”

“No one! I can find stuff out on my own.”

He bends his neck to suckle at my pulse point. I can feel his fangs.

“Tell me who it was.”

This has to be dealt with now. It will be my household as well as his, and they must be able to talk to me.

“No. What was said was out of concern for us both. You will not prevent people from talking to me, just as I will not prevent them from talking to you. None of the people in what will be *our* household will carry tittle-tattle, or will try to poison us against each other. You know this. And if any do, we’ll deal with them.

“So, I want your word, your promise to me, that you will do nothing and ask nothing and you will not punish anyone for speaking openly to me about vampire things. Or about anything else. Promise me.”

He is silent for a few moments, and just goes back to sucking on my neck. I feel his fangs scrape a little at the skin, and then they are gone. He sighs and gives his promise.

“So, it’s important to you?”

“To both of us.”

He exns wns why, and it is exactly as Estevan described it.

“I’ll do it then.”

No sooner has he assimilated what I’ve said than he’s turned me over and started to show me how pleased he is with that answer.

Saying it and doing it are two different things, though.

************
To Chapter 6