Part IX
BLEYS
She walked out of City Hall with her head held high and a look of confidence on her face, and it was almost a shame to see her face fall a little when she spotted me standing next to a lamppost across the street. She walked over and stared up at me for a long moment before asking, "All right, how did you know where I would be?"
I grinned, then began walking back to the school, indicating that she should follow, while I explained, "Faith was in the link with the rest of us, trying to reach you. I was able to pick out her surface thoughts, about the Mayor and how she was working for him. I assumed that you had picked up on the same thing, and that you would deal with the problem. So what happened?"
Buffy sighed, then replied, "As it turned out, I didn't have to do much of anything." She recounted what had occurred in the Mayor's office, including her conversation with Faith, and by the time she had finished I was frowning. "You handled yourself well," I commented, "but can you really trust her, Buffy? You're going to put a lot of responsibility on someone with a shaky track record."
She laughed and replied, "After the things I said in there, Giles and some of the others might ask that question about me, not Faith. . .I read her mind again when we shook hands at the end. She really does want to be the Slayer, with all of the attention that gets her. With me gone most of the time, she gets what she wants, and if she does the job, I get what I want. . .a pretty good arrangement. The Mayor got her a new place to stay, and the lease is paid up for two years. I'll have Angel cover it as something he supposedly owns, and no one will be the wiser. The thing is, Faith needs someone capable and experienced to help her, and Wesley ain't going to be the one who can pull that off." She turned to me and grimly continued, "Let's get back to the library. We've got a road trip to plan."
COLIN VANDERBILT, RECORDING SECRETARY, COUNCIL OF WATCHERS
I settled into my seat and watched as the other members of the Nine entered the room and found their own seats. The Board of Directors rarely met as a group, and even more rarely did they meet on such short notice: several of the members had obviously been forced to drop everything and report without attending to their complete grooming regimen. Still, they took their duties seriously, and they had all arrived and were waiting impatiently when the clock tolled the hour and indicated the beginning time for the meeting. I pressed the button that activated the state of the art video recording equipment that had been installed here recently after a close vote had overridden the concerns of the traditionalists. David Masters, the President of the Board for the past decade, banged his gavel and announced, "This emergency session of the Board of Directors of the Council of Watchers is hereby called to order. We are here due to the request of Mr. Morris, who has apparently received an urgent message from the Field Watcher. Walter, would you care to elaborate?"
Walter Morris stood, looking ill at ease. He cleared his throat and began, "Three hours ago, I received a phone call from Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, who took over the duties of Field Watcher after the termination of Mr. Rupert Giles." He frowned at this point: he had been a vocal dissenter when the decision had been made to terminate Giles, and again when Wyndham-Pryce had been appointed to replace him. He continued, "Wyndham-Pryce indicated that there was a matter of great importance that he needed to address the Board about, and that we should schedule an emergency session for this time."
The cold voice of Quentin Travers broke the brief silence. "Hardly informative. Where was Wesley calling from, the airport?" Morris shook his head and replied, "Actually, no, Travers. He was calling from Sunnydale: the caller ID device on my phone confirmed it."
Travers snorted and commented, "That's ridiculous! Even the Concorde wouldn't get him here in three hours from there. . .and how did he get your number anyway? The only contact number he has would direct his call to me-"
"Mr. Giles was kind enough to give me Director Morris's number, Director Travers."
We all looked over to the open doorway. Wyndham-Pryce was standing there, with a determined look on his face that looked oddly different from the casual arrogance that he exuded when he left for his new position the previous month. Standing next to him was an extraordinary figure: a man of relatively ordinary height and weight and athletic build, wearing the clothing of a Renaissance prince done in red and orange, which suited his flaming red hair and beard and laughing blue eyes. A broadsword rested in a scabbard at his side: he exuded charisma-and danger.
Masters managed to keep his composure sufficiently to direct his attention to Wyndham-Pryce and quietly ask, "Would you care to explain yourself, Wesley?" The younger man nodded and replied, "Firstly, my apologies for calling you together on such short notice. . .and for our slight tardiness. We had to find a place to tie up the horse, you see." There was murmuring at the apparent non sequitur, and Masters banged the gavel again to restore order. Wyndham-Pryce waited for silence, then continued, "There was a dangerous event averted tonight that would have destroyed this world if it had occurred as intended. This gentleman assisted in preventing the disaster, and his testimony, along with that of others, is crucial to my presentation."
