Lord Wolfgang Steel scowled as he looked around his kingdom. He was the west coast vampire ruler, a five hundred year old demon whose lineage was of one of the eight great vampires, in his case a childe of Lothos. Yet for all his power, his garden was not the odd weed.

"I hear the raid on The Coops’ failed?"

"Yes," Wolfgang looked up at the red-head stood in his lounge’s doorway. Any irritation he might have felt at the intrusion was lost when he saw his childe’s beauty. Rusty ringlets cascaded down her neck to frame a milky-white, cupid-shaped face containing the most beautiful smile and most brilliant emerald eyes he’d ever seen. Of course, the curvy body encased in a thank god she didn’t have to breathe black leather Basque was a definite bonus.

Before the fall Virginia Bryce had been a spoilt rich kid, but now she was his childe, the queen of his kingdom. Only she could speak to him in such a disrespectful way and not face reprisals. "It appears The Dark Man and his allies interrupted our attack."

"Doubtless the Coops will have moved out and found themselves a new base," his lover mused before looking at him. "Something will have to be done about Angel and his pet Slayer."

"My thoughts exactly dear," Wolfgang rose, took his lady’s hand and led her through the mansion Virginia had owned as a human. The curtains were of course all drawn, shrouding the house in an oppressive darkness.

Eventually they made their way through to the sprawling front hall to find a short, powerfully-built man with a shaven head, cold grey eyes, and a lantern jaw. The vampire hurriedly rose from the cushion covered sofa he’d been sitting on and bowed his head. "Lord. Lady."

"Stark Jabo." Wolfgang nodded at the vampire, courteous despite the breadth of difference in their age and station. After all, one didn’t become the commander of Irre Nacht without achieving at least something of a reputation.

When the world had fallen, the vampires had found themselves in a strange position. In the rampant ascendancy but at the same time faced with huge enemies battling them to be on top of the new world order, these enemies had included black arts mages, Immortals, arch-demons, rogue demons, and others. To battle these enemies, the world’s most powerful vampires had selected the most athletic and sadistic of their minions to form an elite cadre of assassins – Irre Nacht.

Yes, Jabo was not a demon one lightly disrespected.

"The Dark Man disrupted your attempt to kill the Coops I hear," Jabo commented.

"You’ve tried to kill him before haven’t you?" Lady Virginia demanded. "You killed his pet Slayer’s pupil, the formerly mad Slayer?"

"And his team killed three of my people," Jabo recalled with a growl.

"Well this time was the last time," Wolfgang replied. "I’ve spoken to The High Council," a fittingly ironic name for their ruling body given their age-old enmity with the Watchers, "and they’ve agreed. You’re to hunt no-body else but The Dark Man." Wolfgang smiled suddenly. "And I’ve got a new member for you. Please," he looked to the far entrance, "come in."

The African-American who sauntered in was tall and lean, shaven-head gleaming in the light of the lounge’s glittering chandelier. He was hated and feared in the vampire community despite his youth, a notorious vampire hunter turned vampire, a rarity in their life. Good stock added to the mystique around the black. He’d refused to confirm just who his sire was, he never spoke about him except him in the most roundabout and hateful tones, but he was either William The Bloody’s, Slayer of two Slayers, or Angel’s, killer of many notable vampires and saviour of the world on numerous occasions.

"Charles Gunn wants to join Irre Nacht?" Jabo queried.

The African-American vampire’s fangs flashed. "If it means I get my hands on Angel I do. Maybe have him watch us hurt his friends a little before we kill him."

* * *

The Arc, An Undisclosed Location

"Have you seen this?" President Reeves pointed at his situation room’s wall, the image of a smirking brunette illuminated on it. "She has a police record! Her mother was a junkie whore and she’s a convicted murderer, and yet the public think she’s some sort of hero!"

General Nathan Kent stared impassively at the President. The president was a small man both in stature and personality, his eyes constantly shifting almost like a con-man’s on the make, his chin weak and manner that of an unspanked child. Before all this, the President had been a deputy Secretary of Defence. In Kent’s unspoken opinion the man had risen about as far as his meagre talents would take him. Of course no-one had reckoned on the world ending. It wasn’t the sort of thing that people factored into their plans.

Now though Reeves was President and ruler of The Arc. The Arc was the biggest, most expensive, and longest running black op in American and probably world history. It was the ultimate bunker, an underground city sixty feet down with a hidden key-coded elevator entrance, with supplies and energy resources to support twenty-five thousand for two decades.

Of course the demonic invasion had come with a lot less notice than a nuclear war, so less than six thousand of those allowed access to The Arc had actually made it there. Those that did were as safe as any humans left.

Realising that Reeves was still staring belligerently at him, Kent fashioned a reply. "Whatever she’s done in the past, she helps people now. And she’s been pardoned of any and all crimes."

"She gives people false hope!" Reeves spat, eyes shining with venom. "Hope we can’t fulfil." Kent briefly wondered at just what caused Reeves’ odium towards the Slayer beauty. Her criminal past? Her courage? Her ability to create hope? Her heroic deeds? Whatever the reason, the president was a small man who rather than be inspired by others’ exploits instead hated them for their accomplishments. "Worse than that," the president continued, "she works with a vampire and a demon goddess." The politician shook his head. "She’ll have to be eliminated, her entire group will." The president smiled cruelly. "Which Wrath team do you have available?"

Kent hid a grimace. As erstwhile Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff he’d created The Wrath, top-secret, mobile twenty strong units consisting of members of the pre-fall military elite units – the Green Berets, US. Rangers, 82^nd Airborne, Navy SEALs, and Marine Recon. Since The Fall, they’d operated remotely of The Arc, assassinating major demons and vampires in addition to renegade humans preying on the innocent. It was a drip drab way of waging war but also the best they could do.

However demons and collaborators were meant to be the targets, not human heroes. However Reeves was the Commander In Chief, no matter his lack of will, ability, and fibre. "Spear and Mace are on the east coast," he glanced at the lap-top display. "Hammer and Sword are in the deep south, Dagger and Javelin are in the mid-west. Lance are in the mid-south. Axe is nearest," he forced himself to look up, "they’re in Nevada."

Reeves nodded curtly. "Axe it is then."

* * *

Kansas

Ares continued walking, impervious to the fire his scaled adversary was breathing down on him. The moment he calculated he was in range, Ares leapt up to confront the wyvern. The dragon’s long jaw latched onto his right arm, fangs cutting deep. The beast’s golden eyes glared at him as he thudded blow after blow into its head, each punch shattering scales.

Finally the stunned reptile crashed to the ground, dust billowing up as its jaws slackened around his arm. Ares immediately grabbed the dragon’s head in both his hands and twisted. Flesh tore and yellow ichor gushed out as the demon’s head came off in his hands.

