A VISIT FROM THE DARK MASTER
by Soledad
A ''Pathways in the Dark'' stand-alone story.
Re-write of the BtVS Season 5-opener ''Buffy vs. Dracula.
Disclaimer: see Introduction.
Rating: PG-13, for the mentioning of m/m interaction.
Author's notes:
I gave the character Nahir the civilian name of the excellent actor who portrayed Dracula in the episode. Spike's family name (Blake) is my own choice, for no particular reason. Spike's academic career is my take on him, too. In the series is only mentioned that he used to be a poet.
Anatole is a White Wolf character, too. The description of him is a slight alteration of what I've found in one of the White Wolfe sites. I don't remember any more which one.
CHAPTER TWO: REUNIONThere weren't many people on this planet whom Spike would truly and thoroughly respect. His own Sire certainly didn't belong to them. Most of them he'd met during his mortal days and they were gone a century ago or even longer: one or two professors at Cambridge; a scholarly nun; an illiterate but profoundly wise mother of eight kids in London where he'd grown up. Nahir was the only one still around – the only one who'd known him both as a mortal and as a vampire.
At the time they first met, Nahir wore the name Rudolph Martin and was a history professor at Cambridge University, his main expertise being Ancient Carthage – accidentally a topic young William Blake had a strong interest for. Professor Martin supported the promising young student every possible way while William wrote his thesis about Carthage – not about the Punic Wars or the fall of the city but about its history and culture. After finishing his thesis, William started writing the book about his favourite topic. It went rather well, until he made a visit to London, met Cecily and fell in love, starting to write bad salon poetry instead.
They hadn't seen each other for decades after William had been turned. Professor Martin left Cambridge, it was told, in order to do some research about Dacia – a culture that, too, fell victim to Ancient Rome and its Ventrue and Toreador rulers. The latter was a small detail William did not know back then, of course.
Then, shortly after Angelus got cursed, they ran into each other in Romania, and William, then called Spike already, finally understood how his former professor could have known Ancient Carthage so thoroughly and intimately.
It wasn't academic knowledge alone.
He saw it with his very eyes.
Professor Martin's true name was Nahir, and he was a close friend of Aurelius himself – the high priest of a cult of healers in Ancient Carthage, whom the vampiric Order Spike's bloodline belonged to, was called after. Nahir was the only one of the Carthaginian Elders of the Order who survived the fall of the city.
He was also one of those who re-founded the Order.
Nahir, like Aurelius himself, belonged to Clan Lasombra – a Clan that had been instantly associated with the Sabbat, ever since the first Anarch revolt – but he, personally, was older than the Sabbat, just like the Order itself had been. Nahir was a scholar, a student and interpreter of the Book of Nod, the Holy Script of vampiric culture. He travelled around the globe, visited diggings and ancient libraries, seeking out for fragments of that lost Book and for any possible details about the history and the future of his undead species.
When the Order of Aurelius turned to dark arts, inventing the whole Antediluvian Cult, with the goal to bring the Old Rulers back to Earth, Nahir, who greatly disagreed with their insane goal, left the Order and continued his studies alone. After all, he had eternity to learn – and to teach. He had looked for a student like William for a long, long time – one who he could share his knowledge and his mission with. He was devastated when William disappeared.
At the time when they ran into each other again, Spike had become a very different person from his shy mortal self: a cruel and vicious creature who paid back humankind horribly for the humiliations he had to endure in his Warm years. Nahir saw with regret that almost nothing was left from his once prize pupil – just his intelligence and curiosity.
If he'd found William a few weeks before or later, he might not have been able to reach him. But at that particular time, mere days after Angelus got cursed and left his family, and a furious and grieving Darla abandoned them, too, both fledglings were confused and vulnerable. Without guidance and a strong hand to rule them, they'd have been destroyed in no time. Romania was a cruel place for neonates.
So, Nahir took them under his wings, went hunting with them, taught them the once proud traditions of their now evil Order, the prophecies of the end of the world and deep secrets not even the current Master of the Order had known. He fed them his own Vitae to establish control over them – over Drusilla's madness and William's strong, independent will, one of the few advantages that becoming a vampire added to his character – and shared his bed with them to bind them even stronger to himself.
He never forced them like Angelus used to do. He didn't need it. Neither of them could resist his seductive charms, his mesmerizing powers, the incredible strength of his ancient spirit. He got Drusilla somewhat balanced and got William to continue and finish his book and his wonderful epic poems about Ancient Carthage. When the young vampire was done and started getting restless again, Nahir finally let them go their own ways, knowing there was nothing else he could do for them. They reached maturity and were on their own now. William's excellent work, however, took with him to find a safe place for it in a library.
All this happened nearly a century ago. They hadn't seen each other ever since. And now, the ancient one was standing on Spike's doorstep, smiling slightly at his former student, foster Childe and lover, waiting to be invited in.
Spike rose again and gulped. Hard.
''Master Nahir'', he repeated, even more respectful. ''It has been a long time.''
''Too long'', Nahir agreed. ''By the way, I'm wearing my old disguise again, posing as the progeny of your old college professor.''
