Rumania,
1899
By
the autumn of 1899 Darla had begun to grieve for her Angelus. Vampires
considered themselves to be immortal but she knew that, inherently, it was
scarcely more than a lie. As long as there was the sun and the Slayer, they
could all die – Angelus included.
Her
precious, precious bloodchild.
She
cursed the very air. There were Gypsies near the Master's camp. Romany
understood her kind – Mulo. No,
Angelus still lived through his death. He
had to live.
She
searched the woods alone, cold, tired, her body trembling with hunger. She had
not fed upon the blood of a living creature for weeks since his disappearance;
her face was now forever in its demonic state. She tensed at every sound that
whispered through the trees. She was weaker than she had ever been and yet the
part of her that was still a mortal girl refused to care. At a wolf's primal
call, Darla shed her demon's tears. Death echoed through the darkness and soon
she would offer herself to it.
The
wolf's growl was low and threatening, it smelt her weakness, her
vulnerability. She raised her head and hissed, yet the predator would not run
from her.
With
a snarl, the animal jumped on her.
Darla
smiled frailly as the creature punctured her throat with its fangs. Drifting
into the shadows of unconsciousness, she laughed softly. The second growl was
more ferocious – the rest of the pack wanted her flesh…
***
Darla
opened her eyes slowly. Her head ached, as did the rest of her, but somehow she
felt stronger than before. Stronger than when the wolves had attacked her.
Where
was she? Why hadn't she burned in the light of day as she had so dearly
wished?
Why?
"Oh
God!" Someone mourned. "Oh God…Oh God…"
Picking
herself up Darla focused on the voice. It was low and riddled with pain, never
had she heard such misery in a man – even from the many that she had
slaughtered as a vampire. The agony set her heart alight with its purity. A
mortal, she decided.
She
surveyed her surroundings.
A
cave – she grinned, baring her fangs as she did so. Her mysterious saviour had
brought her to a cave, a bleak, dank, rock formation far from the murderous rays
of the sun. Some crazy old hermit…She
hypothesised.
Perhaps
she'd take a little bite…after all; it was
in all likelihood a sign. The hermit had saved her from a pack of wolves, her, a
vampire. Touching her face to ensure that it was human, Darla sighed gently as
it came back to her – the joy of eternal life.
Preying
on the defenceless ones…
Moving
tentatively, she followed the hermit's sobbing. Her curiosity was piqued by a
decrease in the number of torches on the cave floor; the closer she got to her
prey, the fewer there were.
Until
finally, there were none at all.
"What
have I done?" the hermit whispered in Rumanian. "What have I done? The girl,
her friends, theirs? What? Why?"
Catching
sight of his form, Darla approached her intended victim. Brushing her hair away
from her brow, she started her charade.
She
said sweetly, "You can come out now. I know someone's here and I know that
they're sad. Come out there's no need…"
"To
be afraid?"
As
the handsome young man stepped out from the darkness, Darla felt herself choke.
She
should have known.
His
hair was ruffled, his face soiled and his clothing torn but he remained handsome
to her eyes.
He
remained her darling. He remained the boy that she had once sired in Galway, the
confidant, charming rogue with whom she had infiltrated society and fed upon the
extravagant blood of the privileged. He remained the gambling man who took not
only your money, but also your life, as his winnings. He remained the man who'd
she'd watched feed on the hearts of his family - mother, father, and sister -
before doing the same to those families they had called acquaintances if not
friends.
For
one fleeting, happy moment, the gypsies had not defiled him with their accursed
soul. For a moment his heart was pure.
He
remained her beautiful Angelus.
"No,"
Angelus continued, frantic. "I've every reason to be afraid of you
Darla. Every reason in the world, you tried to kill me remember?"
"Angelus,"
Darla returned with concern. "Can't you see that you're letting them win?
Why are you doing this to yourself. Why are you crying my boy?"
"Why?" The younger vampire said fiercely. "Why am I crying? You
ask me this after all you have done, after all I've done? The people, all the
people we…we…we murdered? And you ask me why I'm crying?"
"Murdered?"
Darla exclaimed.
Angelus persisted in his weeping, if he truly was Angelus.
They had both killed so joyfully yet now her child grieved for the pathetic
mortals – how could one as remorseless as he was, hate himself for his own
deeds?
But
Darla could already answer her question.
The
soul…
She
reached out at him. "Angelus."
He
grabbed her hand and forced her back. "Get away from me monster!"
Darla
felt her features re-shape. "Monster?" she said, laughing. "No more than
you my love. Of course we're monsters. Its what we were meant to be…"
"I
know," Angelus rasped. "I chose to drink you, but I don't have to like it
and I don't have to love you either…."
I don't have to love you. Darla brushed away her tears, and replacing them
with her widest grin, she skipped out of the sewer tunnel and into the ruined
old church.
"Did
you miss me?" she said mischievously.
Luke
walked towards her, saying nothing.
"I've
got good news" she told him, a touch nervous.
He
glowered at her. "You are late. Explain."
"Peter
refused to come quietly, so did his bitch," Darla said slyly. "He won't be
trouble anymore…."
"Very
well," Luke replied. "Then where have you been since their deaths?"
"Seeing
an old friend," She said.
"Who?"
Luke asked suspiciously.
"Angelus."
Luke
looked thoughtful. "Angelus…the cursed one…."
Darla
nodded.
She
knew that Luke had never trusted the younger vampire – why should he have
done? The Master had been ready to let him serve at his right hand in Luke's
place - they were rivals. He had no
reason to trust Angelus.
She
also knew that she needed to be cautious in her choice of words. Angelus was a
dangerous creature yet there was something about him since he answered to his
new name of 'Angel' that only intensified the air of danger. She was loath
to admit it, but he was different now,
almost as if he was another person. A person she
had never known. He was a hunter of vampires, a murderer of his own people…
Upon
entering town she and Luke had heard stories of a mysterious mortal who somehow
managed to best vampires, protecting humans from those who had gone before them
to prepare. She could never have imagined the stranger's true identity.
Yes,
she needed to be cautious, leave out the part of how "Angel" had slain Peter
(she would take that credit herself) and simply relate to him their conversation…
And
her plans to bring him back to the fold…
***
Vampires
were generally solitary creatures leading shadowy and lonely existences. While
some mixed their blood with that of mortals to make more of their brood, few
ever took it upon themselves to nurture their children of the night and to
involve themselves with them. To be one's sire in the truest sense was a rare
thing even in his hay day. He and Darla were proud of their respective offspring
– although he now considered Spike and Drusilla; his own 'family' to be
worthy only of his contempt, regardless of the regret he experienced about Dru
– the most any other vampires cared about was the hunt.
But
to sire a human was to create an extension of one's malevolence, to remould a
being of conscience into a remorseless murderer such as oneself. It was the
ultimate power.
Yet
still, it was an ability that was untapped. That had been the reason for the
intrigue upon meeting Darla's own sire… Heinrich Joseph Nest…
The
one whom they called "The Master." The size of his court… the vampires…
He
can't be allowed to rise… he can't…
For
the first time in over two hundred and forty years, Angel worried.
Sunnydale
was about to burn, and unless he prevented Darla and the hundreds of others who
made up the demonic family of a most ancient and powerful vampire from freeing
him…
Unless
he prevented the opening of the Hellmouth itself…
The
rest of the world would quickly join the little town in the fires of Apocalypse.
But
he was alone, the Slayer, she could prevent it, but he was no Slayer…he hadn't
the strength nor the courage to face them all.
The
Slayer…
It
was a long shot, to involve a human…
Still,
desperate times…