Author: Mithril

E-mail: taptap2@gmail.com

Title: Most Favored

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Rating: Adult, Slash & Het

Summary: The Aurelius Clan chooses a new Master

Distribution: Various S/A friendly lists.

Spoilers: Post NFA.  Angel slays the dragon, and the battle is won with Illyria's manipulation of time, which also results in Wesley's return.  Angel, Spike, Wesley, Gunn, and Fred/Illyria are now back in the `Angel Investigation' business.  All live in the Hyperion.

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel or Spike or anything else from ME.

Feedback: Always welcome.

Part 76:

"Yeah, yeah, enough, already," Spike said, grabbing them each by the arm and tugging them toward the door.  "I'm dying to see Wesley and Charlie-boy's faces when they see this," he said with glee.

Angel sent them both off to their own rooms to shower.  He finished his own shower in record time, stepping out of his room fifteen minutes later to find Spike and Illyria waiting in the hallway for him.  Illyria was still naked.  She would stay that way for the next few days until she was used to the changes in her body due to both the ritual and the piercings, as her body suit would no doubt be an irritant, and any other fabric only less so.  As it was Angel was beginning to wonder if she would simply decide to stay naked indefinitely, at least when not in battle, so comfortable was she becoming in that state.

It was only a few minutes after four when they entered the kitchen.  Wesley and Gunn were already there, drinking their usual tea and coffee.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Bloody Hell!"

Wesley and Gunn jumped up from their chairs at the same time, curses overlapping.

Illyria tilted her head, observing the odd behavior.  Spike grinned and Angel simply nodded in passing, his face expressionless, and went for the coffee pot.  He poured a mug, then turned to lean against the counter to observe the surprised reactions of his friends.  A few feet away his childe was almost bouncing on his toes in delight at their response.

"What…?  How…?"  Gunn rubbed his hand over his shaved head in bewilderment and stared.

"Yes, we have similar heads, now," Illyria replied, misinterpreting his words and actions.

"I know that, girl, I was there.  What's all that?" he asked, waving vaguely at her torso.

"My body piercings?  Angel did them.  Most of the jewelry is titanium, but these are real rubies," she said, touching the gems on her chain and collar as though they made up for the lack of gold.  "The one on my tongue vibrates," she added, rolling it reflectively in her mouth to test its vibratory properties yet again.

"Body piercings…" Wesley murmured in a dazed voice.

"Vibrates?!" Gunn squeaked.

Angel turned to retrieve two bags of blood, then popped them into the microwave.  While they were heating he pulled out milk, eggs, cheese and bread, then added bacon to the grocery list attached to the fridge by a magnet.

"Wes, Gunn, we'll need a grocery run today."

"What?"

Hearing their names, both men turned to him in a daze.

"Grocery run?  We're out of a few things.  We'll need more blood, too, so you may as well do it all at once.  Tonight, before training, okay?"

"Yes, of course," Wesley replied.

The humans retook their seats and Illyria sat down with them.  Spike tested the kettle, found it still hot, and began the bewildering ritual – at least to Angel – of preparing a cup of tea.  At that moment the microwave dinged and Angel took out the two bags and transferred them to mugs, setting one down on the counter beside Spike.

"Did you get a chance to take a look at the draft I left for when Thomas arrives?" He asked, directing his question to Wesley and Gunn.

"Yes, we did," Wesley replied.  "We finished the outline in fact.  We should be able to finalize it today once it's reviewed and modified as needed."

"Good.  That will get us done a day ahead of schedule.  Spike and I will go over it while you and Gunn are getting groceries.  Illyria, you can relax until training."

"Relax?"

"Go out in the courtyard maybe.  There are nice flowers there.  You like flowers."

She tilted her head, considering his suggestion, then nodded.  "I have not spoken with them in a while.  I will do as you suggest."

Angel added shredded cheese to his egg mix and poured it into a frying pan where a bit of butter already sizzled.  Toast popped up and he added the stack of four slices to a plate and set it on the table.  For a minute the humans busied themselves with toast and jam, and Spike took that opportunity to lean over and sub-audibly whisper to his sire while still watching them.

"They're taking it all pretty well, don't you think?"

Angel glanced over at the table and noticed both men surreptitiously gazing at Illyria, only to exchange chagrined expressions with each other a moment later.  He turned back to the eggs and nodded.

"Yeah.  I'm a little surprised."

"I'm not."

Angel turned to look at his childe's profile as he watched the dynamics of the table, surprised by that answer.

He looked down, busying himself with the eggs again, before asking "Why not?"

"Come on, Angel.  You can't have missed the way Wesley feels about you.  And Gunn might still have some reservations about vampires with souls in principle, but not with you, not anymore.  Illyria…  Okay, yeah, I'll admit she surprised me a bit.  Didn't expect it after getting knocked around for weeks by the blue meanie," he murmured.  He turned to pour another cup of tea, his back now to the room.  "They all worship you, you know," he said even quieter than before, his attention carefully focused on the counter as he added several teaspoons of sugar to his mug.  "'S not surprising they agreed so readily to the plan.  They were already more than half-way there before you suggested it."

