Chapter 24: The Townhouse

Outside Camelot, January 19th, 2017

Buffy Summers looked around. With the magic eye powder no longer working, The cliffside looked deserted, and the forest looked like a national park. If they had national parks in England. It didn't look as if there was a bus station anywhere close. And Blinky wouldn't fit on a bus, either. Certainly not on one of those nifty double-decker buses they had. "We could call a cab and come back with a van for you," she told him.

"That would take quite some time," Giles pointed out. "And the night only has so many hours - even in winter."

"We could call the Council and have them send a van, though…" Willow made a face. "That would tell them that we arrived here, and they would start snooping around."

"And we don't want the Council trying to mess with Camelot," Buffy said. "Or ancient troll villages with intercontinental rollercoaster lines."

"They shouldn't be able to enter Dwoza even if they found it," Blinky said.

"But the Council would put it under surveillance, which might cause trouble for any future troll travellers," Giles said. "I fear we shall need to be more discreet."

"Wouldn't it be better if I stay behind, then?" Blinky asked. "If your allies are not to be trusted."

"But don't you want to see London?" Jim looked concerned. "One of the biggest cities in the world!"

"And it's an English city," Buffy added. "Full of ancient buildings and old people."

"Buffy!" Giles frowned at her. "London is a very active city, not an old people's home."

"You're not exactly objective," Buffy replied with a grin. "You're old yourself."

"I am most certainly not old!"

"Could've fooled me." Buffy shrugged. "Anyway, if you want to stay in the forest where the sun won't kill you if we get delayed, we can hike to the next town and take a bus."

"Or the train," Giles said.

"There's a train station about… five miles away," Willow said, looking up from her phone. "But it's cross-country. On the other hand, I don't think any cab will reach us here."

"What?" Out of cab range? That was bad. "Where's the closest road?"

"According to Google Earth?" Willow smiled weakly. "Next to the train station."

"But this is England! It's like… a third the size of California!" Buffy protested. "And it has more people than California! And you don't even have deserts!"

Everyone was staring at her.

"I'm not sure I should be proud of your surprisingly correct grasp on geography or concerned that you think everyone lives like Californians," Giles commented. "However, I can assure you that England has its fair share of wilderness even though we do not have a desert. We're merely not as dependent on cars as the Americans."

Buffy pouted at the unflattering assessment of her education but decided to let it be. "Could we call an off-road cab?"

"If my guess is correct, then we're in a national park - Exmoor, I assume," Giles said.

"Yes!" Willow piped up.

"Thank you. Although I don't think there's a forest this old here. And there should be a road crossing the park," Giles went on. "Calling an off-road cab would both attract attention - they might think we need help - which would make returning a little more difficult and might also be illegal except for emergencies."

"It's kind of an emergency, what with the fate of the world at stake," Buffy pointed out.

"Something the local constabulary wouldn't be aware of, I'm afraid," Giles replied.

"And Merlin's spell might keep them away," Blinky added.

"Yes! It wouldn't be much of a spell if people could settle right next to it. Well, still impressive, but not as useful," Willow said. "A slight compulsion to keep away would explain the absence of roads."

"And hikers," Giles added. "Although at this time of the night. Most hikers will already have set up camp or returned to their lodgings. So, we should set out for…"

"Minehead!" Willow said. "It's the closest town."

"I only hope we'll arrive before the last train for London leaves," Giles said.

Willow winced. "It, uh, already left at like, seven."

Giles sighed. "Then I think we'll have to rent a car."

"Uh… I just remembered: I don't have British money!" Buffy said.

"Neither do I," Jim added.

"I'm sure I'll be able to cover it," Giles said.

"You carry pounds around?" Willow asked.

"Actually, yes. However, I'm planning to use my credit card."

Right. Credit cards would work just as well, Buffy remembered. On the other hand, if Giles was paying, then she'd have more money for a quick shopping trip. If they had the time for that.

"Won't the Council wonder how you arrived?" Jim asked.

