Disclaimer: not mine, Joss Whedon and friends' - apart from Luc, who belongs to me.

Author's notes: the fourth in the 'Breton' series. The last instalment of this, 'Death Awaits', saw Mike Fletcher of the Council attempt to rid the world of Angelus and his suave Breton childe Luc Tarpeau. As Mike went back to England, he and the Scooby Gang were content in the knowledge they had destroyed the Crawford Street mansion and that its occupants were dust. Or were they? Picking up there, the focus is now back on Luc. Retribution is harsh.

Luc could not sleep. The memories of the previous night's whirlwind of pleasure, pain and disappointment were running through his mind. He lay awake in his bed, eyes gazing at the ceiling in the shadowed room. He tried closing his eyes and forcing himself to sleep, but soon gave up and swung his legs out of bed. Collecting his book from the bedside table, Luc stretched, flung on a silk robe, and padded silently through to the main hall.

On the wall and the floor underneath the chains there were still some bloodstains from the Council man, Fletcher. Luc eyed them and smiled, and settled down with his book. Over to one side a very thin stream of sunlight shone through a hole in a drape.

He had been reading for maybe an hour, and judged it was early afternoon, when he heard the noise. He lifted his head from the book and listened - there it was again, a gentle thud and footsteps that would have been inaudible to a human. Another thud, a little further around the building; a pause, and another. Luc tensed, wishing he could creep outside and see what was happening, and maybe find an afternoon snack, but he knew the sun was in his way. Instead, he stood up and made his way silently out of the room.

Angelus and Darla were both asleep, her arm flung across his chest. Luc admired the sight for a moment, and then coughed. "Sire?"

His sire opened his eyes and met Luc's gaze with a dangerous glint. "Luc, I'm sleeping."

"Oui, je sais," Luc said, "but there are noises outside. Human. I think the Slayer and her friends."

"Doing what?"

"Dropping bags of something around the house. It could be explosives. Maybe. I don't think we should stay here - is there a cellar, or something?"

Fully awake now, Angelus threw back the covers and shook Darla's arm off him. "Hurry, Luc. Go and wake Will. There is a cellar. That damned Watcher knows explosives. Va t'en!"

Luc nodded, and went to find Spike.

Ten minutes later all four of them were in the dank cellar of the mansion, Spike puffing on a cigarette and Darla looking irritated.

"I swear, if nothing comes of this, Luc ." she said. Luc shrugged.

"I promise I heard something."

Angelus paced the ten feet of floor space, his head back to listen better. "There's nothing now, Luc," he said.

Spike pushed his cigarette lighter back into a pocket of his duster and opened his mouth to say something, but his words were swallowed up in a violent shudder and then a loud bang. The roof of the cellar shook, and plaster dust rained down on the four vampires. Stopping his pacing, Angelus' face became dark with anger.

When the noise faded enough to speak, Darla said, "Well, it's as well you were awake, Luc."

Luc nodded back at her.

"When it is night," Angelus said, low and furious, "we collect our things, whatever we can carry, whatever is left; and we are going back to England. It's time the Council of Watchers remembered our names with the proper respect."

"Back to Blighty," said Spike, without much enthusiasm. "Great."

Luc grinned. "I think this will be fun."