In pursuit of William
Sunnydale revisited (4)
Fanfiction by dutchbuffy2305
Rating: R
Timeline: S7, around ep 16/17, with flashbacks to fall
Summary: Lydia Chalmers, female member of the Council Team, returns to Sunnydale, hoping to meet Spike again
I woke up in a green-and- white painted hospital room, surrounded by beeping monitors and tubes filled with red and clear fluids. It took some time for me to comprehend that they were all connected to me. What on earth had happened? Had I been in a car accident? I didn't really hurt, but I felt very drowsy and cotton-woolish. The last thing I remembered was the meeting at Council HQ. The rest of the evening was a blank. Vampire attack? With difficulty I willed my hand to check my neck, but I couldn't feel new wounds.
I remembered there had been a big meeting, and I was wearing my new grey gabardine suit. Mr. Travers was starting a speech on what was facing us when something happened.
"Our fears have been confirmed. The First Evil has declared all out war against this institution, and its initial volleys have proved to be most effective. I, for one, think it's time we struck back."
Everyone had nodded in agreement.
"Get me confirmations on all remaining operatives, " Mr. Travers had continued. "I want visuals and tacticals -- highest alert. Get them here as soon as possible. Begin preparations for mobilization. Once we're accounted for, I want to be ready to move. We'll be paying a visit to the Hellmouth."
We were all looking at him grimly. He could do a passable speech, old Quentin could.
"My friends, these are the times that define us. Proverbs, 24:6. "For by wise counsel, you shall make your war. Now let's get moving. We've got work to –"
I couldn't remember anything after that. Things had been really hotting up in Sunnydale. Mr. Travers had invited me to be on the crisis team, and it was a tremendous honour. I loved being asked; it meant I was really acquiring a reputation in the Council. Rupert had been around once or twice, preoccupied and tense. We'd occasionally seen something of each other since he'd returned with Miss Rosenberg, or Willow I should say, in tow. And now he was back in Bath again, and Willow in Sunnydale.
I had been listening in unobtrusively to a conversation between Mr. Travers and another colleague.
"We heard that the Aurelian vampire is back in Sunnydale? Will he stir up more trouble, or side with the enemy?" Mr. Travers enquired, as their distance from me decreased.
"Hardly, my dear Quentin, hardly," Nigel replied with a tight smile. "No reason to suspect he's changed alliances."
"And I understand Miss Rosenberg will be returning as well to lend her assistance? Is she ready?"
It reassured me that things had been stirring up before Willow's return. More importantly, the vampire (who but my William?) was apparently back in Sunnydale, and his allegiance seemed in doubt. To my surprise, this bit of news hadn't been mentioned by Rupert, last time we spoke on the phone. Didn't his Slayer keep him up to date?
There was an incredible amount of work to do, and it left precious little time for my new interests. It was as well that Rupert had made clear, delicately but definitely, that there was no chance of resuming our former semi-relationship. Well, yes, as if I hadn't gotten the message already! But I would not have had the time. Mr. Travers had actually encouraged me to branch out into other demonic research, praising my innovative methods and daring insights, saying that they were just what the CoW needed. At last!
A nurse came in. Thinking all these busy thoughts must've made me beep differently than before, because she was all fussy and asking how we were doing, like Holby Central, actually. What followed was indescribably tedious. Endless tests and checkups, embarrassing talks with a psychologist to ascertain I had all my marbles. I'm not sure I would fit into the narrow confines of their normality, but since I remembered my name, the year and who was PM, they declared me psychologically sound.
I could live with being a bit gimpy for awhile, but I was appalled to hear I'd been in a coma for weeks. What a waste of time! Mummy and Pamela came by, of course, all teary and suddenly remorseful for not having been to see me as often as before. Well, mummy is getting on in age and Pamela has two kids! Not as if I expected them to drop by every weekend, or wanted them to, for that matter.
A huge copper asked me dull and inane questions and it took a lot of prodding before he parted with some information on what had happened to me. I was deeply shocked. HQ blown up? By what or who? Not as if there was a vampire or demon resistance movement or anything! At first I couldn't take in all the implications, as I lay there impatiently healing. No Council? No watchers left? Library gone? Did it mean I was out of a job, or that I suddenly had huge responsibilities and funds?