Travers muttered, "Oh, the world is about to be destroyed by Sunnydale again. . .how often will we hear that old chestnut?" Masters turned to him and glared, and Travers shut up, though his expression was unapologetic. Masters then turned back to Wyndham-Pryce and commented, "Well, Wesley, we are here, and we should hear your entire presentation." He glanced out into the hallway and saw no one, then asked, "Wesley, where are these other witnesses you spoke of ?"
Wyndham-Pryce looked hesitant for the first time, then asked, "Are you sure you want to see them now, Mr. President?" Masters frowned and replied, "Of course, Wesley. Bring them in. . .we don't have all day, now, do we?"
Wyndham-Pryce turned to the red-headed man and nodded, and the stranger extended his hand. I may live to be a hundred, but I will never forget what I saw next. A hand appeared in the stranger's, then an arm attached to the hand, then the entire figure of Buffy Summers, the oldest of the two living Slayers, stepped into the room. Her other hand trailed behind her, and next Faith, the younger Slayer who was on probation after inadvertently killing a man in Sunnydale, appeared. She was followed by Rupert Giles, then by three teenagers who I recognized from prior reports and photos as being Alexander Harris, Willow Rosenburg, and that young fellow who had become a werewolf. . .what was his name. . .ah yes, they called him "Oz." The murmuring in the room was quite loud, and Masters waited a long moment before he gaveled the room into silence again. He took a deep breath and commented, "That was rather extraordinary, Wesley. Would you care to explain?"
Wyndham-Pryce turned to Buffy Summers, who stepped forward and commented, "Actually, I'm going to tell this story. I thought it might be nice to have a long talk with the people who have been so busy screwing up my life for the last three years."
I heard Travers snort and mutter, "Insolent child." She heard him, and gave him a stare that was truly terrifying to behold. Travers is made of stern stuff, but after a moment he looked away, and the Slayer commented, "Now, if I have everyone's attention. . .", then she began the most extraordinary story. I was grateful for the recording equipment, as no written account could hope to capture all of the nuances she put into the tale. For forty minutes, there was no sound in the room other than her voice and the quiet breathing of the others in the room. When she finished, no one spoke for ten full seconds, and I could see from the faces of my fellow Board members that she had convinced them-even Travers-of the truth of her words: I certainly believed her.
Masters cleared his throat, then addressed Buffy: "Miss Summers, thank you for your report. The conclusion that Bleys and Mr. Giles have come to regarding your status is consistent with what we know about how Slayers are called, and explains the unprecedented situation of two active Slayers. Given that, I hereby rule that the Council no longer has any jurisdiction over you and your future actions, and that you are free to live your life as you see fit from this moment onward. We give you our thanks for a job well done, Buffy. Now, was there anything else you wanted to say?"
Buffy's face grew angry for a moment, then settled into a disconcerting coldness. She raked the line of Directors sitting in front of her with a withering glare that had us all squirming in our seats. She locked eyes with Masters and calmly replied, "A lot of things, actually. Do you really think I'm going to wander off and let you continue screwing up the lives of Faith and whoever ends up following her the way you have been with me and the people I care about? It's not happening, people. Ever since Kendra showed up in Sunnydale and almost ran me through because one of you couldn't be bothered to pick up a phone and let us know that there was a second Slayer out there, you Council types have been worse than useless. When you finally show up in Sunnydale, you nearly get me and my mother killed, fire Giles and replace him with someone you had to know wasn't up for the job." Wyndham-Pryce flushed at this last comment, but he remained silent. Buffy continued, "Not to mention the goon squad you sent to Sunnydale to grab Faith. . .who just disposed of a big-time problem for us all, by the way, in case you didn't catch that little detail in my report." She looked over the line of Directors again and concluded bluntly, "I've just gained one hell of a lot of power, and if you don't justify your existence to me rather quickly, your involvement with Slayers in this world is finished, as of now."
