A/N: I never liked the idea of the vampire's face changing as they aged so I didn't use it in this fic.

The Paladin Project 4. - The Gathering

"B, me and Woodie are going out on patrol, five by five?" when she didn't receive a reply from the busily tonguing blonde Faith shook her head in disgust. She liked Angel and all, but banging a dead body? And people called her a slut. "You good to go Woodie?" the Principal nodded. "Let's hit the road."

As they reached the edge of Sunnyview Cemetery, Giles' Citroen CV pulled up beside them. "Any problems getting away from the house?"

Faith snorted. "Fuck G, you know what blondie's like, she was too busy inspecting bleach job's fangs to notice us leaving. Besides we said we were patrolling. Somebody needs to, it's not like she does anything other than bark orders or suck face."

"What's happening?" Dawn looked confused. "I thought we were going the grocery shopping?"

Faith's usually hardened heart went out to the bewildered teen. First her dad runs out on her, then she finds out she wasn't a real human but some mystical key, then her mom dies, and then to top it all her sister practically deserts her in favour of a homicidal, former would-be rapist, vampire. Talk about the bum's rush. "Pip-, Dawn we're splitting. We're sick of taking orders from your sister and watching her moon over that piece of crap. Only question is do you want to come with us? If not we'll drop you home and leave. But once you're in, there's no turning back."

"Does Xander know we're coming?"

"G's spoken to him," Faith evaded. Xman would probably shit when he saw her and Dawn.

The teen wiped at her eyes. "I'll come with you. There's nothing left for me here anymore."

Faith winked at the younger girl and gently squeezed her arm. "It'll be five by five you'll see."

* * *

"I understand the command staff of the Paladin Project are stationed at their operational base?"

Darwin Chance nodded at the impenetrable darkness that surrounded the demon sat at the end of the board room. When the ensoulled vampire Angel had been influenced by Demonsbane into rejecting their offer, he, as their top trouble-shooter, had been brought in to get the office back on track. And now only weeks into his new post he was being visited by one of the senior partners, Azarel. The archdemon's very form would, without his shadowy cloak, leave him a gibbering wreck. Even at this distance, the power of the arch-demon's presence tugged at his soul, threatening to tear it away from his being. "That's correct sir."

"Um," Azarel's rasping voice sent shivers of terror up his spine and caused his stomach to clench painfully making him very glad he hadn't had time for breakfast this morning. "Angel has also temporarily transferred his office there hasn't he?"

"Demonsbane, Angel, and the Paladin Project all together under one roof. I sense an opportunity." Azarel mused. "So I've arranged for some contractors to take care of this situation."

Chance's breath caught when a hazy, greyish portal appeared by the side of the archdemon and six velvet-cloaked figures strode gracefully out. The Lawyer swallowed nervously.

All of the figures were covered from head to foot by their black robes, stood about six feet tall, and were lithely built with physiques akin to middle distance runners. The litigator could only see the newcomer's eyes under their shrouded cowls but that was enough - their purple slanted eyes confirmed Chance's suspicion, they were Drow.

Drow. The dark elves lived under the surface of their world in a lightless kingdom where they fought continually against not only the other houses, but also the other races that shared their subterranean home, and the surface dwellers too. The Drow were feared throughout the dimensions both for their merciless battle skills and their dark arts mastery.

Chance looked warily at the pairs of gleaming scimitars strapped to the waist of each Drow. "What do you need from this office?" he managed to gasp.

"From this office? Why nothing at all," Chance still couldn't see the demon but he could hear the smile in his voice. "They're simply here to make a point."

"A point?" Chance was unable to control his trembling voice.

"Yes," suddenly all pretence at humour left the demon's voice leaving only a chilling coldness. "The Senior Partners have been most displeased with your lack of progress. These Drow could very easily be hunting down, torturing, and killing every one of your friends and family as a prelude to your own demise. I would strongly encourage you to increase your efforts."

* * *

"Lord Lucis we have disturbing news from the U.S."

