Chapter 19: We. Are. Bored.

Warning. Unrealised and never followed up Plot Contrivence for the purpose of a cliffhanger has been detected. Warp Core Breach imminent. Suggest immediate cranial shutdown. Warning.

"And don't say I didn't warn you" – Joss 'What you neeeeeeed' Whedon.

Well. That was…amusing. It turns out that the Watcher's Council's second-in-command actually owned a sense of humour. Of a kind. And he was an ex-geek, which helped (though he was of the 'very British' variety which meant he wore a pinstripe suit and carried a briefcase and it was only his Blake's Seven lunchbox that gave him away).

Willow sat opposite this tall, graying man, who was seated casually behind a desk. He wore a beret, at a slight askew on his head, the hat not really complementing the aforementioned pin-striped suit. His hands rested, fingers interlaced in his lap, and a cigarette burned slowly in a gilded ashtray. He had chuckled immensely when herself and Spike had first arrived, explaining it was a fun joke he liked to play on unsuspecting strangers. Then he had invited them in, offered them drinks and seat, and proceeded to question them in great detail about their lives.

To her surprise, Willow had found herself retelling the events of last year, giving more explanation to her actions that she had to anyone, even to Joss, and definitely more than she'd given to the audience. Poor, mistreated souls. Little did they know…

Mr Rok-Cayke had listened intensely, smoking and sipping brandy from a crystal glass, and occasionally questioning something in great detail. Now, twenty minutes later, his thin lips, beneath his moustache, stretched themselves into a smile, and, as if he had all the time in the world, he slowly leaned forward.

"And you really did all that in the name of love?" The cigarette was plucked from the ashtray, and he dragged daintily on the end. Willow gulped.

"Yeah. I mean, I regret it so much now, but… at the time…"

He smiled that thin smile again, and returned the cigarette to its original location.

"No regrets, Miss Rosenburg. The Watcher's Council do not believe in regrets, merely economic opportunity, fine wines and complete superiority over lesser beings. Those" He emphasized "are the rules by which we all should live"

"No wonder the Council are meglomanic bastards" Spike muttered. He was stood, sulkily, in one corner of the large room, between a bookshelf and a cupboard, which, he suspected, held vast quantities of holy water, crosses and scotch. Above him, a clock ticked, displaying the time at 9.30pm.

He supposed he was lucky Tescos did late-night opening, otherwise he'd never get his weekly groceries. The one thing England lacked was 24hour drugstores. Though that did mean no 24hour drugstore robberies. Probably a plus.

So Tescos it was. And yet, look how that had turned out. Now here he was, sat in the Watcher's Council, a place he should never ever ever ever have to be, helping Willow the Witch to stop some evil time stopping thing from doing it's evil time stopping. Why?!

He was a vampire, he was an evil blood sucking fiend, who made people's necks his chalice, and wore their shoes only when they matched his outfit. He shouldn't be helping people, being nice, doing good…

His soul/pager device went off in his pocket, and Spike shifted uncomfortably. Well, he supposed, it couldn't hurt. He'd help out, just this once. For Buffy.

His demon-self groaned in frustration, before curling up in resignation in one darkened corner with only radio 4 for company. He may as well move out, for all the bad he got to do.

From behind his desk, Mr Rok-Cayke gave a small chuckle and rose to his feet, rubbing his softly skinned hands together.

"Miss Rosenburg, you are utterly delightful. Really, your presence is a pleasure"

Willow shifted uncomfortably.

"I just want to help. And Giles always said that the Council had the best resources…"

"Ah, yes of course. Mr Rupert Giles. How is he?"

"He's fine" Willow felt herself grow defensive. Mr Rok-Cayke saw and waved a placating hand in her direction.

"I have no interest in Mr Giles. Seems to me that there's a contaminant in the air when it comes to Sunnydale and Watchers. Once they go there, they are no longer our concern" He chuckled softly. "Which is a pity" He failed to elaborate.

Willow watched as he wandered over to one of three large windows which looked out over a quiet street and parkland. He lit another cigarette and let it perch on his bottom lip. There was a pause of expectant silence, before he began, rather abruptly:

"The Council is aware of the events occurring in London" His really rather British accent drifted softly across the room. "Unfortunately, they are merely side-effects caused by severe altercations around the world" He took a drag on his cigarette, and then pursed his lips. "A species known as the MoW, file number 282820, are currently involved in a worldwide scheme. We have been aware of their intentions for quite some time, yet they initiated the plan before our preparations were completed"

Spike snorted. Mr Rok-Cayke didn't even glance in his direction. The London landscape was evidently more fascinating.

"Sometime this week, the MoW demons procured The Orb to Rule all Orbs, the Orb of Apoc, and are now taking steps to achieve their ultimate goal"

Willow stared at him in alarm.

"I'm afraid to say, however, that the Council is unable to take any action against the events occurring in London. Not legally, anyway. Outside our jurisdiction, due to it being a chain event" He gave a wry smile.

"So…so you're saying you're just gonna wait until time stops around you?" Willow couldn't believe it. "No wonder Giles wanted to leave"

"To be fair, Miss Rosenburg, he was sacked"

"With retro-active pay" She sounded proud.

This caused the second in command Watcher to turn away from the window. That small smile was back in place, as was the cigarette.

"I do admire your tenacity Miss Rosenburg. To actually gain entry to the London Branch of the Watcher's Council is quite a feat in itself, and to be accompanied by William the Bloody shows great…" He searched for a word " 'strength' in character"

Spike shot him a dirty look.

"Miss Rosenburg, what I'm trying to say is…The Council are unable to help you. Indeed, they do not wish to help you. Helping mere mortals (particularly Americans) is not something the Council does. We're British. We read stuffy books and wear tweed, and live the life of the stereotype. Our stiff upper lips are not merely for show, you know"

Willow failed to be impressed, and he sighed.

"But that does not mean you cannot help yourself" He added, flicking ash into his gilded ashtray "You're an intelligent girl, not to mention a powerful witch. I'm sure you understand what I mean"

He left the offer there.

Willow looked perplexed, and glanced at Spike, who shrugged. The cigarette was extinguished quite violently, and Mr Rok-Cayke reseated himself at his desk.

"What do these demons want?"

He chuckled and shook his head.

"That's not how it works, Miss Rosenburg. Besides, it is hardly important. You need to concentrate on the dilemma afflicting London. Others will deal with the central crisis"

"Others?"

"Yes. A group of twenty-somethings, and an ex-librarian, I believe"

"Buffy??" Willow was incredulous.

"Is that her name?" His tone was mocking, and it irritated.

"The Orb is in Sunnydale?!"

"Buffy?" Spike was suddenly alert and listening. "Is Buffy in danger?"

Willow ignored him.

"Are they ok? I mean, are they going to win?"

Mr Rok-Cayke raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Preliminary reports are sketchy" He paused. "But I wouldn't bet on it"