"Yes." Giles smiled. "Which is why we need to be discreet, so they won't look at this area for hints of our arrival and means of transportation."

"One fake trail coming up!" Willow beamed. "Want to lure them to Scotland?"

"I think any location not near this area would work."

"So… you coming, Blinky?" Jim asked.

The troll was clearly torn about this, Buffy saw.

"We can probably rent - or borrow - an RV," Willow said. "There's a caravan shop in the town."

"I think a van will do," Giles said.

"If we can get a van," Buffy agreed. "Otherwise, it's Grand Theft Caravan again."

"Which might put the Council on our trail. I'll remind you that they recruit from MI6 and MI5 - they aren't as ignorant of modern forensics as you might suspect."

Buffy pouted. That was really unfair. A van wouldn't be half as comfortable as a decent RV. Well, she wouldn't be the one exhausted after the hike and in need of a nap. She blinked. "Oh! Do I get to drive?"

"No!" everyone else said together.

So unfair!


London, January 19th, 2017

London really looked very different compared to what James Lake Jr had expected. Old buildings, tall buildings - fewer skyscrapers than Los Angeles, but all in all, the city looked much denser than Jim was used to. He had to refrain himself at times from pressing his face against the windows in the van they had rented in Minehead.

"Oh! Did you see that? So different to what I am used to!"

Blinky, of course, had no such restraint. He enthusiastically tried his best to observe everything. Jim could only hope that Willo's illusion held. Or, if the spell should fail, that any passers-by would assume Blinky was wearing a costume in the van. Or was a prop. Or some attempt at a prank.

He blinked. That would actually be likely, what with the many pranks posted on YouTube. So, they didn't have to worry as much as he had thought about revealing the trolls' existence. Then his smile faded. This also meant that demons would have an easier time passing unnoticed. Damn.

Life had seemed so much more simple when he hadn't been aware of demons. And demon-goddesses. He snorted - who would've thought he'd ever consider fighting Gunmar simple?

"Where are we going?" the Slayer asked from the front passenger seat - she had claimed it from the start and never relinquished it at any stop.

"To the townhouse of my family," Mr Giles replied.

"You've got a townhouse?" The Slayer perked up. "That must cost a fortune here!"

"It depends on the exact location and size, but if it's within the limits of the City, the land alone would be worth millions," Willow chimed in.

"It's my family's townhouse, not mine," Mr Giles said. "And even if it were mine, selling it would be both unthinkable and prohibited by clauses in whatever will would have left it to me. So, please remember that should you manage to slip away for a shopping spree, Buffy."

"What? I would never!" the Slayer protested. "Speaking of… how close is your family? And how big is the townhouse? Since we're bringing Blinky, you can't be too much of a stranger, and it has to be big enough for all of us to be put up on short notice, right?"

Mr Giles groaned.

"See, Willow? I was right!"

"Well, as I said, that depends on the location and size of the property, Buffy!"

The house they pulled up to ten minutes later was both large and in a good neighbourhood, in Jim's opinion. Wrought iron fence in front, drive - no, that was the entrance to an underground garage. Which opened for their van without any apparent signal, Jim noticed.

"You've got wireless remotes here?" Willow piped up.

"Now I believe that this isn't Giles' house," the Slayer added. "He'd never have such demony devices!"

"I called ahead when we started our drive," Mr Giles explained. "As you might remember. And you did notice that I've announced us by a text message."

"Yeah, but teasing you about your technophobia is more fun!"

"Buffy! That's not nice!"

"But it's fun, Willow!"

"Do you think there is an access to the sewers, Master Jim?"

"Uh… I don't know?"

"There actually is an access tunnel to the old sewers," Mr Giles explained as he parked the van. "However, it is meant for emergencies and quite secure."

In other words: Blinky wasn't supposed to use it to go exploring on his own. Which, Jim had to admit, was probably a good thing. His friend was often a little too curious for his own good. And a little too cavalier.

"No reception committee?" Buffy asked when they stepped out of the van. "I had expected at least one of those stuffy butlers that make you feel like a savage through sheer British politeness, you know!"

