The dark vampire tiredly raised one arm and after a short pause, his childe turned over and laid his head on the broad chest, one hand resting where a heart once beat.  Angel’s arm came down to curve about the slender body at his side, and in the next instant, with his childe held close, he was fast asleep.

Spike’s mind was full of questions, doubts and fears, but suddenly it all seemed unimportant.  They’d never really had any control over what would happen when they attempted the ensouling – they’d known that going into it.  The unplanned-for test had raised questions, but it changed nothing.  Tomorrow they would proceed as planned, and deal with the consequences as they came.  With that thought, he gave up the struggle and joined his sire in a deep sleep.

*   *   *

When Angel woke up the next afternoon, he was alone.  He turned his head slowly on the pillow, feeling somewhat fragile and, well, just odd, as though he’d suffered an injury somewhere that he couldn’t quite place, but which might, if he moved too fast, quickly make its presence felt.  Wherever the injury was, it wasn’t in his neck or head, because nothing untoward occurred.  The bedside clock told him, even though, as usual, he’d already known, that it was a quarter past four.  He sighed, still feeling incredibly tired, but swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  There was a lot to do today, and the others would be waiting for breakfast.

He was already late, and made later yet by a shower, albeit a quick one.  He dressed in fighting leathers again, knowing that as Master of the Order, he had an image to maintain, not just for Jardin and the others who wouldn’t arrive for some hours yet, but for the newest members of their Order, who even now waited – anxiously, no doubt – below.

By the time he was dressed, his spirits had improved dramatically.  The tiredness he’d woken with had dissipated and left in its place was a low-level buzz of excitement.  For better or worse, it would happen today, and he for one was damned glad just to get it done with.  The decision had been made, the course plotted out, and many small – plus one very large – obstacle dealt with.  There was no turning back now, and he liked knowing that.  He liked knowing exactly where he stood.

From his perspective, things looked pretty good.  He was head of one of the two most powerful Orders in existence, and the other rival had taken a severe blow, although they probably didn’t know it yet.  His own Order was a bigger threat to him than the Merovingians now, but he would deal with them as need be.  After all, he had his own Clan and that of the Magdala to back him up.  And surely Maria of Aurelius, now head of her own Clan, and lost sister to the Magdala, would side with them if everything went south.  She was a part of their human and demon lineage, after all, and in addition, she, like the rest of the Magdala, had sworn allegiance to him.  Then of course maybe she would think of Viktor instead…

He brushed that thought aside.  No point in imagining the worst.  It would be what it would be, and he would deal with it.  As long as Spike and his House stood with him, they would be a force to be reckoned with.  Shoot, Spike alone could take on most of the Order, if need be.  That brought a smile to his face.  When he strolled into the kitchen a few minutes later, he was almost whistling.  Well, he was whistling in his head at any rate - Mandy.  Angelus whistled, not Angel, he reminded himself sternly.

He stopped abruptly.  The members of Spike’s House, as expected, were all waiting for him.  What he hadn’t expected was breakfast sitting on the table.  A whistle inadvertently escaped him.  The team was fully assembled, and all of them were dressed in leather and armor, as they had been yesterday.  They looked extremely dangerous, he noted with pride.

“Sorry I’m late, guys,” he said.  His voice was contrite, but he couldn’t keep the silly grin off his face.

“Ponce,” Spike said gruffly, setting down a mug of hot coffee on the table next to an already warmed mug of blood, and pushing the grinning vampire toward the chair in front of them.  “Think we can’t manage breakfast without you?”

“It was a relatively simple procedure,” Illyria explained.  “Although the first batch of eggs had to be discarded.  I believe Spike used a higher than necessary level of heat,” she added, calmly sipping her own heavily sweetened and creamed brew.

“Oi!” said vampire objected.  “New rule, okay?  Pets of a vampire’s House don’t rat out their Master!”

Gunn laughed outright, and Wesley hid his grin behind a cup and saucer, while Illyria simply nodded her agreement to the ‘new rule’.

