FIC: Slayer Wars (2/?)

Jun '03, Devon

"Your offer is interesting, Rupert," Lady Haversham sipped carefully at her tea. "Might I ask what's prompted it."

"Of course," Giles nodded his head and collected his thoughts before answering. "The Council has always arrogantly stood alone, thinking it and it alone was worthy to fight evil. That's errant nonsense. Not only that, it's strategically unwise."

"Wise words and ones that I doubt I'll ever heard from that pompous bugger, Travers," Lady Haversham stared at him. "You know there'll be resistance to your ideas don't you?"

Giles smiled tightly. "As surely as night follows day."

Jul '03, Romania

Five faces stared back at him, two men and three women crowded into a wagon lit by candles all around it. "Why are you here?" demanded a willowy woman in her late forties, face beginning to show the first signs of age.

"I knew Janna of the Kalderash," Giles proclaimed.

For a kindly old lady, the woman had eyes harder than flint. "I know all about you Rupert of England, we five are the leaders of the clans."

"The Kalderash, Gitanos, Sinti, Rommichal, and Erlides." Rupert replied.

"You have some knowledge of our people, Rupert of England," the woman pronounced.

"When you discover the love of your life is a Romany, you tend to be curious." Giles paused. "I wish to discuss a treaty between the Council and the Clans."

The woman's lined and saggy face crinkled in a laugh. "Ha! You try but you cannot hide your bitterness!"

"Why should I?" Giles stared fiercely around the cramped wagon, not caring its occupants were the strongest mages in the Clans. "What you did was monstrous. Not only to Janna but to Angel."

"You seek to defend that monster!" hissed one of the five's two men, a stooped before his time forty something. "The one who murdered Janna!"

"Angel is not a monster," Giles defended. "Or the being who killed Janna." It had taken him years to accept that fact and he'd always flinch when he first saw the vampire, but it was nevertheless the truth. "That was Angelus! But does Angelus suffer? No, only Angel, a man blameless for the actions of the monster within him!" Giles shook his head. "You should have slain the demon when you had the chance. Instead you condemned an innocent man to an eternity of guilt."

A long silence followed his words. "If you have such disdain for us, why do you wish to ally yourself to us?" asked the elderly lady.

"Because," Giles paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Because no matter my personal differences, my organisation could help you and your people have much knowledge you could help us."

The elderly woman smiled. "It is a wise leader indeed who can put aside personal issues to the betterment of others."

"Then…."

"Then the Romany Clans agree to a treaty with the Council."

Oct '03, Togo

"You are the one who sees." Sekou hid a smile at the young man's slight flinch before turning his gaze on the beauty stood beside him. She reminded him of a big cat, all grace and fury. "You are the split soul."

"Look," the brunette's growl hinted at a rapidly fraying patience. "If I wanted to deal with cryptic crap I'd be doing crosswords. Are you interested or not?"

"The Council have never sought allies before," Sekou avoided the question by posing one of his own, "what has changed?"

"The Council's leadership has been replaced-."

"The battle with the First." Sekou smiled at the two youths shocked expressions before poking the fire between them with a stick, embers spitting. "The Ever-Waiting Eye sees all."

"Got yours in a jar somewhere, Xan?" snarked the curvy brunette.

"On your bedroom table, Faith. The things I've seen."

"Only way you ever will see 'em." Faith grinned.

Sekou managed not to chuckle. The affection the two had for one another was most refreshing. "Including your most unwise Mass Calling. Still you fight bravely and for the most part with honour. As long as you two are the Council's representatives on this continent, we accede to your request. The Ever-Waiting Eye will ally themselves to the Council."

Nov '03, Wales

Giles swallowed nervously as he clambered out of his car and started across the muddy field, pulling his hood up so to ward off as much of the rain as possible. This meeting had taken far too long to organise, and as a result he was trudging through a muddy field on an altogether too cold day. He chuckled to himself. "Sunnydale made you soft, lad," he softly reprimanded.

He came to a stop at a small copse of apparently impassable bushes some sixty yards off the mud-track. "Bore da, croeso," he muttered.

He felt faintly ridiculous talking to a bush, but the spell he'd been told worked, the bushes parted, allowing him to walk sideways into a clearing filled by people wearing the surprisingly normal clothing of jeans and jumpers. "Greetings Rupert Giles."

"Greetings," Giles nodded formally at his greeter. The man was tall and lean, with a craggy face and sad, compassionate eyes. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Yes." The man looked over his shoulder to a mousy, brown-haired woman staring intently at him. "Don't mind Derwena, she is a diviner." Giles swallowed. Having his aura read always made him nervous. It wasn't as if he was a saint after all. He heaved a relived sigh when the woman nodded. "I am Gwrgan Caltarian. We are the druidic high council, we have been discussing your proposal for several hours and have come to a decision."

Giles' eyes widened. "Don't I get a chance to -."

"Our decision has already been made. We look at the facts not statements. I fear whatever answer I give draws us into a quicksand. But whatever answer I should give, it should be based on druidic principles. On honour, compassion, and wisdom." Gwrgan Caltarian sighed. "The Druids of Wales and Scotland are with you."

Mar '04, Greece

"An alliance with the Council!" Agenor roared with laughter. "The Sons Of Hercules do not need alliances with anyone! We are strong!"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. The Immortal continued on, unfazed by the Greek's obvious disdain. "The Council has many mighty warriors."

"Women!" Agenor snorted. "Women are not for fighting!"

"Homo-erotic much?"

Buffy clamped her mouth shut at her lover's warning glare. "Did Hercules not fight alongside other warriors when the occasion demanded it?" the Immortal pressed in his most reasonable of tones. "Did Hercules not favour other warriors with his friendship? Did he not aid those he considered worthy of his friendship in their hours of need?"

