Disclaimer: Ifrit is mine, Jack is mine, Allandra is mine. Buffy, Xander, Vanessa, Sandra, Christof, Wilhem, Sunnydale, and lots of other folks and places and things don't belong to me. Buffy and all things related belong to Mutant Enemy, and the World of Darkness belongs to White Wolf. I make no money off of this, and I won't...ever.

Thanks for the feedback guys. Here we go for the next part. Please review when you're done reading.

Xander carried the unconscious Allandra in his arms, hesitantly looking down at her altered form as he and Vanessa walked through the extensive cave system of winding tunnels. Vanessa was sore, holding her left arm, trying to keep the broken bone from moving around too much as she waited for her Slayer healing to knit the bone.

Vanessa walked silently beside Xander, musing over the situation. 'What the hell is she? It's like her very aura is burning, shifting like a living fire. And to top it off, she's got wings and claws now. Nice red hair though, hm. I'll have to research it, I suppose.'

Sighing in relief when they left the caves, reaching the open air of the valleys outside of the town, they looked down on the bright lights of Sunnydale by night, Vanessa and Xander taking in the sight.

Xander turned to Vanessa. "Allandra and I need to get home, I'm hungry and if I don't get back within the hour I won't. Will you be alright getting back to Sandra's?" He asked.

Vanessa nodded. "It's a bit of a hike from here, but it's not a problem."

Xander nodded and began to walk off, cradling Allandra in his arms.

Vanessa watched his retreating form, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. 'I don't think I'll ever figure him out. He feels different now, like something within him has burst and fallen away. I just wonder if it's a good thing, or a bad thing.'

She began walking home, cradling her broken arm and wincing.

Xander carefully opened the door to his apartment, carrying Allandra's limp form over to the bed. Carefully, he set her on it, lying on her stomach, gently and carefully setting her new wings in a comfortable position.

She mumbled and groaned in her sleep, trembling from some nightmare he couldn't comprehend. Gently he rubbed her back, and she quieted down slowly, letting out a sigh.

Xander smiled slightly, carefully tearing away the ripped and bloodstained clothing she wore. Whatever happened to trigger her transformation had healed her mortal wound, but it hadn't fixed her clothing. Xander chuckled, looking down at himself. 'Gotta admit, mine isn't in the best shape either. I look like somebody powered up a weed-whacker and did some trimming on my chest with it.'

He glanced down at Allandra, the echoes of his previous revelation going through him, and knowing he could draw on it at any time, he smiled slightly, genuinely happy about it. 'I've stopped. Stopped lying to myself. I've been living all this past time with the faint, but persistent thought that I'd be human again, or I'd wake up tomorrow and all of it be a bad dream. Tonight is the night I've stopped lying to myself over it. I'm not going to just act human anymore. It's time I reclaimed it. When I do something now, it won't be because I feel it's what I would have done in the past. It'll be because I want to do it, now.'

After placing his shredded clothing into a garbage bag, he stepped into the shower and washed his own dried blood off, letting the warmth of the water soak through his muscles pleasantly.

Allandra stood, watching her brothers.. Somehow, she felt wrong, as if this wasn't something she would see, or could see normally. Like looking through someone else's eyes.

Each of those she had somehow dubbed 'brothers' in her own mind, were beautiful. Each of them were impossibly beautiful, no set of genetics or normal methods of enhancing one's natural beauty could ever even begin to reach the beauty of these beings.

She felt her mouth speaking, though it wasn't her forming the words. "General, we're being pushed back. We're losing the war. Every strategy we come up with is being countered."

The one she was speaking to was directly across from her, his face serious and his lips pursed. He replied. "I'm aware of that. Michael knows me well, remember. I'm not surprised at all that he's leading the enemy troops against our forces as well as he has."

One of the beings turned towards the general, allowing Allandra to see he possessed ebony black, feathered angelic wings. Carried almost negligently in his right hand, leaning on his shoulder was a black scythe. He spoke. "Our numbers are holding our own. Most of us Reapers have joined your side, after all. We didn't want this, but even so, for every one of them we manage to kill we lose three of our number. Michael's better than we thought."

The previous angelic being nodded. "We had the advantage of numbers and he even agreed with me when we told him that things should have been done differently down there. But now we're being beaten back with every battle. Now we have a new problem. If you will, brother?" He looked at Allandra.

She felt herself nodding. "Of course." She waved her hand and an image formed in front of them. A young boy was walking, his shoulders slumped with shame, into the night and the barren lands of one of Earth's deserts. "A curse has been put on him. That in itself wouldn't be a problem, except for this."

