Cordelia struggles futilely as her captor reveals his true visage. He scraps his fangs against her neck, allowing her blood to seep forth.
A voice, unknown to her sounds in the darkness. "Is this a private party or can anyone join?"
Lucius looks up, his yellow eyes looking at the previously unnoticed intruder. "Do you know who I am, little girl?"
"Lucius, master vampire and turned in 632 AD in Constantinople. You've killed fifteen slayers to date." A slim red headed woman steps out of the shadows. "It's become a hobby of yours, hasn't it?"
"Manners." He gently chides. "And you are?" he asks, the epitome of politeness in his poise.
She smiles. "Willow Rosenberg. I was turned in 1938 by a descendant of yours, William the Bloody, more commonly called Spike."
"Then you know that you can't lift a finger to oppose me." He smiles. "And of course I'll have to teach you to respect your elders."
She pauses for a moment, seemingly to consider before shaking her head in negation. "Nahh. Doesn't work that way." She reveals her face fully. As they watch, her eyes change from a brilliant green to midnight black and her hair darkens noticeably.
Lucius raises his head. "You're a witch. And a powerful one. But that doesn't negate the fact that you're my descendent." He smiles as he starts to think of the things he can have her do for him.
"No, it doesn't." She agrees. And then she smiles at the two of them and Cordelia senses the unrestrained predatory attitude of the witch. "But the turning of a slayer breaks every claim any other vampire might have on me. In fact" she pauses as she takes a step forward "the only bond I have is to the slayer I turned over thirty years ago."
"You lie. None of our kind has managed to turn a slayer." A hint of disbelief is evident in his haughty voice.
Cordelia finds her voice. "You're Buffy's sire?" she asks in concern.
"Yeppers, that's me."
Lucius looks a little confused. "And just who is this Buffy?"
Cordelia replies "The Slayer from 1963 to 1967. She was active in Florida until her eighteenth birthday when the next slayer was called. I met her a few days ago."
"Well then, I shall have to hunt down this Buffy after I kill you." He smirks and attempts to throw Cordelia into the wall. He snarls as he finds that his limbs refuse to obey his commands.
"Can't move very well, Lucius?" Willow asks. "You should never underestimate what a witch can do, even a vampire witch." She walks up to him and runs her fingers along his straining chest. As they trail along, tiny lines of flame mark his clothes. She steps back and just watches. The lines slowly grow and spread, making their way across his body as he struggles, in vain, to break the eldritch bonds upon him. As the minutes begin to flow by, the ancient vampire continues to struggles, suddenly, the lines blaze and engulf him in flames. They burn swiftly, leaving behind only ashes. She looks at the ashen remains and grins maliciously. "Well that was exciting." She glances at Cordelia. "I'm off. See ya around." and disappears into the shadows.
The front door smashes open and a disheveled Angel stumbles through. He looks around, a wooden stake in his right hand. "Are you all right?" He asks, nervously.
"Fine." She takes a look around. "I'm done here. Let's go." She walks out the door.
"Okay." he quizzically replies before following her.
Cordelia and Angel return to the Library. They walk in and look around for Wesley. A groan from behind the counter draws their attention.
Cordelia looks over the counter and exclaims in surprise. "Wesley, are you alright?" She jumps over the counter and checks his pulse.
Angel rounds the counter and rushes to them.
Wesley tries to sit up. "Where's Tra..."
"What was that, Wes?" Angel asks.
Wesley tries again. "Where's Mr. Travers?"
"I don't see him." Cordelia looks around. "Angel, will you?"
"Sure thing, Cordy." He stands and looks throughout the library. "There's noone else here." He calls from the stacks before he appears out of them.
"I was afraid of this." Wesley mutters as he stands with Cordelia's limited help.
"Who was it?" She asks while helping him to a seat.
"It was Buffy Summers and an accomplice." He pauses and looks at her. "And how did it go for you tonight.?" he inquires.
"I got a newbie but the other one had me by the neck." She absentmindedly reaches up and rubs at the scratches left in her neck, breaking them open and leaving trails of blood on her hand. "Then this dead vampire shows up and distracts him. Did you know that Spike was the one who turned Willow Rosenberg?" she muses.
"Uhm, no I didn't. H- How did you discover that?"
"That's who she said her sire was. A descendant of the vampire Lucius who was turned in the six hundreds in Constantinople." Wesley looks at her in surprise. She continues "It's strange, Wesley. I'm forced to face a fourteen hundred year old vampire for my cruciamentum while Buffy faced one not yet forty years old. Why do you suppose that is, Wesley?"
"Huh, How did you find out about the test?"
Angel laughs harshly. "Hey, I even knew about it."
A voice from the stacks draws their attention. "I told them about it, Wesley." As they look, they see Buffy walking out of the stacks, putting away a cell phone. She descends the stairs and walks over to the table. Pulling out a chair, she plops down. "We grabbed Travers because he's got info that we need. The prophecy of blood and fire is about the end of the council. Add in the iron crown and it deals with the end of the human race." She pulls out a thermos and takes a swig. "Ah, that hits the spot." Closing and setting the thermos on the table, she looks at the three, a trace of blood evident from one corner of her mouth. "Time to start talking to each other, guys. And I don't mean about the weather."
"What do you mean, the end of the council?" Wesley nervously inquires.
"I mean the end of the organization."
"But the Council is the leader in the war against evil. If it falls, the human race will fall soon after." He protests.
"That's not what this prophecy says, Wes. In this one, either the council goes bye-bye or it's Grave of the Fireflies for us all." She pauses and takes another swig.
"What are you drinking anyway?" Angel asks, already regretting asking the question.
"Blood, of course, human to be precise. I can't drink animal."
"Um, excuse me, but just what do you mean?"
"Unlike every other vampire out there, I can't survive on animal blood. I can only feed on human and most types of demon, like whatever Travers is."
"Quintin Travers is as human as me or these two." Wesley argues, gesturing weakly toward the two students.
"Travers isn't human. I can feed off him but his blood tastes bad, just like most of the demons I've tried. Kinda like how most vampires think about animal blood. Tastes bad but it'll keep you alive."
"What made you think he isn't human?" Wesley has recovered enough to show some actual curiosity.
"He didn't smell right. Not an actual scent, more like part of the slayer senses that I kept after my turning. It's difficult to explain. Anyway, I took a sip to check. Can't fool the taste buds."
"So you took him after realizing he isn't human?"
"Naw. We grabbed him because he knows stuff that we need to know. Like more about what's going on then he's letting on. We're going to question him." Her emphasize on question is unmistakable. "And then we can start figuring out what we need to do."
Angel looks at her and spits out a single question. "Why?"
"If humankind dies out, so will every other vampire on the planet. A slow lingering death by starvation. And I'll be all alone." She shudders.
