A/N: Oh my! I'm so glad you like where this is headed! I did think of creating a whole new big bad, but I figured, what the hell, the Watchers are already a baddie in S3 anyway...why not make them even worse? I'm sooooooooo excited to see your reactions as this little storyline progresses!

Random Disclaimer: (I don't own Buffy).

Me: (dances) I've got a secret!

Buffy: That can't be good.

Angel: Should we be scared?

Me: Terrified.

?: What about me?

Me: Ssshhhh! You're my little secret! You can't talk!

?: I hardly see that as fair...

Me: News flash...life's not fair!

Travers: Do forgive me, but...

Me: (incredulous) How dare you be in my disclaimer! Go away! Shoo!

Eye of the Beholder Chapter 11

They arrived in London and found that as the Watchers had promised, the weather was completely dreary and rainy. Not a ray of sunshine. Though this did relax Buffy somewhat, it did nothing to even begin to unknot the tangle of nerves in her stomach as they got into the waiting vehicles, which Buffy assumed would take them to the Watchers Council Headquarters.

On any other day, at any other time, Buffy would have been awed at the fantastic scenery that surrounded her. The air of history seemed palpable as they drove through London. The old, stone buildings that had been around for centuries, the cobblestone streets, the double-decker buses, the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, the London Bridge…it was all beautiful.

On any other day, at any other time, Buffy would have asked Angel how much London had changed. If everything was still where it used to be...the stories she knew he could tell. Even if it were a time that he'd been Angelus, surely The Scourge of Europe would have enjoyed the beauty. He was greedy like that.

But as it was, Buffy barely catalogued all that she saw. Her hand practically burned with the desire to latch on to Angel's and never let go. She needed that strength he gave her, that little feeling of peace that would calm her. But she couldn't hold his hand because that could jeopardize everything.

Buffy wasn't naïve. She might rather be in denial, but she wasn't naïve. Angel sitting with her on the plane had not been an accident. The Watchers had been hoping to see something, anything that would give them a clue as to the extent of their relationship.

She knew that they wouldn't believe that Buffy had spared his life just because he had a soul. It had to be more. It was because he was shrouded in broody mystery. It was because he was Angelus, the ultimate seducer. It couldn't just be because Buffy thought he deserved to live. Well, that and the fact that she'd fallen for him the moment she'd laid eyes on him, but they couldn't know that.

The cars came to a stop then, and Buffy couldn't control an apprehensive glance at Angel. He didn't give her a reassuring smile, but he did look into her eyes and say what he couldn't out loud. It was a type of silent communication that they were perfecting, and Buffy tried to reciprocate.

I love you, too.

Judging by the way his brown eyes shone for a moment, Angel had gotten the message.

They were led into an old building. It had two, odd-looking owl-like gargoyles perched on its roof. Under normal circumstances, Buffy would have cracked a joke about it, but not now. The moment they were safely in the building and away from the prying eyes of the pedestrians, everything changed.

Two large hands grabbed each of Buffy's arms, Giles being treated in a similar manner. The Watchers approached Angel somewhat differently. The three muscle men had him surrounded, each holding a cross, trying to back him into the corner, but Angel didn't move, seemingly unfazed by the crosses proximity.

Angel didn't like this. He was torn between wanting to do two things. The first thing he wanted to do was rip the arms off of the two men who had grabbed hold of Buffy. He was having a hard enough time as it was not vamping out, and he couldn't help the low, steady growl that emanated from his throat.

The next thing he wanted to do was beat the living hell out of the three guys in front of him. He hated that he had to go quietly. It was the only rational thing to do, no matter how little a difference he thought it would make. The Watchers already thought what they did of him. Nothing he said or did would change that...

So, under that thought, Angel decided that he wasn't going to go quietly.

