Fourteen hours sleep, a decent meal and expertly applied strapping later, Faith wasn’t what she would call healed, but she was certainly well enough to venture downstairs to share her adventures with the rest of the gang. From the sounds of the clues they’d let drop the previous day the sharing would be far from one sided. They gathered in the lobby, the coffee maker once again percolating away on the counter, chairs scattered around, much as they had been when she’d first arrived at Angel Investigations.
Oh, but how much had changed. The young warrior she’d grown to grudgingly respect during her short tenure with them was gone, ripped away by the lawyer’s cruelty. And as a result Cordelia was dead and her old Watcher had retreated to England in an attempt to rebuild his life, hopefully well away from the clutches of the Council that had spawned him. The new seer was also absent, something she already knew and Faith was hoping that that would make it easier for the others to believe her when she passed on what little concrete knowledge she had.
All caffeined up they sat in a semi-circle, the Scoobies and the Fang gang, alternating between shuffling their feet uncomfortably in her presence and shooting small reassuring smiles in her direction. Such a bundle of internal tensions and contradictions, this little band of friends. Was there a single one of them that didn’t deserve the label murderer?
"Okay, let’s get this engine revvin’. Buffy, I hate to do this to you, girl, but the Council’s not just after your ex-honey, they’re out for us too."
Way to open the debate, Faith. Dump the lot in their laps and watch them deal. And, surprisingly, deal they did. Like a gas pumped into a well-oiled machine the information was ingested and slotted into what they already knew. Suggestions were made about what could possibly be going on, each one met with respect and consideration whoever offered it, with never a hint of disbelief. It was balm to Faith’s soul, that they accepted her at her word so readily. She’d expected that from the AI gang, after all she’d worked with them on and off for several months but not from the Scoobies.
Here was Buffy, the woman whose body and existence she’d stolen. Xander whose life she’d almost taken. Willow, best friend of both and never renowned for letting grudges lie. And finally Dawn, whom she may have helped rescue, but who Faith knew wasn’t exactly the forgiving sort. Taken together it was something of a shock that they hadn’t thrown her back out of the door and let the Council take her.
"Err…Guys?!"
Only the slightest of fluxes in the magical ether alerted Willow to the incoming attack allowing the Witch to throw an emergency barrier up around her friends as the windows, doors and atrium roof imploded. Although temporary its density slowed the fast moving lethal shrapnel, saving everyone from the worst of the hail of glass shards that deluged the lobby. Instinctively everyone hit the ground, Angel crouching over the more vulnerable humans in an attempt to protect them and the second the immediate danger was passed the vampire sprang into action flanked by Buffy and Faith, the latter still moving awkwardly on her damaged leg.
From outside the hotel came the distinct sound of human voices and footsteps, but mixed amongst them was the distinct shushunk of automatic weapons loading. That, as the Scoobies would say, was not of the good. A normal gun would do little to permanently damage a vampire, but bullets fired at the rate of an automatic could decapitate as efficiently as a sword, not to mention the potential for harm to the humans and slayers.
"Willow!" Angel turned towards the one person who could fight this far from empty threat only to see her already struggling against a more personalised assault.
Coruscating power sprung from the Witch’s fingers as her eyes, darkened with magics, registered the attack that enclosed her in an occult barrier effectively cutting her off and isolating her from the others.
The shapes of approximately twenty armed humans filled the recently denuded exits and Angel recognised tazers and flame-throwers liberally scattered amongst the guns.
From behind the offensive line came a voice, dripping in malice, and stating. "Ensure the slayers are neutralised. Take the vampire and the witch if possible. The others are expendable."
With a screech Willow immediately upped the wattage on her power, pushing every ounce of herself against the unnatural barrier, creating bruised purple contusions of damage. Seconds later it collapsed and the moment it did, Willow’s magic flooded out connecting to each and every one of their attackers in a manner reminiscent of the Judge. The air filled with the stench of ozone and slowly cooking flesh as the intruders jerked and quivered entrapped by the spider web of power.
"Wills, stop! You’re going to kill them."
Having recovered from the initial shock of the invasion, Xander threw himself at his friend trusting that his presence would bring the Witch out from her dangerous immersion in dark magics and that she wouldn’t simply include him in her spell. The tactic worked, the power shutting off as if someone had flipped a switch and Willow collapsed against Xander’s chest panting rapidly from her exertions. Fortunately she had bought them a little time, although the groans from the intruders indicated that it probably wasn’t as much as they would have liked. This wasn’t a face-off the white hats were going to win.