Angel frowned as he scrambled.  "It's not just me, you know," he finally said.  "Gunn trusts you more than he does me.  Wesley's more comfortable around you what with the whole English thing, and Illyria…."

"And Illyria wanted me for her pet before she agreed to be yours," Spike finished for him, then shrugged.  "Just the natural order of things, innit?"

"What do you mean?" Angel asked, his frown deepening.

"You're the alpha, aren't you?  Fills a need they have inside, whether they know it or not, to have someone they trust and respect to follow.  Gives them a place in the scheme of things.  Makes them feel safe, and all that rot," he finished quietly, still focusing down on his tea.

Angel glanced over at his childe then away again, still frowning.  It almost sounded like…  But no, that couldn't be.  Spike was only referring to the pets, not himself.  A place to belong and feeling safe?  Surely those things weren't in the Big Bad's repertoire, not any more at least.  Spike had learned to get along just fine by himself in the hundred years that they'd been apart, and if the many things he's said since they'd met up again in Sunnydale were anything to go by, he liked it that way just fine.  More than simply getting by on his own, he'd done it with the added baggage of Drusilla to be taken care of, no mean feat in and of itself.  But come to think of it, that wasn't so surprising; Spike had always needed to be needed.

Just then the eggs reached the perfect state of fluffiness and he was distracted from pursuing that curiously contradictory set of thoughts, which might have, if given time and space for contemplation, led back to the first thought that had set the rest in motion.  He had neither the time nor space, though, and so the opportunity was lost.  Instead he turned off the range and set the pan on a wooden cutting board on the table.  Spike took a seat at the table and helped himself to a large plate, tea and blood nearby while Angel finished his blood standing by the sink, rinsed the mug, then finally joined the others at the table with his cup of coffee.

"Okay, first things first," he said.  "As you all know, Illyria succeeded in activating the spell last night.  She'll need a bit of time to get acclimated to her new physiology, so everyone please be sensitive to her needs."

"What…"  Wesley took off his glasses, cleaning them on the hem of his shirt as he cleared his throat before starting again.  "Could you explain what that means?  I'm afraid I still don't understand it entirely."

"Yeah, me neither," Gunn agreed.

Angel nodded.  "Illyria's skin is far more sensitive to stimuli now.  Her erogenous zones are hyper-sensitive, and basically most of her skin is now an erogenous zone.  Not only will she be able to have numerous orgasms without discomfort, she will actually, at times, have to have that release.  Be there for her when she needs you," he ended simply.  "Just to make sure there are no negative after-affects of the spell or the piercings, Illyria will stay with Spike and I again tonight, then return to her normal duties."

"Is being naked a part of the deal?" Gunn ask bluntly.

"What she wears or doesn't wear, within reason given the situation, is her choice.  Obviously in public this would not be acceptable, but at the Hyperion it should be fine under most conditions."

"Does my nakedness make you uncomfortable, Charles?" Illyria asked, tilting her head as she considered him.  "We have all been naked here for part of each day, and at the conclave as well."

The black man nodded.  "Yeah, but that was all of us together, not just you.  As long as you're okay with it, I'm fine, though."

"I like it," she replied.  "And you would not be able to see my jewelry if I were wearing my battle armor," she added, as though that was a significant argument in favor of nudity.

"Yeah, about that," Gunn added, glancing at Angel.  "Is this something we're all going to have to do?"

"The piercings are in honor of her new status.  They'll make her status clear to other members of the order and they'll enhance her responses.  These are the reasons she chose to endure the ritual.  They are her right.  And no, neither of you will be required to be pierced, unless of course you decide this is something you'd like done.  If so, just let me know and I'll take care of it," Angel said calmly, taking another sip of coffee.

"Um, yes, all right then.  Charles, shall we go get the groceries?" Wesley asked, getting up and quickly heading for the door.

"I'm with you, dude," Gunn said.  He started after his friend, then turned abruptly.  "Crap, it's my day for dishes."

"I will take your rotation today," Illyria said calmly.  "The song of the flowers can wait a few minutes," she added.

"Thanks, Blue, I owe you one."

*   *   *

"Here it is," Angel said, picking up a folder from the center table in the study.  He opened it to find several copies of three different documents, each on a single sheet of neatly typed paper.  He handed a copy of each to Spike and took a set for himself.  They each read the documents silently.  The first sheet read as follows:

From Jardin,
Steward of the Order of Aurelius,

to all Clan Masters of Aurelius,

A meeting has been called by Angelus, Master of the Order of Aurelius, for the Clan Masters of Aurelius.  It will take place on August first at the Master's residence in Los Angeles (directions are attached).  Each Clan Master and his or her Lieutenant are commanded to appear no later than eleven pm on July thirty-first.  The meeting will commence at midnight, August first.  Each Master may bring one, and only one, minion.

