Thanks so much to those who reviewed. You guys are the reason this next chapter is posting today.

Chapter 2: Pain And Pixies

"The Council?" Buffy stared at her Watcher in disbelief. "But they were destroyed. The Council was destroyed."Giles sank wearily into the overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room.

"Yes, they were. You know that I've been trying to find and contact any of the remaining Watchers, I have been able to locate some old friends who managed to survive, its imperative that we build some kind of network at this time." Seeing his young friends staring blankly at him the older man sighed and continued. "There was a portion of the Council that went into "protective anonymity," as they call it, while the slaughter was going on. They've recently reemerged now that," Giles face twisted into a bit of a sneer, "well now that its safe again." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Right, so why should we have anything to do with them Giles?"

"They have a great many of the old texts, valuable manuscripts and recordings that could be very useful for what may be ahead."

Buffy clambered out of bed and began pacing nervously around the room, her jaw set, hazel eyes snapping with fury. "Yeah information that would probably have been very useful last year too. Where were they then?"

Xander stopped Buffy with a gentle hand on her arm.

"What may be ahead?" He asked Giles softly, sparing a worried glance at the two girls who sat silent and tense on the bed.

"Well that's the thing." The watcher replied, staring intently at Buffy, "omens and portents are beginning to take shape, very vague, very disturbing."

Buffy glared at her father-figure incredulously. "You think we should share information?"

"No." Giles shook his head. "This surviving branch, they're very much of the old Council. The man currently in charge, Spilling, he was one of Quentin's worst bootlickers. You're very right not to trust them Buffy."

His young charge sighed, running anxious fingers through her tousled blonde hair. "What are you getting at Giles. Just spit it out, I am so not in the mood for riddles right now."

"Spilling has proposed an exchange of information. What happened at the Sunnydale Battle, for the information they currently possess."

"And what do they have that they think we would want so badly?"

Gile's weathered face settled into a resigned grimace. "According to Spilling the Council has gotten their hands on a genuine seer. A seer that speaks of warning prophecy, a flood."

"We have that information already Giles."

"We need more Buffy, we don't know how long these dreams of yours will last, or if they'll tell us everything. If we have all the information we may have a chance to avert any more carnage."

Buffy sank wearily backdown onto her bed with a thump. "A seer huh. How much do you think we should tell them Giles?"

Her Wtacher smile wanly at her. "I don't know Buffy, but I suggest as little as possible."

Two days later the Scoobies found themselves in the posh sitting room of a large London Brownstone, situated in an upper crust neighborhood just a few blocks from Kensington gardens. It was a fanatically tidy room, but pleasant enough, the man currently offering his hand to Slayer however, wasn't.

"Miss Summers. Such a pleasure to meet you."

Buffy resisted the urge to wince as her hand met the rather clammy one of the oily man in front of her in cordial shake. I'm so glad Dawny isn't here to meet this creep, she thought silently to herself. Augustus Spilling was a tall thin man with an immaculately trimmed black mustache and the usual suit of grey tweed. He had a thin frame, a weak mouth, and decidedly unsettling pale grey eyes. Where Quentin had at least carried an air of authority this man was all ingratiating smiles and veiled malice. He set Buffy's teeth on edge and she known him for about ten seconds.

"Mr. Spilling." She said blandly meeting his eyes with polite indifference. She was dressed for business, jeans, and a plain black top, her blonde hair fell loose and uncurled around her shoulders, her weight shifted onto the balls of her feet, her body unconsciously preparing for battle.

Are you sure about this Buffy? Willow's voice was like a whisper of summer wind in the back of Buffy's mind. He looks kinda slimy

The witch stood slightly to Buffy's right. Posture composed, hands resting loosely at her sides. Her hair was pulled into a tight braid, and she wore an almost severe green dress, her presence radiated contained power.