***
"For god’s sake sit down, man. Wearing a hole in the carpet isn’t going to help."
"And neither is drinking. Face it, Giles, something’s happened. They should have checked in by now."
"Yes, well, I don’t think there is any doubt about that but we having bigger things to worry about."
That stopped Wesley in his tracks and he turned to the other Watcher who was leaning against his bedroom door from where he’d been making a call, aghast that anything could be more important. "What?"
"I just checked my bank balance before paying the hotel bill, and it’s gone."
"The money?"
"The account. The bank has no record of ever having held an account in my name, nor do the credit card companies. I also rang the DVLC and the passport office, and neither have a Rupert Giles on their records. In short, I appear to have disappeared."
"What?"
Giles tossed the cordless phone across the room to his flabbergasted companion. "I suggest you call too, while I reckon up our cash reserves to see if we can afford to check out."
***
"Get some pressure on it! Red, where the fuck are you?"
"Here. Here. Coming through… Oh. Oh no."
"Wills?!" The witch’s head snapped back and forth as Xander shook her soundly. "Not a good time for panic. Fred needs you. Now."
"I - I…" There was blood drenching the side of Fred’s white blouse from the bullet wound in her shoulder. Dripping and pooling on to the floor beneath her.
"Now, Willow! Or she’s gonna die."
"Oh - oh god. Okay. Deep breaths. I can do this. I can do this." She looked up at Xander, her eyes desperate for reassurance. "I can do this, can’t I?"
"Sure you can. You’re can-do Willow. Bestest field medic this side of - of … somewhere medical. Oo, I know. MASH. You’re Hotlips Houlihan."
As Willow bent to her task, she muttered, "Can’t I be Hawkeye? He was a better doctor. Plus he got the girls."
***
"We’re sitting ducks. Sooner or later that guard is gonna be missed and then they’re gonna come looking for us. Is that what you want?"
"No. Of course it’s not what I want." Marlowe growled out, already regretting his impulsive actions. Yes, it was good to have company but this one he could do without. As second eldest and trained soldier, Cullum was assuming command and the others were doing nothing to stop him.
"I say we take the centre. Tomorrow’s Saturday and next week it’s Easter. That gives us a ten-day window of opportunity with not a lot of coming and going. Skeleton staff only. We get them down to the pens, lock down the security and phone systems and Bob’s yer Uncle. Food and facilities till we work out how to take the rest of ‘em down."
Cullum stopped pacing and glanced around his assembled sibs. A pitiful bunch but it was all he had to work with.
"Lara can infiltrate security. Frank, Chris. Go with her. Set up some sort of emergency in high security. Then gas them. Tahir? You and Nick hit the zoo. I want minions. Tell them they’re either with us or dust."
"Martin?" Cullum’s yellow eyes snapped round to the older woman in the corner. Beryl. No threat. He nodded, giving her permission to continue.
"I really think we should be listening to Francis. After all he is the eldest and in the absence of our sire he should be in charge."
There was a general mutter of agreement from the sibs and Cullum grinned and turned to Marlowe. "How ‘bout it, Francis?" He sneered out the name. "Think you’re up for a spot of leadership? Ready to pick up the reins, wear the crown?"
Marlowe fought back his rage. There was no way he could take Cullum in a fistfight, the vampire was highly skilled in unarmed combat. To make this work he needed to find another way and he just might have thought of it.
He smiled, met Cullum’s eyes and said, "You know, I think perhaps I am. I like the plan. You organise the foot troops, I have something important to take care of."
***
Buffy’s expression was determined as she glanced up from Fred’s semiconscious form at her friends leaning and sitting around the small room in varying degrees of shock and anger. "Faith and I are going with you. To England."
"But-but the vision…?" The witch’s eyes were round and scared. She had never come up against magic users like those the Council had pitted against her and it had been more good fortune than skill that she hadn’t accidentally killed anyone, up to and including her friends. And then with the whole ‘saving Fred’s life’. There was a huge pressure thing going and she hated being Buffy’s big gun.
"No. I don’t give a damn what the bleached freak said. This time they’ve gone too far, it’s got personal. The Council is trying to kill us and I’m not going to sit back and let them play at shooting ducks with my friends."