Allandra felt her hand wave again, and the image shifted, showing the boy taking instruction from a beautiful, dark haired woman. The general's eyes widened.

"She's teaching him everything she knows. You should know more than any of us, Morningstar, what she can pass on." Allandra felt herself speaking.

The general, apparently called Morningstar, crossed his arms. "Indeed. Combined with his curse, this is a significant problem. I don't quite understand what the other side is trying to do, however. I can only see problems for them arising from doing this."

Allandra nodded. "I agree. We would try to eliminate him, but right now we haven't got troops available. To even try would be foolhardy without an entire host. Already he's gathered enough power to rival me, and if he continues growing at this rate he'll be able to match even you, Morningstar, within two years."

Morningstar nodded, chewing on his lip. "We haven't much time." Turning to the angel with the scythe, he nodded. "Death, we need you to scatter as many of your legion across the world. We can't hide from the Host, but we will not make it easy for them to track us down. We need to make them come to us, fight on our turf, so to speak."

Death shook his head. "You forget Morningstar I am neutral in this matter. I cannot choose your side or his because I cannot choose anything other than which mortal will die. You will have to relay the commands yourself, for my Lessers are not as I."

Morningstar sighed, nodded, then turned to Allandra. "You know what you need to do?"

Allandra felt herself nod. "Do what I do best. I'll have to draw out Michael. Leave it to me, Morningstar."

He nodded, turning his attention back to the image of the boy being taught by the woman, crossing his arms with a grave look on his face. He muttered, almost to himself, yet Allandra overheard. "What are you up to, hm? Why give Caine this kind of power?"

And then she woke up.

Xander got dressed again, toweling his hair and examining his reflection in the mirror. Walking back into the bedroom once again, he looked for Allandra, lying on the bed. Where she wasn't.

Instead, she was standing in front of a mirror, wearing only her undergarments, examining her new form.

Quickly, Xander averted his eyes, coughing in embarrassment. "Sorry Allandra! I thought you were still asleep." If it were possible for him to blush, he'd be beet red right now.

He heard her chuckle lightly, and her reply. "Sorry Xander, I should have locked the door." She lapsed into silence again. When her voice came back to him, he could hear the fear in her voice. "Do...do you think I'm ugly?"

Feeling he'd just been put over the same barrel as the question 'Am I fat?' Xander blinked a few times, trying to formulate a diplomatic response on the spur of the moment.

All he came up with was. "No! No, you're not ugly." Turning around slowly, he looked at Allandra, who was watching him suspiciously. He slowly walked forward and gently wrapped her into a hug. He felt her clinging to him desperately. She was sobbing into his shoulder, while he gently patted her on the back.

Together, they stood there for a full half an hour, simply allowing each other the comfort of the other's presence.

Ifrit observed the pair from outside, his senses telling him exactly what was happening.

'Her strength is growing, her body is adapting to her new state and she has already glimpsed what I was. I'm impressed.' He smiled to himself, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with the tip of his finger.

He frowned, remembering the problems he'd heard of with these in the past. 'Genetic memory is such a two-edged sword at times. It's a good thing that they don't inherit everything, but I despise it when memories manage to slip through the cracks.'

Even after more than ten millennia of tinkering, they still couldn't get their genetic memory to work only in skills and languages, and not in memories. It was possible to block the memory, but sometimes, just sometimes something slipped through. Ifrit sighed.

Enjoying the flavor of the burning cigarette, Ifrit turned and walked away.

After the sunrise, Xander had put Allandra to bed, allowing her to rest and recuperate. He was about to go to sleep himself when the phone rang. He grumbled to himself and answered it.

"Hello?"

Cordelia's voice drifted over the line. "Hey Xander."

"Hey Cordy. What's up?"

"Two things, actually. The first is that Angel's finally got all the paperwork through, so now you're the proud new owner of the Haven."

Xander chuckled. "Yeah, thanks. I never did think I'd own a club, but hey. How much do I owe Angel?"

"About twenty grand." Cordelia replied.

Xander groaned, and Cordy laughed at him.

"All right, I'll set up a payment plan or something."

"That'd be a good idea." Cordelia replied.

"All right, what's the other thing, Cor?"

"I've picked up some word through the Wolfram and Hart computer, and in some other places. The underworld doesn't know your name, but they're sending people to Sunnydale to kill you."

Xander groaned. "Joy. Now I'm really happy. Who's coming to the party?"