His fist connected with one of the cross-wielding Watcher's jaw, sending him flying back. Immediately, the other two Watchers rushed at him, and Angel couldn't fight the innate urge to retreat away from the holy object. However, when he was almost backed against the wall he refused to retreat further and kicked a cross out of the Watcher's hands, and then promptly punched him twice in the face.

He could hear Buffy screaming at him, but he ignored her. One Watcher caught his arm and tried to pin it behind him, but Angel simply flipped him over his shoulder. Seeing all three Watchers on the ground in front of him, grimacing in pain, Angel almost allowed himself to smile.

Angel looked up as the sound of many sets of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. A dozen or so Watchers surrounded him, and Angel raised his hands in front of him, placating. "Relax, I feel better now."

"He broke my nose," a Watcher complained quietly, as he got to his feet.

Angel smirked. You're lucky that's all I broke.

A female Watcher stepped forward and Angel's eyes were immediately on her. The Watchers were assuming that he wouldn't attack a woman, especially a woman who looked like she couldn't throw a punch to save her life.

Angel hated that they were right.

The woman held a pair of shiny, metal handcuffs in her hands. Angel sighed, accepting defeat as one of the Watchers nearest him turned him around and slammed him roughly into the wall. He felt the cuffs click into place, and then he immediately winced as he realized that the metal was laced with silver.

"I've got to get me a pair of these," Angel murmured sarcastically to himself, vaguely wondering what Buffy's reaction would be.

"Shut up," one of the Watchers barked before grabbing his bicep and spinning him back around. Three more Watchers came forward, two of them taking hold of his right arm, while the third gripped his left in a strong grip (for a human anyway).

They led him in front of Buffy, and Angel forced himself not to look at her. That would be a dead giveaway, because he knew he couldn't hide his expression if he looked into her green eyes and saw the would-be tears that he knew were there.

He did allow himself to glance at Giles, who was regarding him stoically. It occurred to Angel that the Watcher probably knew where they were taking him. A warning flashed in Giles' eye for just a second, but it was long enough for Angel to know that wherever they were taking him it wasn't good.

Buffy couldn't tear her eyes off Angel as they led him away. She fought back the moisture in her eyes, knowing that tears wouldn't do any good. Smoke was steadily rising off Angel's wrists where the cuffs touched his skin, and Buffy knew that he was in pain, even if he didn't show it.

When he'd started fighting the Watchers she'd been surprised, but that had quickly escalated into worry. What if they just killed him then? She'd shouted at him to stop, but he had ignored her. Admittedly, in the back of her mind, she felt a small sense of satisfaction that he'd landed a few punches, but that feeling was overshadowed by her anger and worry.

What was he thinking? Attacking the Watchers? It really didn't say "I'm a good guy." Although, Buffy doubted that the Watchers would change their opinion of Angel. To them he was just another vampire, and one that she'd failed to dust.

But why would they keep him alive? Buffy would have asked Giles, but they were surrounded by Watchers. It wasn't the right time. Suddenly, the Watchers who gripped her arms began to pull her away.

"Giles," Buffy began worriedly.

"Just go with them, Buffy," Giles said calmly. "Don't fight them."

Buffy frowned, but did as Giles said and let the Watchers lead her away. They walked down a hallway, then out across a grassy quad. As they were walking, Buffy half-expected to hear a robotic voice yell for them to get off the grass, and then shout the same message in many different languages. At least it would have provided a much needed, tension releasing laugh.

Yet no sound came, just the slight squish of the soft, wet grass under their feet.

Crossing the quad, they led her down another hallway that was dimly lit, yet it held a very antique-y atmosphere. The stone floor and walls, the occasional stain glass window, Buffy wondered if this was what it was like to be in a castle.

They stopped at a large, thick wooden door, and one of the Watchers produced a large skeleton key, stuck it into the lock and turned it. A loud click seemed to reverberate down the hall, and the door creaked as it was swung open.

The shoved her in none too gently and then promptly slammed the door behind her.