Ares looked around. It had been a successful hunt – Tyr, Armaz, Ashur, Ogun, Montu, and Vali were still functional, the corpses of five dragons lying around them.

Once there had been a score of them. Project Praetorian had been born out of the ashes of Dr. Walsh’s failed ADAM experiments. Deceased soldiers fused with a combination of cybernetics and demons to make the ultimate killing machines. They were to have been the first in an army of cyborgs.

Then the demonic invasion had occurred. In a panic the head of the project had input their A.I. before final testing and turned them live, hoping they would defend their facility in the Colorado desert.

Instead once activated, they’d determined that the facility’s staff didn’t meet their A.I’s definition of a human and systematically slaughtered them. Since then they’d been following their programming. Protecting humans by eliminating any creature who didn’t meet their AI’s specifications of a human.

They had faced all manner of enemies – Slayers, vampires, zombies, soldiers, weres, dragons, manticores, trolls, and demons. In the process the majority of their number had been deactivated, but those who survived learnt from every battle, adding the experience and information to their already extensive tactical and demonology files. Becoming better killers.

Ares looked up at Vali and Ogun’s approach. "You sustained injury."

Ares glanced down at his ravaged arm. "It heals," he reported. One of the demons they’d been blended with had healing attributes; as a result they could heal any wound apart from a decapitation, amputation, or instantly lethal blow.

Ogun nodded, the plate covering his face hiding any possible expression. "Tyr has spotted a human settlement three point two kilometres away, population somewhere in the vicinity of two thousand."

"Then," Ares looked around, "we should head there. If they are pure we shall protect them, if they are unclean we shall exterminate them."

* * *

The sound of his gang’s raucous partying drifted around Shallow Graves, failing to lift his spirits. They’d had good pickings just the previous week, a convoy of six vans heading for a rumoured fortress. They’d been plenty of women to entertain his men and plenty of food to fill their bellies.

But Shallow Graves hadn’t joined in the celebrations. He’d been too busy brooding over a brunette bitch who’d helped a trio of women escape his camp and in the process killed his brother and scarred him.

Graves was a leader of a Carrion gang, motor-cycling scavengers who traversed the nation’s roads taking from those too weak to defend themselves. His boys, The Swinging Hammers, had taken a trio of three women and were fixing to enjoy themselves when the bitch and her companions had arrived. Graves reached and stroked his shredded cheek where the cow had shoved the broken end of his beer bottle.

One day though, he catch up with that slut. And then she’d be the one getting scarred. Over and over again.

* * *

L.A.

Towers giggled as he remembered the beauty’s power, how she’d been shaken by his strength. Shaken but still determined to fight him.

He’d found out she was famous, a warrior who fought alongside other warriors for good. It was a shame she’d crossed her path, but it was God’s Will. If he’d wanted her to live, he’d made sure she never crossed his path or been a blonde.

Anything other than a brunette. Such glorious hair.

Towers giggled again.

* * *

N.Y.

"Oh the stars, they sing such a happy tune. Ha! Ha! Ha! Daddy’s coming home, home to spank his precious daughter!"

"So you like playin’ soldiers?" Rex nodded shyly at her question. "’Kay," she ruffled the little guy’s hair, "how ‘bout you be the humans," Faith picked up the colourfully-painted figures they’d picked up from a toy shop on the way out of L.A., "and I’ll be the elves." Rex nodded again. "Kay," Faith took a hold of the lil guy under his arms and lifted him up, "but on one condition, you give me a big smile and say please Faith."

The boy’s bottom lip quivered almost as if he was gonna cry, but then he managed a quick squeak. "Please Faith."

"Ah," Faith pulled the three year old into a loose hug, "I’d love to play with ya, sweetie." Faith’s eyes narrowed as she sensed a familiar presence behind her and gently put the boy down, ruffling his hair again as she did so. "How ‘bout you start settin’ your guys up while I talk to Angel. Don’t go anywhere mind?"

"Yes Faith," the boy nodded.

Faith’s heart did a flip flop at the boy’s dutiful obedience. "Aw, you’re a lil angel ain’t ya." Faith kipped up and turned to face the silhouette in the darkness. "And you’re kinda big Angel aren’t you?"

The broad-shouldered vampire stepped out of the darkness, hands in pockets, and a rare smile on his face. "I’ve been called worse." The demon chuckled. "Often by you."

Faith grinned back at her best friend. "Yeah, but I can’t use that sorta language in front of the kid can I?"

For some reason Angel’s eyes saddened, probably thinkin’ of the years he’d missed with Conn. "You do a great job of looking after him."

Faith shrugged and looked down at her sneakers as she reddened, embarrassed by the praise. "Ain’t hard, Rex is a sweetie," she glanced at the toddler, "aren’t you honey?" Rex beamed and waved at her, so she waved back.

"I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit," Angel reproved.

Faith shrugged. "I know what I always wanted but never got as a kid, love. And this little munchkin makes it real easy."

"Right," Angel shuffled self-consciously from foot to foot before continuing. "You’ll have to keep Rex close to you, kids need watching especially these days."

"Well duh, I’m not fu-freaking idiot, Angel," Faith retorted before flashing a dimpled smile. "The lil guy can sleep in my sleepin’ bag with me. It’s not like Xan’s been in a giving mood recently anyhow."

Angel sighed long-sufferingly. "Feel free not to share."

Faith snorted. "What’s the fun in that?"

"Need to pee-pee," Rex squeaked.

"Oh fu-, fun," Faith quickly amended before glancing towards her friend to ask him to take the boy only to find he had melted back into the shadows. "Bastard," she muttered under her breath before holding out her hand to Rex. "Grab a hold, kid, we’ll find a nice tree or somethin’ for you to spray. Come on."

* * *

Angel smiled sadly as he watched his friend lead the boy into the bushes by their van. It was heartening to see just how readily Faith had taken to the role of Rex’s care-giver, but when the truth came out about Rex and the others she would be hurt and angry.

It may even cost him his closest remaining friend and last real link to Buffy.

Angel sighed deeply, the conflict between his friends’ happiness and saving the world weighing heavy on his heart. There was no contest really of course, but if the world required this sacrifice, was the world itself with its inequalities, injustices, and atrocities really worthy of saving?

Angel’s eyes narrowed at a flapping sound overhead. Looking up he let out a gasp at the grey-skinned monstrosities diving down at them. "Trouble!"

* * *

Xander grimaced as he tossed and turned in his sleeping bag, although he and Faith hadn’t exactly been ‘active’ in the past few weeks, he missed her huddled next to him. He wanted to tell her that but something, pride, fear, a need to punish himself for living, prevented him. And as a result he couldn’t get to sleep-.

