The Order of Aurelius
By: Aberjian
Spoilers: General Buffy spoilers, All you really need to have seen is buffy s1e7 "Angel" for this chapter to make sense. More later though.
Disclaimer: I don't own any if these characters. They all belong to the almighty Joss, I don't intend to make a profit from this. Is that enough?
Summary: Angel isn't the only one to be cursed in 1898. The curse is for the whole bloodline both up and down.
Ratting: R for language and violence, eventually
This Episode: The Master hatches his plot to destroy the gypsies that cursed him, meanwhile someone close to him plots revenge.
Chapter 2: Steps are Taken
Romania 1898
The dawn filtered through the thick Romanian woods. Angelus moaned and stirred before bolting upright as his left hand caught fire. He ran toward the bonfire that by this time was burnt out and blackened. Quickly grabbing a wooden plank from the fire he went to work digging himself a grave to shield himself from the daylight, his enhanced vampire strength making his progress swift. When it was deep enough for him to fit he leapt into the hole and began to fill it in with dirt. He would have to spend the day here providing his family did not come looking for him bearing heavy blankets. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of worms in the earth and the voices that accused him of being a monster and the faces that accompanied them.
10 miles away
The three vampires huddled together on the large four poster bed. None were sleeping though. "What of Angelus, then? Is he still alive?" Spike asked Darla. "Yes, he lives, I feel him near and his soul has been restored to him just as ours have." Drusilla just begins to sob once more. Darla continues, "Once the sun sets we will go and collect him." Spike frowns, "What then?" He asks. "We will return to England and The Master, he will help us." Drusilla just sobs louder. "Damn it Dru, be quiet!" Darla yelled. Then in a lower voice said, "I know it may be hard but we have to try to get some rest, we have a long journey ahead of us." And with that there was silence.
London
Vampires are social creatures by nature. (Excluding humans and most demons of course) So when a master vampire is angry and stops interacting with his or her followers they become scared. That was what was happening now. The Master's minions weren't used to the silence that came with a brooding Master. Usually when he was mad the minions closest to him paid the price. This time however was different. After recovering himself and replacing his upturned throne he issued one command. "Marcus," he said in a cold voice that scared the poor minion more that if he and bellowed it, "have every vampire here that is of my bloodline rounded up and put into the lower dungeon, I will be down shortly. Take some of your children with you to help. If they struggle then by all means knock them unconscious, but do not permanently cripple or kill any of them, do I make myself clear?" "Yes master." Marcus said with a quick bow left to do as ordered.
Oxford, England 1884
Marcus was twenty four years old. Born in London into a well to do family he had attended Oxford. Then one year while traveling home for Christmas holiday of his fourth year his coach was stopped along the road. He had grabbed his dueling pistol and exited the carriage. He expected highwaymen to be trying to rob them, but what he found chilled him to the soul. The horses were frightened and bucking wildly against their harnesses. The horrible thing however was the man who held his driver by the shoulders while greedily sucking from his neck. Marcus cocked his pistol. The Presumed highwaymen jerked his head up and locked eyes with him. Marcus yelped and took a stumbling step back landing right on his backside. His eyes were yellow! They seemed to glow in the near darkness. The oil lamp that hung by the roof of the carriage cast strange shadows along the mans forehead and nose. Not letting the shock of what he was seeing distract him for long Marcus pulled the pistol's trigger. The large wad of powder and iron hit the killer right in the stomach. Marcus watched in wide eyed horror as the man didn't drop like a human should have. Instead the demon roared like an enraged jungle cat and charged him. With a snarl he hauled Marcus up by the throat and slammed him one handed into the side wall of the coach. Marcus dropped his now useless pistol to the ground and grabbing the demon's arm tried to pry it loose. It was like trying to bend an iron rod. The demon laughed at his pathetic attempts to free himself. Then it violently grabbed Marcus's hair, whipped his head to the side, and plunged it's ivory white fangs into his neck. Marcus screamed into the night until eventually thing began to get foggy and he passed out from bloodloss. The vampire continued to feed before doping the body to the ground. The last thing the Marcus heard was the creature's ragged voice it said two words "You'll do."
London 1898
Fourteen years later and here he was, a slave to a master vampire that was not his sire. It had been ten years since The Master and his minions had raided and destroyed his nest and after killing their sire in front of their very eyes taken Marcus and a few other of the youngest and weakest vampires to the do the jobs that the lowest minion of The Order of Aurelius would not do. Marcus took an unneeded deep breath and sighed. He hated The Master but at the same time felt terror at the mere thought of speaking his mind. He did not know what had happened but there was something he did know. All of the whimpering vampires that littered the sides of the tunnel complex were descendants of The Master, he was sure of it. Maybe now was the time to make his move. Smiling he grabbed the first vampire he came to under the arms, and whistling at jaunty tune began dragging it down the tunnel toward the lower dungeon.
The Master continued to sit on his throne silently staring at a spot on the moldy old walls of the sewer tunnel. In truth he was seeing someone or something very far away. A cruel smile touched his lips. "Soon," his low voice rumbled, "very soon."