"I asked for discretion," Mr Giles replied. "The lift is over there."

"And we're supposed to carry our luggage?"

Mr Giles didn't deign to answer that and pushed the button on the lift.

A short ride later, they stepped into what looked like an entrance hall straight out of some British period drama.

"Good evening, Master Rupert."

And there was a butler! Jim almost gasped. The Slayer and Willow did.

"Good evening, Henry."

"I trust you had a pleasant drive?"

"Compared to American traffic, it was heaven. Until we reached the city, of course. Henry, these are Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, James Lake Jr and Blinkous Galadrigal."

"I've prepared two guest rooms and your usual room, sir. Your father is waiting in the study."

"Your father? Giles!"

"Please follow Henry to your rooms," Mr Giles replied. "I'll join you shortly." He straightened, and Jim saw his lips twist into a small frown. "At least I should hope so."

Henry, Jim also saw, didn't change his expression in the slightest as he gestured to the stairs. He didn't offer to carry their luggage, though whether that was something butlers didn't do or because he didn't want to get between the Slayer and her weapon collection, Jim couldn't tell. Since the man hadn't batted an eye at Blinky, it was probably the latter.

The guest rooms looked like the house - old, expensive and slightly outdated - and made Jim feel horribly out of place.

"Oh, I hope the bed can stand my weight… maybe I should sleep on the floor. What do you think, Master Jim?"

Right. Troll problems. "I'll ask Henry," he said, dropping his bag on his bed and heading back to the door.


Giles had a rich family. That was a shock. Or, rather, it was a shock that Giles had a family. Well, he had to have had parents at some point, but Buffy Summers had never imagined them still being around. Giles was old enough to be her father, after all. As proven by his… No, not going there! The last thing Buffy needed now was thinking about Giles and Mom.

She sighed and sat down on her bed. Her much too old and expensive-looking bed. It was comfortable, she could tell, but what if she broke something? At least it didn't have a canopy and curtains, like the beds from that TV series. Or the beds from her Halloween memories.

"Who'd have thought that Giles's family had money, huh?" Willow asked from her own bed in the room.

"Not me," Buffy replied, laying down on her back and staring at the ceiling. The decorated ceiling. "He never acted like he was rich. You know, like Cordelia did, before the IRS took all her family's money." And Cordelia's own.

"Giles isn't Cordelia," Willow pointed out the obvious.

"Of course not." Giles was Giles. And Cordelia was… well, not as much of a bitch as she had been, last Buffy had heard from Angel. "But still… this house must be worth millions."

"Easily. But as he said - it's his family's. Not his."

Buffy snorted. "He's meeting his father here. Really distant family."

Willow giggled. "Right. But he also said if he inherited the house, he would be bound by the will. He probably couldn't sell it and go live in luxury."

"It's pretty luxurious here," Buffy said. "They have a butler!" Something else straight out of a tv drama.

"At least he's not called 'James'," Willow said, giggling again.

"Do you think Giles's family is part of the Council?" Buffy asked.

Willow stopped giggling. "Uh… I think they are. Henry didn't react at all to Blinky. They must have known that demons and such exist - Giles couldn't have told them about this just a few hours before we arrived."

Buffy nodded. Not even the stereotypical unflappable British butler would react like that. Or not react, in this case. "But why didn't he ever mention them? His family, I mean. Is his mother still alive? Does he have siblings? Will we meet them?" Giles had been with Buffy for years. Almost five years. OK, a bit more than four. He knew all about Buffy's family. And she knew nothing about his.

"Well, he's a really private man," Willow replied - rather lamely, in Buffy's opinion. Then again, she didn't mention her own parents either. But everyone knew the reasons for that - they had pretty much abandoned her. "We also didn't know about his ex-girlfriend until we met her during a visit, remember?"

Buffy snorted. That had been amusing. And Giles couldn't complain - even if he did - about her surprise visit since he had been riding her about 'timely reports'. But there was a difference between not mentioning your exes and not mentioning your family. Wait… She blinked and sat up. "Did you ever google Giles?"