"Trouble!"

Angel’s bellow crashed through the night prompting Xander to throw off his blankets and scrabble desperately for his shotgun. "Yes!" he gasped as he grabbed hold of the gun’s barrel and swung it up, finger tugging on the trigger.

"Ahhh!" One of the Gargoyles, he recognised them from Giles’ books, his heart caught at the memory of the so proper Englishman, swept in at him only to spin in the air when his bullets tore through the beast’s side, a hideous caw erupting from its mouth. Blood leaking from the wound in its side, the monster dived back in, only to take a shotgun blast that tore one half of its head off.

But even as that gargoyle hit the ground, another swept in, its claws raking the air as Xander rolled away from it, the shotgun bucking twice in his hands as he sent lead into it, wincing slightly as it fell away and his finger clicked empty. "Oh hell." Xander gulped as he looked up at the remaining gargoyles sweeping down on the camp.

"Impudent curs."

* * *

"Trouble!"

Rex barely had time to look up anxiously at her, her own eyes looking fixedly away from the urinating kid, when gunfire broke out. "FAITH!"

Faith spun around the instant the boy started screaming, snatching him up into her arms and rocking him from side to side as she peered into the shadows and whispered into the sobbing boy’s ear. "Hey lil guy, it’s cool," she soothed, "my gang will," she groaned as she realised the frightened boy had continued peeing after she’d lifted him, soaking her, "deal with ‘em." Telling herself she wasn’t her mother, she calmed herself before continuing. "We’re not gonna let anythin’ happen to a little treasure like you are we?"

Rex peered up at her, scared eyes meeting hers. "Promise?"

"Hey," Faith kissed the toddler on her head. "I promise." Damn it, Faith continued peering into the darkness, the tantalising sounds of the fight drifting to her on the wind, it was real hard not to charge in, fists and feet flying. She looked down at Rex. But she had more grown-up concerns now. "No-one’s gonna hurt my lil guy."

* * *

"Impudent curs!" Illyria growled as she grabbed one of the flying fiends by its ankle, swung the cawing thing overhead, and launched it into another one of its number as it swooped in. "You dare attack the God-King?" she screamed as the duo fell. Another swept down, but she grabbed it by its throat and squeezed, fingers tearing through and crushing flesh until the monster’s head popped off.

All around was chaos, her companions fighting desperately for their lives against their enemy. Her companions, she sniffed disdainfully as she snatched one of the beasts by its leathery wing, yanked it to the ground and straddled it, hitting it with blow upon blow. In truth she protected the humans merely as a matter of routine, knowing her Wesley would wish it. For herself she cared less than naught for these lesser life-forms.

Although, she smiled as she punched clean through to the monster’s skull, she did gain some small satisfaction from rending these beasts limb from limb for having the audacity to attack those under the protection of the God-King.

* * *

Faith took a breath as a silence appeared to fall over the camp. "So kid," Faith forced a confident tone, "ya wanna head back to the camp and see if Uncle Xan and the rest are alright? I bet they’re wicked worried ‘bout ya."

"You think?" the three-year old warily asked.

"A lil cutie like you," Faith kissed Rex on the forehead, "course they will." Faith sniffed. "’Sides I need to change my clothes, they’re kinda dirty now."

Rex’s eyes widened. "I’m sorry-."

"You were scared baby, no big." Faith crept through the darkness, only relaxing when she saw the others putting the camp back together. "What the hel-, heck happened here?"

"Gargoyle attack," Lockley said, eyes filled with her usual suspicion. Fuck her. "Surprised you weren’t here helping us."

"I had the lil guy to look after didn’t I?" Faith defended hotly. "Had to protect him."

"’Course you do Fait-," Angel sniffed. "Had an accident did you?"

"Ha, ha," Faith glared at her idol. "It was the kid, I need to get changed-."

"I hope," Illyria stared at her, "the child will not be noisy. I need the time for my meditation, and a squalling child will interfere."

Rex whimpered at Illyria’s gaze. "You know you just give me the warm and fuzzies, Smurf, you really do," Faith sniped.

Illyria’s glare turned glacial. "Only one could call me that, and that is not you. Be warned, I will not tolerate such disrespect."

Faith met the Old One glare for glare. "Duly noted. And I won’t tolerate you scarin’ Rex, you dig?"

Xander groaned from somewhere in the darkness. "Oh this is going to be such a fun trip."

He giggled as something set off one of the many magical alarms scattered across the city, he peered into his globe, excitement growing as he focussed in on the battered van driving through Tucson’s deserted outskirts. His anticipation increased as he recognised two of the van’s occupants.

A manic giggle bubbled up out of his mouth. He might not be able to ever avenge himself on his old nemesis, but the nemesis’ boy? That could work. "Dear," he trilled, "we have guests!"

The scar-faced witch hurried through from the bedroom. "Oh Xander!" cooed his insane bedmate, eyes alighting with an unholy glee as she clapped her hands. "Is Willow with her? Is she!"

"I keep telling you," he thought back the urge to backhand her to the floor by grabbing a handful of anti-psychotic pills and chucking them down his throat. "She’s dead."

"Oh yeah," the witch peered down at the globe. "We should send out the hellhounds, Willow is sure to come investigating if we kill Xander."

Ethan opened his mouth to once again explain that Willow was dead but instead clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. What was the bloody use? Ever since the Cataclysm, Amy had the memory of a goldfish and the reasoning capability of a cheerleader. "Unleash the hellhounds."

* * *

Faith peered out of the window, Rex curled up in her lap sleeping, noting the thick dust covering everything and the city’s creepy silence, the only sound the wind whistling through the empty streets. They’d made good time here, record time actually.

But then if Armageddon was good for anything, it was good for curing traffic jams.

Faith glanced over her shoulder to Angel crouched in the van’s shadowy back. "Any news on bad sh-, " she glanced at Rex in her arms and amended her words, "stuff in this area?" Faith paused to consider what she’d said. "Or at least worse than what we’re used to?"

"Nothing concrete," Angel’s worried eyes gleamed in the darkness.

"Solidify it for us," Kate humourlessly demanded.

Angel glanced at the former cop, but then Faith supposed everyone was ‘former something’ in this new world. "Weird sacrifices," Angel shook his head, "no that’s not the word. Weird experiments have been turning up all over the city."

"Weird experiments?" Connor queried.

"Corpses with body parts or organs missing, or added," Angel clarified.

"That’s just whack," Faith commented with a shudder and protective look down at the slumbering child nestling against her.