"Three members of the Order of Teraka were hired by somebody named Kazi. The price tag was pretty hefty, but she's got money everywhere, she's been running a corporation called Orsi International."

Xander grunted. "All right. Anybody else?"

"Yeah. A single Assamite is headed your way. All I managed to pull up was that some Tzimisce flunky sent an email to another flunky. I don't have any details on him, just that he's going there. It's pure luck I've got that much."

Xander chuckled. "Thank god for stupid flunkies. Thanks Cordy, I owe you."

He could hear her grin through her reply. "I'll put it on your tab, buster."

The next night, Xander walked into the Haven, walking towards the backroom and testing out the nice chair that Mike owned. He smirked to himself, noting exactly how comfortable it was. Searching the desk, he found the intercom system.

Calling in each of his new employees one at a time, he explained the situation to each of them with candor. They can keep working at the Haven provided they inform him if they detect demonic vampires.

In the end, Xander only had to fire one bouncer. Xander mused he'd have to put out ads. Xander picked up his phone and called Vanessa.

"Hello?" Came her voice.

"Hey Vanessa, it's Xander."

Vanessa sounded surprised. "Xander! How'd you get my number?"

Xander chuckled. "You do know that you're in the phone company's database?"

"Oh yeah. Duh. So what do I owe the honor of the call?" Vanessa asked.

"I haven't heard from Jack or Oz, have you seen them?"

"Master Morris and Oz are alright. Oz heals quickly, and Master Morris is currently meditating. He spends a lot of time doing that, you know."

"Nothing wrong with the practice, I just know it's not for me."

Vanessa chuckled. "I hear you. He always told me I had too much energy. Can't sit down for a minute."

"Heh. Sounds like you, alright. How's the arm?"

"Sore. Healing. Itchy. It'll be fine by tonight, but I hate broken bones." Vanessa replied, her tone indicating a grimace.

"That's alright. Hey, at least you don't need to take a full month off, huh?"

"Good point. So, what's up?"

Xander slapped his forehead. "Right, nearly forgot. Four assassins are headed into Sunnydale, three of them are of the Order of Teraka, you heard of them?"

Vanessa just sounded a bit confused. "Uhh..no. Should I have?"

Xander sighed. "I guess Sandra hasn't gotten around to telling you about them yet, huh? They're elite assassins, fanatically loyal and always dangerous. The person you least expect could be a member. Some of them are human, some aren't. That's all I can say about them."

Vanessa groaned. "Fun. If they come after me I'll be prepared. Who's the fourth guy?"

Xander sighed. "I can't tell you, cause I've no clue. I just know that somebody nasty was hired to show up around here. Suffice to say though, you won't have to worry about him or her, it's me they'll probably want. Just going to tell you I'm not going to be meeting up with you for a few days. If I did I'd put you in danger, way beyond anything I expected with Spike. I'm not going to do that."

Vanessa didn't sound happy. "All right, fine. I'll see you in a few days time then."

"Yeah, peace out. Take care, Vanessa."

He hung up the phone, rubbing his eyes the moment the phone was back on its cradle. Now that was taken care of, he'd have to find out what he could do about tracking down and killing Beth.

The intercom buzzed, and Xander looked at it, trying to figure out exactly how to use it again. Pressing the appropriate button after a moment, he spoke. "Yeah?"

"Uh, boss. There's some people here to see you. They're...members of your club." The hesitant voice of his bartender came over the line.

"Send them back here, thanks." Xander replied, thinking about who could be here to see him.

Thirty seconds later, the door to the office opened, and three Kindred walked in.

The first looked like he was well off, the type of person who'd think nothing was wrong if he misplaced a few thousand dollars a day. He was wearing an immaculate business suit, and walked with an air of superiority. He stood in front of Xander's desk and crossed his arms.

The second was a large, red-bearded man. He stood at least at six foot seven, and he had large, rippling muscles that moved easily under his skin. He somehow gave the impression that the small confines of the office was offensive to his massive frame.

And the third...

Xander blinked. Then grinned. "Lily! Now this is unexpected!"

Lily blinked, looking at Xander, first puzzled, then she broke out into a grin. "Xander! My god, it's been a long time. How have you been?"

Xander shrugged. "Been better. Things are improving a bit, though."

The businessman cleared his throat.

Lily stopped, blinked, and looked to him. "Sorry. I didn't think an old friend would be here. Xander, this is Dimitri of the Ventrue." The lawyer-type nodded. Lily continued. "And Jason of the Gangrel." The large man nodded.