With this package you will find a number of spelled images that signifies our Order.  These images are to be transferred to the upper right arm of each acknowledged member of our Order by no later than midnight, July twenty-eighth.  These marks will allow Angelus, Master of Aurelius, to communicate instantly with all members of the Order as required.

Clan Masters are responsible for disseminating the images and instructions to all House Masters of their Clan as quickly as possible.  Clan Masters are responsible for ensuring that all acknowledged members of their Clan, down to every House, have received and transferred the mark no later than the time and date given above.

The instructions for the transfer are simple.  The image is to be held to the bare skin of the upper right arm for three seconds.  The image will transfer automatically at the end of the three second period as long as the wearer is an acknowledged member of the Aurelius Order.  Master Angelus will know when each transfer has been completed.

Master Angelus commands that each Clan Master applies their image first, before any other members of their Clan.  They are to apply the image immediately upon receipt of this package, and then ensure that the same is done by all members of their immediate House.  The final date above is given to allow time to disseminate the marks and information to distant Houses and traveling members.  Not meeting the deadline will not be tolerated.

The meeting will last two or three days, and will conclude no later than August third.  Everything needed by the attending members will be supplied by the House of Angelus during this period.

Jardin
Steward of the Order of Aurelius, for

The contents of the second sheet were a simple set of directions and a map leading to the Hyperion, along with instructions for underground access points.  The third and last sheet contained a simple list of instructions to Jardin for how to disseminate the letter, map and images, along with what he needed to bring for the meeting.  Next to the dissemination of the mark, the most significant thing required of him prior to the meeting was to transfer the chair from the Opera house to the Hyperion.  Jardin and his entourage, which no doubt would be James and Thomas, were commanded to present themselves by no later than ten o'clock on the evening of July thirty-first in order to ensure that everything was in place prior to the arrival of the other Masters.

"Done?" Angel asked a few minutes later.

Spike nodded.

"What do you think about the instructions for the Clan Masters?"

"Clear, concise.  I wouldn't change anything."

"I agree.  What about the instructions for Jardin?"

"His time of arrival is just an hour before the others.  If anything is missing, there won't be time to fix it.  And if all transfers aren't made by the July twenty-eighth deadline, we won't be able to do anything about it prior to the meeting."

"True."  Angel gave this some thought.  Finally he said:  "Let's change his arrival to nine o'clock.  As it is he'll probably plan to arrive a day early and set up a temporary lair so there won't be any chance of him missing something.  That will give us three hours for any last minute details, since the meeting itself won't start until midnight.  It's Jardin's job to ensure that everything is in the hands of the Clan Masters in the time given.  It's the Clan Masters' job to implement the commands throughout all their Houses in the time given.  They'll do their jobs, or be dealt with – at the meeting.  Since the Clan Masters, including Jardin, will be the first to be marked, we'll know well ahead of time if they haven't followed that instruction.  There will be time to deal with them before the meeting if needed."

Spike nodded.  "Yeah, I agree.  You're the Master of Aurelius now, not the CEO lackey of Wolfram & Hart – no need to micro-manage, eh?"

Spike grinned and Angel couldn't help but smile in return, but a minute later the smile disappeared.

"Spike, about earlier."

Spike's expression turned guarded.

"I shouldn't have told the others that Illyria would stay with us.  I'm not reneging on our deal, but with the continued evolution of Wesley and Gunn's role as pets and with Illyria's ritual and everything else, I just acted without thinking.  I assumed too much and should have consulted you first.  I'm sorry."

Spike frowned.  "You saying you don't want me there?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying.  I do want you there.  It's your choice, though.  I agreed that I wouldn't make commands of you, except for show, when other members outside our House were present.  That wasn't the case earlier."

Spike thought for a minute.  "It's going to be impossible for you to keep trying to separate these things without slipping up somewhere.  It's probably best if you just took on the role completely, without regard to thoughts about inside versus outside our House.  I can always tell you in private if there's something I disagree with," he added softly, staring down at the paper on the table.  "Then you can make any changes needed without the integrity of your role suffering."

"Are you sure?" Angel asked.  "I mean…  I meant what I said when I agreed that I had forfeited sire-rights.  You know that, right?"

Spike stood up abruptly and went to a bookcase, as though looking for a volume.  "Yeah, I know," he replied gruffly, his back to Angel.

A few minutes later, book in hand, he returned to the table.  Angel glanced at the cover.  Doing a quick translation, he saw that the topic was world religions and their positive and negative demon associations.  He frowned again.  It didn't seem to have anything to do with anything they were working on right now, but Spike was flipping through it, all his attention focused on the pages there.