"Whack or not," Xander grunted. "We’re gonna have to stop for petrol, otherwise we’ll never make Texas, and I don’t feature Deadboy doin’ too well in the desert, never mind the rest of us."

"We’re out of petrol," complained Kate, "already?"

"Hey, you’re the one who insisted we take out the windows and add bulletproof glass, put a grille on the front and reinforce the sides and roof," Xander defended. "All that stuff adds weight and takes away from the acceleration, not to mention hellaciously cutting down on the miles we can get per gallon."

"Come complaining to me when we get caught in a gunfight," Kate shot back.

"Oh and by the way," Xander continued on, undeterred by the cop’s reply, "who actually had to do the work YOU insisted on. Not you!"

Faith rolled her eyes, a reluctant grin tuggin’ on her full lips as the pair bickered. The gang of misfits had become like the family she’d never truly expected, their arguments and debates becoming like a warm blanket that she knew would always comfort her.

"There’s a few hours before night-time," Connor spoke up. "Time enough to find a petrol source."

"I’ll take Illyria and go west-."

"I am not a servant, God-King!" Illyria thundered an interruption that had Faith raising an eyebrow. Bitch had more ego that B, but hell, she could punch a lot harder too. "I will consent to allow you to accompany me."

"That’s a relief," Kate replied, Faith suspected her tongue was firmly in her cheek, "Connor, you and Xander go to the east. We’ll keep in touch via the walkie talkies. Faith, you stay here with Angel and Rex."

"Yes siree, officer," Faith snarked and was rewarded with a smouldering glare.

"Faith," Faith peered down at the wakening boy in her lap. "Can we play catch?"

Faith beamed down at the toddler. "Say please."

"Ppllllllease."

"There ya go," Faith winked, "grab the ball from the back and we’ll start."

"Okay," Rex giggled as he climbed through into the back, "do you wanna come play with me and Faith, Angel?"

"I think I’ll stay in here thanks Rex."

"Angel doesn’t like workin’ on his tan," Faith explained as she picked Rex up and hooked him under her arm, "it’s just me and you champ!"

* * *

Xander stopped outside the dust crusted petrol station, cobwebs covering its grimy windows. "We’ll need to go around the back," he decided. "See if there’s any supplies in the garage."

"Have you noticed how it’s getting harder and harder to find stuff?"

Xander nodded. "I’ve noticed," he agreed as they crept around the back of the station. In the beginning things had been chaotic, but supplies had been plentiful, the problem was fighting off others for them. The decimation of the world’s population meant there was a surplus, but profiteers and bandits warehousing valuables cut into that substantial surplus. It was ironic, these days people would walk past an open safe filled with gold, currency, and precious stones in favour of a chocolate bar, pack of batteries, or can of petrol.

Xander stopped at the garage attached to the petrol station, hope rising as he noticed the padlock still on the door. Unless the petrol station’s owners had grabbed everything before leaving, there was a good chance there’d be some petrol in here. Xander looked towards his companion. "Got those bolt-cutters?"

"Sure," Connor stepped forward, readied the cutters and then the chains were clinking to the ground.

"Thanks," Xander eased the creaking door open and then shone his torch inside.

"Looks like Faith’s getting clucky. Are we going to be hearing the pitter-patter of tiny feet in the near future?"

Xander turned from examining the unfortunately empty jerry-cans and glared at his companion. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"I don’t try, I just am."

"Stop," Xander instructed as he burrowed deeper into the back of the garage, "it’s creepy enough trying to get my head around Deadboy having a son, much less one with a sense of humour." Xander crouched down as he glanced around the darkened garage. There was no petrol here, but there were a few tools they could scavenge.

"A woman with child blossoms with beauty and radiance." Both he and Connor turned and stared incredulously at Groo. "But perhaps not."

"I can just see Illyria as the baby’s god-demon," Connor ruminated. "Knitting romper suits for the little rugrat."

Xander stared at the hybrid. "Please, I’m begging you stop, now you’re scar-." His eye narrowed at Connor’s sudden blanch. "What’s up?"

Connor scowled. "Something coming, sounds like a dog but smells demonic."

Xander’s heart dropped as his mind took a quick detour into his past. "A hellhound."

* * *

"I am not your pack horse," complained Illyria as she followed behind Kate, the petrol sloshing in the cans they’d found.

"Huh," Kate had long since decided against arguing with the God-King. She’d taken on many a ragin’ PCP junkie in her time, but they paled next to a being who could literally punch their way through your skull. Anyway, she wasn’t going to let anything spoil her mood, the second place they’d hit had been a supermarket forecourt petrol station with an entire pump-full of petrol. Of course they couldn’t get into the pump, what with the computer and electronics controlling it being down, but then that’s when god-kings came in handy. Illyria had torn the top off the pump like she was a tin opener then they’d shoved their funnel in and sieved off as much petrol as they could take.

All in all, a painless trip.

Kate stopped, realising the demon had halted behind her. "What is it?" she demanded as she turned.

"An approaching demon," Illyria smiled, "no, demons. Glorious battle approaches."

"Great," Kate really didn’t share her companion’s enthusiasm. "Let’s get behind this wall," she nodded towards a crumbling, waist-high wall in front of a private residence.

* * *

The dust scuffled underfoot as Rex raced to the other side of the empty street, his face alight with excitement. "I’m ready, Faith!"

"I can see that lil guy!" Faith winked at the boy as she dropped in a crouch. "You ready?" Rex nodded. "It’s comin’ fast kiddo, are you sure?" Rex nodded. "’Kay!" Faith gently half-dropped\half-lobbed the ball at her charge, the ball bouncing on the ground just before it.

"Got it!" Rex squealed as he threw a wild ball that had her leaping into the air to catch it.

"Yeah!" Faith gently lobbed the kid the basketball. "It’s the NBA finals and Michael Jordan is in the house!" She grinned as the boy threw the ball across the street to her, gracefully twisting her body to catch it.

"Who’s Michael Jordan?" Rex queried.

Faith forced a smile even as she threw the ball back. Yeah, ‘course the lil guy wouldn’t know who Jordan was. He was a part of a world who’d never known sport, or TV, or anything but harshness and struggle.

No wonder they connected.

"He’s a guy who I knew who played catch," Faith explained as she re-caught the ball. "But he was nowhere near as good as-." Her voice trailed off as she heard something indistinct carried to her on the wind. "Shit," she muttered before looking towards Rex, "kiddo, come here honey," she forced a calm voice.

Rex pouted. "But-."

"Here now!" she snapped. "Move it!"