Xander nodded to both of them, and then gestured to the chairs in the office. "Come on, sit down, get comfortable, I don't want to be a rude host ya know."

Lily smirked and got a chair, bringing one over for Dimitri as well. Jason just snorted and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

Xander scratched his chin and put his feet up on the desk. "So, what can I do for you folks? Throw a party, smuggle blood, pick a fight?"

Jason snorted with amusement. Lily smirked as Dimitri grimaced, glaring at Xander. "The Cainite Prince of Los Angeles wishes to speak with you, Rabble. For the life of me, I cannot see why he'd want to."

Xander shrugged. "Hm, lemme think. Hrrrm.. Maybe it's because I...nah, he wouldn't care about niggling little things like stopping a pesky dust bunny like Spike, huh?"

Jason rumbled from the wall. "Congratulations."

Dimitri simply looked bored, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper. He pushed it towards Xander, who took his feet off the desk and picked it up.

Dimitri spoke. "That's an invitation to the Prince's estate in Los Angeles. Be there in three night's time by midnight. If you don't show up by then the results will be very..unpleasant, to say the least." He stood up slowly, in a single fluid motion.

Xander opened the invitation and nodded. "Gotcha. Be there or be a dust pile. Great choice. Was that the whole point of all three of you coming down? To drop me a letter?"

Jason chuckled, grinning even wider as Dimitri shot him a glare. Lily spoke up. "Of course not. We wanted to see who was either brave enough or stupid enough to attack somebody working for the Sabbat without collecting more resources. Most of us wouldn't even think of killing a club owner and then buying the place before the dust settled."

Xander smirked. "Hey, what can I say, even before I joined the club I was doing these kinds of things. Believe it or not though, there was a plan. Still got lucky though, I wasn't expecting the hunter with the surprise to show up."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "What hunter?"

Xander looked at the group of vampires. "You didn't know?"

Dimitri raised an eyebrow. "Obviously not. What hunter?"

Xander shrugged. "I killed two of Mike's bodyguards, Mike was trying some mind control hypnotic thingy on me when the hunter showed up and shot him in the temple. We squared off, I managed to hurt him, then he got all nasty and turned into a demon."

Dimitri rolled his eyes, about to dismiss it out of hand, but Lily and Jason both looked at Dimitri and then at Xander, their eyes urging him to continue. Xander forced himself to not shrink under the scrutiny, so he went on. "Anyway, he was kicking my ass, then a friend of mine showed up and shot him multiple times. Then he vanished. He'd pulled that trick before though, so he's probably still around waiting for me."

Lily looked concerned. "You're throwing yourself into danger, again, Xander?"

Xander shrugged. "It's what I do, I guess. Can't even blame the Brujah blood I got for it either. Ah well."

Dimitri sighed. "A Brujah. That explains a lot. Only a Brujah would be stupid enough to do what you've done."

Xander smiled. "Thanks."

Dimitri scowled. "It wasn't a compliment, you dolt."

Xander grinned wider. "I know."

Lily giggled. Dimitri glared at her, which quickly made her quiet down, although she couldn't hide the smile on her face. Jason seemed to be enjoying Dimitri's flustered state.

Dimitri turned and nodded to Lily and Jason. "We're leaving." He spoke shortly, his irritation showing. He walked out the door, followed by Jason. Lily gave Xander a wink before she left, and Xander returned the wink.

Beth screamed.

In the last twelve hours, she'd done that a lot. No less than sixty seven times, in fact. The demon within the body of the Tzimisce Vampire wailed her loss for her maker, her sire and creator. Her ghouled servants had all fled from her presence, fearing her wrath should she choose to vent her anger on something, or someone, nearby.

She wasn't aware of the fact that, even as the sun was rising, she had company coming over to her backup lair, an old warehouse with painted over windows.

She did become very aware of that fact when the door to the warehouse door smashed in, flying off the hinges and letting a stream of sunlight streak into the place. A single figure stood in the doorway, and he looked to be nothing more than a regular human to all appearances.

"Knock knock." Came the mocking voice of the person.

Beth took a step back, her eyes wide. She hadn't seen many creatures that could do that. Perhaps her master could, before Spike found her, but not many since. She swallowed the lump of fear that had suddenly lodged in her throat.

He smirked. "Oh, dear me. Is the vampire all afraid of the pesky sunlight? I'm kind of disappointed." He made a show of stretching and enjoying the light. "I do enjoy this place. It's nice and temperate and bright. Living in a place of extremes is just hell on your skin tone you know."

