Chapter 1
[Heathrow Airport]
Amy looked around. I'm in Britain. It would have been fun, too – if not for the potentially dangerous task Buffy had assigned her: to uncover more about Spike's past. Yeah – THAT Spike. The vampire who killed two Slayers. She could not return without finding out something ... anything. One weakness that Buffy could exploit. Buffy knew that someday, she will have to close the chapter on Spike. Permanently.
"Length of stay?" the customs officer asked.
I don't know, she thought. "A week, y'know, sight-seeing and all that." The customs office returned her passport.
"Have a nice stay."
Amy approached an elderly couple. "Excuse me, do you know how I can get to the Hilton?"
I'm sorry, we don't speak English. We're tourists they answered – in German.
Great, I'm in England, and the first people I meet can't speak English.
[London, Horse Guards parade grounds, Friday]
Giles buttoned up the red tunic of the Scots Guards. He accepted the request by his former commanding officer to join the procession for the Queen Mother. Little was known about Rupert Giles. Buffy and friends knew he was a watcher from England, but they never pried further about his past – and he never volunteered.
He looked at the ceremonial uniform. After several years in America, he felt uncomfortable with the trappings of British protocol. But it is tradition that made Britain a great power. He looked again at the photograph of his company of troops. It's been over 20 years. Giles told no one, not even Buffy, of his tour of duty in what is now known as the Falklands War. Too painful.
We were all too young, he recalled. He remembered bullets whizzing past his head. "Keep your heads down, lads," the young Cpl. Giles had ordered. "We've gotta do something," Pvt. Clark has screamed. "I'm making a run for it!!" The Argentines had pinned them behind a hill. Giles was helpless as Pvt. Clark climbed the peak and was showered in a hail of enemy machine gun fire. "Malcolm!" Their company prevailed, but at a high price. His best friend was killed. Within a week after the war had ended, Giles resigned from the British Army.
Giles looked again at the photograph and shook his head. He wanted to refuse his former commander's request. "Mr. Giles, you deserve to march shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of us." The Queen Mother was their honorary colonel-in-chief. I shall march, Giles thought, for those who couldn't come back. He put away the photograph and joined the procession.
[Near Westminster Hall]
Amy paid the taxi driver. She figured she would walk a few blocks to the hotel. She knew that the public were paying their last respects to the Queen Mum, but she never thought the line would stretch that long! She saw a dark-haired gentleman walk slowly up to the line.
"From this point, the wait is six hours," the police officer announced. The gentleman took his spot at the back of the line.
Amy walked up to him. "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce?!?" Wesley turned around and was stunned.
"Umm, hi. Weren't you supposed to be ...?"
Amy continued. "...spinning my heels in an exercise wheel in Willow's room? Willow reversed the rat spell."
Wesley remembered Cordelia saying something about Willow's magic addiction. Something to keep an eye on.
"I'm here on behalf of my father," Wesley explained, "He couldn't be here in person." Wesley was going to leave it at that, but he had been in England for weeks. He didn't return Cordelia or Gunn's phone calls. They were concerned, but there really was nothing they could do. It was I, Wesley, who made contact with Holtz. I was the one who unknowingly betrayed Angel's only son. God knows where he is now.
So Wesley explained. Everything. I don't know why I'm telling her these things. I barely know her.
Amy listened intently. As Wesley described his loneliness at having no one to confide in, she realized something. I felt exactly the same way. While Buffy developed strong friendships in Sunnydale, Amy was left to sort out her supernatural baggage alone. She never had a mentor – a Giles to guide her. And here I am, standing in line with a bona fide watcher. Well, ex- watcher, but that's a minor technicality. Maybe there is such a thing as fate, after all.
"So what are you doing here?" Wesley asked her.
"On a mission for the Slayer." Nice choice of words, Amy told herself, it'll sound important – in a saving-the-world kind of way.
"Mission?!" Wesley was puzzled. In England?
"I'm supposed to learn all I can about Spike, his weaknesses, everything,"
"Intriguing," Wesley said. Spike, the murderous vampire who nearly had Angel tortured to death a few years ago. Perhaps Buffy was finally going to put that ... thing ... out of its misery for good.
"Can you please, please, help me with this? Buffy will not be amused if I come back with nothing! I'm a witch. I know nothing about bloodsuckers! Please?!" Amy blurted, clutching his arm.
"I'm not a watcher anymore," Wesley resisted. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in another messy project. I botched up that last one with Holtz. "I don't have access to their archives. I don't even have many of my books with me."
"Please, please, please, please." Amy's pleading was starting to attract the attention of London's Finest.
"Okay, okay!" Wesley smiled and waved off an officer who thought Amy might be a bit crazy. "Show me what you have and we can take it from there."
"Ummm, I just arrived from the States today. I have zip!" she pouted.
Great, Wesley thought, we have to start from scratch. One hour to go before we get to Westminster Hall. This is going to be a long wait ...
[Watcher's Council, a castle in the Scottish highlands]
"The time to act is now!" the council member demanded. "I am not going to wait for the Prince of Wales to take the throne!"
"With the Archbishop of Canterbury making overtures to the Vatican, before long, we'll be taking our orders from Rome, instead of Buckingham Palace!" another member complained.
They're like children, the chairman thought. Squabbling over who gets what present on Christmas Day. We've only just begun and they can't agree amongst themselves. It's up to me, as always. The chairman raised his glass of wine. "Shall we toast to it? On that – at least – we can agree!" The dozen Watchers raised their glasses.
"To the future Republic of Britain!!" they cheered. On the table were documents outlining their objective: the collapse of the House of Windsor.