"Of course I did. You didn't?"

"I did," Buffy admitted. "But I didn't find anything. Anything about his family, at least. Only his work. Boring books about books." Which was a cover for his real job, of course.

"I didn't find anything about his family, either." Willow bit her lower lip. "In hindsight, that should've been a clue. Someone must have hidden the connection."

"The Council." This time, Buffy stated the obvious. "One of their ex-spies." It was really unfair for a hide-bound Council to employ former James Bonds. They weren't supposed to be tech-savvy.

"Yes. So, another clue for the Giles family being connected to the Council." Willow nodded. "Then again, we knew from Wesley that working for the Council was a family tradition."

Or should've known. Buffy snorted. But she was a little worried. If Giles's father was involved with the Council, wouldn't he be, well, high up, so to speak? He was old and rich. And Giles was her Watcher. The Watcher of the Slayer. The main Slayer. And he was sent to her after she had been called. He wasn't the Watcher for a potential who happened to get called; they had picked him for her. They wouldn't send just anyone to her.

She frowned. "I think we should ask Giles some questions."

"Totally!" Willow agreed. "We need all the dirt on his family. Parents, siblings - oh Goddess! We'll probably meet them! We'll probably have dinner with them! Or at least breakfast. English breakfast. Oh my God - we'll have to eat black pudding and beans or we'll look rude!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I was more thinking of asking him about his family's position in the Council."

"Oh." Willow blinked. "Yeah, that would be a good question, too." She yawned. "We should ask in the morning. I'm exhausted from the trip."

"You napped in the van," Buffy pointed out.

"That didn't help much."

Buffy frowned. She didn't really want to wait. And she didn't really need sleep. How long would a talk between Giles and his dad go, anyway?

"So… do you want to go first?" Willow asked, nodding towards the door.

Buffy shook her head. "No. Slayer here, remember? You need more sleep."

"Alright." Willow picked up her vanity bag and headed out.

Buffy waited until she heard the door to the bathroom close, then got up herself.

Time to prowl a little.

Outside in the hall, she listened. It seemed Henry the Butler was still busy fetching a bed that could support Blinky's weight from somewhere. Probably the attic or the cellar. And she couldn't spot any cameras. Good.

Buffy grinned and quickly and quietly sneaked downstairs - the study had to be there; Giles hadn't taken the stairs. She stopped on the last step and listened again, cocking her head.

"...reconsider."

"No, Father. My course of action is set."

That was Giles! He must be in the hallway somewhere. Or the study had really thin walls.

"Just as it was when you caroused with those demon worshippers?"

"We didn't worship demons; we made a terrible mistake by summoning a demon we thought we could control. That was an entirely different situation."

"You're shirking your duties either way."

"I beg to differ. My duty, as you were so fond of teaching me when I was a child, is to humanity as a whole. And Glory represents the most serious threat to the world that we've seen in years."

"That was when you wanted to join the army! Wait - the most serious threat in years?"

"Yes." Giles's tone was the same when he would usually polish his glasses. "Didn't you read my reports?"

"I did."

"Acathla? That demon almost destroyed the world and was only stopped at great personal cost by the Slayer. The Mayor's Ascension and Adam, as well as Nest, were more local threats - unless, of course, Adam would've managed to acquire control over the strategic assets of the US Army."

"It seems the reports I received were a little light on details."

"Really, father? You expected to be kept in the loop by Quentin after you 'retired'?"

"It was the least he could do after sending my son off to die."

"Your spare." Giles sounded… well, angry in that quiet way of his.

"The only son I've left. And you refuse to do your duty and continue the line instead of going off to die again."

"Yes."

Buffy heard steps - Giles's steps - and quickly withdrew upstairs. She pressed her lips together. Now… where would Giles's room be? They wouldn't put him in a guest room, would they? This was his family home, so he should have a room here - they certainly had enough room and rooms...

