Disclaimer: I do not own any characters relating to either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Stargate SG-1. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only and does not provide any financial compensation.
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Return To Normal
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Chapter Fourteen
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England was pretty much the way Dawn expected it to be. Old and green and crowded and wet. Surprisingly cool, even by Cleveland standards… at least, springtime Cleveland standards. The food sucked and the beer didn't. When they first entered the country, she had tried to pass off her nervousness as normal tourist confusion while she stood in line to clear customs. Not that long ago Chunnel passengers had been 'prescreened' and did not have to spend several hours having themselves and their baggage searched at both ends. This was no longer the case. Ever since the First had ramped up its campaign to frighten the population through acts of terror, every country in the world had assumed its own border controls. Since Dawn was being blamed for much of that terrorism, she had reason to be concerned. Fortunately their preparations had worked, and Dawn was cleared by a Customs agent who happened to be secretly allied with the Ronin.
Things might have gone rather badly had she not been one of them. Much to her dismay, Dawn Summers had become the most notorious terrorist in the history of the world, causing more death and chaos than had ever been dreamed of by that bin Laden fellow. Backed by her evil minions, she had bombed the Smithsonian, Walter Reed Hospital, Disneyland, and the victors' locker room at the 2009 Superbowl. Vampires under her control had attacked an orphanage in Miami, and a Home For the Mentally Challenged in Rochester. Apparently she also drowned puppies and had funded a secret abortion clinic in South Dakota. Even worse, demons were attacking innocent people in cities again for the first time in years, explicitly claimed they were working for Dawn. Slayers Inc. had jumped in at the last second to save babies from being eaten by her minions on one particularly effective Prime Time broadcast of the 'Slayers To The Rescue!!' 'reality' show.
A tearful 'Buffy' had gone on television and assumed full responsibility for her sister turning into such a monster, and promised she would leave no stone unturned until the girl was brought to justice. When Dawn had tried to tell a reporter that she hadn't been responsible for any of those outrages, a prominent congressman who was also a medical doctor had diagnosed schizophrenia from the muscle twitches around her eyes. When Dawn had mentioned that she was only blinking from the bright camera lights, it was speculated that she was setting herself up for a 'diminished capacity' defense for when her sister finally brought her to justice.
With Slayers Inc. the only organization with any hope of stopping the lunatic from her campaign of terror, 'Buffy's' people were given law-enforcement authority and the power to arrest anyone at any time for any reason. Her slayers had swiftly become a law unto themselves. Thousands of people had been rounded up and locked away in special security zones. Not one of them were Ronin. The few times a Ronin had been caught up in a random sweep, they had soon been released without comment. Even with all her precautions Dawn was uncomfortably aware that the First could destroy her entire group pretty much at will, but they provided such a good excuse for the First's power grab that the last thing it wanted was to actually capture her. If she was inadvertently caught they would almost certainly release her. However a lot of people would likely die during her 'escape,' and Dawn didn't want that on her conscience, so had been glad to clear Customs without incident.
She was in way over her head, and knew it. So far she hadn't made many mistakes, but she hadn't accomplished a whole lot either. Not being present when the real Buffy had showed up six months earlier had been emotionally devastating. The plans her sister had provided were sufficiently detailed to give her an objective, and provided motivation and an emotional lift for the Ronin. But Dawn had really needed some time to just talk to Buffy, to tell her what was really going on, to tell her what to do. The note written in Sumerian had made it pretty clear that there were forces working against her sister as well, so no communications through the Quantum Mirror could be entirely trusted. She couldn't even send a private letter explaining how scared she was, how uncertain she was, how she was making things up as she went along and just hoping against hope that when she inevitably screwed up she didn't get too many of her friends killed. It had always been Buffy who handled these things, and Dawn felt she was just an amateur faking it, a pale shadow of the sister who had effortlessly led her people to victory after victory.
Even knowing it hadn't actually been that way didn't make Dawn feel any better. Suspecting that Buffy had probably been 'faking it' just as much as she was, doing the best she could and hoping she didn't screw up too badly, didn't change the fact that she desperately wanted someone to hold her hand and tell her she was doing good. Xander tried his best, but he didn't really understand, never having been in a similar position. She wanted Buffy, but her sister wasn't available. Which left only one alternative: Giles. Buffy had been pretty adamant about not speaking to Giles, but Dawn needed to talk to someone, and she hoped the new Mind Shields would ensure that the First never learned of her discussions with Giles. So here she was, halfway around the world from the front lines of the battle her forces were waging, accompanied by only two Ronin bodyguards, off to visit her sister's surrogate father so he could hug her, pat her on the head, and tell her that everything would be alright.
Scowling at the thought that she was acting so pathetically immature, Dawn reminded herself that there were other factors involved in her decision to visit Giles. Although nobody had found anything wrong with Buffy's plan, she had lost to the First, she had died, and nobody was absolutely certain they could really trust her. The lack of any viable alternative plan meant their options were pretty limited, but having Buffy's plans assessed by someone who knew her as well as Giles did seemed like a good idea. Especially since it was demonstrably obvious that Giles would not put his love for Buffy ahead of his loyalty to the Watchers. After all, it could be interpreted that he had effectively 'betrayed' her to the First in order to protect whatever he could recover from the destruction of the Watchers Council.
Buffy had told her that she understood why Giles had done so, but Dawn was still pretty bitter about it. From all she had seen of them, the Watchers hadn't been worth a damn, so as far as she was concerned having them bombed out of existence had been no great loss. Giles had also subjected Buffy to the Cruciamentum, despite his own personal opposition to the barbaric exercise. Organizations didn't survive more than a thousand years without building up incredible loyalty among its members, its traditions and practices ingrained to the point where they were accepted despite no logical reason for continuing to do so. In the Western world, only the Catholic Church had lasted longer than the Watchers Council. As the Last Watcher, Dawn suspected that Giles would be more loyal to his lost traditions than to his 'adopted daughter.' But he was also smart, and competent, and had the sort of analytical brain which might see something in Buffy's plan which Dawn had missed.
Not to mention that he possessed all that remained of the Council archives.
So the official reason she was going to see Giles was to let the Last Watcher go over the plan before Dawn committed the Ronin to following it. Her personal reasons for seeing him were more complicated. But really, they boiled down to the fact that she needed to talk to someone, and he was pretty much the only one left. From the reports she knew he had really fallen apart since Dawn herself had abandoned Slayers Inc. Her defection had been the final straw. The issues he'd had with 'Buffy,' and lack of respect from the new slayers hadn't been enough to prevent him from at least trying to ingrain some of the ancient traditions on girls who weren't interested. When Dawn had walked out, it not only meant the loss of his most promising protégé, it had pretty much sealed the fate of the Watchers. Among the others, only Andrew had possessed the required intelligence, but he had lacked a certain… uhm… sanity. With the end of his dream of any hope for redemption, Giles had abandoned himself to the alcoholism which had been the bane of his existence since he was a teenager.
Even knowing how much he had changed from the surveillance photos, Dawn was stunned by the appearance of the man who finally opened the door to her repeated knocks. His home was centuries old, built on an isolated estate in Cornwall, inherited from parents he hadn't been close enough to to even despise. Few people bothered to visit, which was apparently the way he liked it, based on the profane tirade the unkempt old man unleashed once he finally opened the door. Even before he raised bloodshot eyes to her face, he had worked his way not only through the seven conventional dirty words, but added a few more in various other tongues to describe her stupidity, personal hygiene, attitude, and probable ancestry. Had she not been so shocked by his appearance, Dawn would have been impressed by the display of profane virtuosity.