I'll say. Xander muttered via their mind link, his presence the color of warm cherry wood. This guy could win gold in the stuffed shirt Olympics. He looks like Giles would if he ate a box of starch. Her male friend hovered protectively behind Willow, warning off the curious glances of the other Watchers behind Spilling. He had paired his usual jeans with a plane button down shirt and he fidgeted unconsciously with the cuffs.

I don't like this any more than you do guys. Buffy replied soberly.But he has something we want. The others could hear the smirk in her mind voice. Even if he does look like Giles on starch.

Pay attention children. Giles admonished them, his voice a current of deep water, cold water, as it spoke whole volumes of glares. We have job to do

The watcher stood on the other side of Buffy, satchel in hand, instead of the uniform tweed he wore a dark blue jacket and buttoned shirt, he met the eyes of his fellows with a steely gaze, not one of them had manage to stare him down.

"Alright Spilling." Buffy said, arms akimbo. "We're here, let's see your seer."

The man gave her another oily smile. "Certainly Miss Summers, but I believe our agreement was an exchange of information. What you know, for what we have ascertained. I hope you have cataloged your information. I understand it may bring up painful memories, but I assure you this building is quite protected from ghosts, especially those of dead lovers."

Steady Giles voice whispered in her mind as Buffy gritted her teeth behind an indifferent smile. The urge to hit was very strong. "Believe me Mr. Spilling if any ghosts show up I'll be certain to let you handle them."

Giles stepped forward, pulling a thick folder from his satchel. "It's all in here Spilling, each one of our accounts of what happened, along with my own observations."

"I'll take it." A small pressed looking woman stepped forward and stiffly took the folder from Gile's hand.

She and one of her fellows immediately hurried over to a table in the corner and began flipping through the papers. Spilling smiled again. "This could take a moment, won't you all sit down."

Buffy tossed her hair back over her shoulder and crossed her arms once again over her stomach.

"Oh I don't really think it will take that long, do you? I mean all they have to do is make sure that all or accounts are there."

For the first time Spilling's eyes flickered with annoyance. "Tell me miss Summers, why are so interested in seeing this seer. Any particular reason."

Buffy smiled innocently at him. "You're a Watcher mister Spilling. Do you really need to ask. You said it spoke of warning, as a Slayer I tend to like to know about these things."

"Sir," The stiff looking woman had hurried over to Spilling and was whispering in his ear. The words, "very interesting" and "we'll want to get to work at once" just barely reached Buffy's ears.

"Well" Spilling said, rubbing his hands together, "it seems your information is very satisfactory. Shall I have Avery show you to your quarters? We can pay a visit to our seer in morning."

He's stalling us Buffy, Gile's voice sounded suddenly in her mind. "Make him take us to the seer now or we'll never get there.

Buffy once more spread her lips reluctantly into a sugary smile, she really disliked this man. "None of us is really tired Mr. Spilling. We'd be happy for you to take us now." She couldn't keep a slight edge from her voice.

Spilling's nostrils flared slightly, "Well really, we had planned on entertaining you a bit first, you are our guest after all"

"We'd like to see the seer now." Willow had stepped slightly forward next to Buffy

Spilling peered nervously at her, "Ah yes, you are the witch, Willow, is it not? Please believe me when I assure you that this would be much better done in the morning."

Willow took another step forward. "We'd like to see the seer now." She said again with greater emphasis. Her voice was quiet but the air around her was humming slightly with contained power, causing static to form on the paling Spilling's tweed suit. The oily man's mouth formed into a grim line. "Very well, Avery will take you. Now if you'll excuse me, my presence will be needed here." With a stiff bow, the thin man and the other Watcher's filed out, leaving a short thickset man in slightly tatty tweed.

"Follow me." he said curtlyleading them back into the hall and towards a flight of stairs, narrow, and leading down into darkness.

"You keep your seer down here?" Xander asked, peering dubiously at dark at the bottom.

The squat sniffed, "If that's what you want to call it. Come along then."