The attack had taken them all by surprise and up against well-armed humans there was little they could do except run when Willow bought them a little breathing space. They’d taken to the sewers with Angel bringing up the rear to pick off any Watchers that came too close, but even that hadn’t been enough to prevent Fred getting hit by a stray bullet.
After running for what felt like hours they had finally lost their pursuers and found refuge in Merl’s old lair. And now they were stuck. All their papers - visas, passports, tickets - everything they needed for travel were back at the hotel, they had the clothes on their backs, the Watcher’s Council on their heels and nothing else.
When Willow started to vacillate again, Xander intervened. "She’s right, Wills. Where’s she gonna go? Back to Sunnydale? That’s the first place the Council will look. We need to stick together, get to England and take these bastards down."
"Yeah, right. And how’re we gonna do that? I dunno about you guys but being Bond’s mobile infantry ain’t in my job description. Killing vamps. That I get. These Council guys are somethin’ else. Human for one and I never signed up to become a murderer. Makes us no better than them. And I seen enough of that to last me a whole damned lifetime."
Fred reached out and rubbed calming strokes up and down her lover’s arm but his words still snapped out, and it was only her presence than was stopping him from taking off. There was no doubting the vampire hunter’s bravery, but Buffy could see that terrible indecisiveness that had curtailed her actions when faced with a purely human evil, like the Trio and Ben and even… now there was a thought.
"I need to get to a telephone, or better, an Internet café?"
Willow frowned. "Umm… Korea-Town… Cyberbuzz, I think it’s called. Three, four blocks away. Why?"
"Come with me." Buffy stood and again shot a look round the room at the others, letting her gaze linger on Gunn. "Stay here. Wait for Angel. If anyone comes…" She paused, her eyes this time meeting Dawn’s and it seemed to steel her resolve. "Do whatever you have to do." With that, she and Willow turned and left.
**
"Buffy, I’m not saying I won’t, I’m just saying… what you’re asking for isn’t easy."
Suppressing the urge to growl down the telephone, Buffy retorted, "This from Agent Finn, all black-ops and demon hunting. Come on Riley," Her voice dropped a little, wheedling, "Eight people to England, how hard can it be? It’s not like I’m asking you to desert…"
"No, you did that already. Look, I’m not making any promises. Give me five, six hours and I’ll call you back."
"Thanks Riley…um, before you go. Just one little thing."
"What?"
"Can you make it a night trip?"
There was an aching silence from the other end of the telephone and then Riley replied, disgust underlying his voice, saying exactly what she’d dreaded.
"You’re taking him?"
"No, we’re rescuing him." She waited for the news to sink in, squashed the pain in her gut still resonating from recent revelations, and then dropped the other shoe. "And I’m taking Angel."
***
Ramirez jerked his head towards the door indicating that one of his assistants should go investigate the disturbance in the outer room. He was past the first crucial stage of the operation, having successfully retrieved the chip, undamaged, from the vampire’s brain and was now moving on to the second, the one he’d suggested when the board had expressed their doubts about the chip. There were no guarantees that extracting a portion of the thalamus would reduce a vampire’s aggression, it wasn’t something he had tried with this particular species but it had worked on other demons so it was worth a shot. The board wanted their sire to able to perform and Ramirez was ninety-nine percent certain that would still be the case even if the worst case scenario dictated that the creature was left virtually a vegetable in all other respects.
**
As Douglas dropped lifeless from his hands, Marlowe snarled in frustration. The idiot hadn’t needed to die, nor had the others. In fact, he had come here to talk not fight. But they wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let him see the doctor and had finally, foolishly, attacked him. Still, now the way was clear. No one stood between him and Ramirez, or between him and his sire, except a few technicians. Peering through the glass, Marlowe spotted one of them heading towards the door and prepared to dispatch the human without further ado, negotiating was rapidly losing its appeal. Then he would make his decision, using the soul he had been gifted with to inform his next move - whether to deny his demon and stake the soul-less creature that had made him, or embrace all that he was and all he could be.
***
"Bloody travellers." The yellow beam of his torch illuminated the numberplate of the parked vehicle and PC Glover quickly revised his earlier comment. For this car, with its recent registration and flash design was unlikely to contain the modern day hippies that so plagued his existence. Maybe it was a breakdown and the owner had failed to notify the police, or perhaps a suicide, not an unheard of occurrence in these lonely hills. As the light swung up the door and his steps brought him closer, the policeman loosened the baton secured in his belt. Nerves from being alone and approaching a totally unexpected scene finally making themselves known. He’d come here tonight to move on travellers, a side trip on his way home after a long and exhausting shift and then only because he’d promised his brother in law he would. The stoic farmer hated his land being invaded and had reported the vehicle two days ago.