Giles looked at least twenty years older than the last time she had seen him. His hair was long, unkempt, greasy, and a yellowish-white. His face was deeply lined, his teeth tinged green and covered in plaque, his nose red-splotched with broken veins. His eyes were even worse, and without his glasses on it took several seconds for him to focus enough to realize who was standing there. The bitter tirade stopped abruptly, his mouth closed with an audible 'clack.' "D-D-D-Dawn?!?" His voice was harsh, the word muffled, as if his tongue was too large for his mouth. He was wearing a housecoat over pajamas, despite it being early in the afternoon, with slippers on his bare feet. He had lost weight, and somehow looked much shorter than the last time she saw him, perhaps due to a stooping posture. An old Sunnydale hand, he didn't invite her in, but stood aside a few seconds later and used a surprisingly graceful hand gesture to permit her entry, without ever seeing the two bodyguards silently disappear to patrol the grounds.
Inside, the house was almost as unkempt as its owner. Books and loose papers were piled atop furniture which looked expensive, but hadn't been dusted in years. Few lights were on. Dishes were piling up in the sink, and splatters of grease covered the walls near the stove. Dawn was quite frankly disgusted with the place, and glared at her old mentor. "Jesus Christ, Giles; this is pretty goddamned pathetic."
For a moment his expression was a bit mulish, as if he was considering unleashing an angry rejoinder, before simply shrugging. A quick glance around forced him to agree: it was pretty pathetic. Excuses be damned. Making a valiant attempt to stand up straighter, he tried to reclaim some of his lost dignity. "I was just about to put on some tea. Might I offer you something to drink?"
Wondering if he had a clean mug available, Dawn settled for requesting coffee, and watched as he shuffled away with the careful movements of an intoxicated man striving to affect sobriety, talking to her as he moved towards the kitchen. "It will have to be instant, I am afraid. I have a lifetime supply of Nescafe. What you Americans call 'Tasters Choice.' A rather long story I would rather not get into…"
Giving him some time to pull himself together, Dawn removed stacks of paper from a chair in the living room and sat down, trying to control her own reaction. She barely remembered her own father –technically speaking, she had never met Hank at all—so to all intents and purposes, Giles was the only father-figure she had ever known. Seeing him in such a state hit her harder than she could have imagined it might. Not just because of his drunken, unwashed state, but because of how old he looked compared to the way she remembered him. It had been less than two years, but Giles looked like he had aged decades. He had been one of those lucky men who had aged gracefully –her friends had called him a 'FILF,' the male counterpart to the more well-known 'MILF'—thanks to his dashing looks, wonderful voice, and charming manners. He no longer qualified. This man looked like a grandfather… one who hadn't had a bath in a month.
When he finally returned, carrying a tray supporting what appeared to be his best china, Dawn smiled wistfully as she accepted her mug and studied him as he prepared his tea, crushing loose leaves into a silver ball, carefully dipping it from a chain into the pot until the color was just right, and only then pouring. His hands shook slightly, but he had made an effort to comb his hair, although a few days growth of grey whiskers prevented him from looking anywhere close to being fit to receive visitors. Deciding to get it out of the way without any polite small-talk, Dawn waited until he finally met her eyes before asking him straight up: "You knew all along, didn't you?"
The cup shook in its fine china saucer as Giles couldn't keep his hands steady. After a few seconds of him obviously trying to find some way of responding, perhaps by lying, or pretending to not understand the question, he simply nodded tightly, head hung, his eyes closed, his face a mask of bitter regret.
"You told us that the Bringer who destroyed the Council attacked you as well, but claimed you killed it. That wasn't true, was it? You were captured, and made some kind of deal with the First."
Hands shaking so badly he had to quickly put the cup and saucer down on a pile of books, Giles rubbed his face, leaving streaks from the tears he could not hold back in the dirt around his eyes. "Yes. I did. God help me: I did."
"How could you?!" Almost shaking with the anger she had thought she had under control, Dawn's voice rose in volume with the bitterness she could not hold back. "She was practically your daughter! How could you betray her like that? Why didn't you tell her the truth?!?"
His eyes were filled with pain as he met her own, almost masochistically welcoming the lashing accusation. Obviously feeling that he deserved far worse. Finally able to respond. "You did not understand what you were up against. Buffy never stood a chance. It taunted me with the fact, you see, that no matter what she did, she would die. Even accepting the offer of more power from the Shadowmen would not have saved her. No tactic, no conceivable stratagem could overcome the confluence of events the First had established. The only question was whether any of the Potentials might survive."
"You should have told her the truth! Didn't she deserve the chance to make her own decision?! Who the hell were you to make that choice for her!?!"
There was a long pause, both of them crying, tears falling silently, both hurting, before Giles finally answered, very quietly. "I was the man who loved her like a father, and wanted to spare her the pain." He had to struggle to get control of himself before continuing, voice a bit stronger, a bit more certain. "She was a fighter, and would have struggled to the bitter end. She would have chosen the most painful option for herself, to spare the others. But in the end, her sacrifice would have been for naught, because it would not have changed the outcome in the slightest."
Dawn continued to glare at him, now that it was finally out in the open almost unable to contain her rage. "Isn't that how things turned out anyway? She sacrificed herself, and it was all for nothing."
Shaking his head emphatically, Giles struggled to get a grip on his own emotions. "She went down fighting, thinking until the very end that she might win. You must have seen what she was like with Glory, when she concluded that it was futile, that nothing she might do could alter the inevitable outcome of the confrontation. It was not my place to deny her this. If this was to be her last hurrah, then she deserved to 'go down swinging.' She had earned the right to do so."
He sighed in bitter frustration. "There were at least a hundred thousand Torak-han in the First's army, Dawn. Nothing could have stopped them. The First had already located the Scythe, which is essentially a manifestation of the slayer power, a talisman of the original spell. Even if Buffy hadn't thought of using it to activate the Potentials on her own, the First would have suggested it to Willow. After it was used to activate them, all it would mean was that instead of one slayer, there would be a grand total of perhaps forty of them, facing the same massive army of Torak-han. Those are not good odds. Even the Spartans had 300 warriors at Thermopylae. And, much as I loved her, Buffy was no Leonidas." He paused, his bitterness momentarily distracted by a professorial aside. "Which is probably just as well, given that the movie rather soft-pedaled the Spartans predilection for copulating with prepubescent boys."
The pause permitted him to gain enough control over his emotions to sip some of his tea before continuing. "If I had told her the truth, Buffy never would have permitted Willow to perform the spell. The First needed that spell to be enacted and was prepared to take extreme measures to ensure that it was. You saw how the Torak-han tortured Spike in order to open the seal to the Hellmouth. Do you think Willow could have long resisted performing the spell had they done something like it to her, or to Buffy? Once they were activated, the First planned to sacrifice all of the slayers in order to open the Hellmouth and release the Torak-han horde. I do not believe that it intended their deaths to be either slow, or painless. I was able to negotiate an… alternative solution. The First was willing to provide the pendant, which could be used to kill all of the Torak-han, using their sacrifice to open the Hellmouth. But I could do nothing to save Buffy. The First needed her body, and nothing I could say would persuade it otherwise."