Just what exactly did you put in that report Giles? Buffy asked nervously Those two in the corner looked like kids at Christmas

Don't worry Buffy, I filled it with enough mumbo jumbo to satisfy any bureaucratic heart. Nothing about the Scythe. Now its up to us to find out as much as we can.

The party stopped abruptly behind Avery as they reached a small door. Their cold guide removed a key from around his neck, and briskly turned it in the lock. "In here. No loud voices or sudden movements please. It tends to aggravate it."

It? All four voices intoned together before stepping over the threshold.

The room looked like it had once been a root cellar, it was dim, and cold, and smelled like an old sponge. Moisture oozed from the walls, and dripped onto the dirt floor. The room's back portion had been walled off into a cell of sorts, strong iron bars driven deep into a section of concrete with carved crosses mounted at intervals from floor to ceiling. Through the bars they could discern a blank earth wall and dirty pallet on the floor, Buffy caught her breath as she spied a familiar form crouched near the back wall.

"Drusilla." She whispered, feeling her gut clench with unexpected horror. The Scoobie's old enemy crouched in a damp corner. Her dark hair was a disheveled mass, her white dress torn and streaked with grime, her feet were bare. Her pale arms, thin, and mottled with bruises and vaguely cross shaped burns, were clutched tightly around her knees as she rocked back and forth humming a tune in a strange raspy voice.

"They heard Willy screaming in the dark, in the dark. They burnt him all to pieces with a spark, with a spark." A white hand reached out to draw distracted patterns in the grime on the wall as she continued to rock. "Little fingers, little hands. Lost, lost, lost. All dark. Alone. I'm cold, so cold."

"Don't you think this is a little extreme?" Xander asked in slightly sick voice as he stared at the livid burns on the brunette demon's outstretched arm. " I mean she is a demon but still...."

Avery pinched up his mouth in a way that Buffy had really come to hate. "She isn't a guest. She's a killer, an animal."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't treat a dog this way, you–"

"Xander," Willow, shook her head at him, sympathy in her eyes. "Now's not the time to address prejudices." I understand what you mean Xand. She whispered in his mind, But we have things to do. We can't— Xander turned at Willow's sharp intake of breath. Drusilla had risen slightly out of her crouch, her head was weaving back and forth as if trying to hear.

"Shhhh." She said suddenly, eyes fixing on the group with sudden intensity. "S'not polite to whisper."

Avery took a step forward his mouth twisted with disgust. "You have some visitors Drusilla." He walked over to a small ice chest in the corner and drew out a packet of blood. "Why don't you tell them the things you've been seeing and then maybe we'll give you some blood." The vampiress peered at the packet with hooded eyes

"That isn't blood. Blood is warm and bright and flowing. This is dead, cold and dead, it won't tell the secretes my tummy longs to hear."

"Come now, Drusilla. You know what happens when you are difficult. Just do as you're told."

The lovely monster smiled at him, "Will you hurt me nice if I ask pretty please. No, you never do. Only shouts that sting my head. Why won't you let me rest?"

Giles face grew set. Drawing Avery roughly to the side he began to whispered angrily in his ear. "You promised us a seer. This is mad woman! I didn't expect much from the Council but I must say this is truly—" Giles was cut off as an angry howl echoed from the cage. Drusilla had risen from her crouch, her wild eyes were pinned on a frozen Buffy, her blunt teeth bared in a howl of rage.

"I will not bow! I will not bow! I am made of lilies and violets, not of flesh or scales. She has no power here!"

Giles was suddenly looking at Drusilla with great interest.. "And who do you speak of Drusilla?" He asked softly.