Solicitors and notaries and their ilk came to talk to me about the CoW. There apparently were contingency plans, and as I was one of the few English Watchers so far identified who was still alive, and the only one who was conscious, I was the one who had all the power and resources at my command, at least for now. I'm sure it sped up the healing. I could do whatever I chose, start up a new Council of Watchers, or not. I rather thought I would, I could think of many ways to move the Council into the twenty-first century, and eradicate some of the more barbarian Slayer training practices and the rampant sexism and specieism. But first I needed a little compassionate leave to complete up unfinished business in California.
Lydia Chalmers, Head of Council. It had quite a ring to it. It was odd, most of my co-workers were dead, some of them had been friends or even lovers, and I didn't seem to be able to feel very much about it at all. Perhaps it would hit me later. All I could think of was to become fit again and get myself to Sunnydale.
**********
I hadn't slept at all on the flight, being far too excited by the prospect of seeing William again. This time I was a lot better prepared, and I was confident that things would go differently. I staggered out of my rental car in the hot air of Sunnydale. Driving on the right had been the death blow in my already overtired state. I registered and fell into bed half undressed. When I woke up it was dark. I had no idea of the time and had to turn on the telly to check the local time and date. I'd slept fourteen hours straight! This meant I still was on UK time, but that was no matter, since I planned to operate at night mostly.
I went out into the tiny Sunnydale town centre and bought maps and other stuff. The Magic Box looked destroyed and abandoned. Rupert had never even mentioned that. The Sunnydale citizens walked around warily, like gazelles approaching the communal drinking pool in lion territory (I'd learnt a few things in my association with the Bristol Life sciences faculty!)
The map showed me all the cemeteries in Sunnydale, a staggering amount for a small town. I planned to use the maps to observe the hunting patterns of William the Bloody and mark them down. I noted the phone numbers of real estate agents, and saw that there were a lot of relatively cheap properties for rent. Must've had something to do with the town's high mortality rate.
The next day I rented a lovely property on Crawford Street, with a view of two cemeteries. It was quite the mansion, with a lot of Art Deco (or faux Art Deco, not my speciality) detailing. There were even chains attached to the wall, made one wonder what the former inhabitants had been up to.
It had been chilly spring weather in England, but here it seemed full-blown summer. My linen suits were really different from what everyone else was wearing, so I went out and bought some summer clothes with the Council credit card. Ha! I was now completely disguised as an American, in my spangled low-slung jeans and flowered peasant top. It's very important to blend in with one's surroundings when going under cover. I worried about the British white-ness of my skin, but dismissed it. I didn't feel like taking the time to acquire tan. I'd only turn red anyway.
The third night I struck lucky. I was sitting on top of a tomb, scanning
the cemetery (Restfield) with my night vision binoculars when I heard sounds of
a scuffle close by. I climbed down and folded up my lightweight aluminium
ladder before sneaking in the direction of the fight. My William was there,
fighting two or three Kanchen Junga demons at a time. Or it might have been Glarghk Guhl
Kashma'niks, it was a bit dark to spot the tell tale
differences. And the
Slayer was around, too, helping him, probably.
William dispatched the demons in a heroic and efficient manner, showing his fighting skills and toned body off to great advantage, and then went over to the Slayer, who wasn't doing so well with her half dozen. Sloppy work. One could tell Rupert wasn't around to train her.
The Slayer finished off her last demon and helped William up. A chill wind must have struck up in the cemetery as I felt my skin contract in goose bumps. Something about their body language was off, something disturbing. They stood talking softly a few moments, and the Slayer checked a cut on William's face, lingering unnecessarily, I thought. My sound amplification device conveyed their words to me.
"Let me see that cut, Spike," she said curtly.
"I'm fine, Buffy, leave it," William said softly, and picked her hand off his face. I applauded his restraint.
"Back to the house of PMS," the Slayer said morosely.
"Best cure I know for that is…" William started to say but bit his lip and refused to go on, in spite of relentless prodding from the Summers' chit.
They walked off, and the Slayer slung her arm around his waist, overdoing the comradely thing a bit. I was sure he wasn't that hurt and could walk under his own steam. Was she flirting with him? If so, Rupert had done a worse job than I would have thought. A Slayer should maintain proper distance from her chosen prey.