Two figures were visible inside huddled under sleeping bags, two men - so probably not a suicide unless it was a lover’s tryst - and he banged on the window. They both stirred; raising sleep rumpled heads to peer at him through the darkness, blinking against the bright light he carried.
"Evenin’, gentlemen." That got them moving and the older of the two reached over and cracked open the door.
"Good evening, officer. How may we help you?" The accent was southern and posher than he’d expected and again Glover had to reassess what he was facing.
He decided to go for advice rather than confrontation. Maybe this wasn’t the right car after all. "I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to move." The torch sought out the lay-by sign and its instruction that camping was forbidden. With a tired nod of acquiescence from the elder, the two men started to rummage around, flicking on the courtesy light, rolling up their sleeping bags and moving suitcases and what looked like a box of books from front to back, clearing the driver’s seat. The policeman stood back, allowing them their space until they were ready to leave, then stepped forward again to offer what help he could.
"Head back to Richmond and take the B6270, there’s a campsite there. Pretty empty this time of year." The driver smiled and nodded his thanks, and Glover returned to his vehicle as the other car roared into life and pulled away into the night. Strange the sort of people that ended up sleeping in their cars these days.
***
There was precious little comfort to be found in the demon’s lair, the air was rank with mould and sewage smells and a distinct damp chill penetrated the warmest clothing. Even with their new supplies and emergency rations the two-day wait for Riley to organise transport was not going to be pleasant. From his sleeping bag on the floor Xander eavesdropped on Angel and Faith, the first pair to stand watch that night, as they chatted about the things that had happened since they’d seen each other last.
After a while the conversation dried up to be replaced by an uncomfortable silence. Eventually Faith grumbled something softly and Xander was surprised by the sudden look of shock and pain that flitted across the vampire’s face before he answered slightly more loudly.
"I don’t know. I didn’t see."
"I did." An equally quiet voice called out from nearby and Xander watched as Willow crawled from her sleeping space to join the two guards.
"Something hit her just before the attack started. Some sort of spell… maybe an exorcism or something like that. It was powerful, whatever it was. Angel, I wasn’t going to say anything, but I think we may have to face the fact that Cordy’s gone. This time for good."
***
Spike raised a hand cautiously to his face. No blindfold. Not that he’d expected to find one, just hoped, being as how his eyes were open and he couldn’t see a damn thing. He groaned. Why him? He tried to be a good demon - or evil if that was what was required - and every time life kicked him in the ass. Someone, somewhere seemed to get a perverse amount of pleasure out of making his existence as difficult as possible.
"Sir? You’re awake?"
The voice came from a little way off to the left and Spike orientated towards the sound, tasting the air to identify the speaker.
"Marlowe?"
"You remember me." The smile on the other vampire’s face was clearly audible in his voice.
"Of course. Right tasty you were. How’s it working out for you? Being dead?"
"Rather good, actually. I… well, I turned my girlfriend a couple of nights ago and she’s even sexier now. Though I think the leather might get somewhat annoying."
"Turned your girlfriend?" This was exactly what Spike had been afraid of, not that the Council wankers would have listened to him even if he had tried to explain. "So, she all souled up or what?"
"No." Marlowe’s voice came from slightly closer and Spike mentally berated himself for not staying aware of exactly where the other vampire was. "It’s not necessary you know. A demon of my strength can easily control her."
Yeah, right up to the point when she takes matters into her own hands, so to speak, Spike reflected mournfully, fully aware of the latent powers residing in even the most innocuous fledgling. Was this what his vision had seen? It had certainly been bloody; full of dismembered bodies and drained corpses. It was just that he hadn’t been able to see who the perpetrators were and if it was him and his own childer - that did make a sort of sense. Ye gods, what a mess.
The sound of a chair pulling out alerted Spike to even closer contact with his eldest, so when the bed dipped under the other vampire’s weight he was at least expecting it.
"I think the others are considering doing the same thing, preparatory to taking over the rest of the Council. They’ll be useful as foot troops if nothing else. But, and I hope you don’t mind, sir, I suggested they should wait until you’d had a chance to assess our plan. After all, you have so much more experience than any of us and as our Sire it is only right that you lead us into the final battle."