Buffy felt tears spring into her eyes as she took in the room. It was the bare minimum. There as a small bed, a table and chairs, and a whole stock of candles. A fire burned in the fireplace, and that was her only source of light. There were no windows, which meant no means of escape. The walls and floor were made of stone, which also meant no escape unless she wanted to dig her way out, and Buffy didn't know if it would even be worth it. She had no idea about the layout of the building. She was trapped.

Furious, Buffy punched the door, but instead of splintering the wood and feeling her fist go through the door, she yelped and immediately cradled her hand against her chest as a shiny, modulating force field appeared in front of her door.

That was the last straw, and Buffy could not hold back her tears any longer.

Giles glared unrelentingly at Travers who sat behind his large, ostentatious, mahogany desk. The man, who Giles had once considered a friend, was smiling serenely back at him, unfazed.

"Where did you take her?" Giles asked flatly.

"To a holding area, completely escape proof," Travers answered calmly. "Now, I know what you're thinking Rupert, and believe when I say that we are not the enemy."

"Really?" Giles scoffed. "How blind do you think I am?"

"Blind enough to care too much," Travers returned easily, but with a steely gaze that warned Giles to calm down.

"Yes, I care about my job," Giles retorted. "Strange."

"I think you care a tad too much," Travers replied. He picked up a report from his desk, and Giles immediately recognized it as one of his own. "I was going to save this for the trial, because I'm a fair man. We have trials. You can defend yourself and your decisions."

"You're the judge," Giles pointed out. "I hardly think this counts as fair."

"Ah, but life's not fair my friend," Travers said as he flipped open the report. He pretended to be reading it, but Giles knew that Travers had probably memorized it. "It says here that Buffy defeated the Judge, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"With a rocket launcher?" Travers pursued.

Giles couldn't help the small quirk of his lips. "Yes."

"Impressive, I must admit," Travers conceded, pretending again to look over the file. "Miss Summers is quite impressive. I'm already considering her foe for the Cruciamentum."

Giles felt his face pale at Travers words. "It is eight months until her eighteenth birthday," he pointed out quietly.

Travers smiled. "You can never really plan too far ahead for these things," he said. "I've already got a few candidates lined up. No ordinary vampire will do for Miss Summers."

"Is this what you brought me here to talk about?" Giles asked clipped. "Because if it is I'm afraid I do not want to hear it."

"No, Rupert," Travers sighed as he rose from his chair. "You're here because you're my friend, and I wish to impart some advice."

"Which would be?" Giles prompted coldly.

"I like you Rupert, I really do," Travers began and Giles fought the urge to roll his eyes. "You're smart, smarter than most of the Watchers that go through the academy. You're quick with your knowledge and know how to use it. I've always admired that. But most of all, I've always respected your loyalty."

"Loyalty is what binds us all together," Travers continued, a dangerous glint in his eye. "We're all one big chain. Each of us is a link…but if a certain link, uh, weakens or breaks…the whole chain suffers," Travers' gaze met Giles. "Loyalty and Intelligence are Watchers greatest strengths. I know you have the latter, however it is the former I worry about."

"You're point being?" Giles inquired flatly.

"Find where your loyalties truly lie," Travers advised. "If you're with us, well, then I'm sure we can find a place for you here. If you choose your charge, well…" he trailed off pointedly.

"Buffy is not some tool or...or weapon that is yours to control!" Giles whispered heatedly. "She's a seventeen year old girl who is still trying to find her way through life and discover who she truly is. I will not have you belittle her into anything less than the hero she is."

"I see you've made your decision," Travers said, sounding grave. "So be it."

Two Watchers entered the office then, and each of them took one of Giles' arms. "Escort him to his old quarters," Travers ordered. "We've since given them to one of our researchers. I have high hopes for him. He's bright, maybe as bright as you, Rupert. Perhaps he will be able to enlighten you."