"We done here?  I've got some research to do, and you probably should get back to your paintings."

"Yeah, okay," Angel replied, still frowning.  After a few more minutes during which Spike stared fixedly at one page, he finally got up and left.

A minute later, when Spike heard the door to the basement open and close, he slammed the book shut, shoved it aside and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands.  He'd painted himself in a corner and he didn't know how to get out, not without sacrificing his dignity, and that was something William the Bloody never bloody well did.  Now he had to watch as Wesley and Gunn, and for Christ's sake Illyria of all creatures, assumed a formal role in his sire's household while he stood off to one side, the Master's Lieutenant, true, but only the titular childe.  Worse yet he had to train the other three to be a credit to his sire and Clan, using the skills he had gained at that very sire's hands, but no longer had the right to claim.  Tonight he would lie in a bed with Angel and Illyria and have to watch as she pleased his sire, unable himself to worship the body he had been made for.  Bloody hell, it just wasn't fair.

*   *   *

Angel inspected the two sketches finished so far, made a few light pencil corrections, then nodded, satisfied.  They were ready for the oils, but first he had the last sketch to do.  He turned and stared at the blank third canvas, already propped up and ready to go, and thought about the image and message he wanted to portray there.  Strong family bonds, continuity despite devastating change; that was the overall theme he sought.  This one, in his mind, was the lynch-pin of the series.  It was hard to focus on it, though, because the conversation he'd just had with Spike kept running through his head.

On the surface, the words matched with the intent Spike had expressed a couple of weeks ago, about being willing to fill the role of Lieutenant and childe, the first in practice but the second only in pretense.  Underneath it though, it was clear that Spike was somehow dissatisfied with something.  Since he'd never, in all the time he'd known William the Bloody, had to dig to find out what was bothering him – everyone within shouting distance usually knew whatever that was – he was uncertain what to do to fix whatever was wrong.  And could he even attempt that without appearing to be managing and interfering – in other words playing the sire-card that he had promised not to play?

That was the real problem, he thought with a sigh.  Spike had gone too long without his sire to accept the need for one ever again.  Angel understood that.  He understood how his abandonment of his childer had caused such chaos in their existence, how it had left them with distrust and anger and skepticism of him.  He understood, but it still hurt, despite that.  He had made them both, but where Drusilla had been made with malice and devious intent to warp and twist her until she was little more than a shell for her unique talent, William was something altogether different.

William had been formed with his blood and his body and his mind to be the perfect companion down the long years of his existence.  And for twenty years he had been just that, the perfect companion; brother, son, friend and lover.  A hundred years' separation and a paltry few more of animosity over the same didn't change that fact.  The bond he felt for that creature would never go away, no matter how much he tried to pretend that vampire lore and tradition meant nothing.  But he had a soul now, and having pushed his childe away before he felt he had given up the right to pull his most favored back to his side now, no matter how much he wanted it.

Angel shook his head to clear the fog, and when his vision focused on the canvas before him he drew in a sharp breath.  It seems his fingers had carried on while his mind was adrift.  The sketch was almost complete, and perfectly defined what he had in his head.  He stared at the picture in amazement, leaned forward to add another pencil stroke, but stopped before the graphite touched the cloth.  It was perfect just as it was.

*   *   *

When Angel entered the kitchen at nine o'clock that evening he found the other four already gathered there.  Illyria stared at a mug of coffee, so laden with cream it looked white, then sipped it suspiciously.  After a moment assessing that taste, she nodded to herself and took another.  Wesley had just finished making a plate of sandwiches, which he set on the table.  Just then the microwave went off and Spike retrieved two mugs of blood, handing one off to him.

Ever since the conclave, he and Spike had made a conscious effort to feed more regularly.  The danger had been high while the Order sought a new Master, and would remain so now with the almost impossible and certainly never-before considered task before them.  With a nod of thanks, Angel took a seat at the table, his head still so consumed with the miraculous sketch just completed that he didn't even notice he was drinking blood in plain sight of the others as they ate, something he never did.  Forcing his thoughts from the sketch on the canvas, he focused on the groups' activities for today.

"Spike and I looked at the documents you two prepared last night," He began.  "They look fine except for one change; we'll have Jardin and his party arrive at nine o'clock instead of ten on the thirty-first.  After that change is made, they're ready to go."

"Excellent," Wesley said.  "It will take about half an hour to make that revision, make all the copies, and then prepare them for safe transport with Thomas.  I'll have it done by the end of the day.  What's our objective for the next two days?  We've finished just about everything in preparation for the meeting with Thomas at least, and with Angel Investigations temporarily down, there's really not much else to do right now."

"You'll continue training and instruction, of course, and I'll continue working on the paintings.  There are some things that need to be done to prepare the rooms for the Masters and to secure the building, but we'll discuss those tomorrow.  As for today, I did think of a couple more things that need to be done to the hall – maybe you guys can begin work on that after training."