Sitting back in her chair, Dawn considered his words. She was furious, and wanted to lash out, to blame someone for what had happened. But Buffy herself had figured out what Giles had done and his motivations for doing so, and had forgiven him. Holding on to her rage despite that seemed pretty foolish, but she was finding it difficult not to do so. He had lied. Worse, he had not prevented it from happening. Even in her anger Dawn knew there was no way he could have done so, that what she was feeling was pure petulance, but that didn't change the way she felt. Only Giles and the First had been there to make the decisions, and she knew she wouldn't get very far pouting at the First. Which meant Giles got to be the whipping boy. It wasn't fair, but she wasn't in any mood to be fair. "Did you think about 'afterwards,' as in what the hell we were going to do with the First Evil masquerading as Buffy, leading all the new slayers, and, oh, yes, acquiring nuclear fucking weapons?!?"
To her surprise, he responded to her accusation with a chagrined, but genuine, smile. "No. I didn't really think that far ahead. At the time my only hope was to salvage something from what at the time appeared to be complete disaster. But, afterwards… well, as you said, it has now become so powerful that it even has control over atomic weaponry. I could not come up with any feasible plan to stop it." He gestured to the stacks of books and papers surrounding them. "I continue to try, but so far my research has found nothing which will even inconvenience so formidable a creature…"
After a short pause, during which she contemplated asking him how much 'research' he could do while drunk, Dawn finally worked up the courage to ask the question she'd wanted to ask all along. "What the hell were you thinking?!?"
He sighed, wiping his stubbled chin with a shaking hand. "It is even worse than you think, Dawn. I do not know if I can even explain. This has been very… difficult… for me. You don't understand all that has been involved, everything which has led to this disaster. My own culpability in this extends far beyond simply not telling Buffy about the First. My guilt is far, far worse than what you assume. You see, I not only did not tell Buffy what was happening, I didn't tell the Council. " When he saw that she did not understand, he got up and began pacing, hands clutching opposite forearms in an unconscious defensive measure, unable to face her. "Two years before this occurred, Buffy died to save the world. To save you from Glorificus. At the time I had argued that it would be better to sacrifice you, but she would not hear of it. You were her sister, and she made it unequivocally clear that she would kill anyone who threatened to harm you. At the time I did not understand why she would be so adamant about this, but she was the slayer, and so I deferred to her wishes.
"She died. Heroically. But then she came back." He stopped pacing to stare at Dawn, and his bloodshot eyes were haunted. "I loved her, and I missed her, but she should never have been brought back! Not that way. Not any way! Had I the slightest suspicion that Willow would even contemplate such an action I would stopped her… using any measures necessary, should it come down to that. She had no idea of the forces involved, the horrors she would unleash. No concept of the powers operating behind the scenes, manipulating events when naïve fools with far more power than brains blunder into a realm beyond their understanding.
"In my youth, I was such a fool. Willow had always seemed so sensible, so intelligent and mature. Obviously there were underlying psychological issues I never saw, and the consequences of this error in judgment were nothing short of catastrophic! Not just for Willow herself, but for the entire world. You see, Buffy was not meant to come back. She had accomplished everything she was meant to do. Returning her to her flesh-bound existence initiated a chain of events which caused Buffy nothing but pain, disrupted the normal flow of history, and permitted the First to become corporeal. This is because Willow not only performed a spell which was nothing short of an abomination, but she also tampered with the underlying rules governing slayer succession. Buffy herself knew that she came back 'wrong.' And so did I! "
Scowling, he ran his hand through his hair, scowling further at the dirt and knots he had neglected for so long. But he could not hide from the truth by distracting himself with trivialities. This was his 'mea culpa' moment, and could not be sidestepped. He had lied long enough. "Oh, yes; I knew. I knew something was wrong when she came back with her slayer powers intact. I hadn't expected a new slayer to be Called –we all knew the line continued through Faith—but there was no way she should have maintained her status as a slayer after dying. There was considerable discussion within the Council as to how she had maintained those powers when she was momentarily drowned by the Master, but it was assumed those were merely the result of special circumstances. After all, she was inside the Hellmouth at the time, surrounded by powerful mystical wards. But even with that excuse the Council never trusted her afterwards.
"They had good reason to do so, especially since such was not the case when she died in your stead. Granted that Glory's portal contained mystical energies, but her actual cause of death was due to concussive impact from the fall. She passed through the portal, long enough to heal the instability your blood created, and smashed into the earth with enough force to crush every bone in her body. This death was natural, was meant to be, and Willow's use of dark magic to bring her back to life was diametrically unnatural. This was manifested in her maintaining her slayer powers, which was equally unnatural. When the Chose One dies, the slayer 'essence' is passed on to the next Potential waiting to be Called. This is the way it works! The way it has always worked! Were this not the case, one can imagine abominations such as a slayer turned by a vampire, arising with both vampiric and slayer powers. Such a creature would be almost unstoppable.
"It was my duty to warn the Council of this. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that they never even knew she had died! By using the robot, her friends succeeded in maintaining the illusion that Buffy was still alive. For months the supernatural element was deceived by this duplicity, as was the Watchers Council. When I returned to England to report what had happened, I soon realized that nobody had the slightest idea there had ever even been a problem. And so, to my everlasting shame, I told them nothing which might suggest otherwise."
Unable to stand any longer, he returned to his seat, looking towards Dawn, but obviously not seeing her. The horror in his eyes was obvious, as was the pain, and especially the shame. "I knew my duty. I knew what I had to do. I was a Watcher! There are legends, prophesies associated with such events. Nothing good can come of them. Disaster was the best I could hope for. Apocalypse was not only possible but likely. I had to tell them!
"But I could not. I knew what they would do were they to learn the truth. What they would have no choice but to do. And so, in the end, I could not tell them. I loved her too much. Betraying her during the Cruciamentum almost killed me. I could not bear to do it again. I just couldn't! And so I am responsible for what happened next."
Taking a deep breath, Giles finally gained enough control over himself to meet Dawn's eyes, his expression so haunted it cut through her anger, leaving her confused and frightened. "What I did afterwards was even more reprehensible than what I failed to do with the Council. I could not let them kill her… but I then proceeded to do my best to make Buffy…give up." Noting the shock in her expression, the old man –and he was suddenly a very old man—finally told someone else the truth which had been slowly killing him. "I try to tell myself that my intent was not to drive her to suicide. That I only wanted her to run away, to abandon the Hellmouth, to seek a new life for the two of you, somewhere safer. Some days I even believe it. But I knew how unhappy she was. I knew how precarious was her mental state. I knew how desperate was her financial situation, how faltering her relationship with you and her friends. I knew how desperately she needed me to help her while she came to terms with what could only be a horribly traumatic experience.
"And so I turned my back on her. Packed up my bags and left.
"I made up some ludicrous story about her 'needing to stand on her own two feet,' to become a responsible adult, and I scurried home to England like a whipped cur. Leaving the girl I claimed to love in an untenable state, none of it of her own making, to fend for herself. For years she and her closest friends had looked to me as the 'voice of responsibility' they could come to for adult advice. All of them were falling apart, so consumed with their own pain they couldn't see that their friends were undergoing similar trials. Xander had just left Anya due to his fears of becoming like his parents. Willow was pursuing her magical obsession in directions which I of all people knew could only lead to disaster. And Buffy herself was barely functional, clinically depressed, penniless, and overburdened with responsibilities she was in no shape to manage. These were my friends –my children, damnit!!—at the lowest point of their entire lives.
