"So, Rupert, tell me – what exactly does your Professor propose?"
Giles finished pouring himself two fingers of scotch and settled into the adjacent chair. Quentin Travers' office in the Watcher's Council building had its own hearth, a nest of marble currently housing a roaring fire. Night had already fallen by the time Giles arrived, and the rest of the office had been shrouded in shadow.
"He would like to sit down with you, informally, and discuss some rather delicate matters he believes affect the Council and the Ministry. An introductory meeting, if you will."
"I see," Travers answered, one hand stroking his short, white goatee and the other raising his own scotch to his lips. "To what end?"
"I suspect eventually he would like to move towards a formal alliance. For now, he wants only to assure you that not all of the wizarding community feels at odds with your organization."
"You say that as if you're not one of us."
"To be frank, I no longer am."
"Surely you of all people know that a destiny is not quite so easily shed, Rupert," Travers said with an amused smile. "I see nothing terribly objectionable in an introductory chat. Meeting the famous Albus Dumbledore should prove quite fascinating."
"He's an interesting man," Giles agreed.
The fire crackled in front of them, warming the room as they drank in silence for several minutes.
"How is your Slayer, Rupert?"
"She's well," he responded tersely. Travers could feel him bridle at the question.
"No need to put your guard up; we have learned our lesson with her quite well. Your part-time capacity is sufficient to meet her needs." He inhaled some more scotch and settled deeper in the chair. "We do have some concerns, however."
"Of course you do." An ironic half-smile graced his face. "I can assure you that she is doing quite well, and that you need not interfere…"
"Specifically, with her new companions."
"But you will anyway," he finished, "so why bother? By companions, I assume you mean the young wizards we assigned to aid her."
"Indeed. Our reports suggest that they are somewhat … less than reliable."
"They are most certainly not. If they were, however, what concern would that be of yours? Buffy has operated independent of your oversight since my retirement."
"The Council's job is to fight evil, Rupert. The Slayer is, and always has been, the instrument of that fight, and it appears to us that the fight is nearing a turn for the worse. Whether Miss Summers chooses to work with us or apart from us, our fight is the same and we expect the Slayer to carry out her duties. We would not like her hindered in any way."
His speech about their concern for the Slayer's welfare, which Giles didn't believe for a second, did not distract Giles from the important part of the sentence.
"Turn for the worse?"
Travers leaned in, his grandfatherly countenance belied by the rapacious sweep of his gaze. "We know about the return of Lord Voldemort, and I am well aware that his presence has forced the abrupt attitude shift of your wizard employers."
"I had no doubt that you knew of it, truthfully, but I think Dumbledore has been more inclined to repair relations with you than the Ministry of Magic for some time."
"That may be the case. Regardless, we know several things that you do not, all of them disturbing. They collectively indicate that trouble is on the horizon."
"Such as?"
Travers reached beneath his vest and removed a manila folder. "Before I hand you this, I must have certain guarantees."
"Such as?"
"First, that this information will spread no further than you and Albus Dumbledore. He is well known to us, and though I might dislike the wizards in general, I know the man can be trusted."
"That should not be a problem."
"Second, that you will not yet reveal to Buffy Summers what I am about to show you."
"I can't promise that."
Travers pulled the folder back. "Than you had best be on your way."
Giles pondered it for a moment. "Keeping in mind that I trust you about as far as I could throw this building … will this information harm her if she does not have it?"
"At the moment, no. However," Travers added, "should circumstances change, we would release you to inform her."
"And if they change before you notice?"
"We are not your enemy, nor are we hers, Rupert. We do not want her injured." The next sentence came grudgingly. "It seems unlikely that the Slayer who followed her would be better suited to deal with the current crisis."
"I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear that you have such confidence in her," Giles said, sipping his drink as he let the sarcasm sink in. "Perhaps we can compromise. You tell me what you know, and I will tell Buffy at the time I think it appropriate, but not immediately. If you did not want me to know it, or Dumbledore to know it, you would not have brought it up at all. That is my condition; take it or leave it."
Travers regarded him carefully, then handed the folder to him.
"Very well. Let me suggest you skip the written briefing and turn directly to the photos in the rear."
Giles flipped past the cover memo and nearly spilled his drink.
"This is a recent photo," he said. The girl in the center of the picture wore a familiar pair of jeans and a dark denim jacket over a white tank top. Her face had creases that Giles didn't remember, but she was easily recognizable.
"Taken two days ago in Los Angeles. As you can see, Faith is very much free."
"How?"
"The parole board felt that it was time for her release," Travers said with a smug grin. "We had some difficulty with her on the inside, so we had her released."
"Difficulty? What … you tried to kill her?"
"She is the Slayer, Giles. We believed that she needed to be eliminated and a new one called. One with less … problems."
"You bastard," he spat. "The girl needs help!"
"Which, I assure you, she is now getting, courtesy of a former friend of yours."
"Los Angeles … she's with Angel?"
"Yes, quite. We decided, therefore, that an experienced, recovering Slayer would be preferable to a brand new one."
Giles had heard enough. He dropped the folder and started shouting as he came to his feet. "You pillock! You can't move these girls around like chips on the bloody poker table! Thinking like that drove Faith away in the first place!"
"We do what is necessary to win our battle, Rupert. You used to understand that."
"Yes, well, somewhere along the way I remembered that the cost of that should not be my humanity."
He spun dramatically and headed for the door. Travers' voice stopped him.
"You should hear the rest. Faith's return is not the only piece of information in that folder."
Cursing himself for not realizing the obvious, Giles halted and turned. "What else?"
"Do you recall anything from your studies about the Cadre Caelestis?"
"Cadre Caelestis," Giles searched his memory. "It's a bastardization of 'Heaven's Fallen' and I think … yes, I remember now. Cadre Caelestis is another name for the angels who fell from Heaven with Lucifer."
"Very good. That Oxford education never fails." Travers reached down and retrieved a second photo from the dropped folder. He held it out for Giles, who walked back and took it.
The picture showed Buffy dancing in the Bronze with a blonde-haired man. She appeared positively enraptured by him. Giles kept his expression neutral, carefully avoiding any hint that he had already heard about the blonde man from the Slayer.
"And?"
"We believe that the man in the picture is one of them."
"This man?" He pointed to Buffy's dancing partner. "A member of the Cadre Caelestis? That's not possible. As I recall, they can't roam the Earth."
"Normally, that's true, as far as we know. We aren't even certain that the man is anything other than he appears to be."
"But?"
Travers frowned. "After dancing with the Slayer, he turned and walked away, much as you just did. She made an effort to grab him, but he moved too quickly. Our agent found that a bit suspicious, and trailed him out of the club."
Giles knew that, but nodded for Travers to continue.
"He saw the man speak with a 'brown ball of fur with a green beak and enormous wings,' before both of them vanished into thin air."
"A brown ball of fur, he said? You think it might have been a Shallebite?"
"We do. You understand why we would not tell the Slayer."
"Yes, yes, of course," Giles agreed. He understood the consequences of that. "Why tell me?"
"We believe that your library at the Hogwarts School might contain some useful information that we do not possess."
"It may indeed." He met Travers' eyes over the back of the vacant chair, thinking about the phone call he had received from Buffy and the oral description given by Willow and Grey. The blonde man clearly had focused on Buffy. If he was something other than human, and Buffy had felt some sort of pull from him …
"I'll see what I can dig up."
