Anyone passing by the bedroom reserved for the Mayor that night would have heard muffled cries and rustling sheets. But the Mayor had ordered all his patrolling vampire guards to never come near his sleeping quarters at night, and so no one ever heard a thing.
It was the middle of the eighteenth century again, and Richard Wilkins was merely a powerful magic user with dangerously large ideas, and a particular talent with words.
He was standing there again, in the dark and damp cave system under what would one day become Sunnydale. In front of him stood the imposing figure of Heinrich Joseph Nest, the leader of this particular grouping of vampires. Already calling himself the Master, and with distinctive signs of aging showing.
The Master’s yellow eyes glittered in the darkness as he laughed out loud. The harsh strident tones echoed around the cavern, and caused several of the minor vampires present to look at each other in confusion.
“Very well! We shall have a bargain between us!” roared The Master, still shaking somewhat from his mirth. “You will build a community above us where we can hunt freely and safely, and in return we shall grant you access to the forthcoming Hellmouth.” He gestured towards a bubbling and steaming pit in the cavern floor behind them. There was a notable aura of darkness and evil already evident in the air around it.
“Also,” The Master continued, “The clan will provide you with vampire guards and minions for you as long as you live. Is that satisfactory?”
Richard Wilkins slowly smiled. “Well, gosh darn, I sure didn’t expect such a nice reasonable master vampire to deal with. I’m glad I met such a gentleman. Till tomorrow night then.” Turning to leave the cavern, he stopped still as the vampires present closed in around him at a gesture from the Master.
“What is this, Nest?” he exclaimed, spinning around. “You just now spoke of our having a bargain!”
The Master tilted his head to one side and smiled toothily at Wilkins. One elongated finger stroked the side of his face. “That is true, Wilkins,” he said moving closer, “But we in this clan have a certain way of sealing our deals….”
Two vampires on either side of Richard Wilkins grabbed his arms and held him rigid. From behind him, Wilkins could hear the sound of clothing being divested, and he shuddered. His shirt was ripped from his back and cast to one side. As he was forced to his knees, the now unclothed Master drew still closer and grabbed hold the back of his head.
“And Wilkins? My title is Master….”
And years later, but not that far away, Richard Wilkins woke up thrashing around his bed in a cold sweat.
Rushing to the bathroom immediately, he turned the shower to scalding hot and plunged himself under it. Under its pounding, scorching downpour, he scrubbed himself feverously.
One day, he promised himself, one day he would be whole again.