"And I simply abandoned them to their fate."
Looking old, and defeated, and ashamed, Giles reached for the glass which remained on the table in front of him, obviously desperate for a drink of something stronger than tea, his hands shaking with the strain of not grasping the alcohol. For long seconds the issue was in doubt, before he gave an audible sigh, and returned his hand to stroking the short grey stubble on his chin. "Somehow she found the strength to survive. Buffy tended to do that, you know. Surprise people, I mean. Finally, however, the truth came out, as it also tends to do. The First's plan. The attack on the Potentials. I had to return to Sunnydale, knowing what was happening, knowing how to stop it, and being too weak to do so. Because there was only one option remaining to me, and I simply could not bring myself to kill her.
"However, I could make things more difficult for her. Increase the likelihood that she would be injured by the Turok-han, forcing Faith to take over leadership of her group. Or perhaps make her abandon the Potentials –or make them abandon her-- and therefore not be present within the Hellmouth during the critical moments. Even in those efforts I failed. Your sister was a hero. And she would not be denied.
"This is the end result."
Dawn had never seen a man so defeated. Not just beaten, but robbed of everything which had given his life meaning. She did not know what to say. Wasn't sure what she should say. Was forgiveness even possible, for what he had done? Had he 'betrayed' his daughter, or simply done the best he could when every alternative was worse than the last? She didn't know. Finally she simply reached into her bag, pulled out a thick notepad, and handed it over without comment. After not receiving any additional information despite raising his eyebrows questioningly, Giles opened the notebook, and frowned as he struggled to translate the writing. The alphabet was Sinhalese, a language native to Sri Lanka, but the words didn't make any sense. After sounding them out, however, he realized they expressed a bastardized phonetic version of Anglo-Romani, a gypsy language with no written form. There was a distant linguistic relationship between the languages however, and despite feeling like a child for having to speak the words aloud to get their meaning, Giles was soon able to understand what he was reading. It was a plan to fight the First. A very detailed, very professional, and very well thought out plan.
The plan was not only far more advanced than anything he had come up with, it included logistical elements he had never even considered. Only the military came up with scenarios so detailed, every logistical detail noted, all contingencies considered. Giles wondered how they had gotten such sophisticated information on the First and its likely tactics. Nobody understood the First with this degree of certainty! And yet, everything made sense! Everything fit together so perfectly, an interlocking mesh of military logic and psychological intuition astounding in the depths of its insight. "This is… amazing! Who wrote this?!"
Before responding, Dawn pulled what appeared to be a portable CD-player from her bag and placed it on the table between them. She met his eyes, and kept her face expressionless. "Buffy."
For a moment he looked confused. Without explaining, Dawn slowly began to smile. For long seconds Giles looked like he was struggling to understand, until he was finally overcome with a desperate, amazed hope, his heart suddenly beating so fast he thought it might explode from his chest. What he was thinking was ridiculous on the face of it. But Buffy had already returned from the dead more than once. If anyone could do so, it would be the daughter of his heart. When he started crying, Dawn could not prevent herself from joining in.
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As he dug around the piles of books, Giles kept up his end of the conversation. "I believe I have previously indicated that it had never been my ambition to become a Watcher. In truth, I wanted to be anything but a Watcher. Tradition held that the eldest join the Watchers –male or female; as a group, the Watchers were quite an enlightened bunch from far back—and I was the middle child. I had some interest in magic, and because of that read more of the texts than my brother. Despite his belief to the contrary, it was not done out of interest in following the family tradition. What I did not realize was that he had even less interest in becoming a Watcher than I did –he was something of a chess prodigy, and his own interests did not extend far beyond that infernal game—and was constantly abandoning his training to participate in tournaments around the world.
"At the time I was in my late teens, and had been experimenting with the sort of magics I would later warn Willow to stay well away from. For good reason, I might add. But at the time I was just as foolish as she turned out to be, just as excited about playing with forbidden knowledge, and was just as arrogant regarding my own talent. I summoned a lower demon, and discovered, to my horror, that my containment spells were inadequate to hold a creature of such latent power. It got away from me, and caused considerable damage before the slayer of that time was able to subdue it.
"My brother threatened to inform my parents that I was the one responsible for unleashing the demon unless I agreed to take his place and train as a Watcher. For reasons of his own he wished to move to Bangkok, but knew they would never permit him to leave unless he found a replacement for the sacrifice our family was required to make to the Council. I know I am being a trifle harsh: he did have reason to believe that I had an interest in the subject, and even more reason to think that I needed someone to ride herd on me before my magic consumed me. But I did resent being blackmailed, and do tend to hold a grudge, so haven't much use for him to this day… the miserable Judas."
Finally locating the book he had been seeking, Giles pulled it out from under a stack of similar volumes and began searching for the relevant passages. There wasn't much information concerning Illyria. The Old One had been confined to the Deeper Well for the entirety of human history, and only the fact that she had somehow been able to maintain a small cadre of worshippers for all that time had brought her to the attention of the Watchers Council. Giles had recovered some data from the archive sites after the destruction of the Council headquarters and the loss of its irreplaceable Library, but many of the original records had been magical in nature, and the backups could not give a full and complete picture. But there was enough, especially when combined with hints based on what Angel had done to her. Faith had been correct almost two years earlier: the Mutari Generator had turned out to be critical to their plans.
Their research might have gone faster had Dawn not been eating a peanut-butter-and-salmon sandwich. Topped with anchovies and crushed Oreos. Backups or not, the records they were using were all that now existed for much of the data, so nobody was permitted to read them while they were eating. Besides that; peanut-butter and salmon?! Giles shuddered. The monks had done an amazing job, but somewhere in their spell they'd mispronounced a syllable or two. Dawn's taste in food remained notoriously bizarre. He didn't say anything only because their truce was still rather fragile. Dawn still wanted someone to blame for 'betraying' her sister. Giles already felt guilty enough, even without her adding to it. But even with the dark emotional undercurrents, it was wonderful to be back researching, particularly with a gifted pupil at hand. Even if her 'assistance' was more in spirit than in practice until she finished eating. "Did Buffy indicate why the SGC was so interested in the Mutari Generator?"
Shrugging, Dawn struggled to keep her sandwich together. The salty tang of the anchovies made everything else taste better, but they did tend to make sandwich eating a messy experience. "The First is building a portal of some kind. Our intel group has been picking up hints about it for awhile now. Rumor has it that it plans to take over all the alternate universes once it can openly rule here. It has the original device in its possession, but when Angel used it on Illyria it must have burned out. Without your documents, the First's scientists have had to reverse-engineer the entire thing, from what we understand. Word is that it wants to build something like Buffy's 'Quantum Mirror' to move armies led by slayers to alternate Earths. Since it doesn't know about the real Quantum Mirror it's using the Mutari Device as the basis for its research."
Giles hummed and hawed, and Dawn couldn't help but smile in contented remembrance when he took off his glasses to clean the lenses. This was probably the first time he'd ever done it when they'd actually needed cleaning. "My rather limited understanding of the Mutari Device suggests that it does, indeed, open a portal to an alternate universe, rather than the standard pocket-universe such as Pylea. A God-king such as Illyria is so powerful that the energy being dissipated in order to contain her would be enough to disrupt the entire local portal system should it simply be drained into one of the pocket universes. To clarify, Pylea was, indeed, an alternate Earth. However, everything beyond the scope of human influence was the same as that shared by a multitude of other, similar, pocket universes. The stars and planets visible from Pylea are exactly the same as those we see in our own night sky. The Mutari Device accesses an entirely different universe, which possess its own unique physical laws, and its own unique sky. Just as does Buffy's 'Quantum Mirror.'
