Author’s Note: Thank you to Slaymesoftly, my wonderful beta to this story. She puts up with so much.
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Chapter 1


Drusilla was happy, swaying along to the voice she heard from Acathla. It spoke of dancing in fire, taunts and torments. It spoke of agonizing screams and promised hell. She grinned to herself as she thought of the punishment she must soon give to some of her dollies. Ms. Edith was speaking out of turn again, whispering of the bad that the giant stone has brought, while Acathla himself whispered promises of all sorts of delicious torments.

So distracted, Drusilla did not notice that the minions had returned. She also did not notice how they gathered around the room, stopping their movements and just watching her.

Nothing penetrated the voices until Angel walked in. As usual, her daddy became Drusilla’s center of attention. She stopped, smiling widely at him as she reached back to pet Acathla’s stone chest. “Soon, my Angel?”

He smiled at her indulgently. “Very soon, Dru. We’ll all be in hell before you know it.”

Drusilla’s smile wavered just a tiny bit. There was something in Angelus’ eyes when he looked at her that normally sent shivers of delight up her spine, but was now causing the slightest bit of doubt. She noticed that suddenly his gaze wasn’t directed at her…it was behind her. Slowly turning, Drusilla took in the sight of a strange demon she had never seen before. His brown/gray skin gave her pause, but not nearly as much as his pitch black eyes did. Drusilla stared into those eyes…and in her mind saw the darkness spreading out from him, reaching out to grasp her as shadows of ill intentions passed through her mind.

She screamed in horror at what she saw, and immediately turned to flee.

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Spike snuck back into his bedroom as quietly as he could manage. It was always easy to avoid a few brainless minions, but he couldn’t help wondering why there had been fewer around than usual. Of course, with the poof’s habit of sending them on suicide missions, half of them could be dust for all he knew.


Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against it, staring at the wheelchair at the center of his room with cold eyes. As soon as this was all over, he was going to take a sledgehammer to it. He dreaded the thought of getting back in it, but he knew it was needed to pull off his little ruse.

He had made a truce with the Slayer. He had made a deal with her to take down Angelus. No matter how much he repeated in his mind that it was for Dru, he couldn’t help feel a small bit of self-disgust. He was supposed to kill the chit, not talk strategy with her. And for all he knew she could go back on her word and try to dust him or Drusilla. Of course, he would probably have to make sure he disappeared before she had a chance to think of that option.

Maybe if he just went to her now and killed her, his Dark Princess would see him as the strong Big Bad again and come running back to his arms…

Drusilla’s hysterical screams interrupted his thoughts. He turned, quickly yanking open the door…then cursed colorfully when he realized he still had to keep up his ploy. He got into his wheelchair begrudgingly and quickly wheeled himself out, following the sounds of his Sire’s screams.

“Dru?”

He hoped it would just be one of her visions upsetting her, but instead he found her surrounded by minions. She wasn’t fighting them, too terrified and simply trying to shrink away from a demon he didn’t recognize as the big beast tried to touch her…

“What the bloody hell is going on?” he demanded in his loudest, most intimidating voice. “Get your hands off her!”

“Now why would they want to do that, Spike?” Angelus finally made his appearance, walking into the living room from the garden. “Especially when she so enjoys having hands on her…”

Spike glared at him as he approached. “You miserable son of a-“ His words were cut off by the minion who had approached from behind, wrapping an arm around the Master Vampire’s neck. Two others stepped forward and held his arms down. Spike briefly considered kicking out at them with his legs and giving a personal demonstration of his newfound strength. But he wasn’t a complete fool. Even without the minions that his love was keeping occupied with her struggles and wailing, Spike knew he was outnumbered.

“Finally!” Angelus looked up to the sky as he approached, as if thanking a higher power. “Someone shuts him up!” His fist came out of nowhere, his knuckles the last thing Spike saw before all went dark.

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Angelus didn’t particularly like someone carving into his chest – unless it was foreplay, of course. But this was necessary. The younger vampires around him were carefully carving a large circle into the concrete floor, surrounded by the symbols in which Zefferus had instructed them. Zefferus himself was carving a symbol into Angelus’ chest. It appeared to be a pyramid with symbols at each corner that Angelus couldn’t identify.