[Heathrow Airport]
Amy looked around. I'm in Britain. It would have been fun, too – if not for the potentially dangerous task Buffy had assigned her: to uncover more about Spike's past. Yeah – THAT Spike. The vampire who killed two Slayers. She could not return without finding out something ... anything. One weakness that Buffy could exploit. Buffy knew that someday, she will have to close the chapter on Spike. Permanently.
"Length of stay?" the customs officer asked.
I don't know, she thought. "A week, y'know, sight-seeing and all that." The customs office returned her passport.
"Have a nice stay."
Amy approached an elderly couple. "Excuse me, do you know how I can get to the Hilton?"
I'm sorry, we don't speak English. We're tourists they answered – in German.
Great, I'm in England, and the first people I meet can't speak English.
[London, Horse Guards parade grounds, Friday]
Giles buttoned up the red tunic of the Scots Guards. He accepted the request by his former commanding officer to join the procession for the Queen Mother. Little was known about Rupert Giles. Buffy and friends knew he was a watcher from England, but they never pried further about his past – and he never volunteered.
He looked at the ceremonial uniform. After several years in America, he felt uncomfortable with the trappings of British protocol. But it is tradition that made Britain a great power. He looked again at the photograph of his company of troops. It's been over 20 years. Giles told no one, not even Buffy, of his tour of duty in what is now known as the Falklands War. Too painful.
We were all too young, he recalled. He remembered bullets whizzing past his head. "Keep your heads down, lads," the young Cpl. Giles had ordered. "We've gotta do something," Pvt. Clark has screamed. "I'm making a run for it!!" The Argentines had pinned them behind a hill. Giles was helpless as Pvt. Clark climbed the peak and was showered in a hail of enemy machine gun fire. "Malcolm!" Their company prevailed, but at a high price. His best friend was killed. Within a week after the war had ended, Giles resigned from the British Army.
Giles looked again at the photograph and shook his head. He wanted to refuse his former commander's request. "Mr. Giles, you deserve to march shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of us." The Queen Mother was their honorary colonel-in-chief. I shall march, Giles thought, for those who couldn't come back. He put away the photograph and joined the procession.
[Near Westminster Hall]
Amy paid the taxi driver. She figured she would walk a few blocks to the hotel. She knew that the public were paying their last respects to the Queen Mum, but she never thought the line would stretch that long! She saw a dark-haired gentleman walk slowly up to the line.
"From this point, the wait is six hours," the police officer announced. The gentleman took his spot at the back of the line.
Amy walked up to him. "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce?!?" Wesley turned around and was stunned.
"Umm, hi. Weren't you supposed to be ...?"
Amy continued. "...spinning my heels in an exercise wheel in Willow's room? Willow reversed the rat spell."
Wesley remembered Cordelia saying something about Willow's magic addiction. Something to keep an eye on.
"I'm here on behalf of my father," Wesley explained, "He couldn't be here in person." Wesley was going to leave it at that, but he had been in England for weeks. He didn't return Cordelia or Gunn's phone calls. They were concerned, but there really was nothing they could do. It was I, Wesley, who made contact with Holtz. I was the one who unknowingly betrayed Angel's only son. God knows where he is now.
So Wesley explained. Everything. I don't know why I'm telling her these things. I barely know her.
Amy listened intently. As Wesley described his loneliness at having no one to confide in, she realized something. I felt exactly the same way. While Buffy developed strong friendships in Sunnydale, Amy was left to sort out her supernatural baggage alone. She never had a mentor – a Giles to guide her. And here I am, standing in line with a bona fide watcher. Well, ex- watcher, but that's a minor technicality. Maybe there is such a thing as fate, after all.
"So what are you doing here?" Wesley asked her.
"On a mission for the Slayer." Nice choice of words, Amy told herself, it'll sound important – in a saving-the-world kind of way.
"Mission?!" Wesley was puzzled. In England?
"I'm supposed to learn all I can about Spike, his weaknesses, everything,"
"Intriguing," Wesley said. Spike, the murderous vampire who nearly had Angel tortured to death a few years ago. Perhaps Buffy was finally going to put that ... thing ... out of its misery for good.
"Can you please, please, help me with this? Buffy will not be amused if I come back with nothing! I'm a witch. I know nothing about bloodsuckers! Please?!" Amy blurted, clutching his arm.
"I'm not a watcher anymore," Wesley resisted. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in another messy project. I botched up that last one with Holtz. "I don't have access to their archives. I don't even have many of my books with me."
"Please, please, please, please." Amy's pleading was starting to attract the attention of London's Finest.
"Okay, okay!" Wesley smiled and waved off an officer who thought Amy might be a bit crazy. "Show me what you have and we can take it from there."
"Ummm, I just arrived from the States today. I have zip!" she pouted.
Great, Wesley thought, we have to start from scratch. One hour to go before we get to Westminster Hall. This is going to be a long wait ...
[Watcher's Council, a castle in the Scottish highlands]
"The time to act is now!" the council member demanded. "I am not going to wait for the Prince of Wales to take the throne!"
"With the Archbishop of Canterbury making overtures to the Vatican, before long, we'll be taking our orders from Rome, instead of Buckingham Palace!" another member complained.
They're like children, the chairman thought. Squabbling over who gets what present on Christmas Day. We've only just begun and they can't agree amongst themselves. It's up to me, as always. The chairman raised his glass of wine. "Shall we toast to it? On that – at least – we can agree!" The dozen Watchers raised their glasses.
"To the future Republic of Britain!!" they cheered. On the table were documents outlining their objective: the collapse of the House of Windsor.