Chapter 5
After his phone call from Buffy, Wesley had delved into research. Elves were such an ancient race, their presence so rare in modern society that little information about them was still available.
"Immortal," he muttered. This last book said the same as the five previous. "Immortal. Invulnerable to the ailments of man. Can be killed in battle, or die of a broken heart. Nothing about poison. Dammit!" He slammed the book closed.
He grabbed his teacup from its place on the corner of the table, grumbling as he realized his tea was cold. He stood up, running one hand through his shaggy brown hair. He needed more caffeine, though that really wasn't going to solve any of his problems. The information he was looking for simply couldn't be found in any of the ordinary sources. Perhaps on the inter-dimensional black market... though that was unlikely, as elves were definitely creatures of this dimension.
He sighed as he put the kettle on to boil. There was only one source that he hadn't tried - the Watcher's Council.
He knew he'd been a disappointment to the Council, his behavior inappropriate enough to have him declared rogue and off-limits to all of his former colleagues. He'd sided with a vampire, Angel, against the council enforcers when they'd come to take out Faith. Never mind that Angel had a soul, and was fighting the darkness harder than the Council ever had. He was still a vampire, worthy of slaying, not of saving.
Things hadn't been that black and white to Wesley in a long time. Not since he'd left Sunnydale three years ago.
Vampires could be good - albeit only after supernatural interference. And, of course, humans could be bad. Witness Faith, a scheming murderer who had tortured the very people who had come to help her.
He gave a choked laugh. How the Watcher's Council saw her, perhaps. Through their view of black and white. Reality was far more complex. The Council hadn't given a damn about helping her. They'd likely have killed her once hey realized they couldn't control her. After all, a Slayer who had to be locked up for society's protection was no good to the Council.
His father sat on the Council, would undoubtedly continue to do so until his demise. He'd never give up the power, the control. Not that his father would be any help. He'd be more likely to thwart the plans of his ne'er-do-well son than actually assist in any way.
Still, he had to still have friends inside the Watcher's Council. Surely he knew someone who could help.
****
Hours later, Wesley was cursing the Council. Rule-obsessed, tight-assed, self-obsessed buggers, the whole lot of them. No one on the Council would even talk to him, down to the lowliest Watcher-in-training. Even his own father.
He'd cut his ties when he'd chosen to Angel over the Council. Didn't matter that he'd been right. They'd never admit it. They were the Watcher's Council and they were always right.
Wankers.
There was still one person. She'd fight him, arguing incessantly, but in the end, she'd listen, because she was still good to the core. One of the few Watchers who actually fought the good fight, instead of just talking about it. Someone who cared more about people than policies.
He picked up the phone, flipping open his address book to the proper listing, and dialed. He only hoped she'd be in her office this early.
Far across the Atlantic, a twentysomething brunette flipped her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and picked up the phone. "Sophie Metternich."
"Sophie, hello."
She recognized his voice instantly. Wesley Wyndham-Price. She'd worked with him when he was at Watcher Headquarters four years ago, before he'd been called to action to watch the Slayers, Buffy and Faith. She hadn't liked him much, then. Pompous and overconfident, he'd actually believed that his Watcher-sponsored, carefully controlled close encounters with vampires had prepared him for the real thing. She snorted. As if that was remotely like the real thing. He'd been doomed, right from the start.
He'd failed, miserably. Lost one Slayer when she'd gone rogue, lost the other when she'd fired him. Before he could be sent back to England in disgrace, he'd been rejected by the Council. A few months later all the Watchers had been abuzz with the news - Wesley had rejected his Council compatriots to help a vampire. Angelus.
Of course, Angelus had gotten his soul back and turned over a new leaf. He was actually helping fight against the darkness he'd once embraced. Not that it had mattered to the Council. They were self-righteous bastards themselves, for the most part.
She'd heard that Wesley had been calling all the Watchers, asking for some sort of help and knew she'd get a phone call sooner or later. She'd just hoped it would have been later.
"Wesley, how are you?" she asked politely.
"I need your help."
"No." Whatever he wanted, it was going to lead to major trouble -- she was sure of it.
Damn. She wasn't even going to listen to what he wanted. He had to convince her, somehow. "Sophie..."
"No, Wesley. Whatever you want, the answer is no." She had to stand firm, couldn't let herself be persuaded by his sure-to-be-clever words.
"I need help," he insisted. "I'm calling you because-"
"I'm the only person sappy enough to listen?"
