CHAPTER FOUR: TRAVERS

Sunday: 11am

26th January 1986

London: Watcher's Council

Ethan stood outside the Council building, the young girl asleep in his arms.  He swallowed hard and tried not to think too hard about what he was about to do.  This was the hardest part, handing over Potentials to the Council, knowing what kind of life he was condemning them to.

He almost walked away, but he heard a voice from behind him.  He turned and sighed sadly.

"Mr Travers," he greeted.

"This is she?" Travers asked.

Ethan nodded reluctantly.  Travers stared in distaste at the young girl who was still clutching the pink pig in her arms.  Ethan followed the older man's stare to the stuffed animal and narrowed his eyes.  He would have to make sure that Travers didn't get his hands on the girls only link to her family.

"Alright then.  Bring her inside," Travers said.

Ethan hesitated for a moment but eventually followed Travers into the building, walking down the halls to the section of the Council that the Potentials lived. 

There were five other Potentials living on Council property.  A new Slayer had been Called the previous week, meaning that there was a room free for the young girl to occupy.  Travers pointed to the free room and Ethan carried Buffy inside.

The room was small, barely able to fit more than a bed and a small chest of drawers.  The walls were cream coloured, and the window was a tiny square in the wall, looking over a concrete courtyard.  Ethan frowned but didn't let Travers see it.  He set Buffy down on the bed, folding the covers over the girl.

"No problems getting her out I take it," Travers said.

"No.  None," Ethan replied.  He cast a regretful look to the young girl.

"Well, I think we're done here then," Travers said, looking at Ethan pointedly.

Ethan nodded and went to leave the room.  He watched as Travers bent down over the girl and took the stuffed animal from her.  Buffy protested sleepily but didn't put up a real fight over it.  Ethan frowned once more and quickly intercepted the pig from Travers.

"I'll get rid of it on my way out," he said.

Travers smiled gratefully and Ethan left, trying to keep the guilt from eating him alive.  Ethan shut the door, leaving Buffy alone with Travers.  Breathing in deeply, Ethan forced himself to walk away.

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Buffy awoke in a strange room with a strange man staring at her intently.  She shrank back from him, her hand reaching blindly around her trying to locate her pig.  When she couldn't find it, she stood angrily.

"You took him!" she yelled.

Travers just sat there calmly.  He didn't flinch when the angry young girl stood in front of him, her hands on her hips, righteous indignation written across her face.

"Where'd he go?  You took him, didn'tcha?"

"If you're referring to that infernal pig of yours, then yes.  He's gone," Travers replied.

Buffy glared up at the man.

"You talk like Mr Ethan.  Where'd he go?" she asked.

"He went home, I would imagine."

"We in England?" she asked.

"Yes we are," he replied. 

"Where's my momma and my daddy?"

Travers leant forward in his chair. 

"They're gone Miss Summers.  They had to go away.  They were taken up to heaven," he said. 

His voice was gentle; as it always was when explaining to Potentials that they're parents had 'died'.  It was the easiest way to explain to them that they would never see their families again.

"To heaven?  Like where poppy went?" she asked.

Travers nodded, having no real idea what she was talking about.  He assumed she was talking about a grandfather.

Buffy sniffled tearfully and sat back on the bed.  She wiped at her eyes and curled into a ball.

"Don't fret Beth," he said calmly.  "We're going to take care of you here."

She glared at him and crossed her arms across her stomach insolently.

"S'not my name," she said.

"You are Beth Summers, yes?"

"My name's Buffy, not Beth," she replied.

Travers raised an eyebrow at the ridiculous nickname.  It would not do to indulge in a childish name while she was training.  She was a Potential for heaven's sake.

"You are Beth, not Buffy," he stated.  Buffy had heard her father use the same tone of voice, usually before she was smacked for being naughty.  She hated being hit, so she bit her lip and kept her opinion to herself.

When Travers saw that Buffy wasn't going to argue with him, he sat back in his chair, pleased with himself.

"Well, Beth.  It's the first day of your new life.  You've got a lot to learn. You're our newest Potential, you see," he said.

"P'tential?"

"Yes.  You're going to learn to be a Slayer."