Uh-oh. Giles was taking the stairs. At least Buffy couldn't hear his father's steps. So, act natural! Casual! She leaned against the wall and drew Mr Pointy, looking for specks of vamp dust left on it. Not that there would be any, of course. But it was a good cover.

"Buffy." Giles was on the stairs, looking at her.

"Giles! Fancy meeting you here."

He rolled his eyes as he walked up to her. "I assume you went eavesdropping."

"I totally didn't!" she protested. "But did you know that voices carry in the hall?"

"I grew up here so I'm very familiar with the house - and with your hearing."

Oops. Buffy grinned in response. "So… now that that is settled… What was this all about? Duty to continue the line? Is that what it sounds like?"

Giles sighed. "My father expects me to marry and have children. Ideally, an heir and a spare."

And that sounded like a sore spot. "And you don't want to."

"It implies giving up my position as a Field Watcher - at least until the aforementioned heir and spare are born."

Giving up her Watcher? Never! Buffy glared at him. "Over my dead body!"

Giles smiled wryly. "That's about the only way I could see this happening - although I would have to survive you in the first place!"

She nodded, then blinked, frowning. Had that been a dig at her?

"I was talking about surviving whatever hypothetically killed you. Not about surviving whatever quaint Californian teenage custom you throw at me next."

Hey! "I'm no longer a teenager!"

"So it would behove you to act your age."

She pouted at him and changed the subject. "So, your Dad wants you to marry and give him grandkids." Because he'd had an older brother who was dead - Buffy so wasn't touching that.

"I believe I already said that, yes."

"And you won't do that because you're my Watcher."

"An occupation not conducive to raising a family." Giles shook his head.

"Well… you could hire a nanny. Or a babysitter. Dawn could earn her own money!"

Giles actually laughed as he shook his head. "I believe we've got more urgent problems to deal with than my family."

And that was his 'This subject is now dropped' tone. Buffy pouted again. "Yes. The Council."

"My father had a few things to say about this as well. He still has friends in some places. Apparently, not everyone is on board with Quentin's change of policy with regards to you."

"What?" She stared at him. "They do know that Glory's a threat to the world, do they?"

"Presumably, yes. But they also think they know best how to handle it. So, during our meeting tomorrow, it would probably be to our advantage to refrain from taking shots at Quentin so as to avoid weakening his grip on the Council lest someone worse could replace him."

She blinked again as she processed that. "Not making him look bad, or things might grow worse. Got it."

Giles looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Good."

"So…" Buffy grinned as they continued walking down the hallway. "If you had to pick a wife, who would it be?"

"Buffy…"


London, January 20th, 2017

James Lake Jr couldn't help noticing a slight tension during breakfast. Which was, in his educated opinion, delicious. A full English breakfast! He would have to ask for the recipes. Or google for recipes - Jim wasn't quite sure he wanted to bother the cook in the house. Not if the cook was cut from the same cloth as the butler. Henry had been absolutely helpful, organising a mattress for Blinky that allowed him to sleep comfortably in a few minutes, but the man's expression hadn't changed at all through it. Even now, the butler looked the same, down to the suit he wore. It was kind of creepy, actually.

"I hope you had a good night."

"Yes, Mr Giles. Thank you again for putting up with us," the Slayer chirped before going back to devouring half a buffet.

"It was the least I could do for my son's companions." The older Mr Giles's smile wasn't as bland as the butler's, but it didn't look very open either. And Mr Giles didn't smile at all.

Yes, definitely some tension.

"Indeed! Henry had a marvellous solution to deal with the slight challenge of my greater weight. And who do I have to thank for providing me with such a delicious meal?" Blinky, on the other hand, didn't seem to have noticed anything. Then again, he was distracted by a troll-like breakfast. Jim wasn't sure he wanted to know where the cook had gotten socks and screws from - or why they had known to do that. Had Mr Giles informed them? Jim would have to ask later when they had some privacy.

"I try," the butler replied with a nod.

"You succeed, I'd say!" Blinky beamed at the man.

"I took the liberty to inform the Council of your arrival," the older Mr Giles went on. "They expect you sometime during the morning."