He began walking forward, casually and without any hesitation or fear, walked out of the light and into the darker center of the warehouse. Beth growled at him and charged at him, swinging her fists out and catching him on the jaw.

Only to find it was like trying to break a block of steel with a piece of tissue paper. She screamed in surprise and in pain as every bone in her hand shattered when impacting the hard surface of his skin.

With a slightly amused expression, he casually backhanded her, which actually caused her to go flying back a distance of thirty feet, and smacking into the wall of the warehouse. She slid to the floor limply, groaning. Dusting himself off, he watched as she slowly climbed to her feet with a bored expression.

"Care to try again, leech?" He asked, contempt drenching every word.

She growled at him, but had enough sense not to charge him again so heedlessly. She healed her hand with a thought, and then advanced on the man in a combat stance. He rolled his eyes and sighed. She lashed out at him, only for him to block it with his forearm and he smashed her in the face with a fist.

The intense force of the blow made her spin around, spewing blood as her jaw, nose, and teeth all shattered. She lay on the floor for a moment, and then dazedly got back up, forcing her wounds to heal.

"Hmph. I came here looking to see if anybody on this rock could pose a threat to me and all I find is a pitiful vampire girl who was a former champion. How pathetic. Oh well, perhaps true vampires, or the werewolves will pose a challenge, hm?" He spoke, his voice oozing contempt.

Beth growled, moving away in a blur of motion, running as fast as she could towards the sewer access, ripping up the grate with a single motion and diving down.

Ifrit watched her flee with some amusement. Oh well, he'd enjoy his vacation from his damnation, it's not like there was a lot of things on this world that could hurt him.

For he was Ifrit, Lord of the Flames, Igniter of Suns and General of Hell.

The next night, in Los Angeles, something else was unfolding.

Xander sat in the passenger side of the car, playing with the radio as Allandra drove the station wagon to the mansion of the Prince.

He looked over at her as they pulled up to the driveway. "You sure you want to come in with me? These guys probably won't be very nice, I'm not sure what'll happen if you go in there."

Allandra nodded. "I know. But I'm not letting you go in there alone. Besides, being...whatever I am, if this Prince is at all reasonable he'll understand and let us go, maybe even help me find out what I am."

He stroked her chin with his hand lightly, smiling at her. "Thanks. Remember though, if I ask you to run, you run, alright?"

She nodded, then got out of the car, her long coat flowing around her, concealing her wings, which were tucked in close to her body to minimize the bulges in her trenchcoat. Xander stepped out on his side, nodding to the doorman, whom he identified as a vampire. The doorman was equipped with a headset and seemed to be listening to the whispers of the security.

The doorman rose his head and nodded to Xander, giving Allandra a suspicious glance. He spoke. "Mister Harris. The Prince is waiting for you. Your friend-"

Xander cut him off. "Goes where I go. You have my word we'll cause no trouble here."

Allandra spoke quietly, twirling her now red hair. "And mine."

The doorman quietly spoke into his headset for a few moments, then he listened to the response. He nodded, and spoke to Xander. "Very well. You are responsible for her from here on out, understood?"

Xander nodded.

The doorman showed them inside.

The Prince of Los Angeles didn't appear to be an old man. He was apparently Embraced in his prime, someone who looked to be no more than twenty-five years of age. His hair was black and hung down in a ponytail over his suit, his skin was pale, as was natural for an Elder vampire, and his eyes were a light blue, yet exuding strength. He was sitting in a chair behind a large business desk, behind him was a large window facing a garden.

He looked at the pair, raising an eyebrow suspiciously at Allandra, then turned his full attention on Xander.

"Good evening mister Harris. I am Alexander. Welcome to my home."

Xander nodded. "Yeah thanks. You got a nice place. Just out of curiosity, how much did it cost to build it all?"

Alexander smiled slightly. "Seven million. Over the years the property value has skyrocketed, however. I could probably sell it for more than fifty million today. If I may ask, who is this lovely woman, mister Harris?"

Allandra spoke up, nervously. "I'm Allandra. I speak for myself, thanks."

Alexander chuckled. "Forgive me, most...people like yourself don't often speak for themselves in my presence when escorted." He turned back to Xander. "I assume she knows of ?"

Xander knew he was on shaky ground here, but he nodded hesitantly. Alexander frowned slightly, looking at Xander with disapproval. "That wasn't very wise, but typical of the Brujah, I see. Do you intend to Embrace her, with your sire's permission of course."