The Greek's face got as thoughtful as a Neanderthal could manage, wide brow furrowing in thought, lantern jaw clenching, and piggy eyes narrowing to slits. If he didn't have a god's body, he'd never get anybody. "There is wisdom in your words." Buffy managed not to snort. Like he'd have a clue. "I will talk to the others."

Apr '04, Norway

"The Council has forever stood for honour and gallantry," rumbled the blond-haired muscleman. Buffy had to crick her neck to look up at the close to seven footer. The frightening thing was she'd seen maybe a dozen of the Asgardians and every one of them was at least six feet and a half tall, and built like a wall. They'd make a great basketball squad. "It is a honour for the followers of Thor, Tyr, and Balder to be offered an alliance with the Council."

"And," the Immortal smiled, "it is a honour for me personally to be the one who accepts on their behalf."

September '04, Arizona

"You are not human."

The remark was a statement rather than a question but Angel confirmed it with a nod anyway. "Does that mean I'm a bad person?" he half-smiled.

"You were once amongst the worst of all vampyrs." The statement like the first was delivered by a stony-faced man with greying hair and a walnut tan who could have been aged anywhere between forty and sixty.

"Yes, I was," Angel uncomfortably admitted.

"But now," the Indian's brown eyes flickered with amazement, "you have a soul. Strong magic, gypsy magic." The Native American shook his head. "Leave here. We will not tamper with the magic, your demon needs caging for the sake of all mankind."

If that didn't sound ominous, he didn't know what did. "I know," Angel responded, "we're not here for that."

"Then why are you?" The Native American demanded.

Kate spoke a second before he could. "We represent The Slayers & Watchers' Council. This reservation houses the majority of your shamen. We'd like to make a treaty."

"A treaty with the Council?" The Native American looked from him to Kate and back again. "For what reason?"

"In the past the Council has foolishly worked alone when there could have been allies to aid them in their battle." Kate paused. "The re-formed Council wishes to change that."

The Apache nodded approvingly. "Then your new leader is wiser than his predecessors."

"He likes to think so," Angel muttered.

October '04, Japan

Kiyoto stared fiercely at Riley. "The Slayers have been mighty martial orders for centuries. But are not the Samurai Way," he gestured to the men behind him flawlessly completing their sword dances, "mighty warriors also?"

Riley bowed his head so that the Samurai Way's leader didn't see his frustration. He hated diplomacy. Rising his head he smiled. "There is wisdom in your words," he agreed. "But surely there is also wisdom in combining our forces? After all, two twigs combined are much harder to break than one on its own."

"There is wisdom in your words." The chief Samurai smiled suddenly. "I have a bottle of sake! We shall discuss our treaty drinking it!"

"Splendid," Riley's smile became more strained. God, Sake gave him such a hangover.

Mar '05, The Sudan

"How bad is it, Xand?"

"See for yourself." Xander passed her the binoculars.

"Shit," Faith cursed as she spied the cloud of dust heading towards them. "There must be close to three hundred in that crowd."

"Rebels," Xander spat on the sandy ground and wiped the sweat off his forehead, "and after the mess with them two weeks ago."

"There was no way I was going into the tent with them." Faith glared at the Watcher.

"No, but you could have been more polite about it," Xander responded

"You think they'd have listened?" Faith shot back. Xander sighed and shook his head. Point made, Faith nodded her head. "Besides, whoever they are they aren't rebels."

Xander looked towards Faith. "The army's just as bad."

"Nah, it's neither, they're on horses." Faith passed Xander his glasses back.

"Well I'm-," Xander glanced through the binoculars. "We still don't know if they're friendly though. Get everyone ready."

"Us against that horde?" Faith snorted. "Good luck!"

Xander shot her a pained look that reminded her a helluva lot of Giles. 'Course if she told Xander that he'd almost certainly hang himself, so she was savin' it for the day he really pissed her off. "Just do it."

Faith smiled sweetly. "What's the magic word?"

"Why me?" Xander looked up at the clear blue sky before shaking his head. "Please."

"That's all I wanted," Faith grinned at Xander's scowl before running into their camp. "Girls, we got incoming. Get ready!" Twenty tense minutes later and Faith's eyes widened as the riders came into focus, revealing they were in fact knights, fully armoured knights with scabbarded swords and carrying lances and rectangular shields. "Man, they have gotta be roasting in there."

"Knights of Byzantium." Faith groaned at Xander's low tone beside her. People only said she had a temper when they hadn't see Xan lose it as he was about to do right now. Then the smart policy was find a hole and dive into it.

But her mom didn't raise any smart kids, too many bumps on the head for that. Instead she grabbed Xander's shoulder and yanked him back. "Cool your jets, stud," she growled. "Twenty to one aren't good odds. I mean I know I can handle my twenty, can you?"

"They were going to kill Dawn-."

"A mistake," interrupted the group's apparent leader, a tall thin guy with a priest's face and balding blond hair. "The most grevious mistake in our Order's history. We understand now that the world's freedom cannot be bought with the blood of an innocent only sullied."

"What do you want then?" Harriet Doyle put in.

"We've heard rumours that the Council is building a shining alliance against the forces of the night that blight our fair world." Faith rolled her eyes. Guy sounded like something out of an Arthurian fairy-tale. "We want to join it."

Hell

"My lord, the Council grows strong."

"Let them," Satan waved an indifferent hand. He leaned back in his chair, allowing the screams of the damned wash over him before continuing. "They will never dare challenge the natural order of things."

"And if they do?" his minion dared ask.

Satan's smile had his minion cowering. "Then we will smite them. Crush them underfoot like the bugs they truly are."