Angel was inordinately pleased.  He stared around the table and realized that they had really become a cohesive unit, far more powerful than what they’d once been as the A.I. team.  He knew that a part of that reason was the structure and discipline required of a vampire Clan, but the other part was Spike’s presence as his Lieutenant and their Master.  That thought made him happier still.  He had a family again – even Dru was back, in her own way – but more importantly he had his Most Favored by his side once more, and that, he’d found in the weeks past, meant everything.

“How do you feel, Angel?” Wesley asked, once the levity had died down.

Spike watched his sire closely without appearing to at all.  He was glad that the presence of the humans made it unnecessary for him to be the one doing the asking.  He had a reputation to protect, after all.

“Good, I feel good,” Angel replied, still smiling.

“Stop grinning, tosser – ‘s not natural,” the blond interjected.  “Not for you, at any rate,” he muttered into his tea.

Angel reached out and ruffled the blonde’s hair in response.

“Oi!” Spike said, pulling out of reach and smoothing back his hair with a scowl that hid the pleasure he felt.  “So it’s true, then, the Magdala are all shod and souled?” he asked, interjecting his own odd brand of humor that was often still rooted in his human youth.

“Yup,” Angel said, still smiling.

“Is it secure, Angel?” Wesley asked in all seriousness.  “It seemed to take so much out of you.  Can you maintain it?”

“It was odd,” Angel replied, the smile fading away as he recalled the ritual.  “It was like pushing heavy blocks of stone up a hill, but once I got the first one over the top, it was as if they were connected, and then gravity just took over, pulling them down the other side.  I pushed and pushed, and suddenly I felt it – my soul – just flowing on its own, outward, connecting me to all of them.  I didn’t have to do anything then, but you’re right, the pushing really took it out of me.”

“Sounds like childbirth, man,” Gunn said.

Angel looked at him askance.

“What?  It does!” he protested, chagrined.

“You’re right, Charles, an apt analogy,” Wesley said after a minute.  “I mean gaining a soul in such a way had to be a rebirth of sorts for the Magdala, and the source was Angel, so I suppose, in a sense…”

“Angel’s their mother?” Spike piped up.  “Way to go, da,” he said with a smirk.

Angel tried to scowl at his irreverent childe, but ended up ruffling his hair again.  Worse yet, he thought he might actually have giggled.  The silly grin was back.  He just couldn’t seem to control it, he was so damn happy.  That thought gave him pause, but he shrugged it off.  He wasn’t that happy.

“So do you feel it now, the connection?” Wesley asked.

“If I concentrate on it I do, otherwise not really,” the dark vampire shrugged, taking a sip of blood.  “It’s there, I know that, and I’m sure I’d feel it if there was a disruption, but otherwise, I think it’s just going to be like constant white noise in the background – easy to get used to, easy to ignore, unless I – or they – turn up the volume.”

“The hill will be steeper with the full Order,” Wesley reminded him.

Angel’s smile disappeared.  “I know.”

“Can we do anything?” Gunn asked.

Angel shrugged again.  “We still have Spike as a backup.  Right now that’s it.  Unless you can come up with something today, some spell that increases my strength throughout the ritual, we’re just going to have to take it as it comes, I think.  If we’re lucky, the activation energy is the same, regardless of the number being ensouled.  I guess we’ll find out.  And we still need to decide exactly when we’ll attempt it.”

“What about the Magdala?” Illyria asked.

“Bring them blood, then release Sarah.  Maybe she can add something useful to the discussion.  We’ll meet in the library in twenty minutes.” he added, finishing off his coffee and rising from the table.

*   *   *

“So that’s it,” Angel said, wrapping things up three hours later.  Jardin, James and Thomas were due in an hour, and the rest of the Order in two.  “Tonight’s agenda is the Merovians and the threat they represent.  It will be a battle counsel, and we’ll introduce Maria and announce her Clan’s defection.  Hopefully the Clan Masters will buy the argument of them being the edge we’ll need to take their old Order out.  The rest of the Magdala will stay masked until tomorrow night, when we do the ensouling.  Any questions?”

None were forthcoming, and Angel nodded his dismissal.  Illyria stood to escort Maria back to her clan in the cage, while Angel, Spike, Wesley and Gunn turned back to the stacked books on the center table to do a little more research in the hopes of finding the elusive spell that might provide the Master of Aurelius with some additonal strength during the ensoulement of his Order.