A Master’s Keeper
Xander rubbed his neck with the slowly thawing bag of peas. Angel’s rough hold had left bruises. He’d been lucky his Mom hadn’t seen them when she’d stumbled into the kitchen just as he was locking the door behind him.
Angel was probably chuckling over his little trick of offering him as a snack to Spike. Bastard. Xander loathed the vampire and he could honestly say it was for reasons that had nothing to do with Buffy.
He flopped back onto his bed feeling morose and not a little bitter. What he needed was a plan. Something to put that broody knuckle-dragger in his place. Xander drifted, mind filled with half formed thoughts and memories fueled by the underlying mantra: Vengeance. Retribution. Vengeance. Retribution.
He was half asleep when he remembered something from one of the books he’d shelved for Giles in the Lost Section, which was what they had taken to calling the out-of-the-way area of the library where the ’harmless’ occult and demonology books were kept.
Something about Master or Keeper? Xander couldn’t quite get the words straight in his head. The book talked funny, having been translated from Old Norse or ... Icelandic, maybe.
Good thing he knew where the book lived, Xander thought, mind muzzy as he fought Morpheus’ hold. Imagine trying to ask Giles for help: “Hey, you know that book about the Master-y, Keeper-y things? Norse? ... Blue?” Not even pouting would erase Giles frown after that.
Silly, British, frowny man.
Xander was silent at school the next day. Willow and Buffy had brushed off Angel’s manhandling the night before and basically told him to suck it up. Anger that had dissipated while he slept came roaring back.
That’s why he found himself skipping gym to duck into the library. Xander might have let the girls cheer him up out of his funk, but they hadn’t really cared so now he wanted to find that spell before anyone was the wiser.
Xander knew Giles was across the building chatting with Ms Calendar. That gave him just enough time to slip in and out before the Englishman returned. Then Xander could hide in the auditorium balcony while he read the book. No one ever went there and the door lock was broken.
There wasn’t a soul around so Xander quickly stepped into the balcony and carefully shut the door behind him. He settled in the corner, where he wouldn’t be easily seen from the doorway. The lights weren’t on but Xander had a small flashlight in the bottom of his backpack. With a last paranoid glance around he opened the book. He hadn’t noticed when he paged through it before but there was a slight blue shimmer to the paper. Almost like a bit of glitter had been pressed into the pulp when it was made. Pretty.
Xander ran his finger down the index skimming over the spell titles until he found one that sounded familiar. Master’s Keeper ... page 103. He flipped to the indicated page.
Master’s Keeper
Vampires are deadly creatures and the accepted, even encouraged, response to their threat is to destroy them. But sometimes that outcome is undesirable or unattainable. Left with this dilemma a coven of mages hidden in the cold of Norway set out to find a solution.
After some study and with the aide of a member from a secret society, noted only as the WC in records, they found that vampire’s have an evolved caste system. It is organized into Clans and then into levels based on intelligence, competence, strength and age.
The top rank in these Clans are Masters; they are the most intelligent and powerful, and all over one hundred years old. Masters can control through Clan bonds all members of the clan lower in rank then they; even other Masters.
Childer are the favored of Masters and are several steps above Fledges. They start out more powerful and can someday elevate their status to that of Master. There is some speculation that even a Childer’s turning is different then that of a Fledge.
Fledges and Minions, which are the very lowest of vampire ranks, were found to be too animalistic. The demons that inhabits their bodies is too strong and primitive to reason with. They do not have the ability to become Masters and rarely live more then a few decades.
It is because of this that the mages focused their efforts on controlling Masters of the Clans.
The mages exploited their knowledge of the Clan bonds to create Keeper Bonds. Which basically usurp the Clan bonds and allow the caster to control a vampire and those under it, most notably their Childer.
Sadly Keeper bonds are too draining for an average spell-caster to execute. While they might complete the spell the Master vampire’s natural resistance eventually flips the bond making the caster a Slave to the Clan line.
Only one success out of all their trials was documented. A warrior, lover to one of the mages, cast the spell and managed to keep control of the bond. The warrior was described as a Feral, or soul blended. Through training long lost, as it was kept only in the oral tradition and closely guarded, the man had merged his soul with the spirit of his guardian animal.
In the centuries since that first triumph many attempts have been made to duplicate it. None have worked.
-Proceed at your own risk.-
Xander slumped back in his seat, finger tucked into the book so he wouldn’t loose his place. This was sounding a little more complicated then he’d like. He wasn’t exactly head of the class in magic. But something did sound sort of familiar...
Opening the book again Xander reread the passage about the warrior. Joined with his spirit animal? That sounded sort of like what the zoo keeper guy had been trying to do. Except that he hadn’t been trying to merge with a spirit as much as steal strength from an animal.
That was definitely not something he wanted to try on purpose. Something mostly forgotten stirred within Xander’s mind and he shook his head to clear the unwanted thoughts. He dug in his backpack and tucked a spare piece of paper in to the book. He hid the blue book at the bottom of his bag stifling, a yawn as he zipped it up.
Xander decided to set the alarm on his watch and catch a quick nap before trig. His over shirt got bunched up under his head and he kicked his feet up on to the seats in front of him.
“Hey.” The voice poked at him. “H-e-y” The voice whined and poked him again.
“What? What?” Xander pleaded, not happy about being woken up. The brunet looked around and found himself somewhere... unexpected. Xander rubbed his eyes and slowly opened one, then the other. The scenery didn’t change. “Crap.”
Xander was laying in a large bed, with a tall canopy. The deep blue material cascaded to the floor, the wind occasionally fluttered through proving that for all it’s color the fabric was still thin enough to be see-through.
The bed was in the center of a huge wooden pavilion, the pillars and roof were a smooth silvery gray like drift wood. Three heavy cream panels hung from the roof on each side, the cloth filtering the light and keeping the pseudo room cool. Beyond them Xander could see glimpses of a vast expanse of grassland turning golden from the sun.
When you woke up somewhere other than where you went to sleep it never meant anything good. Xander sat up and peeked under the sheet, he was wearing the same tank and boxers he put on that morning. That was good at least - even if he was missing the rest of his clothes.
“Hey!” The voice called again, sounding exasperated.
Xander whipped his head around toward the voice. Sitting on the other side of the bed was a massive hyena where Xander was certain there hadn’t been one just a moment before.
“Ack!” Xander exclaimed and scooted further up the bed until his back hit the headboard.
“Not Ack, Mave.” The hyena replied. Xander continued to stare at her mouth moving but not speaking. “Xan-Boy? What is wrong?” She leaned closer to him trying to figure out what was wrong with her human.
“Wher- Wha- You... talk?” Xander stammered clutching the sheet and wishing he had a weapon. The hyena giggled.
-TBC...?-
Written for windles_orbit Love With It’s Back Turned Fest - the theme is the quote: “Hate is a force of attraction. Hate is only love with it’s back turned.” - Terry Pratchett
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