"That sounds a little vague," Mr Giles commented.

"They might have been left with the impression that you arrived by private plane, and much later than you actually did," his father replied with a slight smile."

"Ah."

"Nifty!" Willow commented.

"I may be retired, but I am still aware of how the Council works."

"So… do you know anything about the Slayer Scythe?" the Slayer asked.

"Nothing that Rupert wouldn't have told you already."

"Legends and myths," Mr Giles added. "Nothing concrete. However, its existence has been verified, even though its exact properties have been forgotten."

"How did that work?" Jim asked. "Don't you, like, write down everything?" He hunched a little when everyone looked at him but forced himself to sit straight. It was a legit question.

"We do. But it wasn't always the case. And preserving knowledge over the course of millennia is a challenge. Despite our crucial duties, and our avowed neutrality, the Council did suffer mundane troubles several times in the past," the old man told him.

"Some of them undoubtedly engineered by demons or their allies," Mr Giles added.

"Perhaps." The old man shrugged. "It is of no consequence right now. What matters is that you will be able to find and recover the Scythe without having to jump through whatever hoops dear Quentin can think of."

"I've already talked to Buffy about Quentin's position in the Council and the pressures he's under," Mr Giles said as he refilled his cup.

Jim nodded. The world was at stake, and they depended on his help. That was a lot of pressure. Although… he looked at the others. "Do you think he'll try to pressure us?"

"If he feels the need to strengthen his position against his rivals," the older Mr Giles said. "Quentin has a slightly inflated opinion of his own worth for the Council's tasks and will consider any potential successor as not quite up to the job."

"We'll play nice," the Slayer said.

"He'll be able to save face," Willow added.

"But nothing else?" Mr Giles's father smiled thinly.

Willow smiled a little shyly. "Well… the saying has some merit."

Saying? Jim frowned. Oh. Let your enemies save as much face as possible, but nothing else.

"I would prefer not to consider Quentin our enemy," Mr Giles cut in. "Even though he's a right pillock."

"As the leader of the Council, you have to be," his father said. "I should know."

Mr Giles didn't comment on that, but the way his lips formed a thin line, Jim thought that Mr Giles' father probably had been a pillock in his opinion. Or too much of one. "So… is there anything we need to know?" he asked.

"You've met Quentin before. He'll feel more secure in the Council's headquarters, but that will be about it." The old man sounded a little dismissive.

"It depends on what he and his researchers found out," Mr Giles said.

"Do you think my presence will help or hinder your task?" Blinky had followed the conversation avidly, Jim knew, but only spoke up now.

"Quentin's old school," Mr Giles said.

"I should hope so," his father interjected.

"Ossified?" the Slayer grinned.

Mr Giles sighed. "I fear that your presence would be seen as provocative. While the council members are aware of the differences between trolls and demons, mainly you having a soul, I fear they would be hard-pressed to put theory into practice when confronted with an obviously inhuman guest."

"You'd be surprised," his father said. "The Council has made many deals with demons of various sorts. But they are generally not advertised, and a few members are rather, shall we say, zealous. It would probably be better if you stayed here."

"I see," Blinky said, nodding at him.

"Great." The Slayer sighed. "I hate politics."

Jim nodded in agreement.


"So, this is Watcher Central." Looking at the building from the corner across the street, Buffy Summers wasn't impressed. The building looked like every other old building in the neighbourhood. Sure, it was a rather fancy neighbourhood - or so it seemed; she wasn't an expert on property values in London - but it wasn't any bigger than Giles's family home.

"It's the Headquarters of the Watchers Council," Giles corrected her in the familiar tone that told her that he would be polishing his glasses if they were in a library or the Magic Box.

"Watcher Central sounds cooler," Buffy retorted. "Right, Willow?"

"Uh… yes? But is the Council supposed to be cool?"

Buffy pouted. Her Bestie wasn't supposed to point out flaws in her quips.

"I doubt that the coolness of the Council has any impact on our task," Giles said.

