Nigel Donovan was not a happy Watcher. Once upon a time, he'd been an assistant field Watcher in York, and had helped Senior Watcher Clarice Fitzgerald train the Slayer Emily Granger. He'd dealt with the more physical aspects of combat, leaving the more scholarly aspects to Madame Fitzgerald, a brilliant woman well into her seventies by the time Slayer Granger had been Called. After the death of Slayer Granger battling a pack of demon enhanced vampires intent on resurrecting the demon-sorcerer Mordred and destroying Britain, he had been brought to London, to assist with translations in the main headquarters. That had led to him becoming a major point of communications with Watchers out in the field. Now, almost forty years later, most of the American reports passed through his hands before going to the true powers of the Council.

He didn't have good news to pass on to his superiors. In fact, the news was quite bad. Starting from the earliest colonies, there were rumors that implied the presence of an Elder vampire, of the old Greek bloodlines, possibly even the Ancient Kakistos from the Boston area. It had been one of the things that the local field Watchers had been asked to investigate. There were also troubling reports of increased demonic activity. There had been a pack of Maerrocholiths that had slaughtered a group of hikers in Maine. A clan of Fyarls had lost their leader, and the resulting battles for dominance had spilled over, upsetting the balances of power through New Jersey, spoiling several shipments of merchandise used by the East Coast demon underground and starting several vicious conflicts among the demon Mafia. There had been trolls spotted in West Virginia, as well as reports of either some sort of demon turtle or spell warped beast devouring sheep. A Watcher in Brooklyn had reported a sighting that may have been William the Bloody, but had vanished before confirming or debunking that allegation. Something was causing alligators along the Alabama border to grow to remarkable size, and there had been an increased number of disappearances. Demonic car races through the Midwest. Kelpies being entered in the bloody American jumping events. Cursed cattle devouring farm hands in Texas. To top things off, the Watchers in California had lost the Slayer.

No, she wasn't dead. They'd have known if another had been Called. But the girl's parents had divorced, the mother had retained custody of the Slayer and a younger child, they'd gone to the Los Angeles Airport, and… And nobody had any clue where she was now. Not in Los Angeles. Not in Sunnydale, over the Hellmouth, as the Watchers had intended.

God alone knew where the Slayer was, because the Council didn't. And he was the one who had to tell the most senior members of the Council that they'd lost the Slayer. God help him.

********

Buffy arrived at the mansion after school, dropping her bag of books with a loud thump that once again made Joyce cringe for the floor and the spines of the poor textbooks inside. Her outfit had experienced a few adjustments since this morning, things that Joyce assumed were to fit some current teen fashion or other.

But she had more important things to worry about than teen fashions. "Buffy? Do you remember that you mentioned the man in the tweed suit?"

"The creepy stalker guy with zero fashion sense? Yeah," Buffy wrinkled her nose and dragged her fingers through her hair. "What about him?"

"I mentioned him to Emma, and she…" Joyce sighed, a half smile forming as she remembered that conversation. "Having scads of money means that while you and I said 'but why would someone be following you?' Emma hired a private investigator to find out. It sounded like the man was completely insane."

"Insane how? I'm sure they didn't just say 'wow, he's got horrible taste in clothes, he's a fruitcake', so what's the what?" Buffy moved towards one of the pale chairs, not looking directly at her mother.

"Apparently he was going on about monsters and demons," Joyce shook her head, once more chilled by the man's ravings. "Monsters that had to be fought by some sort of mystically chosen warrior."

"Chosen?" Buffy's voice was flat, and she jumped to her feet, shifting her weight as her hands twisted about each other. "Chosen how?"

"Some strange bit about one girl in all the world, chosen to fight alone against monsters and vampires." Joyce shook her head, and then saw the stricken look on Buffy's face.

"No… you weren't supposed to know. He said it would only cause problems…" the whisper dragged from Buffy's lips, her face paler than Joyce had ever seen her daughter.

She barely managed to catch Buffy when her daughter collapsed.

This wasn't at all what she'd expected. She'd expected revulsion at the idea of the man following and taking pictures, and she hadn't even mentioned that before Buffy's rather drastic reaction. She'd expected derision and perhaps fear at the talk of monsters and chosen warriors. The whole short lives and sudden painful death outraged her, and she could only expect that it would do something similar to Buffy. But she hadn't expected her daughter to collapse.

"I don't think this is the shock of someone hearing those ravings for the first time," Emma spoke from the doorway.