While I was standing there, slack-jawed with lust and curiosity, I'd almost let them get away from me. I hurried after them, keeping my distance, keeping well into the shadows. I'd followed vampires before, of course, but it wouldn't do to get overconfident. Those had been fledglings, and William the Bloody was about a hundred and twenty years older than them, and might well be able to sense me from hundreds of yards away. To my surprise they turned onto a suburban avenue, full of these quaint, typically American homes. I whipped out my map under a streetlamp and discovered we were heading for the Summers' house.
What was that Slayer thinking of? We were talking William the Bloody here, the scourge of Europe! I could accept him knowing where she lived, as he'd been offering his help to her for some time, but I did hope she hadn't actually invited him in her own house. If we'd known that she never would have passed that Slayer review we did in 2001! My heart sank when I saw them going in the door of 1630 Revello Drive. He held the door open for her. I might be catching a cold, I thought, I was shivering.
I stood there for hours, and he never came out again. All the lights were off, too. Just before dawn I gave up and trudged back to my rented house on Crawford Street. I felt quite deflated, How to explain the peculiar behaviour? I needed more information. I wished the Council files on informants still existed. I didn't have time to suss out possible candidates here in Sunnydale. Damn. Now I was the Council, and had no other way to gather recent information than by my own actions.
The next day I rented another house, across the road from the Slayer, strictly as an observation post. My other preparations were still better done at Crawford Street, for its quiet and distant location. I hired a firm to put up cameras and so on, because I wanted to be able to watch them online from the mansion, and not be seen hanging about on Revello Drive all the time. After all, William might remember me.
The camera revealed an improbable amount of people living there, including, of all people, Rupert! I was so happy to have installed the camera; he'd have spotted me right away. I was also quite glad to see him alive, more so than I had expected. I might have harboured a tiny grudge against him for the breaking off thing, but I forgave him on the spot. There were lots of young girls, one of them the Slayer's sister, the others potential slayers perhaps, as I saw William and Miss Summers training them. Miss Rosenberg was there, on the wagon one hoped, Mr. Harris and Miss Jenkins (whom I now knew to be a former Vengeance Demon, something Rupert had seen fit to keep from the council at first, regrettable behaviour), and an unknown unprepossessing young man. And William, who must be living there as well. Chained up in the cellar, I presumed. Anything else would be utter folly.
William, or Spike, as I heard everybody call him quite familiarly, often took out the Potential slayers, with Miss Summers in tow. Training them, one supposed. A wise precaution, as I knew only too well what they were up against. However, it might not help them in the end, and I hurried with my preparations as much as I could. But there were lunar and menstrual cycles to consider, and I wanted everything to be perfect. I knew I wouldn't get a second chance.
At last the first of the auspicious days dawned. The Slayer and my vampire went hunting together, and I took that as a lucky sign. They left the house by the front door, chatting amicably, holding hands – it couldn't be, I thought indignantly – what was that girl thinking of? I determinedly put the unwelcome thoughts out of my mind. I observed the route they took from afar, and then hurried aback to the mansion. After undressing, I put the bowl of by now rather whiffy menstrual blood in the middle of the pentagram, closed the magic circle and started chanting. It was incredibly exciting to feel the fabric of the world twist and tear and when the demon came through I was positively trembling with anticipation. And fear. I'd only recently started acquiring these demon handling skills for this very purpose, and I loved it that my plan appeared to be coming together.
It was a creature of dark, whirling energy, shot through with bolts of magma red. It's quite dangerous, unless constrained by the right rituals, and it will do pretty much anything for a bowl of menstrual blood. What it wants it for no one's ever been able to find out. Blood wouldn't feed an energy creature, after all. I commanded it to find William and to take him to me. And not to harm the Slayer in the process, we'd need her to save the world on occasion. A portal opened and the demon reached through it with an enormous paw, grabbed something wildly struggling and dumped it on the floor near the manacles.
"Chain him up," I commanded. The thing did as ordered. I told it to await further orders. It folded itself into its own dimension, except for a huge ear that remained hovering over the pentagram. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. These summonings were an enormous drain on one's energy, and I hadn't done one very often yet.
William the Bloody looked slightly singed and battered, but that didn't bother me. His vampire healing would take care of that in no time. I fastened his legs to the wall as well, and checked him over carefully, to see if anything special was amiss, unbuttoned his shirt, and, well, relished in the sight of him. He was looking so much better than last summer in London. He looked well fed and sleek, hair neatly bleached and slicked back, wearing newish clean black clothing.