Jim was silent, Buffy noticed. She cocked her head. "Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Second thoughts? Do you want to stay away so the Council won't identify you?" Although if they had ex-James Bonds amongst their minions, they probably already knew more about him than Buffy did.

Jim shook his head. "No. We're in this together, and I should represent trollkind. I'm the Trollhunter; it's my job."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Unless you're being paid for it, it's not a job."

"It's my duty," he replied without batting an eye.

"That wasn't the point I wanted to make," Buffy tried again.

Jim just stared at her, and she sighed. At least that kind of attitude would favourably impress the Council. Which wasn't an entirely good thing since it would make Buffy look bad in comparison. Damn. "Let's go," she said. "Before they call the cops because a suspicious group of people is hanging out at the street corner."

"I sincerely doubt that they would do that. The Council wouldn't want to drag the local constabulary into a potential confrontation with demons," Giles said as they started to cross the street.

"How kind of them," Buffy commented.

"As far as I understand, the Council prefers it when their contacts in the police do not have to intervene," Giles replied.

"Ah, so it's not about saving the lives of the cops but saving paperwork. Got it!" Buffy nodded.

"I doubt that they would actually write anything down since, you know, influencing police investigations is illegal," Willow said.

"Technically, it's perfectly legal due to a few centuries-old treaties with the Crown, though I suppose that most members of the legal professions, as well as parliament, would be very surprised to learn of said treaties' existence."

Buffy would've liked to comment on that, but they had reached the building's entrance, and it opened without anyone having to ring the doorbell. Good surveillance.

Inside, two middle-aged men in suits - tweed, of course, not the FBI style - nodded at them, and an old man who looked vaguely familiar stepped up to Giles. "Rupert."

"Harrison. I thought you had retired."

"Quentin called everyone with applicable skills back for research."

"Ah. Harrison, this is Buffy Summers, the Slayer, Willow Rosenberg, a fellow researcher, and James Lake Jr, the Trollhunter. Buffy, Willow, Mr Lake - Harrison Wyndham-Pryce."

"Ah!" Buffy smiled. "You're Wesley's dad!" That's why he looked familiar!

"Yes." And he had the same pained smile. Almost cute - if he weren't old, of course. "Quentin's waiting in his office. If you'll follow me?" Wesley's dad turned without waiting for an answer.

Buffy had to bit her lip from blurting out a comment about being Traver's gopher. Giles had been very clear about not antagonising the Council. But it was hard if they left such openings!

But she was the Slayer; she could do this. No comments about the lift being a surprise in such an old house. No comments about the walls covered in old wooden panels. No comment about the lack of a twenty-something secretary.

It was hell until they finally entered Traver's office. The old man was alone and he looked a little older, in Buffy's opinion. Or just more stressed. "Rupert. Miss Summers. Miss Rosenberg. And you must be Mr Lake." So, Buffy had been right - they already knew Jim. About him, at least.

"Yes, sir," Jim said. "I'm the Trollhunter."

"The first human Trollhunter in history. Impressive." Travers actually smiled.

"Very," Buffy agreed. Try to divide us, will you?

"Indeed. And Mr Lake already found a more effective weapon to fight Glorificus," Giles said.

"Good. The more we find out about Glorificus, the clearer it becomes that we need everything we can think of."

Well, duh, they already knew that. "We're working on that," Willow said. "We've got a few ideas for tactics, based on our past encounters with Glory. But those will only grant us a tactical advantage at best - we still need a weapon to actually hurt her."

"And we all hope the Slayer's Scythe will provide," Travers said. "Our research has given us cause to be cautiously optimistic - the weapon is said to cut every demon, no matter the thickness of their skin - but acquiring it might pose a slight challenge."

Buffy bared her teeth. "We're good at challenges."


"This might be a bit much even for you," Mr Travers replied. "It's not something combat experience will get you through."

"We'll see."

"I fear this is too important to use as a contest or demonstration. If the Slayer's Scythe cannot be recovered, our chances to save humanity grow dim."