"Riight." What a god-awful fucking mess. Spike tried to get his head round what Marlowe had said, with limited success. He’d just woken up in an unfamiliar bed, as blind as a bat and been told that he was heading up what would likely turn out to be the next apocalypse - the self same one he’d seen in a vision. Unlife was sometimes a very strange place to be.
And this was certainly no time to panic. He needed a chance to think; time to try and plan a way out of this debacle that didn’t end up with all the Watchers dead and the end of the world scheduled for a fortnights time.
"Do you wish to feed, sir? I can have someone brought for you."
"No!" And that wasn’t panicking? Try again and this time without sounding like a nonce. Spike knew that the last thing he needed right now was more human blood. The last week or so were nothing more than a bloodlust haze and after so many years in control of his demon it had been damned strange, like yelling at yourself from the other end of a tunnel and discovering that you wouldn’t listen. A small involuntary shudder ran through his body. No, no more human blood straight from the source for this vamp. He needed to stay well in control.
"No. Thanks, mate. I’m good. Just need to catch forty winks, you know. Umm…tell you what. How about you let me get a bit of shuteye and then we’ll get together and go through that plan. Let you have the benefit of my years of experience, yeah?"
"Absolutely, sir. I should have realised." The weight left the bed and footsteps headed away. "If you need anything, just call. There are two minions stationed outside the door."
As the door clicked closed, Spike let out a sigh of relief and relaxed back into the pillows. Now he had some privacy it was time to think through what the hell he was going to do.
***
"Rupert Giles?" The Watcher almost swallowed his tongue when the sharp tap on the car window was accompanied by his name rasped out from a lip-less demonic mouth.
"Erm… Yes?" He called back, not planning on opening the window. There was, after all, no point in giving the creature an easy meal.
The demon simply nodded and continued, his rumbling voice easily penetrating into the recesses of the vehicle.
"I have a message for you, from Angelus."
"You have? That’s - that’s bloody marvellous." Giles sat up, still not opening the door but listening carefully to what the demon was saying. This was the best piece of news they’d had for a week, ever since the Council had wiped his and Wesley’s identities from every official database in the country.
"He says to meet him at Leeming on the morn and to bring supplies."
Message delivered, the creature vanished into the night leaving Giles scrubbing his hands over his face to fully wake up and considering the information. If the gang were arriving in daylight they would need a van, or at least blankets, plus a place to stay and it was up to him and Wesley to get everything ready. The Watcher didn’t bother to wonder how the demon had found him to deliver Angel’s message, in his experience there were some things best not known.
"Wesley!" The body in the sleeping bag on the back seat shifted slightly and made an incoherent grunt. "Get moving. We’ve got things to do."
***
Spike listened to the presentation with increasing incredulity and not a little gratitude. Within thirty seconds it had become abundantly clear that this motley band of vampires had even fewer skills than Harmony when it came to world domination. It was shameful, really, that he was reduced to such company. However, since their learning he was blind would almost certainly lead to being staked, Spike had no real choice but to play along and hope that the others arrived soon to help him out.
"So the plan, such as it is, is to make as many minions as you can, travel en masse to London and challenge the Watcher’s Council head on." Spike shook his head is despair. Obviously this was why Dru never let him Sire anyone, he made stupid vampires. "Marlowe, what the hell were you before I turned you?"
"Human, sir."
"Yes. I noticed that much. I meant what was your job? Watcher, right?"
"Not strictly speaking, sir. Actually I was a fitness instructor. In charge of maintaining the highest levels of health in all Council members." The last was said with more than a touch of pride.
A fitness instructor? His right hand man was a PE teacher? Could this get any worse? "And the others?"
"The others?"
Spike blinked slowly and turned his head, appearing to cast his eyes over the assembled throng. He may not be able to see the other vampires crowded into the office but he could smell and hear them. "This other lot I turned. What did they do?"
"Oh, well I had a little icebreaker worked out…" At Spike’s sub-sonic growl Marlowe paused, swallowed nervously, then continued in a rush. "But under the circumstances, how about I just let them introduce themselves."
One by one the vampires stood up, giving their name and previous occupation, and, after Spike demanded it of the first, they all approached him and offered fealty. Although this type of ritual would typically have annoyed him, it gave the new master an ideal opportunity to connect names with voices and scents, all of which he desperately needed if he was to successfully continue this charade.