As the moment was approaching I was getting quite nervous. Third time lucky, I hoped. Now we should have a different kind of talk. One with me in the seat of power, instead of the beggar for scraps, and a talk that would lead to quite a different outcome. My vampire was still out, hanging limply in his shackles. It made him look quite vulnerable and young. I did many of the things I had been dreaming of for months, no, years, by now. I ran my hand though his curls, felt his cheekbones and his mouth, and kissed the luscious lips. He was cold and unresponsive, but, well, no news there.
I was slowly working my way downwards, revelling in the feel of his ivory skin, the firm springy musculature underneath. What a wonderful moment Drusilla had chosen to turn him, at the peak of his manhood, not a callow youth anymore, but old enough to give definition to his face and not yet sagging, wrinkling, balding or growing furry all over.
I was so busy unbuttoning his fly that I must have missed him waking up. His stomach muscles jerked against me, breaking my concentration. I looked up at him and my heart ached to see the blue eyes look so lost and confused. I saw the oddest expression pass over his face, a bit like pain and resignation combined.
"Back here again?" William mumbled, hanging his head. "All a dream. She never rescued me. Still here."
His chin rose and he visibly pulled himself together and looked at me in defiance.
"Do with me what you will!" Yes, that was the plan.
"I'll never betray her. She will come for me." I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Was he reliving some scene from the past?
I tugged at his trousers, still looking at that marvellous face, and a frown creased his forehead. Lucky him. He'd never need Botox.
"You can touch me?" he said, sounding surprised. "You can't be the First, then. You're that daft bint from England again! Lily? Libby? What the hell do you want now?"
"What does it look like?" I said playfully, toying with the disappointingly limp but still quite appealing penis.
His jaw clenched and he rolled his eyes. He'd clearly been in California for quite some time. He shook his head and took a couple of deep breaths. I observed it interestedly. Human mannerisms again. Would he have relearned these facial expressions by his recent association with humans, or were they a remnant of his human life still? There were no data on these habits, but I for one couldn't see a Victorian gentleman, if that was what he had been, rolling his eyes. I could see a monograph before my mind's eye.
"Why am I here? Why pick this place?" he said.
I didn't understand. Had he been here before, perhaps?
He must have seen my lack of understanding, and shook his head again. "Never mind. Why don't you untie me, so we can talk this over?"
"Yah, right," I said scornfully. "You'd just walk away. I know you can't harm me, because of the chip, but you could use your thrall! Certainly not. You'll do fine where you are."
He got a certain glint in his eye that I couldn't place, but rather liked. My heart sped up and I could feel my throat constrict.
"Livia…why don't you come here and look me in my eyes? I know you want to…"
I smacked him firmly. "It's Lydia, and I said no thrall. I'll untie you when we've come to an agreement."
My back and knees started to ache from the kneeling and standing on the hard stone floor so I had the demon magic him, shackled, onto the big bed in one of the main rooms in the mansion. He looked even better, stretched out on the bed, dressed only in his unbuttoned black jeans. I climbed on top of him, straddling him, and rubbed and stroked the magnificent stomach muscles. He arched away from my hands, but I took it as a good sign that he reacted physically.
"Stop mucking about with me for a moment and talk to me," William or Spike said with an exasperated edge in his voice. "What do you want a vampire for? Sacrifice me to the demon over there?"
"Um, no!" I protested. "I want you. I want you for yourself; you're not just any vampire to me!"
"Ta ever so," he said sarcastically. "You need the vampire with a soul? For what?"
"Angelus? No, I…" And then it hit me. He'd meant himself. Dear me. That was a pretty significant piece of information. How on earth had he gotten a soul? Gypsy curse? It explained a lot about his changed behaviour. I sat back on my heels and regarded him with fresh interest; I mean interest apart from his body and personality. I was even surer now that I needed him by my side,
"Well, "I said finally, "That's very interesting, and will make you an even more compatible companion."
"Companion? To what? To who?"
"Whom," I corrected automatically, and then wished I hadn't. Never makes for popularity.
"To me!" I said. "I want you to be my consort, I love you. I'm head of the council of watchers now, and we would be very powerful together."
His eyes nearly popped out their sockets, and then his head sank back into the pillow and he looked up at the ceiling for a moment with clenched jaws. Huh. Subtract points for lack of perception. What else did he think I had in mind? Then his demeanour notably changed. His whole body language softened and loosened. My heart lurched in response and I reached towards him hopefully.