The well-groomed man sat beside the desk didn't look a day over a healthy forty but in fact he was close to seventeen hundred years old, the oldest and most powerful vampire in the world. He was the head of The Clans, the highly secret vampire organisation unknown to all but the most senior in the Vatican and what had been the Council. Not even most vampires knew of their organisation - showy vampires like Angelus, Dracula, The Master, and Kaktosis were never invited to join, they were considered too indiscreet. Lucis had run the clans for almost a thousand years, his predecessor having been overthrown and then tortured to death over a decade, ensuring that no vampire within the Clans ever dared to disobey his edicts making his nation ever more powerful and influential. "What seems to be the problem Morte?"

Morte, a hulking seven foot Frenchman he himself had turned during the Hundred Years' War, nodded. "Sir, reports from America indicate that the Paladin Project have congregated in Sunnydale."

"Um," Lucis drummed his fingers on the desk before him. This was a most disturbing development. Ever since its inception The Paladin Project had been an unknowing thorn in his organisation's side, several of their fund- raising operations and a number of his senior lieutenants had fallen to its members, most noticeably to the traitor Angel, Blade, and Demonsbane. "Is there any indication why such a formidable foe has congregated at the Hellmouth?"

"There's been rumblings, rumours, in the underworld about the possible rising of an ancient at the Hellmouth."

Lucis raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps it's time to unleash the Hunt?"

Morte smiled. "It's been a while sir. Should I take personal charge?"

Lucis nodded. "You are their commander after all." He smiled as the giant vampire hurried out of his personal quarters. The Hunt had been one of his first innovations to The Clans when he'd taken over. Deciding that The Clans needed a more efficient enforcement unit to deal with rogue vampires, retrieve occult artefacts, and eliminate any other threats to The Clans' well-being he'd created The Hunt. He'd kept The Hunt compact, consisting only of vampires who'd reached Master status and who'd been some sort of fighter in their human lives. And in eight hundred years they'd lost members but had never failed to complete their mission."

"Do you require my services Master?"

Lucis turned to the entrance of his private quarters and smiled proudly at the silver-haired woman stood there. The woman was beautiful beyond measure with waist-length hair, piercing green eyes, angular features, and a curvy figure clothed in a black cat-suit. But it wasn't the looks of his finest creation that made the 17 century old vampire beam, it was the fact that 400 year old vampire before him was completely and utterly unique. She was Sophia Estara, a nineteen year old Portuguese serving girl who'd been the Slayer of her time, and the only one ever turned. As well as serving as his favourite mate she was also his personal assassin. "Oh yes, I think this situation requires your very personal attention. I want you in Sunnydale but be discreet unless The Hunt fails."

Estara bowed her head in supplication. "Which targets should take priority?"

The head of The Clans paused in thought. "The traitor Angel, Demonsbane, and either of the Slayers."

His childe beamed. "Slayers, their blood is so delicious. And the looks on their faces when I tell them that I once was like them. If I get them both that will make it seven."

Lucis beamed proudly. Ah yes, his favoured childe - it was just a shame she was quite mad.

* * *

"Mr Chairman, we've received some troubling news," the cultured man sat in the eighth floor office raised an eyebrow encouraging the messenger to continue. "It appears that most of the major players in The Paladin Project have met in Sunnydale."

"That is bad news." The Chairman's fleshy lips pursed in concentration. As the leader of the Illuminati, the shadowy group that manipulated events throughout the world, he was sick of The Project sticking their nose into his organisation's activities. "Send for Hans Axel." The messenger bowed his head, turned, and left.

As he waited for his summonsed agent to arrive he mentally reviewed Axel's record. Born in 1920's Bonn, Axel had been a highly-decorated S.S. paratrooper during World War II conscripted into the 'Supreme Soldier Scheme', Germany's answer to Captain America. The experiment had been a complete success turning its subject into a superb athlete capable of winning medals of any of at least twenty different Olympic events and the master of a dozen martial arts. The treatment had even changed the man at a psychological level, making him more ruthless, sadistic, assertive, and aggressive. However the most amazing side-effect was the retardation of the aging process to the extent that the eighty-three year old Axel had the looks and physical capabilities of a man half his age.

