FIC: Slayer Wars (6/?)

"Is this the last of the reports, Dawn?"

"It is."

Giles smiled at the young girl's prompt reply, hiding the deep sadness welling inside him. Dawn really was growing into a beautiful young woman, too beautiful to stuck inside a dreary building with an old stick in the mud as himself as her only company. She should be really out at one of England's universities, Oxford of course. Although given the debauchery that had ensued during his stay there, perhaps not. "Good, thank you." Giles sighed as he read the figures.

"Giles," he looked up at the younger Summers' concerned voice, "what's wrong?"

"This," he shook his head. He had little wish to burden the young woman with his worries, but with the others gone, there was no-one he could truly trust. And Dawn was mature and level-headed enough; she'd proved it enough in the past. "This is madness," he sighed. "Attacking the Order and all these other powers will only engulf us in a war that will be at best be a bloody stalemate."

"Surely this is what the Council should be doing?" Dawn queried. "With all the Slayers we've added and the alliances we've made, we're far stronger than we ever were before."

Giles shook his head. "We've defeated great odds before, the Master, the Mayor, Glory, and the First, but I'm afraid some of our new recruits might not be as committed to our fight as," a fond smile tugged at his lips, "the Scoobies."

Dawn's limpid eyes widened as she sat down in the chair opposite. "If you think this, why did -."

"Why did I agree to do it?" he pre-empted his companion's query with a shake of the head. "I had little choice, Dawn. Whyndhm-Pryce had the Council tied up, I had no choice but to go along with this insanity."

"But you're the leader?" Dawn queried. "Surely you could have vetoed their plans."

"The leader?" Giles shook his head. "Yes, I suppose I am, the only trouble with that is, I would have been isolated on this issue, horribly weakened by what Roger would have doubtless painted as my indecisiveness and cowardice."

"Anyone who would have believed that would be an idiot!" Dawn snapped.

Giles smiled at the girl's spirited loyalty. "Thank you dear, unfortunately I had little choice but to act as Roger wished."

"But if you're so against it, why?" pressed the young Sunnydaler.

"To protect your sister and the others."

"What do you mean?"

"Roger despises Buffy for being the antithesis of what he believes a Slayer should be." Giles paused. "Should he have his way and become the head of the Council, doubtless Buffy would meet with an unfortunate accident."

"He wouldn't dare!" Face contorted in rage, Dawn half-rose before sinking back in her chair.

"I'm afraid he would," Giles paused. "I also strongly suspect that Xander and a number of the new recruits would be deemed as not having the right pedigree to be Watchers, despite their experience and skills, and dismissed. I strongly suspect that many of the new freedoms the new generations of Slayers have would be abolished. As for Faith," Giles shuddered, "given her part in Wesley's disgrace, her fate would be probably the worst of all." Roger would be utterly ruthless in re-making the Council in his own perceived image of what the Council should be, and woe betide any who didn't agree with his decisions or match up to his ideals. "If I am to protect them, I need to stay in my current position, and try and minimise the damage as best I can."

"As best you -." The younger Summers sister's voice trailed off as the door crashed open and Roger strode in, pugnacious chest leading the way.

"Ah, Ms. Summers," Roger sniffed disdainfully at the lithesome brunette who looked like she was a second away from leaping from her seat and sinking her teeth, vampire-like, into the older Watcher's throat. "Why don't you run along? Giles and myself have important business to discuss."

Eyes like stone, Dawn's mouth opened. "Please, Dawn," Giles hastily interrupted. "I think it's about time you went on your break."

The Sunnydaler stared at him for a second, limpid eyes boiling. Then she nodded stiffly and flounced out of the office, shooting the impervious Roger a glare on her way out. The moment the door slammed shut behind the departing teen, the older Watcher sunk into Dawn's recently occupied seat. "I can see why you keep her around. Spirited filly, nice decoration too."

"I can assure you it's for far better reasons than that," Giles stiffly replied, hands clenched under the desk, so that his companion couldn't see just how close he was getting to a damn good belting.

"As you say," Roger chuckled. And then just like that, the older Watcher's eyes were flint-like. "I assume you have the reports from our teams in the field?"

"I do," Giles nodded. "Of the eighteen Order cells operating world-wide, ten have been wiped out completely, three damaged beyond repair, but with survivors, three suffered losses but will be able to continue operating in a limited capacity, and two repulsed our attacks without apparent loss."

"Oh that's just marvellous," exulted his unwelcome guest. "A stunning victory!"

"I hardly call an action that has left eleven Slayers and four Watchers dead, and three more Slayers injured beyond healing a stunning victory," he replied, guilt at just the thought of the dead and wounded twisting his gut.

"Rupert," Roger shook his head, "this is what Slayers for. Battling the forces of darkness." Roger shook his head again. "Not dating them. Building this new world will take sacrifice, we both know that. One cannot hope to make an omelette without cracking a few eggs."

"I'll be sure to pass on your poetic words to their next of kin," Giles dryly replied. "I'm sure they'll be teary-eyed at your fulsome grief."

As expected Roger didn't directly respond to his comment. Instead the older man leaned forward, eyes gleaming with the anticipation of more violence he would of course have no part in. Not that Roger was a coward, his younger days as a Slayer's Watcher would disabuse anyone of that ridiculous idea, just a man who gave no thought to those he considered 'lesser' than himself. "And who will we attack next?"