"Because I know that you care more about people than Council policy. And people's lives are at stake."
Sophie swore. Why did she let herself be sucked into these kinds of things? She sighed. She did it because she'd become a Watcher to help people, to beat back the darkness no matter what the cost. And Wesley was fighting the darkness, albeit in his own, not-quite-Watcherly way. Merde. He had her, and he knew it.
"Something big is happening in California. A great evil is rising."
"From beneath you it devours," she murmured, recalling the words she'd overheard Quentin Travers mention the day before. She'd wondered what he meant.
Wesley stopped, startled. She knew more than he'd expected her to. "Yes. 'From beneath you it devours.' Though what 'it' will be is anyone's guess. But that is not the whole of it. I called the council because of an elf."
Sophie blinked. "An elf?" she asked incredulously. The ancient, immortal warriors were few in numbers, and generally kept away from humankind. What could a rogue Watcher possibly have to do with an elf?
"This elf met a friend of mine in the woods several weeks ago. They stopped a demonic ritual together, then went their separate ways." He paused for a moment, allowing her to take the information in. "The elf showed up on her doorstep this morning, gravely ill-"
"Elves don't get sick," she protested. "They're immortal, immune to human diseases."
"But not to mystical poisons."
Sophie closed her eyes as she realized why he was calling. He needed access to the Council's database of all known poisons. And this was a request she couldn't refuse - not if this elf's life was at stake. One thing she didn't understand, though. "Why poison? Why not just decapitate him or something? Elves are as vulnerable as anyone else to battle damage."
"The friend I mentioned, the one who helped him stop the evil ritual in the woods? She's Willow Rosenberg."
"What?" Sophie had heard whispers, rumors of the great evil power, the dark witch who had done so much several months before. "Willow Rosenberg? Wasn't she the witch who tried to end the world?"
"Yes," he explained. "After the murder of her lover, Willow embraced dark magics so she could have her revenge on the bastard that killed her. She's supposedly recovered from her bout with the darkness, but one would assume that if she lost someone else she cared about..."
"She'd be pushed back over the edge, become evil again." She grimaced. As far as evil plans went, that one was quite good. Kill a strong warrior and turn a powerful witch to the dark side, all with one little bit of poison. "Not a bad plan."
"Not bad at all. Which is why we have to stop it. We have to find a way to cure Legolas-"
"Legolas?" she asked. The shocks just kept on coming. Even a Watcher with little study of elf history, like herself, recognized the name of one of the greatest Elven warriors in history. Starting with the Fellowship, and continuing with his millennia of demon slaying in this increasingly modern world, his life was legend.
"Yes, it's *the* Legolas." He paused, before continuing on to make his point clear. "And he needs your help. Sophie, you may be the only one who can save him now."
"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope?" she said, Wesley's words reminding her of one of her favorite childhood movies.
"Something like that," he said wryly
"This isn't going to be easy," she cautioned. She was a junior Watcher, and didn't have access to the Council's most important documents. She didn't know how she was going to get into the restricted part of the library, where books like the Watchers' Council's compendium of poisons was located.
"Nothing worth doing ever is."
"Give me your number," she commanded, tucking the phone under her chin while grabbing pen and paper in her other hand. "I'll call you when I have the information."
Wesley sighed with relief. Finally, he'd found someone to help him. And quite the competent someone, as well, he thought, as he rattled off the number. "Thank you."
She smiled, gathering up the papers on her desk and stacking them in a pile. "Don't thank me until I get the job done."
"Sophie, be careful," Wesley warned.
"I'm not just your ordinary Watcher, remember? I was raised by Gustav Helsing, grew up in Dracula's backyard. I can handle myself," she insisted.
Wesley smiled at her vehemence. He knew she was one of the few Watchers with real vampire hunting field experience, her childhood guardian being Gustav Helsing, the legendary Watcher who fought Dracula for decades. "If whoever is behind this finds out what we're doing, your life could be in danger."
"Wouldn't be the first time," she quipped, putting the papers into the pocket of her leather laptop case. She swung the long strap over her shoulder as she prepared to head out. "I'll call you when I get the book."
"All right," Wesley said.
"Bye." She hung up the phone without waiting for his response. Now, to head over to Watcher Headquarters. Hopefully she could get all the information she needed with a quick read. If not, she was about to join Wesley on the rogue side of the fence, because she wasn't leaving without the information she needed -- even if she had to steal from the Watchers' Council to do it.