"Simone Kuhn, linguist. Specialising in both human and demonic languages." Tart and berry flavoured, sweet as the dewberry body spray she wore.
"Frank Raimes, marshal arts expert. Theory, rather than practical. I was to be allocated to a SIT." Stale sweat and patchouli, how delightful. Someone hadn’t washed his clothes since being turned.
"Tahir Zaman, demonologist." Jesus shit, was that betel? There would be no mistaking this one. That smell would mark him out in a crowd half a mile away.
"Nick Shannon, demon whisperer. Sounds weird, I know but I… like, concentrate on the non-sentient ones, try and talk them round, do the Robert Redford thing on them." And in complete contrast this one smelled of virtually nothing, not that’s him anyway. His voice on the other hand. Dark and deep like a decent port.
"Lara Croft, weapons specialist. Please no jokes about the name. I am the original and the best." Not to mention an absolute firecracker. Sex and sulphur, a heady combination.
"Silver Beechwood, magic user. I much prefer that to witch, don’t you think. Witch seems so… judgmental these days. Not to mention sexist." Guess whose parents were tepee people. Silver Beechwood?
"Chris Thompson, mechanic and engineer. You break it, I fix it. Good with comms too." Earthy voice and motor oil. Wonder if he’s any good with motorcycles?
"Jamie MacDonald, medical professional. If the breaks are bones then it’s me who does the fixing." A Scottish doctor, the originality just kept on coming.
"Beryl Dobson, comparative anthropologist. The main focus of my studies is demonic social structures, following the English structuralist tradition of course. So much more useful when considering non-human societies than the American, don’t you think?"
"Err… maybe. Not exactly what I’d call a strong point, love. I just tend to employ them or kill them. Not a lot of space for comparative whatsits."
"Oh, but you’re missing so much. Look at us here. Our new family. Without my input we’d all be fighting each other but I told them, that’s not the way vampires do things. There’s a strict age hierarchy. The elders are due respect and deference and by golly that’s the way we should do it."
It was all Spike could do not to gape at her. How had this woman managed to qualify in anything?
The next fledge was something of a departure and made his introduction succinctly and without approaching too closely.
"Martin Cullum, interrogator." Controlled, conniving and bloody lethal. This one bore close watching.
"Ruth Thomas, stenographer. I was to record all field activities for the Council records." A glorified secretary and a kid to boot.
Spike groaned. It was the A-Team meets the Golgafrinchams.
***
"Okay, showers all round then we’ll meet in the common room and get up to speed." The motley crew pretty much ignored Giles and trudged past him off up the stairs, still wearing the army fatigues Riley had supplied for their journey by troop transport across the Atlantic.
"Buffy? A quick word?"
Wordlessly she returned down the stairs and pushed past him, walking into the deserted TV room and sat sullenly at the communal table, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
"What’s going on?" She shrugged and continued to stare. "Buffy, why are you and Faith here? I explicitly said that…"
"Are you working with them?" So, so quiet and tinged with despair. Giles sat opposite her and rested his elbows on his knees, trying to peer past the curtain of hair to see her face. She looked as she had the day he’d told her he was leaving for good.
"Working for whom?"
"Them. The Council? Are you working with the Council now?"
Why would him working with the Council bother her so much? "Like I told you, I have been working with them, with Spike, trying to get some information they needed but that ended a couple of weeks ago."
"And now?"
"Now? Let’s see." He ticked off the facts on his fingers. "They’ve tried to erase my identity from every public and private record in the country, including my credit cards, driver’s licence and bank accounts. They foisted Wesley on me and then expected me to spy on him. They’ve also put in the unforgivable position of having to rescue Spike, so I think I can safely say that no, I am no longer working for the Watcher’s Council."
She still didn’t comment or make eye contact despite his attempt to lighten the mood, so he continued more gently, reaching out and taking her hand. "But most importantly, I think they’ve hurt you? What’s happened, Buffy? Why are you and Faith here?"
The silence stretched out for so long that Giles was starting to suspect she still couldn’t bring herself to open up to him. Then, with a shake of her head and a tightening grip on his hand, she looked up; her eyes clear and resolved.
"They attacked Faith in San Diego. Killed her partner…boyfriend. Drove her out of her home. She only just got away. She ran to me. Her first thought, Giles, after everything we’ve done to each other was of my safety and that the Council was probably trying to kill me too. They followed her to LA and invaded the hotel. That time it was all of us they were after - Dawn, Xander, and even Willow. They sent magic users after her. She ran. We all ran. We had to. There were too many of them."