Joyce only shook her head, draping her daughter in the chair and for once thankful that there was so little of Buffy. "She said I wasn't supposed to know, and that someone had said it would cause problems… I just don't know who was saying those things or why."

"This will be a very interesting chat with your daughter," Emma mused.

End part 18.

"Let go, you don't have to carry me…" Buffy's words were full of the same stubborn independence that her daughter showed so much of the time, but they were much softer than normal.

Tucking Buffy into the chair and tucking an afghan around her, Joyce decided that it was more of a token protest than any serious claim to strength. Maybe Buffy had fainted, maybe she'd just gone limp from the shock, it didn't make that much of a difference. "Who told you that I didn't need to know, and just what was supposed to be kept from me?"

"Mom…" Buffy shook her head, and sighed, shoulders drooping and eyes focusing somewhere between her left knee and the arm of the chair. "There's nothing you can do about it, so just… don't worry."

"That isn't going to work, young lady." Joyce gave a semi-glare towards her daughter. "You look horribly upset, and if someone's trying to take pictures of you in the school locker rooms, you had best believe that I'm going to worry about it!"

"Both of us," Emma insisted. "Granted, I'm not your mother, but it is my school, and nobody is supposed to be taking pictures near the locker rooms. The only time at all involved a police investigation and quite a few forms being filled out, as well as the person being photographed being aware that pictures were taken. Someone sneaking pictures when you don't know is quite a separate matter. Some of the relevant terms are stalking, sexual harassment, and underage."

"Eeww," Buffy made a face, and shuddered. "It's not supposed to be like that."

Joyce just raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. Trying to put as much suspicion and doubt into the word as she could, she said "Really?"

"No, it's supposed to be… Wait, what do you mean, the locker room? What about the beach? Does that mean my room here too?" Buffy's expression was horrified. Almost as horrified as Joyce had felt.

"Do you really want an answer to that, Buffy?" Emma moved closer, moving to stand beside Joyce.

"There really are monsters out there. Demons and vampires. Probably even magic," Buffy shook her head, "And they're nasty. Not spiffy and sexy like Anne Rice wrote about, but evil and nasty and torture you before killing you and kick puppies sort of evil."

"Are you sure that you aren't seeing mutants and assuming a darker explanation?" Emma's words were low, urgent and filled with tension.

"I've seen the vampires claw their way out of their graves. That's not mixing up a mutant. Beyond that…" Buffy shrugged, "If it looks like they're trying to eat someone, I don't ask, I just assume that they're trouble."

"Why you?" Joyce asked, fighting the urge to send Buffy far away, somewhere that would have no vampires, no demons, and maybe no teenage boys while she was at it… "Why not train soldiers or hunters to deal with these monsters? Why send a California cheerleader out to find demons?"

"Because destiny sucks."

"No. You can't go fight monsters," Joyce shook her head, making an effort not to scream or wail. "You're only fifteen, you aren't old enough. Tell them to find someone else. Someone with training, someone who has weapons…"

"Mom, it doesn't work like that. Do you think I wanted this?" Buffy was shaking her head.

"If they have the resources to follow you like this, why don't they fight the vampires themselves?" Emma had a tiny frown, one that didn't pull at her forehead.

"They have resources, they can find another way to fight demons. A way that doesn't include you," Joyce blinked, her vision blurring as she looked at her daughter. "I've seen the bloodstains on your clothing, seen you hiding bruises. It's not safe for you and you can't keep doing it."

"I don't want to do this! I hate this, and if there was any way to give it up, I would!" Buffy wasn't quite shouting. "I don't want to fight monsters, I don't want creepy guys following me. I want to worry about clothes and parties and finding a decent guy! I want to watch movies and complain about horribly mean teachers. I want to be able to get a pair of Jimmy Choo heels without worrying that I'll ruin them with demon slime."

"Then stop," Emma countered.

"I can't stop!" Buffy was shouting now, tears streaming down her face. "Someone else was the Slayer and she died and now it's my job! The only way to stop being the Slayer is to die! I don't want to die, and now it's gonna happen soon and it's gonna be something horrible and painful! There's no way out of this!"

Joyce fought for breath as Buffy stomped out of the room, pushing past them both. She could hear her tiny daughter stomping up the stairs, hear the door slamming to her bedroom.

All Joyce could do was cry, leaning against Emma. That hadn't gone at all the way she wanted. She desperately hoped that her daughter was wrong, that those strange stalker people had lied about there being no way to quit this Slayer thing. Because she didn't want her daughter to die either.

End part 19.