Rex gasped as if slapped, but she hadn’t time for his feelings, she had to save his life. Faith snatched up her sword as she raced towards the boy, scooped him up, and headed towards the van doors. Her eyes widened as she saw the hellhounds racing at them from both directions. "Ah hell!" Faith cursed as she threw her sword up onto the roof, her blade clanging down on it as she leapt like a high-jumper goin’ for the world record, her free hand reaching up to grab the roof’s side, then swing up onto the top, landin’ in a crouch.

"Faith-."

"No time Fang!" she scooped up her sword and adjusted her grip on Rex to a collar one, her eyes fixed on the snarling beasts, "open the back door, Rex is coming in!" Rex let out a wordless wail as she swung him over the van’s edge and through the slight gap.

Then Faith heard one of the hellhounds jump and spun to meet it.

Her blade slashed left to right, hacking the hellhound’s snarling snout off its face as she dropped onto her back, allowing the beast’s momentum to carry it over her even as its blood rained down on her. "Gross much!" she complained as she leapt up, blood dripping from her hair and top. Quality clothes like everythin’ else these days were a bitch to find, and a girl had to look good.

All thoughts of fashion fled when another one of the hellhounds leapt up at her. The moment its head cleared the roof, Faith brought the flat of her blade down on its head. "Bad puppy!" she scolded as her weapon cracked its skull, the animal dropping soundlessly, dust leaping when it crashed to the ground.

Faith spun at the sound of growling to her left but was too late to prevent a third hellhound from climbing onto the roof. "Ah," she winced as she noticed the powerful muscles bunching beneath its red fur, baleful eyes, and most of all its slavering jagged teeth. "Good puppy?" The monster responded to her hopeful question with a low growl, its hungry drool falling from its mouth to splatter and sizzle on the van’s roof. "Yeah," Faith shrugged and sighed, "’bout what I figured."

The moment the hellhound leapt forward, Faith back-flipped off the roof and onto the van’s dust-covered hood, metal denting on impact. "Hey," she muttered, "is that dent some sorta comment on my wei -. Whoa!" Faith dropped onto her ass as the hellhound leapt off the roof and at her, her shoulder and arm muscles rippling as she two-handed thrust her sword up and into the monster’s underbelly.

The beast’s pained screams filled her ears as its entrails and blood splattered down on her. "Shit!" Faith cursed as blood hit her forehead. "Oh for fuck’s sake!" She cursed as the dying creature’s momentum carried him over her, wrenching her blade from her hands in the process.

Hearing the sound of growling to her left, Faith rolled right the second before the last remaining hellhound pounced down on where she’d been laid. Faith kept on rolling until she hit the ground on her feet, head turning towards the growling beast. "You want me?" she challenged. "Come get me-." Even as she was issuing her dare, the beast was taking her up on it, leaping at her. Heart pounding, Faith dropped into a forward roll that carried her under the monster’s jump and all the way to the van’s rear. Faith kipped up in time to see the monster twisting around to face her and leaping at her throat.

Only to collide face-first into the door Faith had pulled open, hitting it with enough force to drop it like a stone. The moment the stunned creature hit the ground Faith was on it, dropping a knee across its throat, grabbing its wet nose in her hands and yanking its head up, breaking its neck with a wince-inducing crack.

After a glance around to satisfy herself there weren’t anymore hellhounds about, Faith hurried to the front of the van, collected her sword, and climbed back into the van’s comfortingly shadowed interior. "Faith!"

Faith sidestepped Rex’s arms-out rush. "Hold up champ," she soothed. "I don’t wanna you getting any of this gunk all over you, might have germs and stuff. Speaking of which," she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and started to pull it up, "I need to change."

"Faith, not in front of the boy!"

"Jeez, you sound like we’re married Fang," Faith shot back. "I’m not staying in this cra-," she glanced at Rex then amended what he’d been about to say, "ruined shirt and pants. And I’ll keep my undies on." She sighed at Fang’s look. "Rex honey, look at the wall and close your eyes for a minute for me." Faith looked towards her friend. "Happy?"

Angel half-smiled. "You know me, I’m never happy."

"Yeah, yeah," Faith pulled her shirt over her head and started going through her pack, "phone the others, and check if they’re alright. Oh and don’t you peek either."

Angel pouted. "Would you really take away a redemption-seeking vampire’s one chance of seeing heaven?"

"You know for a glowering brood-guy, you’re a regular comedian. Whole lotta fun at parties too."

* * *

Connor shot Xander a curious look. He didn’t dislike his father’s verbal sparring partner, but didn’t have a clue what a goddess like Faith saw in him. But he wasn’t used to seeing a look of fear on the one-eyed man’s face. "A what?"

"A beast you never wanna wrestle in a dress shop, and that’s from someone who used to date Cordelia Chase," the youth shook his head. "And was she a beast in a dress shop."

"That she was." Connor half-smiled. Sometimes he forgot she’d had a life before he met her.

"This creature it is a fearsome beast?" Groo said.

"Oh yeah," Xander started backing towards the derelict petrol station, the shotgun he seemingly always had on him, "we need to get in here and fast."

"We are mighty warriors," Groo protested. "We do not run from a fight."

"Listen you lunk-head," Xander hissed. "It’s not cowardly to fight a battle on your own terms rather than your enemies’, it’s sensible. We’ll likely be out-numbered, and not wanting to take them on at close-quarters."

Yeah, he guessed that made sense. Connor grabbed Groo’s shoulder. "Come on."

The petrol station’s interior was dark and stank of oil and rotting food, dust thick on both the floor and walls. "Here," Xander spoke the moment they were over the doorless’ entrance’s threshold, "help me block up the door." Connor and Groo hurried over to Xander, and picked up the freezer between them, dragging the container sloshing with de-iced water into the doorway. "Thanks," Xander crouched by the fridge and peered out of the doorway before glancing towards Connor and Groo. "How about you shove some of those shelves across the staff entrance doorway?"

"Very well," Groo nodded as Connor joined the Pylean in grabbing the shelves and carrying them over to the door to the store’s rear. "What is the plan?"

"Me and Besty," Xander raised his shotgun, "will -."

"I’m listening to the plans of a man who names his shotgun," Connor groaned.

"Hey!" Xander reddened. "You named your sword!"

Connor nodded sheepishly before defending. "Yeah, but I called my sword ‘Justice’s Will’. That’s different!"

"Yeah," Xander nodded, "really, really pompous. I mean Dead-Boy Pompous!"

Groo groaned. "The plan?"

"Yeah," Xander glanced towards the Pylean before continuing, "I’ll thin the pack when they come into gun range, any that make it through the windows," Xander glanced to the grime-covered windows to his left, "are yours and Connor."

"A simple plan," approved Groo, "do you think it’ll work."

"I don’t know," Xander aimed his shotgun, "but we’re about to find out, they’re here!"

