There was a knock at the door, which surprised him, who knew they were living here? Wesley grabbed a sword from a closet, just in case, and strode towards the door. The knock was repeated, and he looked out the peep hole.
"Spike?" he asked as he opened the door.
"Watcher," the vampire said with a nod.
"Can I help you with something?"
"Other way round, I guess, Anya said you were looking for this," he said and held up a lofty tome on the history of slayers.
Wesley scowled, "We were looking for that yesterday, it seemed to have disappeared form the Magic Box's inventory."
"Just doin' a lil' reading," Spike said with a shrug and peered around him, trying to look in, "So you gonna invite me in or not?"
"And why would I do that?"
Spike held up the book, "You want it or not?"
"Come in, Spike. You do know I'm just going to revoke your invitation once you leave, right?"
The vampire shrugged, shouldered past him and headed into the dining room where Wesley had been working.
"Excuse me," Wesley said, rushing after him, trying to stop him from seeing too much, not that it did him much good. Spike was riffling through things by the time he got to the vampire.
"Can you please leave that be?" Wesley asked, exacerbated. Spike lifted an eyebrow, as if to say, 'do you want to stop me?'
"So what're you and the new slayer doing here? You could be doing research from anywhere. Makes no sense why you gotta do it here."
Wesley snatched the papers Spike had taken out of his hands, "We're here to get the Hellmouth under control and while we do that, we're utilizing the Magic Box's resources. It just made sense to do both at the same time."
"And all the books and junk about slayer prophecies?"
"Leave," Wesley ordered.
"What's special 'bout this slayer? She's good, too good even and too old. Slayers don't get called at her age. Something doesn't add up."
"Leave, now," the Watcher said and stood, his back straight, the sword still in his hand. Spike smirked and looked down at the sword, and back up to meet his eyes.
"You think you could take me, Watcher?"
"I think you have a chip that prevents you from fighting back."
The phone rang, but neither man moved.
"I think you would be surprised at what I could accomplish, even with the chip."
"Are you threatening me?" Wesley asked, his heart racing.
"Course not, I'm a white hat now, or close enough. But if there is something going on, it better not impact Dawn. I will take down anything or anybody who might hurt the 'Bit."
"Get out."
"'course," Spike said, and turned back to the door.
The phone rang again. Whoever it was wasn't going to give up.
"Yes!?"
"Wesley, it's Giles. Is everything all right?"
"Things are fine, just annoying vampires…Giles, what time is it in London? 5 AM? Why are you calling so early?"
"Or so late, I've been following a trail of references to a scroll I found in the Council basement that foretells the end of the slayer line when a former slayer is resurrected."
Wesley sank into the chair like a brick, "Does this mean… no more slayers? Eleanor is the last slayer to be called?"
There was a rustling of papers, "I can't tell, since she… Eleanor... isn't herself... The translation is very loose at this point. The text is, well, frankly, very ancient. There were some reference materials and it's only been half translated… I just don't know."
"This could be… if there are no more slayers…"
"I know… I'll send you what I have and perhaps you can make better sense of it than I. You were always better with languages."
"Should I tell Eleanor?"
"No, not yet. I imagine she has enough to deal with at the moment."
"The meeting did not go well," Wesley confessed.
"I didn't expect it to. Is she handling it?"
"Aside from an overwhelming desire to kill everything on the Hellmouth, yes. Ironic that one normally cautions the young to not use aggression as a means to dealing with problems."
"An unusual situation. Is Anya being helpful in providing texts?"
"Anya is most helpful, I'm going by tomorrow to pick up some additional materials. She does want me to remind you the texts are there to be sold. The Magic Box is not a library."
Giles laughed, "Yes, well… be that as it may… like I said before, this is an unusual situation. Let me know what you make of the texts I send."
"Of course. I'll be in touch."
Wesley took off his glasses to rub at his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well and he didn't like keeping secrets. Last night he wondered if any of Buffy's friends would be able to put two and two together if they knew Eleanor was a former slayer. If Spike's actions tonight told him anything, it would be that vampire who would figure it out.
"So, what did Giles find?" Eleanor asked the next day on their way to the Magic Box.
"He uh, might have found a prophecy about a resurrected slayer, so we want to find out as much as possible so we know what we're dealing with."
"Does that even apply to me then?"
Wesley frowned, "What do you mean?"
The slayer shrugged, "Aren't I reincarnated? Not resurrected? I thought there was a difference."
His jaw fell open and he wrapped his arms around the girl, "Genius! You are quite right! A very big difference! Now, once Giles sends a copy of the prophecy we'll need to verify which it is, because you are right, there is a difference."