"If the First intends to conquer alternate versions of Earth, the Mutari Device is precisely the wrong model to use as a template. The 'pocket universes' accessible through a conventional mystical portal would provide a far simpler and more efficient method of conquering alien worlds. The laws governing true alternate universes more often than not are incompatible with our form of life. Granted, many are perfectly habitable, as we have discovered by Buffy and her team being able to cross over to our universe without physiological damage. However, given the complexity of the operating principle, versus the extensive information available on accessing pocket universes, it seems a needlessly complicated method of achieving its objectives."
Dawn had to admit that the First wasn't one to over-complicate matters. "So why would it use something more complex?"
He shrugged. "There are several reasons I can think of offhand, one being that there are far more alternate universes than there are pocket universes. Also, these pocket universes only contain a single planet, that being their own version of Earth. If the First is more ambitious, it may know that, unlike ourselves, people in other universes, such as the SGC, have access to interstellar transport. If it seeks a true interstellar empire, the First could not use any of the other available options. I am open to suggestions as to why it would desire such an empire."
They would both have to think about it, but in the meantime provide their new allies with the information they required. Like the Scoobies, Giles was reluctant to trust the military, but they had no choice. Plus, Buffy had requested the information, and he found it impossible to deny her anything, no matter his reservations. It also helped that Xander had vouched for the people from the alternate universe. It was possible that Buffy was under some kind of compulsion, but there had been no time for Xander to be afflicted similarly. On these matters, Giles tended to defer to Xander's judgment. For all his many faults, Xander had generally proven to be an excellent judge of character.
Except, Giles had to admit, he wasn't showing much sense when it came to responding to accusations regarding the tactics being blamed on his group. Even across the Pond, the news was filled with images of the terror campaign being waged by these Ronin of theirs. Not for even one seconds did Giles believe that either Xander or Dawn were behind the bombings being credited to the Ronin. But it had been foolish of them to set themselves up so that they could be blamed for the savage violence and destruction. The First was using them as an excuse for its own incessant grab for power, and it was succeeding. Giles was trying to think of some way to bring up the subject delicately. He was discovering there really was no easy way to ask if Dawn had really become an actual terrorist. Given that she knew what she was actually facing, he wasn't certain just how far she was prepared to go in her efforts to oppose the First. "So these, ah, Ronin, of yours. They are… under control, yes?"
Smirking just a bit, knowing he was uncomfortable and letting him stew in it for a few seconds, Dawn finally scowled at him and answered the implied question. "Yes, they are 'under control.' No, they haven't done any of the stuff the First is blaming on us. You should know that if we did do any of that stuff the girls would go mental. I wonder what happens to the girls the First is having do crap like blow up day-care centers? Faith went nuts after accidentally killing someone. Deliberately going out and slaughtering kids must really send them off the deep end."
Normally, Giles would have simply grunted non-committally. But Dawn was, next to himself, the only other 'Watcher' left alive, and she needed to know. "That is not entirely true. There are psychological techniques which can be used to de-sensitize a slayer, make her truly believe that those she is killing are 'subhuman,' or otherwise exempt from the normal consideration due another human being. As you probably expect, such techniques have been repeatedly perverted for the most despicable reasons throughout history. In the hands of an unscrupulous mentor, the slayer can be –and has been—used as an assassin, a thief, or been persuaded to participate in other criminal activities if she can be sufficiently swayed by her mentors duplicitous deceits. This is one of the reasons governments and kings agreed to let the Watchers Council provide exclusive guidance to the slayer nearly a thousand years ago. Since none of them could trust each other not to manipulate the slayer, an independent organization was the only feasible alternative.
"It says something about Faith's strength of will that she was not able to subconsciously accept the Mayor's efforts to persuade her that she was not responsible for her actions. Many people, with far less excuse, have been able to delude themselves into believing that they are exempt from culpability due to their actions being 'for the greater good,' or their opponents being dehumanized to the point where their lives mean nothing. For example, during the Crusades…" He stopped when he saw that this was something Dawn did not wish to know. Since it was something he wished he himself did not know, he decided to spare her the details.
Having already suspected something like that was possible, Dawn simply nodded. "It must wear off eventually. You can't live in a continuous state of self-delusion forever." After a short pause, she looked up at Giles. "At least, I would hope so."
"You'd be surprised." Giles looked frustrated and bitter as he saw where his protégé was going with this line of questioning. "If you are referring to Willow, I would expect that the First will keep her in a psychological state where the delusion is constantly reinforced. It usually takes some sort of triggering mechanism to shatter the delusion. Given her power and likely reaction should she realize she is being manipulated, I expect the First will have gone to considerable effort to ensure that no such 'trigger' event is possible with Willow. Although, of course, there is no way to know precisely what might act as such a 'trigger.' It could be almost anything, which is why positive reinforcement is constantly required. For example, I have no idea what got through to Faith, and made it impossible for her to believe the Mayor's lies any longer."
Giving him a wry, chagrined smile, Dawn shrugged before answering. "Buffy didn't buy it. Faith loved Buffy. If Buffy said the Mayor was lying to her, Faith would believe her, no matter how much she didn't want to."
Eyes opening wide in shock at the revelation, Giles wondered why he hadn't seen if from the start. Or perhaps he had. He'd gone to considerable effort to stay out of Buffy's love life. Knowing how brutal and short her life was likely to be, he saw no justification for imposing his or society's prudish attitudes on her. So long as it did not interfere with her duties, he saw no reason for her not to find what comfort she could, in the short time she would have available to do so. At the time Faith had arrived in Sunnydale, Buffy had still been involved with Angel, with all the emotional intensity only youths undergoing their first great romance could experience. Had Faith developed feelings for her at that time, they were unlikely to have been reciprocated to the degree Faith would have desired.
Giles was uncomfortably aware that he was at least partially responsible for Faith's turning to evil. In retrospect, it was obvious that he had neglected to give the troubled girl the attention she had desperately needed. At the time he hadn't wanted to bond with her, knowing how much more difficult it would make things for her own Watcher once one was reassigned. But with both him --the parental figure-- and Buffy --her first genuine romantic crush-- turning from her, it was really no surprise that she would turn to someone who did give her the affection she so desperately sought. It wouldn't have taken much for them to have 'saved' Faith. But they hadn't, and tragedy had ensued.
Sighing, Giles looked over at Dawn. "I see. This would explain why she turned against the First so quickly, and with such passionate intensity, once she suspected it wasn't truly Buffy. To see someone you loved taken over by the spirit of the enemy who killed her must have been devastating. Does she know that the real Buffy is still alive?"
Apparently Dawn found something amusing in his question, because she gave the most genuine smile she had shown since she arrived, obviously savoring a favored memory, before finally responding. "She's the one who met with Buffy when she came through. I was away in California. Which still pisses me off, by the way! My sister is alive, and I don't even get to meet her. We've exchanged a few letters, but it's not the same. But, anyway, Faith met her, and Xander say's they were like they always were when they got together: one part competitiveness, one part lust. Buffy even admitted that she and Faith's counterpart in the other universe have gotten together. Apparently that caught everyone by surprise, even the people who came through with her."