Xander shook his head. "No, I don't intend to, sir. I haven't had contact with my sire ever since we parted ways after she trained me, sixty years ago, either. Besides...I don't like the idea of Embracing someone else."

Alexander frowned. "Who was your sire, mister Harris? You're young, I cannot believe you were simply left to your own devices so readily."

Xander shrugged. "Anezka Romuald, wife and childe of Christof Romuald."

Alexander blinked, and drew in a sharp breath. "I see. Interesting. What do you know of their reputation, Xander?"

Xander rose an eyebrow, his voice becoming confused now. "Uh. They're strong. Christof was around during the Crusades, woke up in 1999, and had a very stiff way of speaking, like he was trying to conform to how we speak. Anezka I know a lot less about, but just by looking at them you could tell they were in love."

Allandra crossed her arms, listening closely and taking in every detail of the conversation between the elder vampire and the neonate. The names of Christof and Anezka had shaken the elder, as much as if one had said that a god had stepped in for evening tea.

The Prince quietly began speaking. "A little over nine hundred years ago, Christof Romuald was a human, a Crusader with the Swordbretheren. He was wounded in battle and brought to Prague. Anezka tended to him while he lay unconscious, she kept him alive. Soon after he recovered, albeit barely, from his injury, he found out about the Tzimisce vampires infesting Prague. Unaware they were only a small part of our world, he descended into one of their lairs and destroyed one of their more influential members at the time."

Xander blinked. "Whoa. I knew he was good, but I didn't know he was quite that good."

Alexander nodded. "The Tzimisce put a contract out on his head, they sent several of their ghouls to kill him. After he killed them as well, they put a larger bounty on him. The Brujah were at that time a clan of warriors and scholars, seeking perfection of education and philosophy, along with physical prowess. Most Ventrue would never admit it, but back then, a human general was as likely to be recruited by the Brujah as a Ventrue."

He continued. "Christof was Embraced into the Brujah soon afterwards. They thought they could use him, and for a short time they were right. He turned out to be even more dangerous as a vampire than as a human. However, he fought to keep his humanity rather than allow himself to fall prey to the Beast. An impressive feat, considering he was a Brujah. Your clan falls to it far too readily, you know."

Xander sighed, but couldn't find fault with that. He had to admit, it didn't take too much for him to fall into frenzy. He spoke. "Go on."

The elder vampire took the cue and went on. "Christof soon found out Anezka had went missing, and set out to rescue her. In his travels he found a weapon that should have stayed buried, but the Tremere in their arrogance had dug it up."

Xander rose an eyebrow. He'd heard of the Tremere, back before Spike had tortured him, but he hadn't heard anything of them since.

Alexander sighed, then continued. "The weapon was called the Ainkurn Sword. During its forging, it was quenched in the blood of the strongest of us, the blood of one of the Antediluvians."

Xander spoke up hesitantly. "Uh..Antediluvians? Who are they?"

Alexander smiled slightly. "Who were they, you mean. I will get to that, young one. Anezka's trail led him to the Tzimisce stronghold in Prague. Unfortunately, it was also during the beginning of the Inquisition. The Tzimisce lord within, Vukodlak, was bound in Torpor. Christof managed to delay the resurrection, but in the process he was buried in the collapsing castle. The Tzimisce removed their lord from the scene, and Christof was forgotten by all, along with the Ainkurn.

"The Inquisition recovered Christof, along with the Ainkurn and a few other old relics in 1999. After awakening, Christof systematically tracked down Anezka and Vukodlak. Fairly quickly, he and his allies managed to destroy Vukodlak and Christof then Embraced Anezka, who had been a Tzimisce ghoul all that time.

"After that, he tracked down and, using the Ainkurn, along with a great deal of help, killed the Antediluvians. How, I am not certain. They had powers and abilities far beyond anything I could imagine, yet somehow he was able to do it. Christof is legendary, but he hasn't been seen since he defeated Veddartha, my clan's founder." Alexander finished.

Xander and Allandra just stood there, with a look of blank shock on their faces.

Alexander smirked, then tilted his head. "Now that I've enlightened you on your family history, let's talk about the present, shall we?"

Xander and Allandra both nodded.

The Prince of Los Angeles continued. "Let's see. You show up in Sunnydale, a place where the Sabbat go, but typically never leave, because they often vanish or die horribly. You kill off their leader, chase down a Tzimisce Elder, and eliminate a thorn known as the Caitiff William the Bloody, a walking breach of the Masquerade if I ever heard of one. While these deeds are rather useful, I can't help but ask one question. Why?"