After his phone call from Buffy, Wesley had delved into research. Elves were such an ancient race, their presence so rare in modern society that little information about them was still available.
"Immortal," he muttered. This last book said the same as the five previous. "Immortal. Invulnerable to the ailments of man. Can be killed in battle, or die of a broken heart. Nothing about poison. Dammit!" He slammed the book closed.
He grabbed his teacup from its place on the corner of the table, grumbling as he realized his tea was cold. He stood up, running one hand through his shaggy brown hair. He needed more caffeine, though that really wasn't going to solve any of his problems. The information he was looking for simply couldn't be found in any of the ordinary sources. Perhaps on the inter-dimensional black market... though that was unlikely, as elves were definitely creatures of this dimension.
He sighed as he put the kettle on to boil. There was only one source that he hadn't tried - the Watcher's Council.
He knew he'd been a disappointment to the Council, his behavior inappropriate enough to have him declared rogue and off-limits to all of his former colleagues. He'd sided with a vampire, Angel, against the council enforcers when they'd come to take out Faith. Never mind that Angel had a soul, and was fighting the darkness harder than the Council ever had. He was still a vampire, worthy of slaying, not of saving.
Things hadn't been that black and white to Wesley in a long time. Not since he'd left Sunnydale three years ago.
Vampires could be good - albeit only after supernatural interference. And, of course, humans could be bad. Witness Faith, a scheming murderer who had tortured the very people who had come to help her.
He gave a choked laugh. How the Watcher's Council saw her, perhaps. Through their view of black and white. Reality was far more complex. The Council hadn't given a damn about helping her. They'd likely have killed her once hey realized they couldn't control her. After all, a Slayer who had to be locked up for society's protection was no good to the Council.
His father sat on the Council, would undoubtedly continue to do so until his demise. He'd never give up the power, the control. Not that his father would be any help. He'd be more likely to thwart the plans of his ne'er-do-well son than actually assist in any way.
Still, he had to still have friends inside the Watcher's Council. Surely he knew someone who could help.
****
Hours later, Wesley was cursing the Council. Rule-obsessed, tight-assed, self-obsessed buggers, the whole lot of them. No one on the Council would even talk to him, down to the lowliest Watcher-in-training. Even his own father.
He'd cut his ties when he'd chosen to Angel over the Council. Didn't matter that he'd been right. They'd never admit it. They were the Watcher's Council and they were always right.
Wankers.
There was still one person. She'd fight him, arguing incessantly, but in the end, she'd listen, because she was still good to the core. One of the few Watchers who actually fought the good fight, instead of just talking about it. Someone who cared more about people than policies.
He picked up the phone, flipping open his address book to the proper listing, and dialed. He only hoped she'd be in her office this early.
Far across the Atlantic, a twentysomething brunette flipped her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and picked up the phone. "Sophie Metternich."
"Sophie, hello."
She recognized his voice instantly. Wesley Wyndham-Price. She'd worked with him when he was at Watcher Headquarters four years ago, before he'd been called to action to watch the Slayers, Buffy and Faith. She hadn't liked him much, then. Pompous and overconfident, he'd actually believed that his Watcher-sponsored, carefully controlled close encounters with vampires had prepared him for the real thing. She snorted. As if that was remotely like the real thing. He'd been doomed, right from the start.
He'd failed, miserably. Lost one Slayer when she'd gone rogue, lost the other when she'd fired him. Before he could be sent back to England in disgrace, he'd been rejected by the Council. A few months later all the Watchers had been abuzz with the news - Wesley had rejected his Council compatriots to help a vampire. Angelus.
Of course, Angelus had gotten his soul back and turned over a new leaf. He was actually helping fight against the darkness he'd once embraced. Not that it had mattered to the Council. They were self-righteous bastards themselves, for the most part.
She'd heard that Wesley had been calling all the Watchers, asking for some sort of help and knew she'd get a phone call sooner or later. She'd just hoped it would have been later.
"Wesley, how are you?" she asked politely.
"I need your help."
"No." Whatever he wanted, it was going to lead to major trouble -- she was sure of it.
Damn. She wasn't even going to listen to what he wanted. He had to convince her, somehow. "Sophie..."
"No, Wesley. Whatever you want, the answer is no." She had to stand firm, couldn't let herself be persuaded by his sure-to-be-clever words.
"I need help," he insisted. "I'm calling you because-"
"I'm the only person sappy enough to listen?"