"What were you thinking?" Spike asked.

"Lighting.  I don't like the artificial light for Order meetings.  Something warmer, more vibrant…"

"Like fire?" Spike said, smirking.

Angel rolled his eyes, but then nodded wryly.  "Exactly.  Something like fire.  Obviously torches wouldn't be a good idea in the basement.  I thought maybe oil lamps, attached high on the walls, so they won't be in the way during weapons training, but still reachable to maintain them easily.  I'm just not sure they'd provide enough light in a room of that size, though."

"Magik," Gunn said, taking a sip of his coffee.  "We've got the star now.  There must be some sort of spell for fire, light, whatever," he added, shrugging.

"Of course," Wesley agreed.  "We can use the Lux Lucis Incendia spell.  All we'll need to do is secure hardware about the hall to hold the flames.  We can do the spell in the star, and after that the simple command, anywhere in the room, will activate it."

"Lux Lucis Incendia," Angel murmured.  "Light of Fire.  Sounds perfect.  To deactivate it?"

"Incendia Occludo," Wesley replied, between bites of his turkey sandwich.

"In the cage room there's a box full of hurricane lamps.  Will those do?" Angel asked.

"They'll be perfect."

"Since we're done with pretty much everything else, we'll hang the lamps on the walls after weapons training.  You said a couple of things," Spike said to Angel.

"Hooks for the paintings.  May as well install them while you're doing the lamps.  I'll put together the height and location information for each painting, and bring the dimensions to the hall along with the hurricane lamps before we start weapons training, so they'll be all set to go when we've finished."

Spike nodded, checking every sandwich on the tray until he found the last ham and cheese.  Angel shook his head and rolled his eyes, then got up to pour himself a cup of coffee.

*   *   *

In the basement, the first hour of training had just concluded.  It had been an on-going hour of drills, drills and more drills.  Spike was anxious for the pets to become so proficient on the basic positions that they would become second nature, even after only a few weeks training.  Illyria had suggested instructing them on the new position she had learned the night before, but he'd quickly forestalled that discussion before she could go into any detail, saying that would be saved for a later time.

At the end of the first hour, Spike had them pull out two benches from the wall until they faced each other to begin the second hour of instruction.  The pets sat on one, Spike on the other.

"Yesterday I started to tell you about the organizational structures within the vampire communities and the status of their members.  We'll continue that discussion today.  You've heard Angel and I refer to House, Clan and Order over and over again, but we haven't been specific about what those entities are.  We'll start with Order.  What is it?" Spike asked.  Wesley raised his hand and Spike nodded to him.

"The Order is the largest collective of a vampire organization.  Everyone in it is linked to a common bloodline, often dating quite far back.  The Watchers believed that the Order of Aurelius was actually founded by Marcus Aurelius himself, Emperor of Rome until his death on March 17, 180 AD," Wesley explained.

"The Watchers are right," Spike agreed.  "Marcus Aurelius did not meet his end quite as the history books would have you believe.  He was on an expedition in what is now known as Vienna, when he was turned by one of the Ancients; the pure demon ancestors of what vampires are today.  The details of the death of Aurelius were a fabrication implemented at the Ancient's command by Commodus, the son of Marcus.  It is said that no real force or thrall was required," the blond vampire added sarcastically.  "Commodus was happy to have inherited his father's status all to himself at so young an age.  The ashes that were returned to Rome were not his father's, but instead belonged to the personal guards of Aurelius who were turned and then sacrificed by Marcus' sire in order to protect his childe's existence.  Marcus Aurelius disappeared from the Roman Empire, but he was far from forgotten, both in human and in vampire lore."

"Why is the Order named for Marcus Aurelius and not for his sire?" Gunn asked.

"No one knows who his sire was, only that it was one of the Ancients.  Prior to this time these powerful creatures existed only singly and in pairs, not forming Orders until the time of antiquity, when several of their childer began the practice.  The Ancients themselves, to this day, live beyond the vale of even the vampire world, hidden from sight and shrouded in mystery.  We believe the Order of Aurelius is the oldest in existence.  All the acknowledged vampires in our Order, with the exception of Maria, carry the blood of Marcus Aurelius himself and the unknown Ancient who sired him."

"Why was she allowed to be a member, and indeed a Master, if her blood is not of the line?" Illyria asked.

"Maria's Order is only second to that of Aurelius in age, and some, primarily the Order of Merovia, claim the difference is so small as to be non-existent, making them equal.  It is said that the head of that Order was turned within months of Aurelius, also by an Ancient, perhaps even the same one, since the time and place were so similar, Vienna for one, and Paris for the other.  The rumors are fairly credible, however, and even we Aurelians suspect them to be true.  More importantly, there are whispers, though we don't know it for a fact, that the human turned by this Ancient was none other than the granddaughter of Mary Magdalene herself, who left the Holy Lands after the crucifixion of Christ and eventually settled in Paris where her daughter was born."