Giles had to raise his eyebrows in surprise at that revelation. "How did Faith react to this news? Was she jealous?"
"Not really. Buffy had rescued her counterpart from what was apparently a pretty horrible situation, and Faith seemed relieved that at least one version of her might have a chance for a better life. I'm sure she probably wishes it was her instead of 'another her,' but she's dealing with it."
Giles grunted non-committally. In this instance, he saw no reason to burden Dawn with his own thoughts. When she first arrived in Sunnydale, Giles had created a psychological profile on Faith, and verified it against the Council's own reports. Both versions agreed with his assessment that the horrors of her childhood would likely prevent Faith from ever being able to maintain a sound, sustainable intimate relationship with another person. Her own traumatic experiences would have convinced her that other people could not be trusted. They were only interested in sex, or exploiting her, and in the end they would always betray her. The primary reason Giles hadn't wanted to bond with Faith was because if he had begun to work on her psychological issues, and begun to earn her trust, she would see it as only one more betrayal when he inevitably was forced to turn her over to another Watcher.
Looking back, he had noted her interest in Buffy, but had labeled it as just another aspect of her underlying psychosis. She had been sexually aggressive towards everyone, and he hadn't believed that her particular interest in Buffy was due to an actual romantic attraction. Buffy had friends, and a mother who loved her, and a real family, and a home and school and her own Watcher. He had assumed that Faith had been obsessed with Buffy not because she 'loved' Buffy but because she wanted to be Buffy. She wanted the home and the friends and the mom and the Watcher. Undoubtedly there had been a certain degree of attraction involved as well, for Faith was by nature an extremely sensual person. Buffy had been a very attractive young woman, and it would have been simple for Faith to delude herself into thinking that her desire to have Buffy's life was due to her desire to be a part of Buffy's life.
Despite what he had told Dawn, Giles hadn't been surprised when Faith turned against the First before anyone else even suspected what they were dealing with. Naturally she would turn against 'Buffy' if she did not return her feelings. And if she suspected that she wasn't dealing with the 'real' Buffy, her anger would swiftly transform into rage. His profile had suggested that her obsession with Buffy would only increase with Buffy's death. Faith would undoubtedly realize, if only subconsciously, her own inability to maintain a healthy relationship, and would undoubtedly be bothered by the knowledge. If, however, she could convince herself that this aspect of her personality was not due to psychological trauma and lack of trust, but due to the death of her One True Love, Faith would be freed from the need to justify her habit of breaking off every relationship she ever had once it reached a stage where trust was required.
How would she react to Buffy coming back from the dead? Very easily, apparently. She could hardly object to Buffy being involved with someone when it was, in a roundabout fashion, with her. In a strange way she might even find it comforting. She could continue to comfort herself with the delusion that she actually was involved in a healthy relationship, only at second hand, so to speak. As such, she could continue with her present lifestyle, refusing to make an emotional commitment, semi-content with the delusion that she was, in fact, actually capable of loving someone else, and therefore no longer needed to prove to herself that she could by going to all the effort of actually doing so.
Or, equally likely, he thought with a chagrined smile, Rupert Giles was the deluded one, speculating out of his over-educated ass, and Faith was perfectly content with the choices she had made, happy with the limited relationships she had permitted herself. He, after all, had been willing to give up a decade of his life and any possible relationship in order to be Buffy's Watcher. He didn't regret that decision for a second. It was just as possible Faith had made a similar choice, and reached a similar conclusion; that whatever she had shared with Buffy had been more important to her than any other relationship she might ever enter into.
The entire thought chain having come and gone in seconds, Giles smiled over at Dawn, almost giddy with pleasure at her presence. An hour earlier he had been a washed-up, defeated old drunk. Already he could feel himself come back to life, his expertise needed, his formidable intellect challenged. But he could never let himself forget that this wasn't about him. He was only the Watcher. It was the girls who had to face their enemies in person, who had to fight, and who had to die. All he could do was support them. Sometimes, 'supporting' them simply meant expressing concern. In his experience, very few slayers had someone to turn to who actually cared whether they lived or died. Faith hadn't. Very few of the multitude of slayers out there did. Perhaps that was why so many of them were attracted to the false 'family' the First provided them. That was a situation Dawn would need to address. One he would need to address. "I know that she is a very private person, but if Faith wants someone to talk to, I am available. I promise complete discretion. If she does not wish to talk about herself, we can spend the entire time talking about Buffy."
It was the right thing to say. Probably because he actually meant every word of it, and Dawn knew it. He could see the difference in her eyes, the gentle, affectionate glow she had once bestowed upon him finally restored, her anger and bitterness finally put aside. He knew better than to think he had been forgiven. But now, at least, he knew forgiveness was possible. "She's okay, Giles. Better than okay. Somehow, this has been the catalyst I've spent years trying to find to make Faith truly part of the Ronin. Until this came up she never really fit in with them. Part of it was that idiot Andrew telling everyone she had been 'seduced by the Dark side of the Force.' The girls respected her, but they all just kept waiting for her to wake up one day wearing a breathing mask and sounding like James Earl Jones."
She smiled, and it was such a beautiful smile Giles had to blink to hold back his tears. He had missed this so much. He had missed his children so much. But saying that would only embarrass her, so he simple remained silent and listened to her speak of her friends. He was just so grateful that she had such friends, when he hadn't been available for her. "Faith is in charge of the Ronin, but China is her Field Commander. Either Grace or China run the majority of their missions. China is the only one who has actually bonded at all to Faith, and after the meeting with Buffy she didn't say much. I wasn't sure if there was an issue with her or not, like maybe she was jealous, but I am pleased to say I underestimated her. She was just waiting until we got the psychic inhibitor devices for the rest of the girls. China is too good a tactician to take a chance on letting the First know that Buffy is still alive, so she was just biding her time.
"It took a couple of months until everyone had their own Mind Shield. Buffy couldn't provide enough for everyone, but she did provide us detailed plans for making them, and Andrew and his crew have been working around the clock setting up a production line. You'd be amazed at how many governments and industries were willing to donate the equipment if they got their own devices once we had made enough for ourselves. We had a bit of a party to celebrate once everyone was protected, and we could finally talk freely without the First overhearing. It was the first time China had been able to tell everyone what actually happened at the meeting, about Buffy still being alive and supporting us. But instead of just telling people, she really milked it, turning it into this star-crossed romantic reunion between Buffy and Faith, with all sorts of 'looking into each others' eyes' and touchy-feely stuff. Naturally Faith got all offended, so of course China took that as her signal to really start teasing her.
"Buffy has been sending through books and tapes showing this 'parkour' training system they use where she is, and the slayers just love it. Since she only has one hand, Faith isn't as good at it as China, and so there they were, China running around, scaling buildings and trees, singing 'Faith and Buffy, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…' at the top of her lungs, laughing her ass off as Faith is trying to chase her, screaming with rage, the rest of the girls practically wetting themselves they're laughing so hard…" When Dawn looked up at Giles, her eyes were shining with unshed tears of happiness. "For a few days afterwards Faith couldn't go anywhere without the girls making 'kissy-kissy' noises, or finding other ways to tease her. Until then, nobody had ever teased Faith. They were too afraid of her. But Faith became one of the Ronin that night. Not just their leader, but actually one of their own. After all this time, she's got her own family now. She pretends not to like it, but you'd need dynamite to take her away from them. Those are her girls now, and she takes care of them."