"Been there, done that."

James Lake Jr felt out of his depth. A little, at least. This was the Slayer's Council - no, the Watchers Council. Either way, it was Slayer business. Jim was the Trollhunter. Sure, he had told the Slayer that he had to be here to represent trollkind, but… what exactly was he doing here, other than listening to the others? And trying not to act like a lost teenager. It wasn't like home… He blinked. Actually, this was like home. Facing a bunch of old trolls who didn't trust him - or straight thought he being chosen was a mistake - and wanted him to do what he was told, not what he had to do.

"So, where is it, and how do we get it?" Jim said. He suppressed the urge to flinch when everyone looked at him and sat a little straighter. "We're here to recover the Scythe. We can do politics later - well, you can. I have duties at home, and the relations between the Slayer and the Council are none of my business."

"A succinct summary," Mr Giles said, nodding in apparent approval.

The Slayer scowled a little but nodded as well. Though a little grudgingly.

Travers actually smiled. "Well said." The man's expression grew serious again, though, as he addressed the Slayer. "The Scythe is said to have been hidden by a guardian long ago, 'lest an unworthy Slayer would wield it, causing untold destruction'. Quite the colourful phrase, I'm told, in the original Sumerian."

"Oh! We're going to head to Iraq?" Willow piped up. "I mean… is it a good time to mention that I'm Jewish? Actually, I'm Wicca, which isn't exactly better, not at all, from a religious point of view in certain places since we're not people of the book, but my religion isn't in my passport while my name is, and quite distinctly Jewish. So…"

Mr Travers held up a hand. "The Scythe is, to the best of our knowledge, not in Mesopotamia."

"It isn't? Is it in Iran? Or in Turkey? Or did the Egyptians grab it during one of the wars with Mesopotamians?"

Mr Traver's polite smile slipped a little. "It was moved closer to the Council when we moved to England. At least so our records claim."

"Oh." Willow nodded. "That would make sense, seeing as the Slayer would either be near here or could be reached most easily from here in case it was needed."

The old man nodded. "Precisely. However, we don't know who the guardian or guardians are, not even whether they are still alive. No doubt a measure taken to keep the Council from trying to lay claim to the Scythe. Being privy to some of my predecessor's actions, I cannot say I entirely disagree with the notion, but it means that we're navigating blind here."

"You said you knew where it was," the Slayer said with a frown.

"Approximately," Mr Travers told her. "We know the location where the Slayer is supposed to go to be tested. Or rather, we know of the site." He paused. Everyone leaned forward. "It's on Avalon."

"I wasn't aware we knew the location of Britain's most mythical island," Mr Giles said.

"We don't," Mr Travers replied. "We know that the Scythe is supposedly held on Avalon and that the Slayer wishing to wield it will be tested there. We don't know where it is. But we know where the Slayer is supposed to go to be tested. The records are a little… vague on how this is tied together."

"Oh. Like a mythical journey to prove your worth, only it's also a literal journey?" Willow positively gushed.

"Yes, that's what our research team has deduced from our records." Mr Travers looked both annoyed and impressed.

"I see why you picked her as a researcher, Rupert," Mr Wyndham-Pryce spoke up for the first time since they had entered this office. "And it also explains some of your more extraordinary efforts, Miss Summers."

Willow blushed, Jim saw, but Mr Giles nodded. "Willow is very talented."

"Yep! She's the best!" the Slayer chimed in.

"Thanks, but it was merely an educated guess based upon classic myths and common characteristics across several cultures…" Willow trailed off. "Sorry."

The Slayer waved her hand. "So, where do I go to be tested? Oh my God, it's not a written test? I don't write Sumerian. I don't speak it either - I only know a few curse words from a Slayer dream."

"It's not a written test. The Scythe supposedly predates writing, anyway, although the records are a little unclear. It's a test of character," Mr Travers explained. "We found no records concerning the exact nature of the test, though."

"Great. Fortunately, I'm good at improvising." The Slayer sighed. "And where is it?"

"Glastonbury Tor."