* * *

Kate raised an eyebrow when Illyria halted and dropped the petrol cans. "Too heavy for you?"

"Curb your tongue." Illyria shot her one of her dead looks. "Lesser demons approach, I ready myself to deal with them."

* * *

Xander’s blood chilled, memory flashing back to the day he’d fought one of these monsters hand to hand, a battle he would have lost but for dumb luck. Sweat formed on his brow as he forced himself to wait until the creatures were in range. "There’s five of them," he tersely reported, finger rubbing impatiently up and down the trigger, "I won’t get them all."

Then the derelict shop echoed to his gun’s blast, one of the demons dropping to the ground in a bloody spray, but its companions continued on unabated. He pulled on the trigger again, grimacing as his shot went over the pack’s heads. He forced his pounding heart under control and fired again, the head blasting off one of the remaining demons’ heads. "They’re veering off!" he yelled as he pulled the trigger again, catching the nearest demon in its rear flanks, dust billowing as it dropped to the ground. "They’re going for the wind-."

The glass exploding inwards made his words obvious, but even as he ducked for cover, Connor and Groo, border-line Conanesque psychos they were, leapt to meet the two hellhounds.

Groo brought his broadsword down in a sweeping arc, blade cleaving through the howling monster’s skull, its blood and brains spurting out everywhere, the demon dead before it hit the ground. For his part, Connor went for the dramatic as usual, dropping to his knees and sliding across the floor to meet his rival, sword flashing left and right to take its head off, the decapitated creature’s momentum carrying it crashing into the far wall.

"Now that’s settled," Xander rose and glanced out, relieved to see there weren’t any more hellhounds lurking outside, "shall we head back?" Grabbing a handful of shells out of his pocket, he reloaded his gun.

These days you couldn’t be too careful.

* * *

"Lesser-." Kate’s questions died in her mouth and her blood froze when a trio of heavily-muscled, red-furred ‘dogs’ the size of small ponies burst around the corner and charged them, their growls filling the air. Her heart pounding, Kate lunged for her gun.

Her automatic was half out of its holster when the first two leapt at Illyria. Illyria’s hands blurred out to catch the animals by their throats, effortlessly holding the two hundred pound wildly struggling creatures at arm’s length.

Kate’s gun arm was straightening, readying herself to fire when the third demon attempted to pounce on the resurrected Old One. Illyria didn’t even look at the demon as she kicked out, the demon’s head snapping to the side with neck-breaking force, the demon changing direction in mid-air and flying into a near-by building with enough force to bring its walls crashing down on the best.

Then Illyria drove the two demons’ heads together with enough force to send blood and brains flying. "Not even a challenge," Illyira scoffed as she dropped the limp bodies to the ground.

"That was comprehensive." Kate blinked, the battle had taken less than a minute and Ol’ Blue hadn’t broken a sweat. Her power was terrifying at times, she was just glad she was on their side.

For now anyway.

* * *

"So everyone’s okay?" Faith sighed at Xander’s morose nod. Ever since civilisation’s fall she’d been waiting for him to snap out of his depression, but no progress so far.

"And we’ve got plenty of petrol, enough to get us into Texas at least," Connor crowed.

"Wicked," Faith bounced a giggling Rex on her knee, knowing at least he was happy enough to take her love even if Xan didn’t want it. "Then let’s get on the road."

"What about those stories about people being mutilated and experimented on, we have to stop whoever’s behind that," Kate protested.

"I hate to be pragmatic about it," Angel cut in, "but we have a bigger mission, the quicker we finish it, the quicker we can get back here and investigate."

Kate sighed then nodded. "Okay."

* * *

"Dead!" Amy screamed, eyes bulging in their sockets. "Dead! Dead!"

"I know," Ethan sighed, "I saw the same feeds as you."

"Dead! Dead!" Amy seemed oblivious to his comments, the Sunnydaler screaming on and on. "Dead! Dead! Dead!"

Ethan shook his head as his skull began to throb. "Dear, do you-."

"DEAD! DEAD!" Amy’s screams intensified. "My pets dead! D-E-A-D!"

"Oh bloody hell." Ethan picked up an ivory-handled knife, its blade dirty with dried blood, and turned to face the clearly off the deep end witch. She might be a wildcat between the sheets, but nothing compensated for that headache. "Dear?" When the screeching woman appeared oblivious to his call, he stepped behind her and jammed his knife deep into her kidneys, his other hand going around her mouth. The moment her struggles ended he allowed her to drop to the ground.

"Ah," he looked around the quiet work room, a beatific smile in place, "peace at last!"

"Home on the range!

Cowboys ain’t gay!

Just a little strange!

That’s what we say!"

Faith and Rex sang the song she’d taught him, the boy snuggled up into her side and wearing the white Stetson she’d found for him as they drove through Texas, the sun having set in the distance. "You’re funny," her little buddy giggled.

"Funny like funny or funny like strange?" Faith glanced down at Rex, her glinting eyes meeting his mischievous ones.

"Both!" Rex giggled.

"Clearly the child is more perceptive than normal for a human of his years."

Faith glanced over her shoulder and glowered at an impassive Illyria. It was comin’ to somethin’ when Big Blue was makin’ jokes at your expense.

"Faith!" Suddenly Rex let out a frightened scream, the boy pointing out of the window on his side.

For a second she couldn’t see it, then she glanced into the passenger side mirror. "Ah fu-," her dark eyes widened at the trio of horsemen galloping up behind them, dirt kicked up by their pounding hooves. Faith glanced in her side mirror, grimacing as she saw the not unexpected trio on her side. "Xan, you and Kate get in your harnesses! We gotta trouble!" Faith glanced at Rex and forced a smile. "Good spot kiddo, now get your seatbelt on and hold on tight, ‘kay?"

* * *

The moment the Slayer let out a cry, Kate and Xander were up and moving, clinging to the van’s coldly metallic sides as they made their way to the van’s doors and fastened themselves into the harnesses Xander had made and drilled into the van’s sides as one of the van’s many ‘improvements’. "Ready?"

Her heart lodged firmly in her throat, Kate could only nod at Xander’s query. "Okay." Xander looked towards Angel. "Captain HairGel?"

The vampire growled even as he pressed down on the remote control to the van’s rear door, another creation of Xander’s. The door’s shut open, and Kate’s ears thundered as she and Xander fired ruthlessly on the trio of gun-wielding horsemen racing behind their van.

Their bullets tore indiscriminately through both horse and rider, but although the horses went down in a bloody scream, the riders rolled free and struggled to their feet, their faces contorting. "Oh no!" Kate yelled. "They’re vampires!"

"Lyle," Kate heard Angel growl, "Lyle Gorch?"