There was silence for another long moment, then Travers laughed harshly. He stood up and glared at Buffy, then turned to the others, exhorting, "Don't you see! She's mad with power. . .she's always been too close to Mr. Giles, and it has corrupted her, just as I warned you! We can't let her interfere with the way we do things. . .the way things have always been done. We've kept the world safe for millennia. . .are we to be thwarted now by the whims of a spoiled child? You've read the reports from Sunnydale. . .you know I'm right."
"Actually, they only know what you've told them, Travers." The voice belonged to Wyndham-Pryce, and it was-if possible-colder than Buffy's. "I read the recent reports from Sunnydale, which as usual are based on the Field Watcher's diaries, before assuming my duties there. Upon receiving the actual diaries from Mr. Giles, I first read the older entries, and noticed the general tone was different than the reports that I had read. Curious, I examined the diary entries that the reports were based on, and found that the events were portrayed in a radically different fashion than in the reports, with all of the changes in the reports being unfavorable to Mr. Giles. I think that you'll find that my reports have been similarly altered. I've made copies for your convenience." He handed them out, and the contents bore out his conclusions. All eyes turned to one seated figure as Wyndham-Pryce concluded, "I must assume that the reports were intentionally altered by the one Watcher with the responsibility for handling communications with the Field Watcher: Quentin Travers."
Travers glared at Wyndham-Pryce, then looked contemptuously at the rest of the Board as they stared at him. He laughed again and snapped, "You fools! Summers and Giles were misfits from the beginning. They had no business having the destiny of the world in their hands. . .I was serving the greater good by trying to let nature take its course. . ."
"You mean by insisting that we continue with the Cruciamentum, when Buffy did what no Slayer had done in thirty years and made it to her eighteenth birthday, Travers?" Giles' voice was a barely contained snarl as he lashed out at the man who had tormented him and the Slayer he had sworn to protect. "Never mind that she had done more by that time than five Slayers typically manage in their entire careers. . .you insisted that she had to prove herself yet again. You never intended for her to survive at all, did you?"
Masters turned to Travers and shook his head. "I'm guessing that you were less than candid about what happened when Hobson and Blair were killed, also. Giles, clearly we should have investigated this more thoroughly before deciding, but Travers made quite incriminating accusations towards you, and we had no reason to doubt him."
Giles nodded and replied, "Yes, Wesley filled me in not long ago. I supposedly let Kralick loose trying to protect Buffy and got Hobson and Blair killed. Plausible. . .if you don't bother to look at the evidence." Masters looked away in shame, as did four of the five other members who had voted to remove Giles. After a moment, Masters pressed a button in front of him, opening the intercom. "Security. Please come and take Mr. Travers into custody."
Travers moved quickly, grabbing the elderly Masters and yanking him from his seat as he pulled out a semi-automatic pistol and placed it to his temple. "No one move!" he snapped, as he began moving around the table towards the doorway. Wyndham-Pryce moved furtively and for a moment, Travers changed his position, exposing his throat slightly. In that instant, Buffy moved in a blur and a stake appeared as if by magic in Travers' throat. Blood spurted and he dropped the gun and released Masters. He fell to the ground, looking pleadingly at the other occupants of the room. Buffy walked over to him, expressionless, and just stood there until the light went out of his eyes and the blood ceased flowing.
Without another apparent thought for the corpse that had been Quentin Travers, Buffy Summers turned to Masters and helped him to his feet. Shocked, the Council President exclaimed, "Miss Summers. . .you killed him. . .a Slayer. . ."
Buffy cut him off: "Mr. Masters, I'm not the Slayer any more. Now, let's have a little chat about what the deal is going to be from now on for whoever is." She waited for security to come and remove Travers' corpse and for the rest of us to settle down, then she began to speak again. As I listened, I watched the faces of the surviving board members and realized that, whatever her demands, we would end up meeting them. The Council of Watchers had supervised Slayers for millennia, but Buffy Summers was something out of our experience, and we would have to adapt. . .or become irrelevant to the new order of things.
