Summary: The gang researches a little geneology.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did. Not making any money. Story of my life.
The Scooby Gang and Angel Investigations sat silently around the lobby, awaiting the arrival of the mail. Even the prodigals were present: they had reached Riley in Brazil, and Oz in Portugal. Faith was out on a "weekend furlough" that Willow and Oz had needed to work together to arrange.
Most were scowling. Xander and Riley in particular cast regular death glares at Angel, who sat in a chair as far away from the crowd as he could, looking extremely embarrassed. Only Buffy stopped by occasionally to offer a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The others who would normally do so were either among the glaring-as Cordelia was-or too nervous to do anything, like Willow.
"There has to be a mistake," Riley grumbled again.
"Please, God," Xander agreed.
"I'm afraid there isn't," Giles repeated. "It's perhaps the clearest prophecy I've ever seen: 'And the vampire with a soul shall be the father of the defenders of the Final Days. All but the Soul-Singer, she who writes the world in numbers, the Hater of Men, The Three-lived one who Guards the Gate, and She Who Opens the Way shall be of his line.' It's plain as day, I'm afraid."
"At first we hoped it meant that Angel would sire these defenders after he-er,
Shanshued," Wesley supplied. Then his face darkened. "But then we remembered how Angel spent his mortal life…"
All of the glarers shot another death glance in Angel's direction. If he could have blushed, he would have. As it was, he sank down into the couch.
"But how can it be!" Willow cried. "I'm Jewish, and Mr. Gunn is, well-"
"Black," Gunn finished. "And you can just call me Gunn."
"Oh, come on, Red." Spike scoffed. "Look at yourself in the mirror. How many generations ago did your folks convert? And as for our friend, here, well, there's always a little something in the woodshed."
"I think that was me," Angel said weakly. " I think I actually remember her."
"Shut up!" Riley, Xander, Giles, Wesley, Cordelia, and Gunn all shouted. Buffy and Dawn stifled their giggles. Spike and Faith didn't bother.
"Do you know how unbelievably icky this is going to be if it's true?" Cordelia demanded.
"Not so bad, really," Giles said. "It's been hundreds of years, so I'm sure that the relation is no closer than-"
"Who cares!" Cordelia retorted. "The fact that there's a relation of any kind between me and that is bad enough!" she pointed at Xander.
Xander, caught in the middle of a particularly deadly glare at Angel, was caught off-guard. "What?"
He'd realized that he'd been insulted and was about to retaliate when Fred skipped into the room, holding a large stack of manila envelopes. "They're here!" she chirped.
The Scooby Gang and Angel Investigations attacked like a school of piranha. Yellow paper flew through the air as the envelopes were heedlessly torn open. With each "Oh, No!" and "I don't believe it!" Angel sank deeper into his couch.
In the year 1753, the vampire Angelus had risen from his grave to devour his entire village. Before that, however, he had been a young man named Liam. And Liam had slept with every willing maiden who resided in, or passed through, that village. Many had moved on or been sent away by their families, and weren't present for Angelus's rising. Their children had grown, had children of their own, and the cycle had continued down unto the modern day.
Where every single member of the Scooby Gang and Angel Investigations, minus Buffy, Dawn, Lorne, Fred, and Anya, were his descendants.