Wishverse drabble

He could feel her eyes on him as he sauntered around the Bronze. He was checking out the new digs the Master had set up – on top of the Hellmouth, no less – just wandering from cage to table to rack. Enjoying the sheer terror and violence that overwhelmed the place.

Sadly, this wasn't his kind of place. The vamps here had all become weak and purile, playing games and laughing as they spilled blood. Don't get him wrong, he enjoyed blood sports as much as the next vamp, but the sheer scale of what he was seeing in Sunnydale made him wince. There was no sport, no adrenaline, and while his dinner made appropriate whimpers and cries as he ate, there was none of the heart clenching terror he had come to love. That moment in his prey's eyes, when they realized that the monsters were real, was superb. There was nothing like the absolute terror of having your illusions ripped apart in front of you, to turn the blood into a tantalizing vintage.

There was none of that here. Their prey lived with the knowledge every day that the monsters were real and would eat you if they got you.

That in turn had made the vampires weak and spoiled. In his day, you had to stalk and catch your own meals, fighting against other vamps and the occasional hunter for the right to survive; the right to hunt. Instead, it was all 'run down to the basement and pull up the next pathetic, whimpering human'.

They tasted bland. No fight left in any of them.

The Master's new children where another surprise, though not a very good one. The boy, Xander, had promise, and Spike was looking forward to seeing him in another few decades. If he could get out from under the Master, that was. He had the makings of a master vampire himself, if he could manage to find himself away from Sunnyhell.

The red head was another matter. Turned too young, and brought into this weak world where her every whim was catered too. She was spoiled and reckless, Xander being one of the few who could contain her. True, her lust for violence was well suited to the Aurelius clan, but she had no style. It was violence for the sake of violence, which would get her killed before she could learn any better.

Too many years trapped underground had made the Master weak in his own way; the proof was all around him. At his peak, the Master had turned Darla – one of the most vicious hell bitches he'd ever encountered. His only other female childe was the red head, and the let down was pathetic.

The few minutes he'd spent in her company had left an impression, though it wasn't until later that he realized it had gone both ways. The red head had been watching him, following him around as if unable to risk coming closer. She had good instincts, at least, because he'd tear her through a wall if she dared touch him, and not in the violent sex sort of way, either. He didn't care if they were family – she was weak and pathetic and didn't deserve to be part of the Aurelius line. Not this way.

Some small part of him wished he could have gotten to her first; turned her himself and brought her up right. But it was too late for wishes and puppy dog tails.

He would avoid her as best he could until his business was done, because an infatuated baby vamp was always trouble.

And he wanted to use the captured Angelus to restore his precious Dru, so he kept quiet. And once his dark princess was well again, they'd get the hell out of this place and never look back.

END

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