She smiled, obviously extremely proud of her people. "In addition to the parkour thing, Buffy has been sending us little ray-guns called 'zats.' We can use them to knock people out without killing them. They are not as effective against supernatural creatures, but really quick and effective against regular humans. So we've got new tactics, new weapons, new allies… and new hope. Until now we've just been twiddling our thumbs, watching, collecting information. But now the girls are more confident in themselves, their training, their leaders, and they want something to do."
When she sighed, it was with an exhausted frustration. "I needed the information on the Mutari Generator you provided, but the real reason I came here is because I need some advice. I need something for the Ronin to do. Something challenging and worthy of their talents, but not something that will force the First to squash us like bugs. Something useful, but not something they'll get killed doing. I'm really looking for some ideas, Giles. I'm really good at collecting information, at putting it together. But I'm not really a leader, not in the way these girls need. I wish Buffy could stay here, but she can't. Something about the two of them can't be in the same universe. I really like Faith, but she is not the person you want running your strategy. They are all good fighters, but not so good with coming up with an effective campaign which requires a bit more delicacy than simply going out and hacking their enemies to pieces. None of them are real 'big picture' types. That pretty much leaves me, and I don't know what to do."
Looking over at her mentor with almost pleading eyes, she was caught by surprise when Giles reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "I am very, very proud of you. Proud of what you have accomplished. Proud of the way you've handled yourself and the situation." She tried to make a 'Golly, twern't nuthin' gesture, but Giles could tell how pleased she was by his compliments. He was truly sorry his next words would hurt her so much. "But you are making the same mistake every prospective Watcher has been warned against making for centuries. Simply put; you are trying to accomplish your mission without risking your slayer, which cannot be done. We –and I include you in that 'we,' since you are one of us now, whether you like it or not—are, in reality, some of the most horrible people ever to set foot on this poor world. Into our care is placed a wonderful, enthusiastic, exceptionally gifted, and horrifyingly innocent young woman, and we are charged with sending her out, night after night, to risk her life fighting monsters beyond the ken of most of humanity.
"How can we do something so disgraceful?! Who are we to send this precocious young women out to die?! What gives us the right to do something so contemptible?! How can we bear to look at ourselves in the mirror?!"
Staring at her closely, Giles waited until he saw the understanding in her eyes, before continuing. "We do it because we must! Because the alternative is a million times worse. Because the 'law of the jungle' is, in the end, the only true law. Unethical, amoral, offensive to the conscience, perhaps. But unassailable. It cannot be argued with, persuaded through logic, negotiated with over tea. Some things are beyond our human customs, our civilized traditions. The Law of the Jungle will out, no matter what we say or do. This being the case, we must respond likewise, or we shall perish. One or the other. There is no alternative. Not against the sort of enemies we face.
"For more than seven thousand years our racial response has been to let the slayer fight the battle for us. Partly so that we may hide from it, pretend it doesn't exist. But mostly because she can! After seven thousand years we have built a mighty civilization, because the slayer has allowed us to do so! Without her, the demons and monsters in the shadows would have long since defeated us. Without her, the Law of the Jungle would reign supreme, everywhere, for everyone. Without her, civilization itself would not be possible!
"We owe the slayers more than we can ever repay, but we, as Watchers, owe the vast multitudes who count on her for their protection even more. They are our employers. Look into the eyes of their children, and know why we do what we do. We keep the jungle at bay! We make civilization --with its laws and political niceties and manners beyond the simple blunt truth of 'might makes right'—actually possible! What we do isn't pretty, but what we make possible can be. Enough so, that we can look in the mirror after we send a wonderful young woman out to face what might prove to be a brutal, horrifying death."
He squeezed her hand again, this time almost hard enough to hurt. She barely even noticed. "You can never 'save' your slayer. Never! You can delay the inevitable, if you're smart enough, if you've trained her well enough. But you cannot save her. From the moment she is Called, her end is inevitable. And that is the way it must be!
"You cannot refuse to risk your slayer! Oh, naturally you cannot take foolish risks, but you must realize that everything to do with a slayer involves risk of some sort. Much of the time, this involves the risk of death. But if you refuse to let your slayer face such risks, then you have already lost. Civilization has lost. The human race has lost. Being a Watcher is the loneliest, worst job there is. But it is also the most inspiring, most important, and greatest thing you will ever do! Even Generals fighting the most bloody battles do not have such a personal relationship with those they send off to die as do we. But we do it anyway, because we must! If you can't, then step aside. Place the burden into the hands of someone not as smart, not as capable… but someone who dares to actually fight! The slayer is the apex warrior of our kind. She is the greatest fighting machine a human being is capable of becoming. But she can do nothing if her Watcher refuses to let her fight!"
For long seconds Dawn was silent, absorbing his words. She understood what he was saying, even understood what he meant, but was uncertain if she could do what he was demanding. Just the thought of actually sending out one of her girls –one of her friends—on a mission which might cost her her life, was unbearable. But it did give her some insight into Giles. She had never understood how he could have conspired to force Buffy into the Cruciamentum. Not for one second did she doubt his love for her sister. But in the end, he was a Watcher. And to a Watcher, the slayer was a tool to be used. That didn't make him evil, or even wrong, but so far as she was concerned it didn't mean he was right either. She had to admit it was true that she was holding the Ronin back. But she did not intend to use them as if they were mere tools either. If civilization fell because of it, then civilization could just kiss her ass.
When she looked up into Giles' face, her eyes were hard. No longer the student, seeking approval from her mentor. This time she was an equal, conveying her decision to a colleague. "There are nearly two hundred slayers with the Ronin. The First has more than a thousand. I am not getting them involved in a war we can't win."
He sighed. Watchers were trained from infancy. Indoctrinated from infancy. Now he knew why. "That isn't what I meant, Dawn. They are slayers. Let them slay! The First is using demon clans and vampires against those governments and corporations which oppose it. Once these entities feel they require slayers to protect them from the supernatural enemies which the First itself is using against them, she has them by the throat. Fight them! If you can't oppose the First directly, do so indirectly! Pick your battles, but don't refuse to fight even when the odds are not as good as you might wish. Dawn, I cannot stress this enough: you must permit the slayers to fight. Because if you don't, you will rather quickly lose control of them."
At his protégé's look of confusion he wiped his face with an unsteady hand before continuing. "I was blessed with a truly exceptional slayer. The Council never understood her, because she didn't act the way they felt a slayer should behave, but I knew what had been placed in my care. I could only go by the old records, but it was soon apparent to me that Buffy was the sort of slayer who came around only once in a millennium. Given the number of slayers you have now seen on your own, this must be even more obvious to you."
Nodding slowly, Dawn admitted it. "We've found two really good ones. The rest… not so much."
Giles looked surprised "Two 'really' good ones out of nearly two hundred is actually quite respectable, Dawn. However, I expect you are discovering that the remainder are competitive, status-conscious to a fault, and aggressive in striving for dominance amongst their internal hierarchy?" He didn't even have to wait for her reluctant nod of agreement. "It will only get worse if you don't let them release their natural aggression by permitting them to act like slayers. This has been hard-coded into their personalities, a part of the creation spell itself. If they don't fight our enemies, they will eventually turn on their friends. Their nature will out, and should you resist that call out of an otherwise commendable desire to limit casualties amongst them, you will inadvertently create an even worse situation. Kennedy wasn't the exception, Dawn. If you don't let them loose, you will eventually find yourself with two hundred more just like her."