"Not him!" Xander groaned even as several vampires dropped back as the van speeded up. One tried leaping through the open van doors, but Angel met him with an uppercut to the jaw that put him down hard, the impact echoing through the van’s floor, and then Connor finished him off with a stake through the heart. Another horseman leapt out of his saddle hands reaching for the van’s roof as he attempted to swing into the van.

A plan that Kate ended with a blast to his face, the vampire’s head exploding like a dropped over-ripe melon as he fell to the ground, his dust dissipating on the tarmaced highway, just in front of his remaining brethren, their horses lathered with sweat and nostrils flaring as they struggled to keep up with the van.

"Ah screw this!" Kate glanced towards Xander in time to see him lean back into the van, grab one of the petrol cans they had hooked against the wall, pull it off, and one-armed fling it into the road in front of the horsemen. Then his shotgun was up, his finger tugging on the trigger.

For an one-eyed man, Xander had a good aim, and his shells crashed into the jerry can with a marksman’s glee. Fire exploded upwards, flickering flames engulfing the two nearest vampires, their screams filling the air as the horse of a third was unable to avoid running head-first into the flames. The other two vampires managed to pull back before hitting the flames, but in doing so were thrown by their rearing horse, dust billowing where they hit the road. "Put a fork in them," Xander slumped against the wall, sweat sheening on his face. "They’re done."

* * *

"You knew that vamp?" Faith shook her head. "Damn, Fang. You have the coolest friends, don’tcha?"

"Did you ever meet Spike?" Xander queried. "Didn’t that clue you in to the general quality of his vampire buddies?"

"Point."

Angel prized the brief warm look that passed between Faith and her somewhat estranged boy-friend, even if it came at his own expense. "Lyle never was much of a thinker-."

"Heh," Faith snorted, "the horses in the middle of the 21^st century kinda clued us in there."

"Just a brutal bas-." Angel cut himself off with a glance at Rex. The boy was staring up adoringly at Faith and seemed to have come well through the fight, like he seemed to come through everything. He was a tough kid, but then he’d have to be to come through what was to come. "But he’s not particularly smart or resourceful, I’d be surprised if we see him again."

"That’s great but we’ll have to turn into Dallas," Xander said, "I blew up one of our tanks fighting those vampires off."

"A wasteful exercise," Illyria intoned. "You should have let him take your head instead."

"Yeah?" Xander stared at the blue-haired Old One. "I’m glad you’re here too."

* * *

Dallas Command

"There’s been a report of a van heading towards town." He looked into his wife’s eyes, waiting for more details. "Our sensors picked them coming in from Arlington, they’ll be here in a hour." His wife paused again. "The sensor readings don’t make much sense."

"Sense how?" he prompted.

"Well, according to our readouts," his wife passed him a printout, "the majority of the van’s seven occupants read as human, but one’s a vampire, one’s an unidentifiable demon, and two, well two seem to be humans but with some inconsistencies."

Inconsistencies? He raised an eyebrow, it was lucky they’d been in town to pick up and test some new demon reading sensors when all hell had broken loose, better to be in the US than stranded in Africa or Asia. At least they were home. He glanced at the printout, eyes narrowing. "Okay, send one of our men with a dozen of our militia, make sure they’re dead."

"Even the humans?"

"You said they’re travelling with demons didn’t you?"

* * *

The United States Marine Corps Designated Marksman Rifle was a piece of art, he mused as he laid on the roof of the four storey bank, his eye peeking through the telescopic sight as the van neared. It had a range of 600 to 800 metres, but he was only 350 metres away, and so his task was simplicity itself, a round through the van driver’s head, the van toppled over, and the dozen militia he had hiding in the seemingly deserted street would catch the downed van in a murderous crossfire that would ensure nothing survived.

He forced himself to both relax and focus as the van came into view, peering down so he had a good view of the driver, his finger just stroking the trigger. There, he was in range, a well-built, black-haired man-.

The world seemed to slow then rush back to the date where he’d last seen that man. The years had been hard to him, even taken one of his eyes, and added some thick muscle to his gangly frame, but it was unmistakably him. You didn’t easily forget someone who’d saved your life. Hands suddenly shaking, he released his grip on the rifle and yelled into his mouth-piece. "The mission is an ABORT!" he roared as he scrambled in the dust beside him to pick up his loud-hailer and yell through it. "XANDER HARRIS! THIS IS SGT. GRAHAM MILLER FORMERLY OF THE INITATIVE, PULL OVER! I REPEAT PULL OVER!"

Graham nodded as the van began to swerve, pulling over to the side. "Everyone move in, weapons cold, no firing, these are guests not hostiles," he ordered into the mouth-piece.

* * *

"Really Xander?" Riley’s eyes scorched first Angel who stared stonily back and then Faith who seemed to shrink away even as she clung protectively to the child on her knee. At least she felt some guilt. "This is the best you can do?"

"Everyone here’s more than capable in a fight," Xander defended.

"Oh," Riley glared at Angel, recalling the time the master vampire had summarily defeated him, even with the ‘roids that Walsh had been secretly using on him, "I don’t doubt it. But trustworthy?"

The sapphire-eyed man shifted in his seat. "A wise man would not impinge on the honour of-."

"Groo," Angel interrupted, seemingly at ease despite the armed militia members lining each wall. Of course Riley was honest enough to admit that if they fired, they’d kill Xander and the other humans, but Angel would more than likely be too fast, and as for Illyria, he’d read the files on her. "It’s alright; Major Finn and I are acquitanted with one another."

"That’s one way of putting it," Xander snorted. He seemed steady, less the joker than he remembered, focused with a core of darkness about him. But that was what one needed to survive these days. "How about your guards take some of the others to your canteen, and Faith, Angel, and I tell you why we’re here?"

Riley hesitated before nodding. "Okay honey," he was surprised by the affection in Faith’s usually belligerent tones, "I wanna you to go with Kate and the others, get something to eat."

"Wanna me to get you something?" the boy stared up adoringly at Faith.

The Slayer lifted the boy and kissed his slightly mucky forehead. "Please sweetheart."

Riley kept an impassive face as the others stalked out, but inwardly was rocked by the soft side of the supposedly hard as nails Slayer. "Your son?" he queried.

Crimson flushed in the woman’s high cheeks. "Nah," Faith shook her head, "nothin’ like that, just an orphan I picked up along the way."

Riley raised an eyebrow. He didn’t buy a word of it, Faith the maternal type? "How did you end up here?"