GILES
"Rupert Giles. The unanimous finding of the Board of Directors of the Council of Watchers is that its previous finding as to your conduct in the matter of Buffy Summers' Cruciamentum was in error, due to mistaken reliance on the report of the late Quentin Travers. Consequently, the Board requests that you consent to resume your former position as Field Watcher to Faith Stevenson, the Slayer. Furthermore, the Board, in accordance with your verbal recommendation, appoints Wesley Wyndham-Pryce as your primary assistant. The remainder of your staff will be appointed at a later time." David Masters' voice was clear, calm, and apologetic as he continued in a more personal vein: "Rupert. . .we wronged you greatly, and we are completely satisfied with your performance as Field Watcher. . .both before and after the unfortunate events in January. We would be very grateful if you would consent to stay on."
I was silent for a long moment. I could feel the eyes of Buffy and the others, watching to see how I would react. The Board had agreed to adopt all of Buffy's demands, though they chose to say so by referring to them as "recommendations". . .even when overmatched, the pride of the Council dies hard. No future Slayers would be subjected to the Cruciamentum, and the Council would provide a staff of five Watchers to assist the Field Watcher in the future. All five would report to separate members of the Board: never again would the actions of a single rogue Watcher court disaster. The Council would make sure that the Slayer had adequate living accommodations in the future: Faith's situation had been unpleasant, and it had ultimately contributed to her troubles. With increased assistance from the Council, elimination of the Cruciamentum and other outdated practices regarding the Slayer (including the discouragement of "normal" pursuits such as school and friends), and the probable reduction of supernatural activity due to the sealing of the Hellmouth and the termination of Brand's interference, being the Slayer seemed likely to be a far less lethal profession in the future. Faith would need a capable Watcher to assist her, and I wanted to be that Watcher: I owed Faith that much, and Buffy too-the new policies of the Council were her legacy. I looked at Masters and nodded. "I accept." Masters leaned forward and shook my hand, and the other members of the Board followed suit. Walter Morris, who had been my friend from childhood, pumped my hand with enthusiasm and led me aside, commenting, "You've done well, Rupert. Buffy is quite a remarkable girl. . .we'll be sorry to lose her services as the Slayer. . .though not that she's getting out of the job alive."
I smiled and replied, "Buffy was remarkable before I ever met her, Walter. I'm just glad I was able to help her live to see this moment." I looked over to where Buffy was talking to Bleys: her face was lit up with a smile that I had all too rarely seen in the years we had worked together. The lifting of the burden from her shoulders was almost a physical presence in and of itself: the Buffy that remained was truly magnificent. I was just standing there watching her when Wesley walked up, looking uncomfortable. "Mr. Giles," he began, "I just wanted to say. . .I'm sorry for the role I played in this. . .unpleasantness. I misjudged you, and I hope to be able to make amends."
I managed a rueful smile, and replied, "Wesley, I'd be lying if I didn't say that you've been a royal pain in the ass most of the time we've worked together." He winced at that, but quickly composed himself as I continued, "However, you were just as much a victim of Travers' machinations as the rest of us, and your assistance was invaluable today: when presented with the evidence, you did the right thing." I frowned at his own rueful expression, and honesty compelled me to make an admission: "Wesley, the fact is that I would have made a lousy Field Watcher at twenty five as well. I had to get past a lot of mistakes and get through a lot of maturing before I assumed my position. . .and even then, I had a lot of on the job training to do." I paused, and Wesley followed my gaze as I looked over at Buffy, who was laughing at something Xander was saying. I shook my head and grinned for a moment, then continued, "You are an excellent researcher, Wesley, and those talents will be useful in the months and years ahead. Give us a few years, and you'll be ready to give it another go. . .training with a Slayer will do wonders for those hand to hand combat skills."
Wesley looked for a moment as if he wanted to reconsider the whole thing at the though of sparring with Faith on a regular basis, then nodded and walked over to speak with Masters. I laughed and decided to walk over to Buffy, who was surrounded by all of her friends. She was happy and healthy, and whatever her future as a member of the Royal Family of Amber held for her, I was confident she would thrive. . .now that the weight of this world had been removed from her shoulders.
. . .to be continued
As always, comments are welcomed and desired.