By: Aberjian
Spoilers: General Buffy spoilers, All you really need to have seen is buffy s1e7 "Angel" for this chapter to make sense. More later though.
Disclaimer: I don't own any if these characters. They all belong to the almighty Joss, I don't intend to make a profit from this. Is that enough?
Summary: Angel isn't the only one to be cursed in 1898. The curse is for the whole bloodline both up and down.
Ratting: R for language and violence, eventually
This Episode: The Master hatches his plot to destroy the gypsies that cursed him, meanwhile someone close to him plots revenge.
Chapter 2: Steps are Taken
Romania 1898
The dawn filtered through the thick Romanian woods. Angelus moaned and stirred before bolting upright as his left hand caught fire. He ran toward the bonfire that by this time was burnt out and blackened. Quickly grabbing a wooden plank from the fire he went to work digging himself a grave to shield himself from the daylight, his enhanced vampire strength making his progress swift. When it was deep enough for him to fit he leapt into the hole and began to fill it in with dirt. He would have to spend the day here providing his family did not come looking for him bearing heavy blankets. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of worms in the earth and the voices that accused him of being a monster and the faces that accompanied them.
10 miles away
The three vampires huddled together on the large four poster bed. None were sleeping though. "What of Angelus, then? Is he still alive?" Spike asked Darla. "Yes, he lives, I feel him near and his soul has been restored to him just as ours have." Drusilla just begins to sob once more. Darla continues, "Once the sun sets we will go and collect him." Spike frowns, "What then?" He asks. "We will return to England and The Master, he will help us." Drusilla just sobs louder. "Damn it Dru, be quiet!" Darla yelled. Then in a lower voice said, "I know it may be hard but we have to try to get some rest, we have a long journey ahead of us." And with that there was silence.
London
Vampires are social creatures by nature. (Excluding humans and most demons of course) So when a master vampire is angry and stops interacting with his or her followers they become scared. That was what was happening now. The Master's minions weren't used to the silence that came with a brooding Master. Usually when he was mad the minions closest to him paid the price. This time however was different. After recovering himself and replacing his upturned throne he issued one command. "Marcus," he said in a cold voice that scared the poor minion more that if he and bellowed it, "have every vampire here that is of my bloodline rounded up and put into the lower dungeon, I will be down shortly. Take some of your children with you to help. If they struggle then by all means knock them unconscious, but do not permanently cripple or kill any of them, do I make myself clear?" "Yes master." Marcus said with a quick bow left to do as ordered.
Oxford, England 1884
Marcus was twenty four years old. Born in London into a well to do family he had attended Oxford. Then one year while traveling home for Christmas holiday of his fourth year his coach was stopped along the road. He had grabbed his dueling pistol and exited the carriage. He expected highwaymen to be trying to rob them, but what he found chilled him to the soul. The horses were frightened and bucking wildly against their harnesses. The horrible thing however was the man who held his driver by the shoulders while greedily sucking from his neck. Marcus cocked his pistol. The Presumed highwaymen jerked his head up and locked eyes with him. Marcus yelped and took a stumbling step back landing right on his backside. His eyes were yellow! They seemed to glow in the near darkness. The oil lamp that hung by the roof of the carriage cast strange shadows along the mans forehead and nose. Not letting the shock of what he was seeing distract him for long Marcus pulled the pistol's trigger. The large wad of powder and iron hit the killer right in the stomach. Marcus watched in wide eyed horror as the man didn't drop like a human should have. Instead the demon roared like an enraged jungle cat and charged him. With a snarl he hauled Marcus up by the throat and slammed him one handed into the side wall of the coach. Marcus dropped his now useless pistol to the ground and grabbing the demon's arm tried to pry it loose. It was like trying to bend an iron rod. The demon laughed at his pathetic attempts to free himself. Then it violently grabbed Marcus's hair, whipped his head to the side, and plunged it's ivory white fangs into his neck. Marcus screamed into the night until eventually thing began to get foggy and he passed out from bloodloss. The vampire continued to feed before doping the body to the ground. The last thing the Marcus heard was the creature's ragged voice it said two words "You'll do."
London 1898
Fourteen years later and here he was, a slave to a master vampire that was not his sire. It had been ten years since The Master and his minions had raided and destroyed his nest and after killing their sire in front of their very eyes taken Marcus and a few other of the youngest and weakest vampires to the do the jobs that the lowest minion of The Order of Aurelius would not do. Marcus took an unneeded deep breath and sighed. He hated The Master but at the same time felt terror at the mere thought of speaking his mind. He did not know what had happened but there was something he did know. All of the whimpering vampires that littered the sides of the tunnel complex were descendants of The Master, he was sure of it. Maybe now was the time to make his move. Smiling he grabbed the first vampire he came to under the arms, and whistling at jaunty tune began dragging it down the tunnel toward the lower dungeon.
The Master continued to sit on his throne silently staring at a spot on the moldy old walls of the sewer tunnel. In truth he was seeing someone or something very far away. A cruel smile touched his lips. "Soon," his low voice rumbled, "very soon."