Disclaimer: I do not own anything. No profit is being made. Buffy, Connor, and Angel belong to Joss. Nothing is mine.

A/N:I know it looks like I should put it in Angel, but trust me, it's a Buffy universe. Eventual Dawn/Connor pairing. Just wait. Oh, and I had some trouble with the clahgdagg spelling, so no ranting over the importance of it being properly spelled, please. Oh, and I don't think I need to touch the subject about reviews. I mean, if you thought it was good, Im sure you'd comment.


My Name is Connor, and I should not exist. My Father is Angelus, not Angel with a soul, but THE Angelus. And my mother... she was the slayer. Buffy.

I am a living boy. My Mother had me when she was nine-teen, and still young. My Father turned her when she was thirty-two, and they raised me in their kingdom. You see, my Father is the head of an ancient line of vampires, his blood is descended from that of the original master vampire, it is the blood of Aurelius, and I am the only heir now to that, at least the youngest, and possibly the last.

It's not that I was a mistake. My Father, both with and without soul, yearned for a son, or some sort of heir. He told me once that was the one thing he hated about being a vampire. My Father said though, that something looks down upon us. He says he has everything he needs now.

I was raised with both love and a firm hand. My mother still kept her soul after she was turned, one of the advantages to being a slayer, and she gave me all the love I could ever need for. My Father was exactly that: my Father. If I ever went over the line, or did something to his displeasure, he would be threre. I have to admit, sometimes I deserved some of the beatings, but I knew that my Father loved me somewhere.

I know what your thinking, love? Vampires don't love. They have no souls. But that's wrong. My Father loved my Mother enough, after years of torturing himself over the emotion, and finally came to the conclusion that he could love, and it did not make him weak. And indeed it did not, for he is now the most powerful Master than there ever was.

He can take the cross, you know. Something only the strongest can do.

Back to now, though. I'm seventeen, still a living boy. My Father says I will be turned when I am at my strongest. For now, if I ever go out to feed, or hunt, or whatever else, I must go with either Spike, Drusilla, my mother, or him. Those are the only people he'd trust. If I were to die, that would be the last chance.

We travel much. My Father has over centuries of bank accounts, and hidden businesses. Right now, we are living in a castle in Ireland. My Father enjoys the view, and hasn't been to his homeland in a long time. Sometimes, at night, he'll take me out to hunt, and he'll tell me stories about certain places.

Darla is dead, we know. My Father killed her when he had a soul, and even then it was for my mother. Even though my mother doesn't like her, My father will always remember her. After all, the bond between a childe and Sire is one of the most sacred bonds between vampires.

I'm in my room now. One of my father's minions is outside my door. To serve in the court of Angelus is one of the highest honors there is in this world. I could easily take out the fledgling vamp, I have much more super strength than him, being the miracle child, but I will stay put. My Father does not wish me to leave, he is in a meeting with 'buisness partners', and I am still to young, and still not strong enough, to join them.

My Mother may attend if she wishes to. She is given free reign. Her only master is my Father, and that will be the only one she shall ever answer to. I, however, have many others to answer to. My Mother and Father both tell me I will be as strong as they are one day, and I will have my own court to rule, under a firm hand. But I am still to young, to untrained, with not enough experience.

I live in my Father's shadow. He is big, and sometimes I wonder how I shall ever be as great as him. Yes, great. There are some who would look at my Father as a monster, a brutal, sick killer. I am his son. For a son to look at his Father in any way other than blatant respect is one of the few true sins in this world. I am loyal to my blood, and I will always serve under him, his name.

There's a prophesy about me. That was the twist that befell my Mother and Father after having the profound joy. I am supposed to be the miracle child, and destroyer. One day strong enough to defeat some powerful being. I was never supposed to know about it. But I was a curious young boy. We were living in a mansion of sorts in Los Angeles at the time, in America. I would often see my Father embedded with scrolls at the time, provided by a resident evil law firm. Him, and several other distinguished people were bent over scrolls for ages. I heard they were doing this even when my mother was pregnant with me.

One day, I overheard them talking. Rumors get around, and I learn I'm the miracle boy, and destroyer. Supposed to defeat some powerful man, whose name I never learned. I'm still not supposed to know. But I think that's the day my Father believes he is supposed to turn me.

Until then, I go through lessons. You know how those mortal human teenagers complain about schoolwork, and such? I must go through the same. It's not like I am some pampered prince. My Father has several instructors hired for me. He teaches me the arts of fighting, but I must also learn those other subjects, such as history, math, languages, and mystical arts.