Xander sighed. "Do you know what Sunnydale is? Why it's got such a high death rate, why, when I was in highschool, the Sunnydale High newspaper had an obituary column?"

Alexander simply smiled and said three words. "Boca del Inferno."

Allandra rose an eyebrow, looking at Xander for his reaction. Xander just nodded. "Mouth of Hell. Ugly demon vamps congregate there, along with a lot of other nasties. But it's also my hometown, I want to quiet the place down, at least until the Hellmouth goes dormant, or if I have to, gather the resources to make it dormant."

Alexander rose an eyebrow. "A lofty goal, if an unrealistic one. Did you not wonder why so many in Sunnydale never truly take notice of what is going on in that god-forsaken town?"

Xander shrugged. "Because most people would rather explain away the weird thing they saw, or forget they saw it, rather than find out the creatures of the night are real."

The Prince just smirked. "Partially. For most of the rest, the area's ambient energies tends to play havoc with the weak-minded, reinforcing their belief in natural explanations for supernatural phenomenon. As for the rest, they simply keep their mouths shut, believing if they blend into the crowd, the predators will have little reason to choose them. The smartest ones, of course, move away."

Xander nodded. "Makes sense. Though, me and Willow stuck around after finding out about it, but we didn't notice anything unusual about Sunnydale til highschool."

Alexander replied. "As a result, we of the Camarilla have several dens of Nosferatu and a few other Kindred to keep things in line wherever possible. Unfortunately, something about the Hellmouth's influence tends to drive us mad, it pulls the Beast to the surface, increasing the difficulty of blending in and surviving. Have you noticed this, Xander?"

Xander shook his head. "Never felt different in Sunnydale than I ever did in L.A. I'll admit I've lost my head sometimes, but I've managed to keep myself under control when it was really important."

The Prince nodded. "I believe it is because you've lived on the Hellmouth all of your life, you've built up a somewhat natural immunity. It would be no more difficult for you to control the Beast there as it would for you elsewhere. Which would fit my intelligence."

Xander shrugged, Allandra spoke quietly. "What intelligence? You've been watching us?"

Alexander smiled slightly. "You'd be surprised what kinds of places the Nosferatu can get into, my dear. I also know of your current condition. Don't be shy, show them off."

Allandra found herself taking off her jacket, revealing her red bat-like wings to the eyes of the Prince. He nodded, as if it merely confirmed something he suspected, then he turned back to Xander.

"Because of your actions, removing the Sabbat's rather small, but possibly dangerous, influence in Sunnydale, you've forced the town back into a rather leaderless place, among our community. Because of this, I've taken control of the town, reabsorbing it into Camarilla territory." Alexander spoke, watching Xander's reactions. Xander seemed to be a little put off, but he was listening with curiosity plastered on his face.

Xander spoke up. "So what? I'll have to report to you? Well if you want me to, I guess I can give you a phone call every once in a while or something."

The Prince chuckled. "Not at all. Sunnydale is, while in my area, not a part of my territory. It would be too troublesome for me to watch over as well as watch over Los Angeles and everything else. I don't need every Cainite that passes through that tiny burg to make a detour here. Thus, I've made a decision."

Xander and Allandra both raised their eyebrows at the same time. Allandra blurted out. "What decision?"

Alexander smirked slightly. "I've decided to declare you the Prince of Sunnydale, mister Harris."

Xander blinked. Then he coughed. Then he looked at Alexander incredulously. "What!?" He managed to squeak out.

Alexander chuckled, taking in the expression of the newly-crowned Cainite Prince of Sunnydale. "Your actions have proven helpful, if small, to the Camarilla. I've been told you track down and eliminate threats to your territory, and you keep your word. While the last is not needed in a Prince, it is a definite plus."

Xander sighed. "Yeah, great. But, I, uh...I don't particularly like the Camarilla. You're better than the Sabbat, especially on the ground level, I mean, sir. Thing that bugs me is that you guys aren't all that nice either."

The Prince of Los Angeles sighed. "We in the Camarilla exist to protect the Masquerade, the way of life that allows us to exist in a world that could easily destroy us if we were exposed to the figurative light of day. We exist for the Kindred, not to protect the Kine."

Xander shrugged. "I get that, I do. I'm sorry though, I'm not the kind of guy to sit back and let the world pass me by. Not a day goes by in Sunnydale that someone doesn't die a horrible death. I know it's dangerous, but I can't just sit around and let it happen knowing I can do something about it."