"Because I know that you care more about people than Council policy. And people's lives are at stake."
Sophie swore. Why did she let herself be sucked into these kinds of things? She sighed. She did it because she'd become a Watcher to help people, to beat back the darkness no matter what the cost. And Wesley was fighting the darkness, albeit in his own, not-quite-Watcherly way. Merde. He had her, and he knew it.
"Something big is happening in California. A great evil is rising."
"From beneath you it devours," she murmured, recalling the words she'd overheard Quentin Travers mention the day before. She'd wondered what he meant.
Wesley stopped, startled. She knew more than he'd expected her to. "Yes. 'From beneath you it devours.' Though what 'it' will be is anyone's guess. But that is not the whole of it. I called the council because of an elf."
Sophie blinked. "An elf?" she asked incredulously. The ancient, immortal warriors were few in numbers, and generally kept away from humankind. What could a rogue Watcher possibly have to do with an elf?
"This elf met a friend of mine in the woods several weeks ago. They stopped a demonic ritual together, then went their separate ways." He paused for a moment, allowing her to take the information in. "The elf showed up on her doorstep this morning, gravely ill-"
"Elves don't get sick," she protested. "They're immortal, immune to human diseases."
"But not to mystical poisons."
Sophie closed her eyes as she realized why he was calling. He needed access to the Council's database of all known poisons. And this was a request she couldn't refuse - not if this elf's life was at stake. One thing she didn't understand, though. "Why poison? Why not just decapitate him or something? Elves are as vulnerable as anyone else to battle damage."
"The friend I mentioned, the one who helped him stop the evil ritual in the woods? She's Willow Rosenberg."
"What?" Sophie had heard whispers, rumors of the great evil power, the dark witch who had done so much several months before. "Willow Rosenberg? Wasn't she the witch who tried to end the world?"
"Yes," he explained. "After the murder of her lover, Willow embraced dark magics so she could have her revenge on the bastard that killed her. She's supposedly recovered from her bout with the darkness, but one would assume that if she lost someone else she cared about..."
"She'd be pushed back over the edge, become evil again." She grimaced. As far as evil plans went, that one was quite good. Kill a strong warrior and turn a powerful witch to the dark side, all with one little bit of poison. "Not a bad plan."
"Not bad at all. Which is why we have to stop it. We have to find a way to cure Legolas-"
"Legolas?" she asked. The shocks just kept on coming. Even a Watcher with little study of elf history, like herself, recognized the name of one of the greatest Elven warriors in history. Starting with the Fellowship, and continuing with his millennia of demon slaying in this increasingly modern world, his life was legend.
"Yes, it's *the* Legolas." He paused, before continuing on to make his point clear. "And he needs your help. Sophie, you may be the only one who can save him now."
"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope?" she said, Wesley's words reminding her of one of her favorite childhood movies.
"Something like that," he said wryly
"This isn't going to be easy," she cautioned. She was a junior Watcher, and didn't have access to the Council's most important documents. She didn't know how she was going to get into the restricted part of the library, where books like the Watchers' Council's compendium of poisons was located.
"Nothing worth doing ever is."
"Give me your number," she commanded, tucking the phone under her chin while grabbing pen and paper in her other hand. "I'll call you when I have the information."
Wesley sighed with relief. Finally, he'd found someone to help him. And quite the competent someone, as well, he thought, as he rattled off the number. "Thank you."
She smiled, gathering up the papers on her desk and stacking them in a pile. "Don't thank me until I get the job done."
"Sophie, be careful," Wesley warned.
"I'm not just your ordinary Watcher, remember? I was raised by Gustav Helsing, grew up in Dracula's backyard. I can handle myself," she insisted.
Wesley smiled at her vehemence. He knew she was one of the few Watchers with real vampire hunting field experience, her childhood guardian being Gustav Helsing, the legendary Watcher who fought Dracula for decades. "If whoever is behind this finds out what we're doing, your life could be in danger."
"Wouldn't be the first time," she quipped, putting the papers into the pocket of her leather laptop case. She swung the long strap over her shoulder as she prepared to head out. "I'll call you when I get the book."
"All right," Wesley said.
"Bye." She hung up the phone without waiting for his response. Now, to head over to Watcher Headquarters. Hopefully she could get all the information she needed with a quick read. If not, she was about to join Wesley on the rogue side of the fence, because she wasn't leaving without the information she needed -- even if she had to steal from the Watchers' Council to do it.