As she spoke, Giles listened with increasing incredulity, not quite able to believe his ears. Granted he knew Travers could be a ruthless bastard - as witnessed by recent bureaucratic shenanigans amongst other things - but to stoop to this in order to regain control of the slayer line. It was beyond contempt.
"Buffy, I’m…"
She waved him quiet, determined to continue though her voice was tight with emotion.
"If it hadn’t been for Riley and Angel, they would have got us too. Riley, he - he organised the transport and Angel had a friend who sorted out some cash, weapons and stuff like clothes. It was awful, Giles. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t fight them. They were human, with guns, and - and then with the magic and it was like them and Willow, all over again." Tears were streaming down her face now, choking off her words as she spoke. "And it made me feel so useless. It was like Mom and Dawn and dying and…" The Watcher suddenly found his arms full of distraught wailing Slayer. "Giles, what use am I if I can’t protect them!"
With a rueful smile Giles held her and stroked her hair. At last she was opening up and sharing her grief with him and although the pain of the last few years must be unbearable it meant that real healing was now possible.
**
A quiet, slightly embarrassed cough interrupted their intense private conversation a few minutes later and both Slayer and Watcher looked up at the vampire lurking in the doorway, freshly showered and once more clad in his customary dark clothing.
"Come on in, Angel. The others should be here soon."
"Actually they won’t." A brief smile shot in Buffy’s direction as Angel found a chair and joined them and she returned it tentatively. They hadn’t had a chance to talk any further about what had happened between them so the atmosphere remained heavy with semi-resolved tension. "I think Wes will be down in a couple but the others are going to grab some sleep. It’s been a heavy few days. I figured we could work something out between us and then bring them up to speed."
Giles nodded. "You’re probably right." Then turned his attention to Buffy. "Do you want to shower or can you wait?"
"Talk now. Shower and sleep later. Private Benjamin still reporting for duty." She smothered a yawn with the back of her hand and stretched languidly, breaking off into a broad grin, her eyes dancing. "So the Council stole all your money. Is that how come we’ve ended up this castle come bunkhouse?"
"Ahh." The room looked incongruous even to Giles’ eyes with its huge open fireplaces juxtaposing the trappings of a Youth Hostel’s communal living area. "Long story. Let’s just say I know a man, who knows a man and leave it at that shall we?"
**
They were chatting and to an outsider would probably look like old friends freshly reunited, though anyone who knew them well would recognise the signs of stress and discomfort etched into their faces and the set of their shoulders. The way Buffy wasn’t meeting Angel’s eyes despite his attempts to engage her and the closed off body language all three were displaying spoke of history unvoiced, dreadful secrets and cruel lies.
"Buffy, Giles, Angel." Wesley nodded to each of them as he reached for a chair, setting it as far from Angel as he could, his eyes skating away from their faces and trying to ignore the aura of extreme tension that had settled on the group like a shroud. He needed to focus on the problems at hand not start into apologies. From the other side of the table a voice broke the silence - here it came and he couldn’t bear to hear it.
"Wes? I…"
Clenching his jaw determinedly, Wesley raised his head, met Angel’s gaze unflinchingly, and interrupted "Don’t, Angel. Just don’t. I stole your son and nearly destroyed your world. I understand what happened between us and I… I forgive you." He added magnanimously.
Angel coughed, trying to hide the small smile that crept onto his lips. "Actually, I was just going to suggest that you filled us in on what the Council wanted with Spike. But thank you, anyway."
**
"No, that’s so not right. He couldn’t have been a Watcher. He said he didn’t know about slayers, not until Angelus told him." Buffy knew there was a whine in her voice but it wasn’t fair. How could bleach, black leather and bad attitude add up to Watcher? It was like finding out Giles had played in a rock band… oh, whoops.
"That’s perfectly understandable, Buffy. William didn’t come from a Watcher’s family so he was probably destined to be a clerk or something equally junior. Such employees wouldn’t have been trusted with information regarding the existence of slayers. Think of it as the garbage collector and a FBI agent. Both work for the government but in such different capacities that neither truly knows about the other."
"I concur. As a second year student there would have been no reason for William to know about the Slayer. Remember Buffy, your existence is supposed to be a highly guarded secret. Your tendency to share your life is extremely unusual for a Slayer."