BLEYS
She walked out of City Hall with her head held high and a look of confidence on her face, and it was almost a shame to see her face fall a little when she spotted me standing next to a lamppost across the street. She walked over and stared up at me for a long moment before asking, "All right, how did you know where I would be?"
I grinned, then began walking back to the school, indicating that she should follow, while I explained, "Faith was in the link with the rest of us, trying to reach you. I was able to pick out her surface thoughts, about the Mayor and how she was working for him. I assumed that you had picked up on the same thing, and that you would deal with the problem. So what happened?"
Buffy sighed, then replied, "As it turned out, I didn't have to do much of anything." She recounted what had occurred in the Mayor's office, including her conversation with Faith, and by the time she had finished I was frowning. "You handled yourself well," I commented, "but can you really trust her, Buffy? You're going to put a lot of responsibility on someone with a shaky track record."
She laughed and replied, "After the things I said in there, Giles and some of the others might ask that question about me, not Faith. . .I read her mind again when we shook hands at the end. She really does want to be the Slayer, with all of the attention that gets her. With me gone most of the time, she gets what she wants, and if she does the job, I get what I want. . .a pretty good arrangement. The Mayor got her a new place to stay, and the lease is paid up for two years. I'll have Angel cover it as something he supposedly owns, and no one will be the wiser. The thing is, Faith needs someone capable and experienced to help her, and Wesley ain't going to be the one who can pull that off." She turned to me and grimly continued, "Let's get back to the library. We've got a road trip to plan."
COLIN VANDERBILT, RECORDING SECRETARY, COUNCIL OF WATCHERS
I settled into my seat and watched as the other members of the Nine entered the room and found their own seats. The Board of Directors rarely met as a group, and even more rarely did they meet on such short notice: several of the members had obviously been forced to drop everything and report without attending to their complete grooming regimen. Still, they took their duties seriously, and they had all arrived and were waiting impatiently when the clock tolled the hour and indicated the beginning time for the meeting. I pressed the button that activated the state of the art video recording equipment that had been installed here recently after a close vote had overridden the concerns of the traditionalists. David Masters, the President of the Board for the past decade, banged his gavel and announced, "This emergency session of the Board of Directors of the Council of Watchers is hereby called to order. We are here due to the request of Mr. Morris, who has apparently received an urgent message from the Field Watcher. Walter, would you care to elaborate?"
Walter Morris stood, looking ill at ease. He cleared his throat and began, "Three hours ago, I received a phone call from Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, who took over the duties of Field Watcher after the termination of Mr. Rupert Giles." He frowned at this point: he had been a vocal dissenter when the decision had been made to terminate Giles, and again when Wyndham-Pryce had been appointed to replace him. He continued, "Wyndham-Pryce indicated that there was a matter of great importance that he needed to address the Board about, and that we should schedule an emergency session for this time."
The cold voice of Quentin Travers broke the brief silence. "Hardly informative. Where was Wesley calling from, the airport?" Morris shook his head and replied, "Actually, no, Travers. He was calling from Sunnydale: the caller ID device on my phone confirmed it."
Travers snorted and commented, "That's ridiculous! Even the Concorde wouldn't get him here in three hours from there. . .and how did he get your number anyway? The only contact number he has would direct his call to me-"
"Mr. Giles was kind enough to give me Director Morris's number, Director Travers."
We all looked over to the open doorway. Wyndham-Pryce was standing there, with a determined look on his face that looked oddly different from the casual arrogance that he exuded when he left for his new position the previous month. Standing next to him was an extraordinary figure: a man of relatively ordinary height and weight and athletic build, wearing the clothing of a Renaissance prince done in red and orange, which suited his flaming red hair and beard and laughing blue eyes. A broadsword rested in a scabbard at his side: he exuded charisma-and danger.
Masters managed to keep his composure sufficiently to direct his attention to Wyndham-Pryce and quietly ask, "Would you care to explain yourself, Wesley?" The younger man nodded and replied, "Firstly, my apologies for calling you together on such short notice. . .and for our slight tardiness. We had to find a place to tie up the horse, you see." There was murmuring at the apparent non sequitur, and Masters banged the gavel again to restore order. Wyndham-Pryce waited for silence, then continued, "There was a dangerous event averted tonight that would have destroyed this world if it had occurred as intended. This gentleman assisted in preventing the disaster, and his testimony, along with that of others, is crucial to my presentation."