Closing her eyes for a moment to hide herself from Giles, Dawn struggled to come to terms with what he was implying. No, what he was flat-out stating. Although she wanted to argue, she already knew he was probably right. She'd noticed it herself, the ever increasing cliquishness among the girls as more of them arrived. They'd been able to keep it under control due to having a leadership team in place that not only brooked no infighting, but was generally respected even by those being disciplined. The real stumbling block had been Dawn herself. Training was all well and good, but the slayers wanted a real enemy to fight. By preventing them, even out of concern over the possibility of starting a war with the First, she was inadvertently breaking the very army she was trying to build. If she didn't do something about it, by the time Buffy returned there wouldn't be any Ronin left for her to use.
All it took was a single, quick nod, and Giles knew he'd 'won' the argument. In truth, he was just as unhappy about it as she was. No matter the reason or justification, sending young girls out to die was not something either wanted to become comfortable doing. But since it was a reality they could not control, there was no point in not getting something useful out of it. "None of the demon clans would enter into an arrangement with the First without an iron-clad contract. I mean that quite literally: the contract will be bound in iron. All services and expectations will be spelled out, usually in blood. If you ever wondered why Wolfram & Hart had offices in most major cities, wonder no more. At least some of those contracts will have loopholes we can exploit. There are legal scholars I can contact in order to investigate this. Meanwhile, no matter who is behind their actions, it is still usually demons and vampires actually attacking humans. I would suggest that we put your girls to work opposing them…"
----
In a remote corner of the Slayers Inc. compound outside of Cleveland was an isolated building off-limits to all but Buffy Summers and a small caretaking staff. It was known as the Retreat, a place where Buffy could have some privacy to meditate and seek solace from the crushing burdens society had placed on her slender shoulders. A world-famous architect had been hired to design the building, and instructed to come up with something resembling a church, with plenty of stained glass, open space, and a high vaulted ceiling. Although none of the slayers were normally permitted to enter the building, its designs and photographs were on the Web, and every so often it was opened for public viewing.
When 'Buffy' entered the building she was immediately calmed and enervated by the atmosphere within. There was a lot of stress running a company as diverse as Slayers Inc. It was irrelevant that the majority of that stress came from the necessity of restraining herself from exploding in lethal rage when some idiot disrupted her plans through incompetence, or due to the deliberate interference of her 'beloved sister' and her gang of do-gooders. Even for a god, the manipulations of entire governments her plans required called for considerable effort, so it was a relief when she was able to escape to the sanctuary of her Retreat. Lately one problem in particular had been requiring her attention. The suddenly not-so-minor matter of Faith having been photographed, apparently alive, if slightly the worse for wear having 'misplaced' her arm some time ago. It was rather interesting that she was walking around, when all of the First's senses were unable to detect her. How this could be so was causing it some considerable concern. But it was a concern she would address later. This was its time to relax.
Within the Retreat was a spectacularly beautiful interior. The images laid out in stained glass did not have a religious motif, instead depicting animals and flowers or pastoral landscapes. The sharp-cut facets reflected light into prismatic bands throughout the vast expanse of the single room which made up the ground floor of the building. The floor was hardwood, inlaid with marble, echoing loudly as the First's high-heeled shoes marched deeper into the interior. It wasn't the aesthetic serenity of the room which made the First take a deep breath and relax, however. There was another aspect to the Retreat, one not present when visitors were permitted inside, which energized her and worked as a balm to ease the First's burdened psyche. That relief came from a different source.
Along the walls, mats were laid out on the floor for 106 girls and young women, who were on their knees bowing in submission as the awareness that their God was present entered their consciousness. Many were crying, most mumbling in their ecstasy, some banging their heads on the floor in submission. All were naked, except for diapers, their hair long and ratty, their stench barely restrained by forced-air ventilating to ducts on the roof. All of them were slayers. All of them were completely insane.
A god without worshippers wasn't a God. They might be, at best, listed amongst the 'former deities' in a book perhaps. Being worshipped wasn't simply a requirement for a God; it was a necessity. The First had always maintained at least a few mortal acolytes, but to a God, just as to most humans, the equation was simple: 'More equals Better.' The more mortals who worshipped any given God, the more power that God gained through their worship. That fact, as well as the fact that slayers who carried out actions against normal humans tended to go insane sooner or later, had led the First to kill two birds with one stone. Once a slayer had gone too far down the road into the depths of insanity and depravity to be allowed to roam free, the First took her to the Retreat, where she methodically broke what remained of her mind through applications of pain and psychological manipulation.
It wasn't that hard. The girl knew she'd done wrong, or she wouldn't have gone crazy worrying about it in the first place. So the First entered her mind under the guise of a loved one –usually, but not always, the mother—to express how disappointed she was. Usually the subject tried to defend herself, justify her behavior, so the 'mother' image turned up the heat. Expressed how sorry she was for ever having given birth to such a monster. How pathetic and useless and disgusting she was. How she wished the girl was dead. By then they had been reduced to emotionally traumatized, sobbing wrecks, so that was the point the First used the image of an authority figure –usually, but not always, the father—and 'punished' her for her actions via the most violent, debasing, degrading rape the First's quite vivid imagination could come up with. It helped if the 'loved one' figure observed, and emphasized how this was deserved, that she had brought this on herself. Already mentally unstable, they soon broke down completely. Occasionally the First got a bit carried away with its fantasies and the girl didn't survive the experience. But there were always more, and even those who didn't make it provided their own source of temporary amusement.
Those who did live through the experience were broken, body and mind. It was then that the First could really work on what remained. Could shape what was left of their minds in its own image, twisting and molding it like clay. What remained afterwards wasn't entirely human. It was a worshipper, something vaguely human-shaped, but which existed only to bask in the glory of its personal God.
Nothing else mattered to such a worshipper. It could not feed itself, or walk, or go to the bathroom. Specially-selected caretakers fed them by hand, changed their diapers occasionally, hosed them down every so often. They didn't last too long --six months was about average-- before they finally starved or died of an aneurism or some other disease their weakened bodies couldn't throw off. But there were always replacements. Enough that when combined with the intensity of their devotion they were able to 'power up' the First in ways that ten thousand less-fanatically zealous followers could not have managed. She actually began to 'glow' with the spiritual energy being directed towards her, and basked in the radiance of such passionate devotion. Had the First not had greater ambitions, the sheer exultation of drenching herself in such worship might have been enough. The joy, the sheer splendor in being worshipped was almost narcotic. Until it had achieved corporeality the First had never experienced the equivalent of sex, but now that it had, it could conclusively state that this was better.
The problem was that the First was pathologically narcisstic, and continually wanted more of everything, including sensations. It had quickly become bored with conventional sex and graduated to ever more extreme forms to maintain its interest. If being worshipped by one hundred monomaniacally obsessed adherents was pleasurable, how much more pleasure would it get from a thousand adherents? A million? No matter how many there were, sooner or later it wouldn't be enough. The First understood its own nature. Better to change space and time back to a form it found more comforting than be continually disappointed with ever-encroaching boredom.
As for the effect the change it sought to enact would have on others, that was of no more interest than the effect its psychological manipulations had had on its worshippers. They were irrelevant. Mere tools to be used. Their lives were meaningless. They were meaningless. A means to an end.
Nothing more.
Basking in the glow of their worshipful devotion, the First was almost content. But it already knew the euphoria wouldn't last.
It never did.