Buffy winced as a piercing bright light shone through the entrance to her own personal little prison. Slowly she lifted her head to stare at the doorway in defiance. Three figures were stood, silhouetted in the shining white light.
"You know, it's really hard for me to escape when I'm trussed up like this!" she said sarcastically, shaking her hands where they were manacled above her head for emphasis. "Whatever happened to a good old bit of rope used to tie me down to a flimsy wooden chair?"
"She talks a lot, doesn't she?" Said a surprisingly flat and emotionless voice. Buffy squinted. It seemed to be coming from the broadest of the three, who from the way the light was shining off his head, she guessed was bald.
One of the strangers stepped out of the small rectangle of light, disappearing into the shadows that draped the room. There was a quiet click and suddenly the whole room was bathed in a soft, pale light from a pair of overhead neon strip lamps. Buffy's eyes narrowed as they tried to adjust to the light. She hadn't seen her prison before. The room was a perfect cube in shape and, she suspected, in structure as well. Each gunmetal grey wall blended perfectly into the next, giving the distinct impression of being inside a massive safety deposit box. The only entrance to the room was the door through which the strangers had entered, and judging by its thickness, it was quite sturdy. The floor to the room was covered in tiny holes, each no bigger than a pinhead, but Buffy could feel the ventilation draft wafting through them and rustling her loose hair.
The three strangers were the most unusual sight. The first was a tall, slim woman; Buffy would estimate her at about thirty years old, dressed in an immaculate business suit and with the kind of complexion a super model would kill for. Her arms were folded across her chest in what Buffy assumed was a defensive posture. The middleman was broad of both shoulder and chest, and like the woman he was dressed in a suit. She had guessed quite rightly that he was bald and his beefy visage was somewhat offset by the pair of thick framed Woody Allen glasses he was wearing. The third man was the biggest puzzle. He was smaller than the other two, but still taller than her and looked to be oriental, possibly Japanese. His features were thin and delicate and his long pitch-black hair shone dazzlingly in the light from the neon lamps. Buffy didn't have to look at him for more than a moment to realise he was a vampire.
"So this is the Slayer." Said the woman, looking her up and down with an appraising view. Buffy had the distinct feeling she was being measured like some kind of commodity. She didn't like it.
"It would seem so." Said the broad man in the Woody Allen glasses.
"I have to say, I'd expected more." Said the woman. "I mean, I read the bio you gave me Mr Reed and I didn't expect her to be taken so easily."
"You're pet vamps didn't play fair." Buffy snapped, straining vainly against her chains. "Did no one tell you, cattle prods tend to make a fight one sided that way?"
"I think she talks entirely too much." Said the oriental vampire, a disgusted leer on his face. Slowly the leer turned into a dark grin. "We'll silence her soon enough, but first…" He reached into the folds of his long dark coat, pulling free what appeared to be a small pewter dish and an unpleasant looking dagger. Slowly but surely, the vampire began to advance purposefully toward her.
"You know what?" said Buffy, eyeing the knife as it shone brilliantly in the dull light. "I get the feeling you guys aren't just intending to give me a little slap on the wrist and let me go, are you?" The question had been meant to go unanswered and it did. As the vampire came within arms reach of her, she swung her legs up, her feet colliding heavily with the vampires chin. He tumbled backward to the floor, clinging to the small pewter bowl as if his unlife depended on it. Carefully, he picked himself up from the floor and examined the bowl.
"So you do have some fight in you after all." He hissed. "Good. That will make the blood so much sweeter." He began to advance again, more cautiously this time, when suddenly a fourth figure appeared in the doorway. He was average height with a deep running scar across his throat.
"Sire!" he spoke hurriedly, his voice little more than a dry rasp.
"Well Grachus?" Said the oriental vampire, his calculating eyes never leaving Buffy. "Do you have them?"
"Sire, I beg your forgiveness. We cornered them in an alleyway, but they had help. The vampire Angel and his human dogs came to their aid." Angel? If these vamps had run into Angel then she must be in LA. Which begged the question, why was she in LA?
"So," said the oriental vampire, a hint of disappointment entering his voice "you are telling me, that two nights before the moon is at its zenith and the barriers are at their weakest, you have failed to bring me our master and the Slayer?" Slayer? But they already had… Suddenly it clicked in Buffy's head. They were talking about Faith. Just what the hell was going on here?