Travers muttered, "Oh, the world is about to be destroyed by Sunnydale again. . .how often will we hear that old chestnut?" Masters turned to him and glared, and Travers shut up, though his expression was unapologetic. Masters then turned back to Wyndham-Pryce and commented, "Well, Wesley, we are here, and we should hear your entire presentation." He glanced out into the hallway and saw no one, then asked, "Wesley, where are these other witnesses you spoke of ?"
Wyndham-Pryce looked hesitant for the first time, then asked, "Are you sure you want to see them now, Mr. President?" Masters frowned and replied, "Of course, Wesley. Bring them in. . .we don't have all day, now, do we?"
Wyndham-Pryce turned to the red-headed man and nodded, and the stranger extended his hand. I may live to be a hundred, but I will never forget what I saw next. A hand appeared in the stranger's, then an arm attached to the hand, then the entire figure of Buffy Summers, the oldest of the two living Slayers, stepped into the room. Her other hand trailed behind her, and next Faith, the younger Slayer who was on probation after inadvertently killing a man in Sunnydale, appeared. She was followed by Rupert Giles, then by three teenagers who I recognized from prior reports and photos as being Alexander Harris, Willow Rosenburg, and that young fellow who had become a werewolf. . .what was his name. . .ah yes, they called him "Oz." The murmuring in the room was quite loud, and Masters waited a long moment before he gaveled the room into silence again. He took a deep breath and commented, "That was rather extraordinary, Wesley. Would you care to explain?"
Wyndham-Pryce turned to Buffy Summers, who stepped forward and commented, "Actually, I'm going to tell this story. I thought it might be nice to have a long talk with the people who have been so busy screwing up my life for the last three years."
I heard Travers snort and mutter, "Insolent child." She heard him, and gave him a stare that was truly terrifying to behold. Travers is made of stern stuff, but after a moment he looked away, and the Slayer commented, "Now, if I have everyone's attention. . .", then she began the most extraordinary story. I was grateful for the recording equipment, as no written account could hope to capture all of the nuances she put into the tale. For forty minutes, there was no sound in the room other than her voice and the quiet breathing of the others in the room. When she finished, no one spoke for ten full seconds, and I could see from the faces of my fellow Board members that she had convinced them-even Travers-of the truth of her words: I certainly believed her.
Masters cleared his throat, then addressed Buffy: "Miss Summers, thank you for your report. The conclusion that Bleys and Mr. Giles have come to regarding your status is consistent with what we know about how Slayers are called, and explains the unprecedented situation of two active Slayers. Given that, I hereby rule that the Council no longer has any jurisdiction over you and your future actions, and that you are free to live your life as you see fit from this moment onward. We give you our thanks for a job well done, Buffy. Now, was there anything else you wanted to say?"
Buffy's face grew angry for a moment, then settled into a disconcerting coldness. She raked the line of Directors sitting in front of her with a withering glare that had us all squirming in our seats. She locked eyes with Masters and calmly replied, "A lot of things, actually. Do you really think I'm going to wander off and let you continue screwing up the lives of Faith and whoever ends up following her the way you have been with me and the people I care about? It's not happening, people. Ever since Kendra showed up in Sunnydale and almost ran me through because one of you couldn't be bothered to pick up a phone and let us know that there was a second Slayer out there, you Council types have been worse than useless. When you finally show up in Sunnydale, you nearly get me and my mother killed, fire Giles and replace him with someone you had to know wasn't up for the job." Wyndham-Pryce flushed at this last comment, but he remained silent. Buffy continued, "Not to mention the goon squad you sent to Sunnydale to grab Faith. . .who just disposed of a big-time problem for us all, by the way, in case you didn't catch that little detail in my report." She looked over the line of Directors again and concluded bluntly, "I've just gained one hell of a lot of power, and if you don't justify your existence to me rather quickly, your involvement with Slayers in this world is finished, as of now."
