FAMILY FEUD
PART FOUR
Spike was conscious of the crypt door opening above and surmised that Buffy had decided to stay. His brain raffled through various barbs to use in greeting. He came up short when a strange voice echoed in the mausoleum.

"Master Spike! In the name of Aurelius, show yourself!"

Dabbing out the cigarette and reaching for a stake and pants, he traversed the lower chamber of his lair. The customary feel of shifting bone beset him as he braced himself for trouble in game face, as the slayer had dubbed it. Carefully climbing the ladder, weapon poised, he scanned the main room. Observing a solitary vampire, his human visage rematerialized. "Who the heck are you, mate?"

The intruder reminded him of Angel in size and appearance. Tall, dark and brooding-like. His garb was ceremonial, albeit out-dated, as if this impromptu call had purpose. Spike's expression hardened at the scent of Aurelius blood. A wave of foreboding swamped him.

"Spike, William the Bloody, childe of Drusilla, grandchilde of Angelus, great-grandchilde of Darla, born of the Master..."

"Yeah, yeah," he cut in. "I know my family tree, you pillock. Get to the crux of it. Who are you and what do you want?"

"I am Leonard, overseer of the Order of Aurelius. Inducted in 1892. As current Master of Aurelius, you should have been aware of this."

Spike ignored the rebuke. Everyone realized he was an eccentric master, not like his ancestors. He did not strictly govern the vampires in his domain. Hell, he did not really give a hoot what they did providing they did not inconvenience him. It did not bother him to slaughter them when the slayer requested a second pair of hands either. He felt no obligation to his kindred.

He vaguely recollected the Aurelius overseer from times past. Supposedly, the guy kept to himself apart from noteworthy events in the cadre. Doubtlessly because the majority of overseers did not have long life spans. Usually bearing ill tidings, they were, more often than not, dusted by the recipient of their message. They were scholars, not fighters. Dalton would have been an excellent overseer had the Judge not eliminated that possibility.

That was then... this was now. Something ominous was definitely in the horizon.

"Master Creel issues challenge for right of title. What say you?"

He was caught off guard. He despised being caught off guard. A challenge was huge. He had anticipated assassination, not this. Who was insane enough to challenge him in a fight to the death?

Arching a brow, Spike demanded, "What rights are claimed by this Creel bloke?"

"Master Creel is the childe of Darla, former childe of the Master and newly reborn childe of Drusilla, now deceased."

He laughed. "Dear ole grandmum bit the dust... again. Whattaya know?"

Leonard remained neutral and Spike barreled on, "By what right does a piss-ant relative of mine have to claim title? Doesn't make no nevermind if he is one of Darla's tots, 'cause she forfeited her rank as my elder after bein' turned by Dru. Her youngins are nothin' but wannabes in my not-so-humble opinion."

"Master Angelus is removed from title, attributed to being afflicted with curse. Mistress Drusilla is removed from title, attributed to being afflicted of the mind..."

"Tell me somethin' I don't know," Spike was impatient. "I coped with that afflicted mind, as you so adequately put it, nigh on one hundred years and she whined about her soul-afflicted sire most of it. Surprised it didn't drive me batty."

Undeterred, Leonard proceeded, "It is rumored that you are afflicted by a government chip and, therefore, incapable of continuing your duty as heir of the Order of Aurelius. Thus, Creel issues challenge."

Not to forget, I've been assisting the slayer. Spike took in the tacit accusation. The chip was not why he could not see to his so-called duty, a blonde firebrand was.

All in all, a challenge came down to one thing... greed for power. There were no honorable motives in it which, in itself, was not shocking as they were vampires. The chip was a pretext. Somebody coveted being master and he was in the way.

He emitted a snarl, far more dangerous than his blustering and posturing. "I am Master of the Order of Aurelius. Master of Sunnydale and the Hellmouth. My affliction doesn't hinder me from fulfillin' my duty."

"Challenge has been issued. What say you?"

Spike gritted his teeth in suppressed rage. "Challenge accepted." As an afterthought, "Now go, before we need a new overseer."

PART FIVE
Creel sneered at the cowering demons. "You pathetic fools, it's just a vampire."

"Not just a vampire, Master," stated the largest of the party. "This is Spike. William the Bloody. Scourge of Europe. Slayer of Slayers."

The challenger for rule of the Hellmouth paced back and forth, pausing near the outspoken leader. "I don't need a coward in my service." In the next instant, the leader was dust.

The room's opulence was unusual for a warehouse hideout. A warehouse. It was clich� in Creel's estimation, but his sire wanted it. She had explained that the warehouse brought back fond memories. He still could not fathom why she insisted that the cage be kept; it was a blemish on all the labor put into their quarters.

If he was to be a ruler, he should dwell somewhere befitting a ruler.

Sitting on a makeshift throne, he glared at the minions. "You imbeciles, Spike is an embarrassment to our kind. Since he became head of Aurelius, the slayer's had free run of Sunnydale. None have been able to oppose her. Leadership has been nonexistent. I'm here to amend that. I'm here to restore the glory of the Master and Drusilla's wayward childe isn't going to impede me."

He let the words take their toll.

"Now, does anyone else object to doing my bidding?" When the twenty or so lackeys shook their head in denial, the ex-soldier barked, "Fall out."

As they departed, a woman cradling an aged doll entered from an adjoining room. "Must you be so brusque? It isn't at all polite. My Spike will recover soon and be livid that you insulted him. And, Miss Edith says he's bringing an Angel with him. We don't want to make any Angels upset because they can be quite pernicious when trifled with. Mummy knows from experience."

"Why can't we kill Spike and be done with it? He isn't essential and all this formality is vexing," Creel grumbled. Her rambling perplexed him. Pernicious angels?

Jerking him from his seat, Drusilla landed a blow and he collapsed. The irate vampiress loomed. "That is not part of the plan, impertinent childe! The sun and stars cry for my knight to battle. To the victor goes the spoils... the potentate will be."

Fury quickly dissipating, she beamed. "Be glad it is teatime, otherwise you would have to be punished. Severely." With a lift of the head and skirt swishing, she exited.

A low utterance regarding "plan B" trailed her wake.

PART SIX
After checking on Dawn and Willow, Buffy elected to patrol. Her focus was half on her sacred duty and half on a maddening bleached vampire. Maybe he was familiar with this Creel and the Master of the Hellmouth. There, a terrific excuse to see him - interrogation.

Crossing the threshold of his morbid domicile, she yelled, "Fang face, come out and be grilled!"

Confusion marred her countenance as she inspected her surroundings. Empty? Even the television was gone. She descended the ladder and squinted, waiting for her vision to adjust to the dimness. She trembled upon discerning that the rest of his possessions were gone also.

Legs no longer supporting her, she leaned against the ladder. Shivering, contrary to the warm California climate, she frantically replayed their most recent discussion. Had there been any warning that he was going to go? Of course there had.

"What we have, slayer? What we have is wild, animalistic sex, mutual loathing, and a love-hate relationship. I love you, you hate me."

"Go. Get back to the witch and kid sis. I've important things to do anyway."

"You listen to what you want to hear."

Spike had left her.

She said the first thing that came to mind, "Bloody hell."
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