Alexander sighed. "I understand. You are young yet, after all. Very well, you are hereby the Anarch Prince of Sunnydale. You have, as of this moment, no official or unofficial connection to myself or my resources in the Camarilla beyond the fact that you are Kindred. Any resources or assistance you gather will be of your own doing, and if you come to me asking for help, it will be as one Prince to another. Neither you or I will be forced to lend resources without a common interest or barter. If you breach the Masquerade, and do not take steps to remedy the problem, I will deal with both the problem and you, am I understood?"

Xander nodded, looking rather pale, even for his current status as a vampire. Allandra nodded to Alexander as well, showing her respect and hearing the unspoken threat towards her as well. She had no doubt that if she did anything that could expose vampires to the population at large, she'd be dealt with as swiftly as Xander would be if he did the same.

Shrugging her jacket back on, both Xander and Allandra bowed to the Prince of Los Angeles, and they walked out.

Alexander watched them go, then he pulled up a chair and sat in it, turning it so he could look at the garden.

He spoke to the empty air. "So, what do you think?"

A grotesque form appeared beside Alexander, frowning at him through his misshapen face. "You think it's really wise giving a neonate Brujah the position of Prince, even for a small town?"

Alexander smirked, not looking at the Nosferatu. "I'm simply giving him in name what he was already claiming in action. This way I have him in my pocket if I need him. Besides, even most of the Sabbat isn't stupid enough to simply play around at the Hellmouth. There has to be something else more valuable there."

The Nosferatu grunted. "Maybe, but I still think putting a neonate in charge of a town is a bad idea."

Alexander shrugged. "Obviously you weren't paying as much attention as you normally do. He reminds me of the Brujah of old, their fire and nobility. Regardless of our feuds with the old Brujah, I'd much rather see one like them guarding the Hellmouth instead of the rowdies of today. Perhaps we can thank his grandsire for his current behavior, Josef."

Josef snorted. "You have a point. It's a pity to see them having fallen that far. I met his grandsire once, and young Xander has many of the same qualities that I've seen. Do you think he'll manage to defeat the fallen Slayer?"

Alexander nodded without any hesitation. "I've no doubt about it. He will find a way, he's the type to ignore little things like the massively stocked odds against him. Besides, he was the one to create the plan to destroy Wilkins. He succeeded where centuries of men, demons and vampires failed, even if he wasn't the one to end it personally, they wouldn't have succeeded in destroying him without Xander."

Josef sighed. "Still, you're taking a big chance here, old friend. It's not like we're dealing with someone experienced in politics. We have someone who's less experienced than your average fledgling running Sunnydale."

Alexander looked at Josef. "It's also his territory. He knows the terrain, the enemies, and the tactics required to defeat them. I don't need a politician there, I need a soldier. He's a good one."

Josef grumbled, but had to concede another point.

Alexander turned back to the garden. "What do you think of the woman?" He asked.

Josef stiffened, then replied. "She's familiar to some stories I heard, but she can't be the same person. For one thing, the person those stories followed was always a male."

Alexander chuckled. "And you'd be right, I was right along with him when those stories were made. She is indeed someone else, I assure you."

Josef looked at Alexander, his eyes inquiring. "Then what, or who is she?"

Alexander sighed, then answered slowly. "The daughter of someone born in the darkness. The daughter of my old friend. What I'm concerned about, is her grandfather."

Josef frowned. "I'd agree. He's not somebody most of us would like to mess with."

The pair stood in silence, remembering old memories, stories, and in the Ventrue's case, his lost friend.

With a sigh, Alexander of the Ventrue, known among history scholars as Alexander the Great, stood up from his seat and retired to his chambers.

In Sunnydale, Ifrit stood on a rooftop, his mind stretched into the distance, searching.

When he found his target, he smiled to himself. 'Oh what a tangled web that has been woven. I suppose now is the time to cast the first line. Then I shall see what she is made of.'

Casting a thought out, arcing through the miles of empty air without the slightest bit of effort, his carefully created message reached the recipient. Three little words that would begin a new nightmare.

'Hello, my daughter.'

And miles away, in the car that Xander was driving back to Sunnydale, Allandra covered her ears and screamed in terror.

I know. I'm cruel. Whew, this really is getting complicated.

Anyway, please send feedback, constructive critiques are always welcome. Or even just encouragement, really.

See you later all.

Nick.