There was silence for another long moment, then Travers laughed harshly. He stood up and glared at Buffy, then turned to the others, exhorting, "Don't you see! She's mad with power. . .she's always been too close to Mr. Giles, and it has corrupted her, just as I warned you! We can't let her interfere with the way we do things. . .the way things have always been done. We've kept the world safe for millennia. . .are we to be thwarted now by the whims of a spoiled child? You've read the reports from Sunnydale. . .you know I'm right."
"Actually, they only know what you've told them, Travers." The voice belonged to Wyndham-Pryce, and it was-if possible-colder than Buffy's. "I read the recent reports from Sunnydale, which as usual are based on the Field Watcher's diaries, before assuming my duties there. Upon receiving the actual diaries from Mr. Giles, I first read the older entries, and noticed the general tone was different than the reports that I had read. Curious, I examined the diary entries that the reports were based on, and found that the events were portrayed in a radically different fashion than in the reports, with all of the changes in the reports being unfavorable to Mr. Giles. I think that you'll find that my reports have been similarly altered. I've made copies for your convenience." He handed them out, and the contents bore out his conclusions. All eyes turned to one seated figure as Wyndham-Pryce concluded, "I must assume that the reports were intentionally altered by the one Watcher with the responsibility for handling communications with the Field Watcher: Quentin Travers."
Travers glared at Wyndham-Pryce, then looked contemptuously at the rest of the Board as they stared at him. He laughed again and snapped, "You fools! Summers and Giles were misfits from the beginning. They had no business having the destiny of the world in their hands. . .I was serving the greater good by trying to let nature take its course. . ."
"You mean by insisting that we continue with the Cruciamentum, when Buffy did what no Slayer had done in thirty years and made it to her eighteenth birthday, Travers?" Giles' voice was a barely contained snarl as he lashed out at the man who had tormented him and the Slayer he had sworn to protect. "Never mind that she had done more by that time than five Slayers typically manage in their entire careers. . .you insisted that she had to prove herself yet again. You never intended for her to survive at all, did you?"
Masters turned to Travers and shook his head. "I'm guessing that you were less than candid about what happened when Hobson and Blair were killed, also. Giles, clearly we should have investigated this more thoroughly before deciding, but Travers made quite incriminating accusations towards you, and we had no reason to doubt him."
Giles nodded and replied, "Yes, Wesley filled me in not long ago. I supposedly let Kralick loose trying to protect Buffy and got Hobson and Blair killed. Plausible. . .if you don't bother to look at the evidence." Masters looked away in shame, as did four of the five other members who had voted to remove Giles. After a moment, Masters pressed a button in front of him, opening the intercom. "Security. Please come and take Mr. Travers into custody."
Travers moved quickly, grabbing the elderly Masters and yanking him from his seat as he pulled out a semi-automatic pistol and placed it to his temple. "No one move!" he snapped, as he began moving around the table towards the doorway. Wyndham-Pryce moved furtively and for a moment, Travers changed his position, exposing his throat slightly. In that instant, Buffy moved in a blur and a stake appeared as if by magic in Travers' throat. Blood spurted and he dropped the gun and released Masters. He fell to the ground, looking pleadingly at the other occupants of the room. Buffy walked over to him, expressionless, and just stood there until the light went out of his eyes and the blood ceased flowing.
Without another apparent thought for the corpse that had been Quentin Travers, Buffy Summers turned to Masters and helped him to his feet. Shocked, the Council President exclaimed, "Miss Summers. . .you killed him. . .a Slayer. . ."
Buffy cut him off: "Mr. Masters, I'm not the Slayer any more. Now, let's have a little chat about what the deal is going to be from now on for whoever is." She waited for security to come and remove Travers' corpse and for the rest of us to settle down, then she began to speak again. As I listened, I watched the faces of the surviving board members and realized that, whatever her demands, we would end up meeting them. The Council of Watchers had supervised Slayers for millennia, but Buffy Summers was something out of our experience, and we would have to adapt. . .or become irrelevant to the new order of things.