"I'm sorry, Lydia," he said, sounding sincere and regretful. Now he got my name right? "I'm not available."
I got that unpleasant icy curdling feeling in my gut again, and sighed deeply to release some of the tension.
"Yes, well, it would be one thing or another, wouldn't it? Either you're a vampire without a soul and you can't love, or you're in a relationship with someone else. That's why you're in chains, instead of us sitting together in your mother's parlour with me asking for your hand." I realized I was taking the male role in this fantasy. "I'm not going to take a no this time, is that clear?"
He looked confounded. He opened his mouth to protest more, but I didn't think talking was going to progress the negotiations any. I ordered the demon to shut off his speech. The damn thing couldn't comply; apparently its powers were limited to the less complex physical actions. I simply hadn't had the time to acquire the skill to summon the more subtle demonic forms.
Spike shut up all by himself anyway and looked at me for a long time. "All right then," he said, voice deeper and darker. "I can see you've got the power here, pet. Might as well give in graciously…"
His voice went straight to my gut, and I exulted at his acknowledgement of my power over him. At last! He tilted his head in that charming, mischievous way and smiled at me. His surrender melted me into a steaming puddle in his lap. He fluttered his lashes at me and gave a little wiggle with his hips. The man knew how to get things going!
I started licking the delectable abs, delighting in the feel of the thin smooth skin stretched over taut muscle. His skin tasted like a bit like apple-pie, peppery and spicy and yet sweet. I tried to remember what his penis had tasted like, two years ago, and couldn't. Was apple-pie vampire-taste or Spike-taste? Never had felt inclined much to lick vampires' bellies before. My tongue followed the hills and valleys on his stomach, slowly travelling down, like gravity, to the hollow below his hipbone and down the crease of his hip, where it disappeared into his black jeans.
My body was starting up a little moisturizing all on its own, and I wanted him to rip off my clothes and give me back some of the touching he did so well. But of course I'd tied up his hands. It had seemed such fun at first, the whole bondage and helpless prisoner thing, but I really wanted someone who reciprocated what I was doing to him.
I stretched out a hand to the manacle on his left hand. I'd seen him smoke with that hand, he must be a lefty. Must have been hard in his youth, people were forced to write with their right hands then, lefties were punished and ostracized.
"Will you be good?"
"I'm trying very hard to be good," he said with a depth of sincerity in his voice that I couldn't place, but made me really believe him.
I untied his hand. I expected him to grab my breast or bum, but he curled his hand against my cheek, stroking it with his knuckles.
"Why don't your relax, Lydia?" Chocolate voice. Butterscotch voice. Fudge. "I can feel you're tense, why don't you let me calm you down, make you all lazy and comfortable, you must have been working so hard, just let go…"
He stroked my hair and my back, and I uncoiled on his chest like a strand of taffy, made limp by the gentle caresses and the sound of his voice reverberating against my ear.
"I know what it's like, Lydia," he said softly. "To love hopelessly and not be loved back. And I've tried forcing it from the woman I love. But it didn't work. It turns against you and makes you less. To love means wishing the best for the one you love."
My brains had in no way processed these words yet, but tears were starting to flow from my eyes. Why was I crying? I felt as if I'd lost something very precious, but what could it be? I was lying here with the man I loved, who was talking to me in that golden-brown voice, stroking my cheek and my hair, why should I cry?
"I'm very flattered to be loved by a powerful, intelligent woman like you, Lydia, but I love someone else, and always will."
This time it really penetrated all the way into my brain and my gut, and I sobbed my heart out on his god-like pectorals. When I'd become a bit more quiet, I unchained him.
"I'm such a fool," I said bitterly. "Why didn't I get before this that it wouldn't work? That you're interested in someone else?"
Spike didn't answer, but looked at me so gently, from those heavenly blue eyes, that I could almost see the soul in him. This was indeed not the amoral scamp who'd cheerfully fucked me for information and had forgotten me in the next moment. This was a real person, someone with real, serious, deep feelings, and it made my loss even more painful. I wished I was the lucky woman who was loved by him.
"What weird things did you do to get her to love you?"
He looked at me askance. "I won't tell if you're going to write it all down later. Which you would, right?"
Well, yah. "Did you get the soul for her?" I asked, still hiccupping a little.
"Yes," he said.
"Amazing, "I sighed. "She must be so happy now." Lucky, lucky woman.