You see, other children learn how to speak English, write, then they may take another language, such as Spanish, French, and only two years of it. But no, I am in the process of practicing twenty-six dead languages AND demon languages. And I do not study science either, but the mystical arts, or magic as some would call, which in itself is many other topics and subjects combined.

My Father is in charge of most of my literature as well. He gives me old books on various subjects. Sometimes, it's on war fare, other times, it's just an old classic, mnay study human nature, and he takes it upon himself to also show me the world through his eyes. To show me other humans.

Humans are animals, we all are. Humans are the scum below the vampire's feet, they are nothing but weaklings. Humans are selfish, dirty, liars. They live in their little world, never aware of what's really in the night. They turn on each other. They're stupid, a waste of air.

And yet vampires need them. They have advantages that we do not. Father says it all balances out. While Humans may walk in the light, they only do so for a short time. Vampires may live forever. But Vampires may also be killed by light, stakes, and decapitation. Both races may reproduce easily. Vampires may not go into a mortal's home without invitation, yet when vampires are attacked by a mortal, they have strength and speed to defend themselves, and are a weapon in their own right.

And Spike says it's also about blood. They're alive, they can feel, taste. Vampires bring nothing but cold. Humans are warm with blood, Vampires are dead and empty. Vampires drink the blood of the human because they take it for granted. It is also in the balance. Yet both Spike and Father agree about one thing: we are all animals. We all succumb to desires, we all have passion. We are all alive to that extent.

The sun is setting now. Soon a servant will come and say I may come to dinner. My Father is hosting his court. I look at the book I should have been reading. Dante's Inferno.

Words come to mind. Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.

Those are apt words to describe my Father. I forget where that is from. One of the Numerous books my Father made me read. Perhaps Paradise Lost?

I put it aside, and make sure I am presentable. My Father's wealth must show through Family. To look anything but prosperous would be an insult.

I am tall in a way. I am still growing. I have light blue eyes, from my Mother. I have my Father's dark hair. I am pale, my hair is chestnut, and reaches just about past my ears. I'm not Buff. Not meaty and strong like my Father. I have more of my mother's thin frame, like a sharply honed knife. And just as deadly.

I do have muscles. I am lean, not lanky. Don't get those confused, I am generally insulted by it.

I wear an expensive longs-sleeve black button up shirt, with black slacks. Don't be mistaken, I do have regular clothes, such as jeans, and t-shirts, but for Dinners I must wear this sort of attire. And I'm not complaining either. It looks good.

As if right on target, there is a knock at the door.

"Mater Connor, you Father requests your audience at his table." I give a short curt nod, and walk out purposefully, down the dark hallways lit by candles. Down the stairs, I follow him, to a larger hallway. We reach the first floor. He stops ahead of me in front of a large doorway. I hear him announce my presence. "Master Connor, son, childe, heir of The Master Angelus, and his Queen, Elizabeth. Childe of the line of Aurelius." He steps aside, and I walk through.

At the head of the room is a long table. My Father is in the middle of the Table, the head seat. He wears Black velvet-like shirt with silver buttons, and the ring of his house on his finger along with the clahgdagg on his other hand, which is the same as my Mother's. My Mother is on his Left, as she always is. Her beauty is legendary in the demon world. And she is known to be his. Her cold distant pose is regal, and yells authority. My Father can deny my mother nothing. She wears that of the finest clothes, designed for her. She wears a simple sapphire blue dress that would sweep the floor, and she is adorned with simple silver ornaments. One on her upper right arm, which holds the seal of the house, her ring which matches my Father's, and a necklace, or a chain really, holding a silver cross.

She is a Vampire now. She should not be able to wear it. Yet she does. It burned at first, yes, and her skin has marks from the burn. But thye have faded. She is able to take the cross. She took it for my Father as my Father took it for her. It is a symbol of their power that they wear.

I bow to them, as is custom. The seat next to my Mother's is empty. That is where the boy belongs. I am not yet a man, or I would sit in the place on my Father's right. My Father gives me a nod, and my Mother, though she is an emotionless statue, and masks all, gives me the tiniest hints of a smile, as she nods her head as well. I may enter. I take my seat next to her, and I listen to conversations of businesses. How certain exchanges are going. One day, I must step into the shoes of my Father, as he tells me, and take his place. His shoes are large though.

And I know under their calm exterior, their entire lives, they have been waiting for a prophesy to come true. It says I am to defeat, and bring something down. But prophesies have always been chancy, as both my parents have come to know them to be. But it is the sign that we wait for. And until then, I am just Connor, son and heir of the great Angelus, and the powerful and beautiful Elizabeth Ann, or Buffy as she used to be known.