Zefferus dipped his hand into a bowl of liquid. It was a poison, designed specifically to counteract a vampire’s normally enhanced healing. The demon spread the poison across the mark on Angelus’ chest while the vampire tensed, gritting his teeth from the pain. His demon face emerged as the poison made his flesh sizzle.

“As long as you carry this mark in your flesh,” Zefferus explained. “You will be able to receive the power that I drain from your childer.”

Angelus could hear Drusilla’s wailing again. He turned to watch as his insane childe was forcefully carried into the room. She struggled against her captors making them drag her. “My Angel!” She cried out to him. “Daddy, please, have I done something to displease you?”

Angel smirked and stepped away from the circle in which he had been standing. Zefferus followed after him as he approached Drusilla. “Not at all, Dru,” he said. “In fact, you’ve been very…pleasing.” He reached up and gently ran a hand across one of her cheeks, wet with tears of fear. He then ran his other hand up the skirt of her dress, caressing her leg.

The vampiress closed her eyes and gave a small sigh at her Sire’s gentle touch. But soon she was pulled away from him and laid on top of a stone slab. Her wrists and legs were bound at the top and bottom of the slab.

Spike was carried in right after Drusilla. Angelus enjoyed watching his sleeping grandchilde being laid out on a stone slab opposite Drusilla’s. He had specifically instructed the minions not to bother with shackles for Spike. Angelus always loved to torment him, and he found that the perfect torment now would be to make Spike not only watch Drusilla die…but to make sure he knew that the only thing stopping him from saving her was his own weakness and inability to walk.

Zefferus took a position next to Drusilla, ceremonial dagger at the ready. He used the knife to slowly cut open the top of her dress, baring her entire upper body. Angelus made his way closer, enjoying the sight.

Drusilla had been his masterpiece…an accomplishment to be truly proud of. He had broken her body, her spirit and her mind before turning her. Her prophetic visions had been useful many times, and her insane ramblings had often just kept things interesting. It was easy to be tender with Dru when she had such obviously childish affection towards him. The ruined nun had proved to be more than wicked enough to be a wonderful addition to their little family.

The insane vampire’s wailing soon turned into hysterical laughter as Zefferus began to cut into her flesh, carving ceremonial marks deep into her chest. Her blood ran freely and Angelus couldn’t resist a taste. He bent over her, making sure not to disturb the blade’s trail. He captured stray blood with his tongue before moving it down to dart across her nipples, teasing them into erect peaks.

Stepping away to allow the demon to continue his work, Angelus made his way over to Spike. He smirked as he examined the bruising on his face. His leather duster lay discarded on the floor. Angelus knew that he wore it like a second skin. He had also heard where it had come from. He had considered destroying it just to torment his grandchilde even more, but figured that watching Drusilla’s death would break him well enough. Besides, why waste a fantastic looking coat?

He could hear the sound of sizzling flesh and Drusilla’s scream as the poison was poured? across her wound. While he waited for Zefferus, he took a good look at his grandchilde. William had always been a beauty, and though he had never been overly fond of him, he had taken great pride in him a time or two. Spike was a work of art all his own – just one that Angelus couldn’t give himself credit for. He had taught the boy how to fight, but he didn’t give him his reasons. He also didn’t give him the intensity and reckless courage that made his name almost as legendary as his grandsire’s. That was something that Spike had done all his own, sometimes against Angel’s wishes.

Zefferus interrupted his thoughts. “The female is ready. When the first spell is complete you will have not only her strength added to yours, but her visions will also pass to you.”

He nodded numbly in reply, part of his mind and demon still screaming at him not to let it be done. Power was everything…but this was family. These were his own childer, after all…

“Second thoughts?” the larger demon asked, as if reading his mind.

Angelus snapped himself out of it, immediately condemning his thoughts as weakness. These two didn’t matter. He enjoyed them, took pride in them, but they were unimportant. “Not at all.” He nodded towards Spike. “Continue.”

The demon nodded in acknowledgement before reaching down towards Spike, easily ripping his black T-shirt open, exposing his chest to the already blood-soaked knife.