GILES
"Rupert Giles. The unanimous finding of the Board of Directors of the Council of Watchers is that its previous finding as to your conduct in the matter of Buffy Summers' Cruciamentum was in error, due to mistaken reliance on the report of the late Quentin Travers. Consequently, the Board requests that you consent to resume your former position as Field Watcher to Faith Stevenson, the Slayer. Furthermore, the Board, in accordance with your verbal recommendation, appoints Wesley Wyndham-Pryce as your primary assistant. The remainder of your staff will be appointed at a later time." David Masters' voice was clear, calm, and apologetic as he continued in a more personal vein: "Rupert. . .we wronged you greatly, and we are completely satisfied with your performance as Field Watcher. . .both before and after the unfortunate events in January. We would be very grateful if you would consent to stay on."
I was silent for a long moment. I could feel the eyes of Buffy and the others, watching to see how I would react. The Board had agreed to adopt all of Buffy's demands, though they chose to say so by referring to them as "recommendations". . .even when overmatched, the pride of the Council dies hard. No future Slayers would be subjected to the Cruciamentum, and the Council would provide a staff of five Watchers to assist the Field Watcher in the future. All five would report to separate members of the Board: never again would the actions of a single rogue Watcher court disaster. The Council would make sure that the Slayer had adequate living accommodations in the future: Faith's situation had been unpleasant, and it had ultimately contributed to her troubles. With increased assistance from the Council, elimination of the Cruciamentum and other outdated practices regarding the Slayer (including the discouragement of "normal" pursuits such as school and friends), and the probable reduction of supernatural activity due to the sealing of the Hellmouth and the termination of Brand's interference, being the Slayer seemed likely to be a far less lethal profession in the future. Faith would need a capable Watcher to assist her, and I wanted to be that Watcher: I owed Faith that much, and Buffy too-the new policies of the Council were her legacy. I looked at Masters and nodded. "I accept." Masters leaned forward and shook my hand, and the other members of the Board followed suit. Walter Morris, who had been my friend from childhood, pumped my hand with enthusiasm and led me aside, commenting, "You've done well, Rupert. Buffy is quite a remarkable girl. . .we'll be sorry to lose her services as the Slayer. . .though not that she's getting out of the job alive."
I smiled and replied, "Buffy was remarkable before I ever met her, Walter. I'm just glad I was able to help her live to see this moment." I looked over to where Buffy was talking to Bleys: her face was lit up with a smile that I had all too rarely seen in the years we had worked together. The lifting of the burden from her shoulders was almost a physical presence in and of itself: the Buffy that remained was truly magnificent. I was just standing there watching her when Wesley walked up, looking uncomfortable. "Mr. Giles," he began, "I just wanted to say. . .I'm sorry for the role I played in this. . .unpleasantness. I misjudged you, and I hope to be able to make amends."
I managed a rueful smile, and replied, "Wesley, I'd be lying if I didn't say that you've been a royal pain in the ass most of the time we've worked together." He winced at that, but quickly composed himself as I continued, "However, you were just as much a victim of Travers' machinations as the rest of us, and your assistance was invaluable today: when presented with the evidence, you did the right thing." I frowned at his own rueful expression, and honesty compelled me to make an admission: "Wesley, the fact is that I would have made a lousy Field Watcher at twenty five as well. I had to get past a lot of mistakes and get through a lot of maturing before I assumed my position. . .and even then, I had a lot of on the job training to do." I paused, and Wesley followed my gaze as I looked over at Buffy, who was laughing at something Xander was saying. I shook my head and grinned for a moment, then continued, "You are an excellent researcher, Wesley, and those talents will be useful in the months and years ahead. Give us a few years, and you'll be ready to give it another go. . .training with a Slayer will do wonders for those hand to hand combat skills."
Wesley looked for a moment as if he wanted to reconsider the whole thing at the though of sparring with Faith on a regular basis, then nodded and walked over to speak with Masters. I laughed and decided to walk over to Buffy, who was surrounded by all of her friends. She was happy and healthy, and whatever her future as a member of the Royal Family of Amber held for her, I was confident she would thrive. . .now that the weight of this world had been removed from her shoulders.
. . .to be continued
As always, comments are welcomed and desired.