"Mary Magdalene of the Bible Mary Magdalene?!" Gunn asked, shocked.

"None other, Charlie-boy.  This particular granddaughter lived in Paris with her husband – a son of the Merovingian ruler – and their young children, until she disappeared when she was in her mid-to-late twenties.  Hers is a powerful line, all the more so for the ancient blood of her human host.  Despite now being something very different, she kept a close watch on her human bloodline, turning one of her grandchildren some forty years later and thus officially beginning the Merovingian Order, or the Order of Merovia, as they're now often called.  This tradition has continued unbroken since that time, with each subsequent childe turning one of her human grandchildren, but only after that child had begun her own family to ensure the continuance of the human as well as the vampire line.  Each childe turned was a daughter, and always with red hair.  They say the red-headed women of this line have the sight.  Because of this, and the possibility that we share the same Ancient ancestor as the progenitor of our lines, the rarest exception was made and she was adopted into our Order."

"Mary Magdalene's granddaughter…" Wesley murmured with awe.  "The implications of that are stupendous, and quite ironic, if you think about it," he added, shaking his head in amazement.

"Exactly," Spike agreed.  "Just imagine a descendent of the Judean tribe of Benjamin, one of the chosen people, becoming a creature most abhorred in their religion.  And if the rumors of her grandfather were true, then she would be not only a descendent of Benjamin but also of the House of David as well.  The Watchers would salivate over this little tidbit, wouldn't they Wes?" Spike asked with a smirk.

"Most definitely," he agreed, uncomfortably close to salivating over it himself.

"Grandfather?  Now you've really lost me.  Who's her grandfather?" Gunn asked, a confused frown on his face.

"According to some theories, Charles, Mary Magdalene was the wife of Jesus Christ, and was pregnant with his child – a daughter – when he was crucified.  You never read the Da Vinci Code?" Wesley asked with a wry smile.

"You're shitting me!  You're saying that Maria's order was founded by a grandchild of Jesus Christ?!"

"That's how the story goes," Spike replied with a shrug.  "But again, though we know of the Ancients, their actual identities were shrouded from us, and the time of antiquity, when the Orders began, has some gaps that none of us have been able to fill.  Still, there is no doubt that Maria's line is unusually strong, otherwise she never would have been accepted into the Order."

"So all the Orders were formed by a vampire turned by an Ancient demon," Illyria said, a note of contempt in her voice.  "Those creatures were still crawling in the muck when I strode the earth in my first life.  We are the true Ancients, not those puny creatures who begat your half-breed line…"

"Put a cork in it, Blue," Spike interrupted, "and remember you're now the pet of one of those puny half-breeds," he said with a smirk.  "Let's get back to the lesson, shall we?"

Luckily Illyria was so taken with the heretofore unheard of expression `put a cork in it', that she apparently missed the reference to pets and half-breeds.  She tilted her head as though she were considering the literal interpretation of his words and how they might apply to the current situation, but remained otherwise silent.

"So the Orders were formed by childer of the Ancients.  Clans are subsets within an Order.  They are headed up by the acknowledged childer of a Master of the Order.  An Order can gain new Clans upon the ascension of a new Master, and can lose Clans, upon the death of the head of that Clan, if a childe doesn't step forward to take his sire' place with the approval of the Master of the Order.  Houses are subsets of Clans.  For example, if a Clan Master had several childer who eventually left their sire's household to set up their own, that household would be considered a House of the Clan.  It would be under the direct jurisdiction of the Master of that House, but always answerable to that Master's sire – the Master of their Clan, just as the Clan Master and everyone else is in turn always answerable to the Master of the Order."

"So you're saying that in a sense, Drusilla now heads up her own House, since she lives separate from Angel and has a childe of her own?" Gunn asked.

Spike nodded.  "Exactly.  Drusilla isn't a Master in the formal sense of controlling a territory of significance, but she is the head of her House.  Despite that, though, she will always be answerable to her sire and the head of her Clan, Angelus, and to the head of her Order, again Angelus."

"And us?  How do we fit into all of this?" Gunn asked.

"You're a member of the House of Angelus; he acknowledged you as such yesterday," Spike replied.

"So the House of Angelus consists of Angel, you – his childe – and his three pets, and the Clan of Angelus consists of the House of Angelus and the House of Drusilla, right?"

"Exactly.  You're not a member of Dru's House, but she will protect you because you belong to her sire.  You should know now, that if any of you ever encounter Drusilla again, or Miss Edith, you have nothing to fear.  And in fact if you ever have need of their help, they will do anything in their power to assist you in whatever you needed."