An image of a deep, unfathomable chasm flashed before him, its gaping maws growing ever closer. Giles stared at his companion, the impulse to protest this insanity almost too strong to resist. However the die had been cast, and no matter what he said, Roger would be deaf to his pleas, the stubborn mule having long since stopped listening to any voice but his own. He should have killed the bugger years ago.

Except that would make him no better than the hard-hearted bastard sat before him. Their course was set and he was heading straight towards the chasm. Finally he spoke, the words tumbling out of his mouth like the bitterest of fruits. "The Blood Clans."

"The vampire ruling body?" Roger boomed out a laugh. "How appropriate."

It was a boardroom that looked like a million around the world. A long table with a fourteen seats around it, and a vacant seat at the top. Except this wasn't a boardroom on earth and the beings sat around it were as far from human as one would get and still manage to cling precariously to sanity.

Amon, a marquis of hell with forty legions under his command. Amon was a creature with the body of a man but the head of a raven, a dog's teeth filling its mouth.

Beside Amon sat Baal, a duke of hell with sixty-six legions under his command. Baal perched upon a set of spider's legs, its three heads of a man, cat, and a toad.

Next to Amon was Balam was another duke, this time commanding forty legions. Although he had a body, like Baal he had three heads – this time of a bull, a man, and a ram.

Besides Balam was Beelzebub, prince of demons and lord of the flies, he was the most powerful of their order, only answerable to the light-bringer. As befitting his name, he was a fly, but a fly the size of a pony, a fitting body for the lord of gluttony.

Sat next to Beelzebub was Furfur, a great earl of hell and commander of twenty nine legions. The demon had the body and face of a hart, a pair of huge bat-like wings sticking out of its back. Furfur occupied himself by creating storms, tempests and the like on earth.

The demon beside Furfur was Agares, a grand duke with thirty-one legions under his command. Agares looked like a human and not an animal, although more correctly like a human corpse, complete with grey skin and maggots crawling about him.

Next to Agares sat Paimon, a king of hell with a hundred legions under him. He took the form of a man with an effeminate face that belied his room-rattling roar.

Duke Zepar was sat opposite Paimon, a great duke of hell with twenty-six legions under his command. Zepar looked like a warrior born, something he used to great effect when seducing human women, all who would fall sterile after one coupling with him.

Earl Ipos was sat beside Paimon, a demon with thirty-six legions under his iron rule. Ipos was perhaps the strangest of their number, a creature with the body of an angel, a lion's head, a hare's tail, and the feet of a goose.

Next to Paimon sat Malphas, a president of hell leading forty legions. Malphas was a giant crow, the size of a tall man with the hoarse voice one would expect a being with a crow's body to have.

Lillith sat beside Malphas. Unlike the rest of them, the stunningly beautiful woman had no rank and commanded no legions. But she scarcely needed to, as Lucifier's lover, all the lesser demons that now populated the earth had sprung from her loins.

Beside Lillith was Zagan, a president of hell with thirty three legions under his control. He was a bull-headed man, minatours had been his creation, with a griffin's wings jutting mightily out of his back.

Valac sat beside Zagan, the demon a president of hell commanding thirty-eight legions. At first glance Valac looked out of place in their monstorous company, just a small boy dressed in rags. And then you noticed the winged dragon prowling behind him.

Duke Eligos was last amongst their number, a great duke commanding sixty legions. He was their armies' foremost general, a ghostly spectre who knew all of war's secrets.

And that was is it, hell's dread prime hirearchy. Eons ago, at the casting out, Amon shivered, even now, that terrible occurrence at the dawn of time never failed to sicken, there had been far more of them. Nebiros, Pruflas, Malthus, Samael, Barbatos, Raum, Sabnock, Rahab, and Vepar had all fallen, slain either for the crimes of trying to usurp their master or for failing him.

And then HE entered.

At first glance HE appeared to be nothing more than a bald-headed, businessman. Then you'd notice the off-things about him. The odd flash of curved fang, the redness of his pupils. The stench of brimstone and sound of screaming tortured souls that followed him everywhere.

As one they rose upon his entry, the heads of these fearsome masters of evil bowing in respect and not a little fear. "Be seated," the voice of power growled. In an instance they were. "So this Council thinks to make war on us do they?" Lucifer sniffed. "Don't they realise arrogance is a sin?"

"What are we to do?" purred Lillith.

"What are we to do?" Lucifier's fist crashed into the table, splitting the wood in half. "We are to wipe the blight of humanity from the surface of the earth. We stop lurking in the shadows and attack openly and without concern for the usual rules."

Amon swallowed, hating to question his master but too scared by the war's potential consequences not to. "But the lord-."

"The lord will not risk an open war over one planet, not another war," Lucifier shook his head. "No, not after the first tore down the gates of heaven and shook creation itself."

Amon licked his lips. One objection was brave, two bordered on the foolish. "We could not defe-."

"No," Satan interrupted again, an increasingly sour look on his face. "We have not the forces to defeat HIM. But should we clash again, it would re-make creation entirely. All HIS work and ours in a thousand different dimensions would be cast down, the entire multiverse haphazardly remade. He would not risk that, not for just one planet."

"Then," Paimon boomed, "will you unleash The Fallen?"

Satan smiled thinly at the mention of the ten million angels who had been cast down with them. Driven insane by their exile, they were now snarling, drooling beasts. But impossibly beasts for all that. "No," the lightbrigner shook his head. "We'll stamp these Slayers down. Tell our minions on earth, the age-old covenants that once ruled no longer apply, they are to wipe the blight of humanity from the planet, to bathe in their terror and drink of their blood! Then, when all hope is gone, then we'll unleash The Fallen."