"Her!" The vampiress growled pointing a finger at Buffy's flinching form. "She's the one. The cat. The hissing, scratching cat. She shook her coat and now there's fleas all over. Hopping, scratching, biting. Uuuuh!" The pale woman shuddered violently, running her hands frantically over her body as if to brush off imaginary insects. Suddenly she went very still a hand weaving distractedly through her black hair. "My mummy taught me how to kill fleas." She said with a sly look. "You can't crush them, they hop too fast. But you can drown them cold and wet. Cold, cold, cold. Like the flood, hissing and panting and waiting to ruin everyone's picnic."

"The flood?" Buffy asked taking a step towards the cage. "What do you know about the flood?"

Drusilla gave another sly smile. "Do you know what I miss? Leeches."

"Drusilla," Willow said softly stepping up beside Buffy. "I think you'd better tell us."

The demon's eyes widened,"Ooooh. Tomcat." She purred, gyrating her hips in slow sensuous motion, her eyes becoming vacant. "Once before it came, horrid and grasping and dark. They stayed afloat in a magic boat till the olives came back to the park." Looking at Willow she grinned. "Will you hurt me real good? I can see it, so much power. The young one's so much better left unguarded. I would make you mine. You'd like that wouldn't you? Pretty lives like bits of paper and darkness deep to rest in."

"Leave her alone." Buffy snapped, stepping in front of a shaken Willow. Drusilla's eyes narrowed, then widened as she let out an insane cackle.

"The Queen doesn't have her Champion." She did a little pirouette her face alight with glee, as she let out another eerie cackle "Can't have a court without your Champion, can't have a joust or party or a picnic. He must be there to help pour the tea when the king of cups comes crashing down." She grasped the bars for an instant, rocking forward and back as she chanted "Her crown it is, her awful crown, it won't make the garden grow, blood and howling and dark and death and pretty maids all in a row."

"My, crown?"

A shadow seemed to cross the brunette's face"I will not speak until the pixies tell me too, I'll dig myself a little hole and be quite as mouse." Drusilla sank to her knees and began scrabbling frantically at the hard packed dirt of her cell, the skin on her fingers broke and bled, as she made shuddering noises to herself jerking her head from side to side.

Buffy felt nausea form in the pit of her stomach. Spike would hate this. She thought to herself.

The mad vampire slowly raised her eyes to Buffy's face her frantic hands stilling on the ground. "He's all around your head. My poor boy, trapped in Slayers coils" Drusilla crawled slowly towards the bars, eyes full of rage. "You put the spark in him!" She spat. "You put the spark in him and it burned him all away. To dust. To ashes. To aaaaashes aaaaaaaaaashes we all fall down." The white clad woman's hands suddenly reached out like lightning through the bars, grasping Buffy's arms with bruising force. Black eyes met hazel and locked, in glare of death, one of the vampiress's hands suddenly switched up to Buffy's the side of Buffy's right temple, clenching as some sort of realization seemed to pass through her crazed mind. "The Old One." She gasped. "The years all coiled up in your head, so many, back and back and back. So much death. Screams like notes of music, all inside, all in you. Too much, too much."

Buffy remained perfectly still, trapped by the brunette's gaze. Avery was holding back a frantic Giles, while a fascinated Willow clung to Xander, Drusilla's arms had begun to smoke where they were pressed against the crosses on the bars, neither of the women noticed as their gazes remained locked on each other. Drusilla shook for moment, face screwed up with enormous concentration;

she then slumped, as if in defeat, a single tear slipping down her cheek like a drop of melting ice.

"It is in you," she whispered, looking sadly into Buffy's eyes. "the changing blood and the raven's cry. My poor boy will never be mine again. He's neither here nor there, can't go to fire, can't go to dark. He's waiting, but you haven't much time."Her face contorted into a pained mask and she clutched the sides of head with pain. "In my head, in my head! All shouting and clamoring and beating at the walls! I can't get out! I can't get out! It hurts! It always, always pains!" The vampiress's eyes went very clear for a moment, "Help me." She quavered, before slumping to the ground in a dead faint. Leaving a room full of shocked and shaken occupants.