"Well that's good to know," Wesley said, his dry tone of humor making Spike's lips quirk up in appreciation.  "What about the status of the members in this multi-tiered Order/Clan/House hierarchy?"

"Members who are formally recognized at the Order level always have status over others.  Minions and Pets are never formally recognized by an Order, but they may be acknowledged at the House or even Clan level.  Though this does not give them superior standing over anyone outside of their House or Clan, as the case may be, insult or injury to them is considered insult or injury to their Master.  We'll start from the lowest level and work up.  Within a House, status from highest to lowest is as follows: Master, childer, pets, minions.  If there is more than one childe, the order of status is based on age, with First Made given preference, unless there is an acknowledged Most Favored.  There is no distinction among minions and pets unless one or more of them have been recognized by the Master of the House, in which case they are elevated over the others of their kind."

"Primus inter pares," Wesley murmured.

"Yes, first among equals," Spike agreed.  "At the Clan level, status is as follows: Clan Master, House Masters and then status as we've just discussed among the Houses.  If there is a Most Favored childe of the Clan Master, then he or she takes precedence over all other childer, even if they have House Master status and the Most Favored does not.  Acknowledged minions and pets of one House are not acknowledged minions and pets of another, but usually they are granted status for the courtesy of their Master by his or her siblings and the members of their respective Houses.  A minion or pet acknowledged by a Clan Master is, on the other hand, always given respect and status by the other Houses of that Clan.  At the Order level, status moves from Master of the Order, to Clan Masters to House Masters.  Again, if there is a Most Favored childe, he or she is given precedence over all other childer, including Clan Masters.  Minions or pets recognized by the Master of the Order are recognized within the Clan or House of the Master as they command, but not at the Order level.  Anyone disrespecting an acknowledged pet or minion of the Master of an Order, however, is a fool who probably won't keep their head for long," he added with a snort.

"What about status between Orders?" Wesley asked.

"There is no officially recognized status between Orders, but there is an unofficial one.  Older Orders are considered to be more powerful, and therefore more feared.  In the vampire world, fear equates to status.  Younger Orders, wishing to gain status, will sometimes attack an older Order for this purpose.  It rarely works well for them.  When Angelus and I scourged other Orders' Clans and Houses from Europe, it was not with an objective of gaining status, but simply territory.  We were already feared, we just cemented the Order's reputation with that assault while expanding our territorial control."

The discussion ended at that moment as Angel entered the room, a large box in his hands.  Spike moved forward to take it from him while the three pets rose and then sank into a posture of obeisance.  While Spike set the hurricane lamps out of the way on the stage, Angel touched the shoulders of each of the pets, and one by one they stood.

"Wes, Charlie, you're dismissed to change for weapons training," Spike said to them as he returned to Angel's side.  "Illyria, do you feel up to weapons training today?" he asked.

"This shell feels fine.  I believe the piercings have already healed."

Angel took a seat on one of the two benches and gestured her toward him.  "Inspection posture, Illyria," he added.

Illyria promptly moved to stand before him, feet set in a wide stance and fingers laced together behind her head and neck, elbows pushed back to open her torso as much as possible.  Angel checked the barbells on her nipples first, rotating them to ensure free motion, a good sign of healed flesh, then tugging the nipples outward to inspect the holes themselves.  Illyria drew in a hissing breath, but she was obviously not in pain, so he moved on, spreading her labia and flicking the captive bead rings for easy motion.  He tugged them outward and her thighs trembled.  By the time he was through inspecting the holes themselves she was shaking severely.  He tugged her down to his lap and began to stroke between her legs, touching her flesh directly and manipulating it through the titanium rings as well.

"Cum for me, Illyria," he murmured.

It didn't take any more than that.  She cried out and twisted in his arms, and he held her tight, stoking along her back to ease her down as she collapsed against him.

"How do you feel now?" he asked.

"Better than before," she replied innocently as she stretched her muscles to undo the kinks left from her powerful climax.

"Open up," Angel said, cupping her chin.  "Tongue out."

She did as he commanded and he inspected the small barbell there, reaching in to probe it on the top and bottom-side of her tongue.

"You're right; everything looks completely healed."  He pushed her off his lap and to her feet.  "Try your body armor," he instructed.

Illyria blinked and the blue suit of armor slowly covered her.

"Better walk a bit, pet, and see if anything chafes," Spike added.

She strode about the room in her usual style, and then returned to the two vampires.

"The piercings are perhaps a bit more stimulating against the suit, but I feel fine.  I can definitely do battle and wish to participate in today's weapons training."

"Permission granted," Angel said with a nod.  He got up and gestured Spike over to the box on the stage while Illyria went off to walk the perimeter of the room, testing the suit and piercings further.

"There are twenty lanterns, but you should only need sixteen; five for each of the long walls, and three for each of the short ones.  They can be directly attached to the wall, except for this one," he said, pointing out the wall on the stage side, which was covered by black velvet hangings and the black silk banner.