"Sire, please, I admit that I underestimated them, but they fought well! Even had I been on guard, I don't think events would have occurred any differently!" The oriental vampire took a deep breath as if to calm himself.
"I appreciate your honesty Grachus. It is a trait our master would respect among his servants." The vampire going by the name of Grachus visibly relaxed at the oriental vampire's words. "It does not matter that they still walk free this night, for we have two more days in which to bring them to heel." He turned back to face Buffy.
"And now, you and I have some unfinished business to attend to."
Buffy watched him warily as he approached, the knife glinting wickedly in the light. Suddenly and with blinding speed, the arm clutching the knife shot out, opening a vein in her right forearm. Buffy cried out in surprised pain, her legs reeling up to kick at the vampire, but he easily dodged the clumsy blow and circled round behind her. Slowly he reached up and held the pewter dish at the base of the trickle of blood, squeezing her arm with his free hand. The blood filled the small bowl with surprising speed and the vampire quickly withdrew, holding the bowl with the reverence of a holy relic. The gash in her arm throbbed painfully.
"The first step is taken." He said quietly to no one in particular as he made his way out of the room.
"And what about her?" said the woman, throwing a nod in Buffy's direction.
"Leave her be." Said the vampire with scarcely a backward glance. "We'll need more later."
*****
Faith made her way quietly up the steps behind Wesley and Angel, a cursing Gunn leaning heavily against her shoulder. She barely even registered the new car pulled up outside the hotel, its bodywork gleaming in the light of the sinking moon. She couldn't believe dawn was already approaching. It didn't seem five minutes since the sun had sank behind the tower blocks that covered the LA skyline.
Behind her she could hear the heavy footsteps of King. He had been silent since they had escaped the vampire mob in the alley. Faith's head was crawling with questions about him, like who Shinji was and what they were to one another. What was the kingdom Grachus had mentioned, and where did Wolfram and Hart figure into all of this? There were just too many angles to it all for Faith. Subtlety had never been her thing and forward thinking even less of a priority. She had a hard time understanding it in others.
As they entered the building, Angel and Wesley stopped dead in their tracks, causing Faith to nearly walk straight into the back of them. Cautiously she peered around them.
"What's going…" the sentence died in her throat. Sat on the couches at the centre of the lobby, Cordelia standing nearby, were a group of individuals she recognised all too well.
"What's she doing here?" hissed the teenage girl, her voice seething with anger. Faith couldn't help but stare at how much she'd grown in the two years since she'd last seen her.
"Dawnie?" her voice was filled with shock. Dawn folded her arms and glared at her. Faith shuffled her feet uncomfortably under those accusing eyes. "You've… erm… You've grown." Was all she could think of to say.
"Well?" said Xander, his voice equally accusing. "What is she doing here?"
"It's a long story," Said Angel, glancing warily at Spike, "and I could ask the same thing." The platinum vampire was pacing uncomfortably behind the others, his leather boots squeaking loudly on the polished floor while a lit cigarette dangled limply from between his pale fingers.
"It's about Buffy." Said Willow slowly, her voice sounding hollow.
"What about Buffy?" Angel's question was surprisingly calm, but Faith could still feel the tautness of his tone. He was worried.
"Enough of ring around the bloody roses!" snapped Spike. "A bunch of vampires jumped her on patrol and kidnapped her. We caught one of 'em and dragged some bollocks prophecy about skyscrapers, blood and knowing the truth out of him before he… decided to turn to dust on us."
"And you think they brought her to LA?" said Wesley, frowning slightly. "Why?" Xander's eyes flicked to the right where King had just stepped round the group.
"Because of him." He said accusingly. The strange vampire turned and glared at Xander, the sword tattoo over his eye creasing as his eyes narrowed.
"What makes you think he had anything to do with this?" said Faith, immediately wishing she hadn't spoke as the band from Sunnydale focused their disapproving stares on her.
"The tattoo was of a black bladed sword." Said Xander. "No prizes for spotting the similarity with his unholiness over there." Angel span to face King.
"Can you explain this?" he demanded. "If you're involved and they've hurt Buffy, I swear…"
"They're nothing more than children." Said King with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Barely any of them can be over three hundred." Faith's eyes widened. If King thought of vampire's who'd lived for centuries as being just children then how old was he? Just what sort of vampire could he be?
"But they do have something to do with you!" said Gunn suddenly. "You and that vamp at the warehouse seemed pretty cosy."
