The wind stabs harshly at her eyes as she peers down the valley below, a full view of the narrow road that twists and turns angrily all the way to the door of the compound. She has a clear sight of any visitor or enemy approaching from her hidden perch within the right turret of the crumbling old castle. The coldness whips around her with each gust of wind, but she remains coiled in position clutching her crossbow just a little tighter. The sun melting above the horizon brings in a golden glow of a new day but Buffy dreads the unwanted guests that will arrive.

A minuscule glint of light flashes in the distance, enough for her hawk like slayer vision to assess the upcoming situation with accuracy. She fluidly raises the radio to her mouth without her guard stance faltering. "Will, come in" she calmly echoes into the radio. "Oh morning Buff, you coming down for breakfast, we're having pancakes?" the chirpy voice coos back through the static. "Wills, they're here. One large off road vehicle, ETA 17 minutes." "oh, oh affirmative, I-I'll send up Meg to relieve your post." Willow fusses in response.

Buffy scoops up the radio and crossbow and makes her way to the ancient stone stairs that spiral darkly down through the turret, turning back for a last stern glance into the distant road. She agilely moves through the darkness, running her hand gently on the cold damp stone as she makes her way to the bottom. She hears the exit door open and the sound of light chatter as she nears the bottom of the stairs.

Meg was a newer recruit, Xander had found her in a remote valley village in Wales some months before, after reports of a young girl who had fought off a deformed hooligan gang had leaked. She was young, around 18 and pretty, with long dark curly hair and a pale complexion. Her manner was serious but motivated, Buffy had found it difficult to bond with the slayers in Sunnydale, but liked Meg straight away. "Report when they are 5 minutes away, I want to know how many and if you see any weapons on them." Buffy gave the instruction as they passed at the base of the turret stairs, Meg nods as she makes her way to scale the stairs, enthusiastically saluting with a "Yes Boss, no problem, oh and Willow has saved you some pancakes", Buffy breaks a small half smile.

The canteen is bright and slick, a modern industrial addition to the old castle exterior. Overhead strip lights reflect on the silver surfaces and white walls. A number of the slayers bustle busily around the large wooden table in the centre of the room, clearing away dishes and mess. Willow smiles widely at her friend she bobs excitedly towards Buffy with a plate of pancakes raised in offering, she can sense the tenseness in her closest friend but just soothingly rubs her on the arm as she shakes her concern face into a happy smile, forcing the plate into her hands, "Eat, you can't be all hungry grumpy Buffs when they get here, that won't help". Buffy knew not to argue with the endless perkiness that was Willow, so she takes the plate with a grumble sitting alone at the freshly cleared table, the others all filtering back to their duties elsewhere in the castle.

The off road vehicle arrives at the entrance to the compound after being waved through the outer gates. Five agents exit the vehicle every one in a black suit and wearing sunglasses. Buffy waits at the open entrance, still casually holding her crossbow, a cynical sigh accompanied by an eye roll creeps out as she stands there in her jeans and baggy ex-army jacket. The driver waits with the vehicle, Buffy catches a glimpse of a holster in his belt. The other men march up to the welcome party of Buffy, Willow and a few additional slayers on entrance duty that day. The lead agent smiles that all American smile and puts out a strong hand towards the slayer, "Buffy Summers, it is an honour to finally meet you, I am Doug Peterson." Buffy fanes a polite smile and reluctantly leads the men inside.

Buffy sits relaxed in one of the spinny conference room chairs, one leg tucked under her, two of the visiting agents remain standing, sunglasses firmly on, both guarding the door. Doug and another agent sit at the conference table to the side of Buffy and finally remove their glasses.

The talks go on for about an hour, but this was not the first time this nameless government agency has visited the slayer headquarters in Scotland. This is their last effort to try and recruit Buffy and her slayers and she can feel their desperation. They use phrases like "civic duty" and "greater good". Buffy listens again to the sales pitch she has heard from a range of governments, all who have heard about the Sunnydale incident and tried to recruit the slayers in the 4 months since hell mouth was closed for good.

As Peterson finishes he looks to Buffy expectantly with his gleaming smile. Buffy pauses, pulls herself out of the chair with a yawn, "Look, Peterson is it? I will tell you the same as I did on the phone, and as I have to a few important people around the world. We are not fighters…..we are protectors. We have no agenda, no affiliation, no political motivation and we do not work for anybody and never will. If the world needs us, we will be there, but for people, not just YOUR people." Peterson's cheerful mask breaks and the annoyance he feels from being dragged half way across the world is clearly show in the tensing of his clean shaven face. Buffy gestures towards the door "Now I know you came all this way hoping to change my mind, but I was clear that would be a wasted journey. Now please leave us alone."

Willow joins Buffy back in the turret to watch the 4x4 disappear into the distance, they stand side by side unmoving. "Do you think they'll be back Buff?". "Not if they know what's good for them?" Buffy's voice is serious and yet wavers with a hint of worry. Willow lowers her head as the car vanishes over the horizon, tentatively asking "Do you think they knew anything? You know, about the, about the?", "No! They didn't know, but it's getting risky, we need to move on using the doubles and plan how we are going to hide….it". Willow grasps her friends hand and squeezes with reassurance as they both keep facing forward, a single tear escaping from Buffy's eye, feeling cold as ice in the harsh Scottish wind as it silently rolls down her cheek.