"Fishing line suspended from the ceiling," Spike suggested, inspecting the space.

"Yeah, perfect.  All the lamps should be fourteen feet from the floor.  With them evenly spaced on the long walls, each painting will have a lantern directly over top of it.  The top of each painting should start two feet below the lanterns, at the twelve foot mark.  Each one will be four and a half feet long, whether they're portrait or landscape style, so the bottom edges will start at seven and a half feet from the floor.  This will give just enough clearance for the one over the door.  You'll need two hooks for each hanging wire along with the dimensions for spacing," he added, pointing out a small box with the hooks, and a piece of paper that rested in the big box with the hurricane lanterns.

"We should be able to get it done by the end of the day," Spike said.

"Good.  After training I'll keep working on the paintings while you guys do that."

At that moment Wesley and Gunn returned, wearing heavy denim jeans and long-sleeved shirts, with heavy combat boots.  Spike was dressed in his normal jeans, t-shirt and docs, but Angel wore only light cotton pants, his chest and feet bare.  Spike knew his sire; he'd fight that way and wouldn't suffer a scratch, unless Spike himself put it there.  He reluctantly drew his thoughts away from the perfection of his sire's body and the thought of how it actually seemed to improve with a few bruises and scratches, and turned back to the matter at hand.

"Gunn, you'll choose the weapon for today's session, and lead the training.  Angel, I'd like you to take the last twenty minutes of the weapons sessions from here on out, when you're able, of course, to lead us through a Tai Chi workout.  It should provide a good after-training stretch-down."

"I'd like that," Angel said, a note of surprise in his voice.

So far he hadn't been included in the training session, beside that of a general participant.  He wasn't about to interfere.  This was his Lieutenant's domain, and he had enough to do elsewhere without taking on any more responsibility.  Still he was grateful that Spike had pulled him closer to a group dynamic that he had been left out of due to his now higher status.  They were becoming a cohesive team, but it was often a more formal atmosphere once he joined them.  That was necessary in general, given what they had to learn, but Angel ached for the fellowship that he used to share with them.  Between that and the distance that had grown between himself and Spike since they'd returned from the conclave, Angel had been feeling more and more cut off from the others.  This was a chance to slowly regain that closeness while still instilling them in the dogma and discipline required of the members of a vampire House.

Just then Gunn returned with his weapon of choice – a two-sided battle ax – and the session began.

*   *   *

Angel had made an impressive amount of progress on starting the oil paintings during the last five hours.  He'd laid down the background in each image, and roughed in the primary colors.  There was still many days of work left to do, but now he had no doubt that all of them would be finished in time for the meeting in two weeks.  The sun had risen over an hour ago, and he was beginning to feel the need for sleep.  He covered the oils on his tray with a damp cloth that was held just off the paints themselves by the raised lip of the tray, so that they would remain moist until tomorrow, then carefully draped oil clothes over each of the canvases before making his way back to the hall.

When he entered Angel paused, as he always did now, struck each time by the amazing transformation of the space.  Spike and the others stood in the middle of the room, slowly turning in a circle to inspect the height of each of the sixteen lanterns now hung on the walls or suspended from the ceiling.  He joined them and turned to do the same.

"They look great," Angel finally said.  "Are you ready to do the spell?"

Wesley nodded, and Spike waved them out of the star and took up his place at its center.

"Patesco Aurelius," Spike called and the flames sprung up at the tip of each arm.

Spike stepped out of the star's perimeter and gestured Wesley in.  Wesley settled himself at the center, recited a simple four line spell in Latin, then held up an extra Hurricane lamp.  Pointing it toward one of the same on the wall, he intoned "Lux Lucis Incendia," and a flame sprang into being at its center on the wall.  Fifteen times he repeated the activating line, turning slowly and pointing the lantern in his hand toward the one to be spelled on the wall, and fifteen times flames sprang into being.  When he had completed the circuit and all sixteen lamps were lit, he recited the last unifying line of the spell, then called out "Incendia Occludo!"  All sixteen flames were immediately extinguished.

Wesley stepped from the star and Spike took his place.  When he called out "Arceo Aurelius," the flames at the five points of the pentagram went out.  At that point Wesley walked over to the door and flicked off the switch, leaving the room pitch black.

"Try it, Spike," he called out.

"Lux Lucis Incendia!" Spike called out from his place on the stage.  All sixteen lamps flared with fire.

Angel slowly turned and inspected the hall with its new, warm lighting.  "Perfect," he murmured to himself.

Wesley joined them at the stage, looked around, then said quietly "Incendia Occludo," and the flames went out.

"Lux Lucis Incendia," Angel commanded, and sixteen flames sprang up again, lighting the hall as though it were a medieval Keep.  He smiled at the others and nodded repeating what he'd just said to himself a minute before.  "Perfect."

__.