Eleanor sighed deeply, "Your reaction tells me that the prophecy is very much not of the good."
"We need to finish translating it, but that means more research!"
"Yay… more research," she deadpanned as they walked into the magic store.
"Welcome!" Anya said cheerfully, but her smile dropped when she saw who it was, "Oh, you two. I set those books you asked for in the backroom, I think Willow is back there."
"Excellent, thank you Anya."
"You should be paying me money for this… like a usage fee. Time and services fee. Something."
"Uh, of course, perhaps you should talk to Giles about that," Wesley said and kept walking, trying to avoid further conversation. They headed into the back where Buffy used to train, where now, from the look of things, they were storing things.
Willow was at the table back there, pouring over books of her own. At the sound of their footsteps, the young witch popped her head up, "What are you doing here?"
"Research," Eleanor says, "What about you?"
"Research as well," Willow said and started shoveling books into her bag, "but if I can help you anyway, let me know."
"That's very kind of you," Wesley said.
"Because the sooner the two of you finish, the sooner you can go."
Wesley frowned and chanced a glance over at Eleanor who seemed to be surprisingly unaffected.
"Yes well, we won't be here much longer."
Willow got up from the table, "I need to get to class, but I can come back to help if you need."
"That would be much appreciated," Wesley said, "I believe we'll be here awhile."
The witch nodded and started for the door, but stopped when she was shoulder to shoulder with Eleanor and whispered something before leaving. Whatever Willow said, Eleanor did not react, she didn't even look at the other girl, but her jaw tensed and Wesley saw her hands become fists.
"Eleanor," Wesley said, walking towards his slayer, "what did Willow say?"
"We don't need you here. We don't want you here."
The Scooby Gang was enjoying their Friday night at the Bronze. It had been awhile since the entire group of them had relaxed together, so when Spike had showed up that night, they'd let him watch Dawn while they went out.
A band was up on stage, and while they weren't great, they weren't too bad either. They were no Dingoes, but…
Willow played with her straw, her drink was mostly ice at this point, but she was hoping one of the others would offer to get a refill for her, but none of them had gotten the hint yet.
"Maybe we should have invited Eleanor," Anya said, "She and Wesley are at the store all the time. It's like having Giles hovering around all over again."
"No," Willow said, "No Eleanor."
Anya sighed loudly, and nudged Xander.
"Maybe she's got a point, Will. I mean, she doesn't seem too bad, it wouldn't hurt to make with the nice."
"Yeah, and what happens if one of you says the wrong thing at the wrong time? What if they're only here to spy on us? Maybe they know what we're trying to do."
"I doubt it," Anya said, "They just seem to be looking up slayer prophecies, and there are literally thousands of those."
"Maybe we should tell them? I mean, it d-didn't work anyway."
"No," Willow said again, annoyed at having to repeat herself, "There's a solar eclipse happening in two weeks, we can try again then."
"Is that a good idea? I mean, we tried once already and even that felt wrong. It just seems like we shouldn't be messing with this stuff and the things that happened last time… maybe the spell not working is actually a good thing," Xander said to Willow, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.
Rage and magic burned in her.
"I agree," Anya piped in, "I've seen the sort of damage that can arise from raising the dead from my time as a vengeance demon."
"Anya," Willow said, and the other girl made eye contact, "We are all tired of hearing about your days as a vengeance demon, don't mention it again." Power surged through her and into the former demon.
"Of course, Willow," she said, her voice flat.
Xander stood, and glared, "Willow, that wasn't-"
Willow pushed the magic at her friend, who seemed to hesitate and falter, then sat back down.
Tara looked at her, alarmed, "Willow, what did you just do? Are you using magic?"
She ran a hand through her girlfriend's hair, "No baby, everything is alright, yeah?"
"Yeah..."
The group was silent then, but at least there was no more talk of Eleanor or telling the Watcher about the spell.
She pushed back from the table, she needed a refill on her drink.
'That was easier than I thought it'd be,' Willow remarked. It was like that time she cast the 'will be done spell', except without all those unintended consequences.
"Coke, please," she asked the bartender, who filled her glass back up.
"That'll be $2," he said.
Willow smiled, "I think it's free."
The man shook his head in confusion, "Uh, yeah, of course."
A man down the bar laughed, "Powerful little girl aren't you?" He was thin with black hair and dark eyes. He was dressed all in black too, but his skin had an unhealthy yellow look to it, like he was sick, or strung out.
"I'd be careful who you call little," she warned.
He handed her a card, "I know where witches like you can get more power. There's a warlock named Rack you should meet."