Giles glared at Travers as the Watchers led him away. "I know the way," Giles said as they escorted him down the familiar halls. "I promise I won't get lost."

The Watchers didn't answer him, and Giles brooded in silence.

They finally reached the door to his old quarters, and the Watchers knocked.

"Enter," a male voice said from the inside, and one of the men opened the door and led Giles in.

Giles immediately searched for the man who had turned his quarters upside down. Everything was rearranged. His bookcases that had been on the north wall were now on the south wall. The bed had been angled to face the east window, and his desk was in front of the west wall.

A young man was hunched over the desk, aged parchment from a scroll scattered about, littering the surface. Five books lay open, the young man flicking his gaze to each one of them in turn before writing his translations on a legal pad.

The Watchers left him, and shut the door. Giles waited to be acknowledged, but when it seemed like the man was going to ignore him, Giles cleared his throat to get the man's attention.

"Just a minute," the man entreated, writing furiously. "I cannot lose this particular train of thought."

He wrote for another minute or so until he sighed, took off his glasses, and rose from his chair. "Ah, you must be Rupert Giles," he smiled, holding out his hand. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

Angel didn't know how long they'd been going down stairs. They were old, stone stairs that were uneven which occasionally caused Angel to slip. It didn't help that he could smell his burning flesh from the silver handcuffs. The faint sizzle was the only sound aside from their echoing footsteps or the dreary, drip, drip of the water that escaped from the ceiling.

They were underground, Angel could tell. It was cold and dank and just plain dungeon-y. Finally, the stairs ended and Angel immediately smelled the scents of many vampires. Cells lined either side of the hall, outfitted with silver bars and crosses to ensure that the vampires trapped within stayed that way.

The Watchers pushed him forward roughly, and Angel ignored the looks and whispers he was getting.

"Angelus!"

"It's Angelus!"

"How'd he get caught?"

"Where's Darla?"

"Angelus! I'll kill you if I get out of here!"

"I haven't heard of him in a century!"

"Angelus! Looking as handsome as ever…"

"Oh, Angelus! Remember me? Italy? 1865? That hotel in Rome…"

"Angelus…"

"Angelus…"

It was all very annoying, and somewhat embarrassing considering as he walked to the final cell on the row, he'd been propositioned eleven times (twice by men), asked for an autograph (Angel was sure the vamp was turned in the 60s), and then he'd received eight death threats. He'd always been popular.

When they came to what he assumed was his cell, he found that it was completely full of chained, starving vampires, probably around eight in all. This wasn't good. Starving vampires were known to feed off other vampires, and judging by the amount of dust that covered the dungeon floor, Angel figured that a few vamps had already been voted off the island.

The cuffs around his wrists suddenly were off, and then he was shoved into the cell. Heavy chains were slapped onto his wrists like all the others, and Angel looked at the dusty floor again.

"Little dusty for my tastes," he said dryly.

"Eh, sometimes one or two might get the motivation to break their chains," one Watcher shrugged with a small, cruel smile before slamming the door of the cell shut.

All the vamps immediately morphed into their game-faces if they hadn't been there already and eyed him hungrily...and not in the way Angel was used to. The vampires began to pull at their chains, growling like starved dogs.

"So," Angel said as the vamps continued to struggle. "I'm guessing you're the welcoming committee?"

The vampires all growled at him in answer and Angel cursed when suddenly there were many loud cracks as the vampire's chains snapped.

Yes. Yes I did. I left you with not one, but TWO cliffhangers. Oh, I'm so evil! (cackles with manical laughter)

Wasn't Giles just epic in this chapter? I wanted him to have a shining awesome-y Giles moment, and did he ever put Travers in his place! That scene was so fun to write!

And yes, Wesley is coming into this story early my doves! Yes, yes, yes! I love me some Wesley.

Let's not forget Angel! Ah! I guess we can picture what happens next chapter...it's epic...

Lots of love,

ArthursCamelot