Something bitter and hopeless crossed his face.
"You too? "I said tremulously. I patted his hand. Who could resist this soulful alabaster-wrapped package of vampire goodness? She must be a stronger woman than most.
"Well, it does make you a good person to cry on," I said wistfully.
"Don't need a soul to comfort a woman, pet. Might need one to know when to stop comforting, though. And I do feel a tad responsible, you know. If I hadn't shagged you kidnapping me would never have occurred to you, I wager."
Spike made a little regretful grimace at me, and put his arms around me and said more soothing words. He even fished a package of tissues from his jeans and offered one to me.
"What the hell does a vampire need hankies for?" I said, smiling through my tears.
"Bloody useful in a house full of women, love," he said with a wry smile in response.
"Huh," I said, and as any chance of romance was gone anyway, blew my nose long and loudly and satisfyingly.
"What about coming back to England with me, not, you know, but working for the Council?" I offered. "I could pay you pretty well!"
He shook his head. "Couldn't leave here. Thanks for the offer, but I've distrusted these Council wankers for a century, not gonna work for them now."
"Don't be thick!" I said, exasperated. "I *am* the Council. You would be the council, no reason to distrust yourself!"
Suddenly I heard a loud, crashing noise, and Spike's face changed completely. It lit up with the most wonderful happy smile I'd ever seen on his face, and I remember being puzzled by its significance while turning my head to find the source of the noise.
The Slayer. Who else, come to rescue her comrade-in-arms. She stood there, five feet nothing, wearing her silly heels and righteous expression, glowering at me with a big axe in her hand. Sorry, Miss Summers, he rescued himself. Didn't need you. Her gaze softened when she spotted Spike and understanding came crashing down in my head. Right. I should have seen that before, but hadn't wanted to. Of course Miss Undersized and Undereducated would get the cool guy. Demon called to demon, apparently. I wondered if Rupert knew about that, the age-old attraction between Slayers and Vampires, it was after all knowledge that I had only gained because of my illicit visits to the library. I put another item in my mental to-do list: Engage librarian to catalogue library.
Yet another person came running through the ruined door, and shouted an order to my demon. The demon hesitated. Blast. Just like Rupert to show up at the most unlikely moment. He casually rubbed out the pentagram and said a few words, and the demon dissipated into nothing. If I'd known Rupert would show I wouldn't have used Demon 1 from the Beginners' Guide to Demonic Summoning, Council edition. Bugger, bugger, bugger. I had sort of not minded too much when just talking to Spike, but now there was an audience I sagged back down on the bed and felt my face freeze up.
"Lydia? What on earth…?" Rupert said in astonishment.
I felt a little ashamed. He must have thought I was dead. I heard Rupert persuade the Slayer not to chop my head off, as I was human, a member of the Council, and a friend of his. That was sweet of him, to still count me as a friend. Then there was worse.
"Come on, Buffy, get off your high horse. I, of all people, know that love makes you do the wacky. Let her off the hook, she probably feels bad enough as it is," Spike said.
Spike was defending me. The last thing I wanted from him was charity. Rupert walked up to me and first took me in a crushing hug.
"Dear girl. It's wonderful that you are still alive. Why wasn't I told? And why don't you tell me what all this was about, my dear? Why did you kidnap Spike? He's on our side! Not still tagging and dissecting vampires, are you?"
Dear Rupert. I'd better not tell all. I felt I could count on Spike to keep mum about my moment of insanity.
"Dissecting?" Spike said, horror in his voice.
The Slayer stomped up to me and said: "No dissecting of the vampire, is that understood? Nobody messes with my - vampire!"
She glared at me from under the brassy locks with her green eyes and I swear she almost growled. I flicked a glance at Spike, and he stood staring at her with such a possessive proud glow that it made me unwell. I nodded. I was probably safer if she thought I'd wanted to do an autopsy on him than the truth.
Some days later, I was driving my rental car down the highway to LAX. After some discussion, Rupert and I had felt that I could better serve our combined interests by reforming the Council of Watchers based in London. I was feeling relatively cheerful for someone with a broken heart as I drove down the busy road. I spotted a sign for the exit to downtown LA. LAX was straight on. The memory of an address popped in my head out of nowhere. Angel investigations, Hyperion Hotel, it said. I had two hundred meters to make my decision. Turn off now for the other souled vampire, or get on the plane for home. Hardest decision I ever made.
THE END