''So, it's Rudolph Martin, once again?'' Spike asked with a smile. ''Just like old times, isn't it? Are you still an historian and an archeologist?''
Nahir shrugged. ''Easier than make up new names and occupations every couple of decades. Now, are you going to invite me in or am I supposed to wait for the sunrise out here?''
If vampires could blush, Spike would have turned beet red.
''My apologies, Master…'', he murmured in shame. ''The surprise… please, enter. Honour my humble haven with your presence.''
Giles would have choked on his tea hearing the polite words and the educated Oxford accent coming from Spike's mouth. But again, not even the Watchers' Council knew that William Blake had been an English gentleman once. A penniless one, for sure, but that didn't say anything about his education.
Nahir entered and took an interested look around the huge, almost empty living room.
''Impressive'', he judged. ''I'd never have thought you had such an old-fashioned taste… and so much style. You used to be more of a rebel after your Embrace.''
''I haven't been Embraced, I have been turned'', Spike corrected him bitterly, '' and this is actually Angelus' liar. I'm just using it. Only the stuff from the 21st century belongs to me.''
Nahir didn't seem surprised.
''I've heard that you've submitted to your Sire again'', to Spike's baffled look he added. ''I live in L.A., actually; have been there for a couple of years by now, and Angelus is being closely watched by our kind.''
''Why?'' Spike asked with a frown.
''He's been Chosen to play an important rôle in the upcoming big fight'', Nahir answered with a sigh. ''This time, the stakes are really high. This won't be your average, domestic Apocalypse the current Slayer routinely beats... albeit stopping the Harvest and destroying the Master four years ago delayed the plans of the Dark Side sufficiently. But there are even bigger evils in coming.''
''When?''
''I can't tell the precise date. The prophecies are confusing, and we still need some ancient scrolls for further studies. But as far as I can interpret Anatole's mumblings, we might have a decade, tops. Maybe even less. We have to prepare ourselves, for this is a fight the Kine aren't up to.''
Spike nodded. Anatole, the mad Malkavian prophet had been a know figure of vampiric society for nine hundred years. Led down strange paths by his dreams, Anatole committed diablerie on other vampires in an attempt to absorb their insights. Many of his visions concerned Gehenna, and he became a harbinger of the Final Nights and the mouthpiece of the demon Kupala, incorporating the demon's perverse omens and directives into his utterances. So, when Anatole started telling his profound insights into the coming darkness of Gehenna, people listened in horror, because he know what he was speaking about.
''So what's your plan?'' the younger vampire asked, falling back to his usual speech patterns. '''Cuz I doubt that you came to Sunnydale for seeing' me.''
''And you're absolutely right'', the ancient one agreed. ''Not that I'd mind seeing you again'', he added with a slow, seductive smile and cupped Spike's face in a slender hand. ''You're still beautiful, although I hate your hair.''
He raised his other hand, extended a talon and made a small cut on Spike's flawless face, right above the prominent cheekbone; then he leant close and lapped at the small string of blood like a sleek, dark cat, closing the tiny wound again.
''And you taste every bit as sweet as I remember, my prize pupil'', he added, purring in delight.
Spike trembled uncontrollably under the ancient one's expert touch. No one could resist Nahir's seductive charms – at least not the ones with sensitivity and true passion in their hearts. And even the other ones would have a hard time.
''M... Master'', he murmured defensively, ''I… I can't. I'm Blood Bound to my Sire… again.''
''My rights override his'', Nahir replied softly, entwining the long fingers of his free hand with the short, bleached looks of the younger one. ''I am the very Eldest of our Order… I have ownership over every single one of the Line of Aurelius… including Angelus himself and all his progeny.''
He kissed Spike gently on the lips, then lifted his chin and looked into those disturbed, vibrant-blue eyes. ''I won't force you, Childe.''
''You don't need to force anyone'', Spike replied smiling, rubbing himself against the ancient one like a cat in the heat. ''You never have. You always reached your goals through charm – every single one of them.''
Nahir shrugged, laughing softly, and let him go.
''Well, I'm a Lasombra, after all… it's in our Blood. Now… do you have a proper bath in this mansion?''
''A… bath?'' Spike replied in surprise. Nahir gave him a disapproving look.
''Have you forgotten everything I've taught you? How am I supposed to perform the Cleansing Ritual before exercising my rightful Claim over you?''
A Cleansing Ritual! Despite his cynical attitude towards tradition, Spike couldn't help but tremble in anticipation from the mere thought. He hadn't participated in a Cleansing Ritual ever since Nahir freed him and Drusilla and let them go their own ways. This was an ancient custom followed by the Eldest of their Order only, involving long-forgotten massage techniques and powerful aphrodisiacs, and the few younger ones who ever had been subjected to it never forgot it again.
''Oh yeah, Master'', he answered eagerly, already starting to show Nahir the way, ''we have a nice, comfy bath over there. Wanna see it?''
TBC
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
End note:
Some intricacies of vampiric culture are my own invention. The Cleansing Ceremony is one of them. Unfortunately, due to the new rules, you aren't going to witness it. But I might put up an extended version on my own website later. g