Unfortunately for the Axis power, Nick Fury's Howling Commandos had destroyed the camp holding the scheme before it could go into mass production. After Germany's fall and subsequent splitting, Axel worked for East Germany's STASI as their premier assassin during the fifties, sixties, and seventies earning the name 'Silent Death'. In 1978, owing to a scandal around his rape, torture, and murder of the Bulgarian Foreign Minister's youngest daughter, Axel had fled to the U.S.

Once there he'd flourished under the protection of the Mafia. His depravities were ignored as long as he took care of any insubordinate member the ruling council deemed expendable. In 1990 the assassin had once again switched employers. It had been quite a bidding war; Wolfram & Hart, the Yakuza, the Colombian Cartels, and the Russian Mob had all been interested in securing Axel's services but they'd won the battle.

"Chairman." The Illuminati's leader glanced up. He was unable to resist the urge to shudder slightly. With all his immense power few men scared him but Axel managed it. Unusual for people in his profession the contractor was striking in appearance, standing well over six feet tall with a lithe yet muscular physique. Axel's tanned and craggy face was dominated by his beaked nose and piercing blue eyes while his head was shaved completely. The way the man stood, moved, spoke - everything about him snarled danger.

"Hello Mr. Axel. I assume you've heard what's occurred in Sunnydale?"

"The gathering of the Paladin Project, I assume you want me to dismantle it?" He nodded. The assassin paused, his expression calculating. "My fee will be fifty million pounds sterling."

The chairman's eyes bulged and he felt his breath grow short. The most Axel had ever received for a contract was ten million. The money requested was a drop in the ocean for his organisation but still. Finally he spoke, his voice calm. "That seems excessive."

"Does it?" the craggy-faced killer shrugged his powerful shoulders. "I'll need to hire help, more talented than I usually use. The Paladin Project is staffed by exceptionally competent operatives. Also, Sunnydale is demon central that makes things more complicated. You could go elsewhere but when your assassin fails and you return to me my fee will be doubled.

After a second the Chairman nodded. It would be worth the price to get rid of the Project. "Very well."

* * *

Caleb stared up fearfully at his master. Seeing the look of fury on the apparition's face he bowed his head. "Master, the Bringers were only -."

"Silence!" his master's voice exploded, its force sending him stumbling backwards. "Nobody challenges my will! The Slayer is gullible, unfocused, and disorganised but this new threat is worrying. I've decided to send for The Fallen."

Although shaking with fear from the fury in the First's voice Caleb tried again. "Master, I have things under control, that's hardly nec-."

Caleb began to choke as an unseen hand gripped his throat and began squeezing, cutting off his air supply in a split-second. "Understand this servant," the First's voice was deathly cold. "Although my enemies can escape my touch, you servant cannot. Do not question my will again unless you wish to have your bones pulled from your living body!"

* * *

"Excuse me, do you have any rooms available?"

Jed Andrews looked up in interest. Although he currently served as the shift manager for one of Sunnydale's two motels he'd spent much of the last two decades as a merchant seaman and thought he'd recognised the man's accent as French. "Yeah," he drawled, despite all the years away from his home state his voice still carried traces of his Texas twang. "People don't stand to stay round here for long."

As he spoke he quickly inspected the newcomer. The man was close to six feet tall in height with the thickly muscled body of a lumberjack or construction worker. The man's wavy sandy-brown hair hung down to his shoulders and parted down the middle, while his friendly grey eyes were set in a square, tanned face. The man nodded and smiled. "And yet it seems like such a friendly town."

Jed bit back a laugh. "Room's fifty bucks a night, $300 for a week."

"How about $ 550 for a fortnight?"

"Deal," Jed passed the register over the counter as he took the offered notes. "Room 10," he passed the man the key. The man smiled his thanks, effortlessly hefted his surplus bag, and walked off. Jed smiled as he glanced down at the register, Lance Amore, he was right - the man was French.