"You mean Shinji?" said King. "Now I will admit that he and I do have something of a history, but not so colourful as you would believe."
"This is all well and good, but you people are all overshooting the matter with all this talk of children tattoos, which is where did these vamps take my sister." Said Dawn. Suddenly a thought leapt into Faith's head.
"How long ago did they take Buffy?" she asked.
"How's that supposed to help us find her?" said Dawn, not even attempting to disguise the contempt that filled her voice when she addressed the brunette Slayer.
"Yesterday night." Said Willow, doing her best to answer the question.
"Wolfram & Hart!" said Faith turning to Angel. "It's got to be!" Angel nodded in acknowledgement. There was no way it could be coincidence that on the same day they had tried to abduct Faith from prison, Buffy had gone missing in Sunnydale.
"If Wolfram & Hart are behind this, then they must be keeping her at their offices." Said Wesley thoughtfully, crossing the room toward the reception desk. "We'll have to come with some kind of plan to get her out of there."
Faith gave a satisfied smile as the respective gangs gathered around, bombarding ideas off one another as they formulated a plan of attack. It was just like the old days she remembered back at the Sunnydale High library, before she'd taken up with Mayor Wilkins. King simply crossed the room, settled into the couches at the centre of the foyer and closed his eyes. Faith frowned. She just couldn't figure him out at all. Okay, he had a soul like Angel, but they seemed as different as two men could possibly be. While Angel was all compassion and kindness, King was cool, clinical detachment for most of the time, but push him in the right spots and it was like lighting blue touch paper.
Slowly she made her way over and sat near him. He was so still it was unbelievable; his whole body calm and relaxed beyond the point of simple relief.
"So…" she said, rolling the word over in her mouth. He opened his eyes and suddenly Faith felt very uncomfortable. She'd never really realised before, but when King was focused on you it was like the rest of the world fell away for him. You were the only thing he paid any attention to.
"Yes?" he said flatly.
"What do you think of all this."
"What?"
"All this." Faith repeated, "Kidnapping, Wolfram & Hart, foretelling of blood and the like." He watched her steadily for a moment before answering.
"For this to mean anything to me, I'd have to have a personal stake in it. I don't, therefore it doesn't."
"What about Shinji?" she said, brushing her hair back behind her ears. As she did so she thought she saw something in his eyes, something she'd seen when they first met in the warehouse, a flash of recognition perhaps? "He seemed pretty personal to me."
"He means nothing."
"Then who is he?" King regarded her for a moment from below slanted eyebrows. Slowly and with a long sigh he leaned back in his seat.
"I've sired many in my time as a vampire." He said slowly. "They were my children, my followers if you like. I taught them the ways of the vampire as they were taught to me, how we should live, and how we should hunt. I taught them how we must never let our instincts be dulled, and how the world was a harsh place where, even among our kind, only the strongest survive. I created a kingdom where I ruled over my children, and for centuries we lived as true vampires, hunting and killing under the stars." His tone was curious, both wistful and longing for his glory days, and at the same time it was filled with disgust and contempt for the things he'd done, things his soul simply couldn't bear.
"But then my favourite, a child prodigy of mine, rebelled against me. He fell into corruption and decadence, developing an obsession with indulging his every desire and twisted pleasure. One by one he seduced my other children. I couldn't save them from his influence, so I took up my sword…" he stroked at his tattoo as he spoke "and laid waist to my kingdom. Any of my children who stood against me perished, and those who fled I hunted to the ends of the Earth. They were a failed breed and their existence could not be tolerated." Faith was chilled by his words. She could only imagine the horrors he described, but he had seen them all first hand. How could he cope with the things he'd done? His crimes went far beyond hers, and yet at the same time, he was less to blame for his than she for hers. After all, he hadn't had a soul at the time.
"This child prodigy. It was Shinji wasn't it?" She said finally. King shook his head.
"Only two of my children survived my anger. One because I didn't possess the strength to end him, and Shinji, because I simply didn't have the heart to kill him. He was never my brightest or best, but he was loyal, almost to the point of zealou…" he paused as he mulled over his words. Suddenly his eyes lit up with a sudden insight.
"He wouldn't!" he said suddenly. He clambered hurriedly to his feet, moving so quickly Faith barely saw him move as he shot across the foyer, grabbing Xander roughly by the shoulders and whirling him round to face him.
"What was the prophecy?" he hissed urgently.