"So why’d they want him?" Spike, a clerk? Somehow she couldn’t see the hyperactive vampire sitting at a desk all day. The Council really got off easy.
"Ahh. Giles do you want to explain this?"
Presented with little choice, the older Watcher picked up the gauntlet, hoping to impart enough of the story to explain, without leaving he and Wesley open to Angel’s rightful wrath.
"The Council wanted to know whether the memories and personality of a human could survive being turned intact."
There was a snort of laughter from Angel and Giles glared at him.
"What? I just can’t see Spike getting chatty with the Council boys about William. He’s spent years burying that part of his personality. Even now, with his soul, he keeps it well hidden."
"Actually, there was precious little volunteering involved, however that is beside the point. The Council needed the information because they intend to turn several vampires and re-ensoul them so they can work with the Slayer."
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph."
"I take it you disapprove."
An expression between fear and rage ranged across Angel’s face. "They’re not serious. Tell me they’re not serious, Giles. They couldn’t be that stupid."
"It seems like a perfectly feasible plan to me. After all both you and Spike have been fighting for good for several years now, however inadequately."
"Yes, but… Hells. Think about it, Giles. Does a soul automatically make you good? Don’t humans do things that even shock vampires? The only reason Spike and I do what we do is that we’re all too aware of what we could be. Our demons are still there, inside us, telling us we don’t have to be good, that we’re better than the humans around us. The guilt from years of slaughter acts as a barely adequate counterbalance to that. Without it? Giles, they’ll create a line of monsters and let them loose on the world."
***
"But I thought the whole him and her thing was totally over, like a couple of years ago?"
"Well, yeah, except for this."
The three people on the bed froze when Dawn moaned in her sleep and rolled over, pulling the covers over her head. When the young woman made no other signs of waking up they continued, temporarily moving on to the pressing matter of food.
"There’s cheese salad, tuna mayonnaise and egg mayonnaise, plus assorted chips in exceedingly small packets. Ye gods, English food is worse than I ever dreamed."
"Honestly, Xander, what did you expect? I’ll have the tuna, that’s normally pretty good."
Faith grabbed the cheese salad and ripped it open, leaving Xander to try his first egg mayonnaise sandwich.
"Huh, not bad." He mumbled around the first mouthful. "In a ‘made a week ago and left in a machine’ kind of way."
"So B just jumped him?" Faith extracted the tomato from her sandwich and dropped into the wrapper where Xander rescued it. "Guess the sweet innocent thing is past passé."
"Oh boy, you’re righter than right. But she’s had her reasons, you know. When I… After I pulled her out of heaven she was totally screwed up. Like completely. Only we didn’t know it. She started sleeping with Spike and it was this whole thing. Bad, bad, thing. For both of them."
There was the faintest quiver in Willow’s voice. "Tara tried to explain that they were using each other and it took me ages to get it. To understand just how it was. Then he vanished from LA and turned up in Sunnydale again. Buffy swore it was over but then she went and jumped him…"
"More than just jumped, Wills."
Faith frowned in confusion, looking between the two friends. "How so?"
"You remember that time? Between us?"
The Slayer’s confusion cleared and was replaced by horror. "Jeez. What did she do? Ride him and stake him?"
Now Willow was looking confused. "Huh? What do you mean, between you two? What happened between you two?"
"Can’t we move on to the important stuff, already? Like how she got me killed."
"Cordelia!!"
The ghost flinched as excited squeaks filled the air and two humans launched themselves off the bed and fell straight through her.
"Well, it’s good to see some people were paying attention to the whole incorporeal speech."
"You - you’re dead." Willow peered up at her from the floor while trying to extricate herself from under Xander. "Like, really dead. Dead and gone, dead. I saw them do a spell."
"Oh yeah. That was a real doozy. Exorcism par excellance. But what they didn’t get was that I wasn’t haunting the hotel."
"Huh?"
"Come again?"
"Nope. It turns out I’m haunting Angel, so except for getting a bit shaken and stirred I’m a-okay."
"Wow, that’s - that’s, amazing. Does Angel know? He was totally devastated when I told him."
"He’s downstairs, talking to the others. I didn’t want to disturb them." Cordy snuggled down on the end of the bed. "So fill me in. What’s the skinny? Who were the guys with the guns and how come you slayers are here in Merry Olde?"