Xander’s query cut into his thinking. Riley glanced at Sam who nodded, then returned his gaze to Xander. He might as well tell him, it wasn’t as if operational protocols and need to know meant a damn anymore. "My twenty-five strong unit were in Dallas, getting and testing some equipment for a black op in Panama when everything went down. Fortunately there were two other elite units with us when the fighting started. Even so, by the time we’d finished bringing the area under control, twenty-two of the seventy-five soldiers were dead as were any ranking officers, so I was left in charge-."

"Lucky them."

Riley ignored the urge to shoot the vampire. "So I’ve organised the local police and National Guard units into a militia protecting and policing the survivors from demons." Riley shook his head. "From over a million to just over a quarter of million in the first week. We’ve stabilised a lot since then as you can see from our defences, but I’ve had to be tough, enforce military discipline on a civilian population. Anyone who commits a minor crime gets exiled, a violent crime gets you hung." Riley paused, the weight of the past few years resting heavy on his shoulders. "Buffy?"

Xander’s remaining eye went dead. "Anyone from Sunnydale who isn’t here is dead."

"Ah," Riley nodded. He’d long since gotten past Buffy Summers, but he still thought of her, Willow, and Giles as good people, something that was a shortage in any world. "My condolences."

"You’re saying," Riley noticed the vampire had stiffened, "you’re the military governor of Dallas?"

"I wouldn’t put it in those exact terms, but in essence, yes." Riley shot the suddenly paling Slayer a shark-like look. "Don’t worry, I wouldn’t waste my time." Angel and to his surprise Xander seemed to bristle at his contemptuous remarks to the Slayer, but he ignored that.

"Have you heard anything from the Crusade?" Angel queried after a moment of heavy silence.

Riley grimaced at the mention of the army run by former Marine General Hugh Cage. The man might be his superior officer, but in Riley’s case he’d gone right off the deep end, a far from infrequent consequence of the new world. "He’s sent men on a couple of occasions, but we’re too numerous and organised for him," Graham said for him. "Given his numbers, he could take us, but he’d lose too many men doing it, it would be a Pyrrhic victory."

"A what?" Faith queried, smooth brow furrowing in confusion.

Sam smiled at Faith, a smile far warmer than the nutcase deserved. "Put simply, it means a victory gained at too great a cost. The phrase comes from King Pyrrhus of Eprius whose army suffered irreplaceable casualties in defeating the Romans during the Pyrrhic War."

"Cool," Faith nodded in understanding.

"We can handle any Carrion, Believers, or Allah’s Fury who head here and given we’ve got enough supplies to last another five to seven years, we’re doing okay at the moment. We’re more worried about Project Praetorian, they’re rumoured to be heading in this direction."

"Project what?" Xander queried.

"Apparently the military resurrected Dr. Walsh’s research," Xander groaned mournfully, "and created cyborgs from a combination of deceased soldiers, cyborgs, and demons, who’s only mission is to eliminate anything that doesn’t match its definition of a perfect human-."

"And it’s never found one has it?" Faith interrupted.

"No, anything they’ve faced, they’ve killed. Humans, vampires, Slayers, mages, demons, anything. There’s less of them there was, but somewhere around half a dozen remain. If they reach here, we’ll stop them, we’re too well-armed and trained not to, but a lot will die doing it." Riley paused. "Why are you here exactly?"

Xander and Faith glanced towards Angel. After a second the vampire began talking, explaining about Rex and the other children. Once he’d finished, Riley glanced at Graham and Sam before continuing. "We can’t help you with this Arc thing, never heard of it, but you can spend the night here, and take what supplies we can spare. I’m afraid you’ll have to go everywhere with an escort, I can’t guarantee your safety otherwise."

"Way to make someone feel welcome."

Riley raised an eyebrow at Faith’s mutter. "Xander’s always welcome here, some of his friends less so."

* * *

Lyle Gorch clambered out onto the porch of the shack that he and his now dead gang had called home, eyes widening at the three approaching dust clouds, the rumble of the ground telling him the dust was just the vanguard of cars. Lyle smiled. "I like tourists, tasty!" A few seconds later his eyes widened as the dust clouds neared enough for him to see the vehicles behind them, a trio of camouflaged, dark-windowed Hummvees. "Well that ain’t right," he scratched at his head, a deep unease growing. He glanced left and right, but decided there was no point in running, there was nowhere to hide.

Then the military issue vehicles came to a halt surrounding him in a sorta triangle, the cars’ occupants climbing out, all of them with one exception dressed in dark camouflage, the exception dressed in a finely-cut suit that looked like it had been made by the finest of tailors.

It was the exception who spoke, his voice hard as if used to giving orders. "We’re the Irre-Nacht, who are you?"

Irre-Nacht. Time froze for Lyle as he realised that many of the vampires surrounding him surpassed him in age and power, and no wonder. Irre-Nacht hadn’t been around for long, but they’d already built an unparalled reputation for cold-blooded efficiency.

"I asked you a question?" snapped the suited man.

"Um," Lyle wished he’d put on his goin’ to town clothes to meet his visitors, "Lyle Gorch, sir."

"Lyle Gorch," the group’s apparent leader, a short, powerfully-built man with a shaven head, cold grey eyes, and a lantern jaw, sniffed disdainfully. "Turned 1886, a tough brutal vampire," the man sniffed again even as Lyle preened himself, "but a stupid one. Gunn, kill him for me."

"Wha-."

Before he could finish, one of the men, a tall coon, had leapt forward and caught him with a jarring haymaker to the jaw. His head snapped to the side as he threw a retaliatory right hook that crashed into his opponent’s forehead.

The other man grunted, but threw a left. Even as he readied his defence, he realised it was a feint, but too late to avoid a knee to the crotch. He groaned as pain shot through his balls, and attempted to twist away from his opponent, but the black bastard was relentless, catching him with a downward right to the cheek.

Momentum carried him crashing into the shack behind him, rotting wood shattering under the impact, sending him falling to the ground. Before he could move, ‘Gunn’ had torn a jagged piece of wood out of the remaining wall and was driving it through his heart.

* * *

Stark Jabo nodded approvingly as Gorch burst into dust. Gunn had skills, that much was obvious. Which was good, because Irre-Nacht didn’t carry passengers, especially ones that’d hunted them when human. None of them were happy about having Gunn forced on them, particularly one so new to the Change, but he did have the advantage of knowing their targets, and if he proved himself worthy, so be it.

But if he failed, they’d been on him like a pack of wild dogs, ripping, rending, shredding until there was nought left.

"What next sir?"

Jabo looked to Suss Luge, the muscular, sharp-featured woman’s eyes gleaming eagerly. "Well all know the reputation of Riley’s Rangers," he said, "entering town is too dangerous, especially in the vehicles the High Council gave us, they’re much too showy. We’ll drive around the city’s perimeter and pick up our targets’ trail on the other side."