"So how are the pancakes?"

Billie had a mouth full of sticky, fluffy heaven when Anson spoke. Wanting to enjoy the food as she ate, but knowing she shouldn't make him wait, she reluctantly swallowed. The run she had done a couple of hours ago had burned up more calories than she cared to think about and the heaping plate before her helped. When Billie's mouth finally became free of her pancakes she answered, "They're great. Exactly the way I like them: edible." Anson cracked a smile as Billie flashed her own. Unlike many of the Slayers she'd met, those who'd seen things as she had, she liked to smile. Those few second intervals made Billie remember that she was still human.

Taking a sip of her coffee, the girl sighed as she brought a memory to life. "I remember, after we left Sunnydale and we finally knew we could stop, we found this diner in the middle of nowhere. Now you have to imagine, like thirty people off a school bus, bloody and dirty, coming into this little rundown, family owned eatery. We must have looked like a couple dozen soldiers, fresh out of war. Little did the people know we actually were." A smile faded a little from her face as the war came to mind, but she continued, "One of the Potentials, well, Slayers, by that time, Kennedy, she was pretty well off. Financially, I mean. Anyway, she never left home without a credit card. Not even then. She treated us all to breakfast." Looking from her plate to Anson, "I have never tasted a better plate of pancakes."

She smiled again, the smell of the food in front of her bringing her back to Goode Eatin' Diner. On the opposite side of the table, Anson's face became serious. Looking at him, Billie couldn't help but feel a wave of pity come over her. He'd been trying since the night before to be her Watcher, and she really respected him for that, but Mr. Tea was having a little trouble taking the lead. This was all too clear in his face as he battled with something in the confides of his mind.

Anson didn't look like a Watcher, in fact when he'd been the one to greet her when she arrived at the hotel, Billie was thrown slightly. He couldn't have been more than thirty and his hair was at least two inches longer than all the other Watchers she'd met. Even if most of them were older, called out of retirement, Anson didn't look like one, nor did her carry himself like one.

Feeling the silence between them growing into an awkward one, Billie spoke again, "Anson, the room you set me up in is beautiful. Please send my thanks to Mrs. Kerad-Daniels?"

"Of course." Wiping his mouth though he hadn't eaten a bite of his omelette, Anson now spoke, "Have you have any contact with Mrs. Kerad-Daniels?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "When she visited Mr. Giles and the Watcher's Council I was actually in Australia with a few of the other Slayers. I've never had the pleasure of coming face-to-face, though I've read her file about a dozen times. It's amazing."

"Oh, yea, called as a Potential Slayer at fourteen, kept training with her Watcher until she was thirty, when she decided to live a normal life, then at age fourty-nine called as one of the Slayers. It's quite a story, huh?"

"Don't forget the bank account." Billie pointed out. "What was it? Half a paycheck since 1972 went into a special account?"

Anson swallowed a mouth full of orange juice as he nodded. "Yea, she figured if she were to ever be called she'd need some money. She didn't even stop when she thought she was never going to be called. Force of habit, I guess." Shaking his head, he looked up at Billie, "Lucky for us she decided to donate that money to you girls."

Billie let out a small laugh. "Thirty-one years of money, just given to the Slayers. She must really care about what we do."

The cup in front of his face didn't keep Billie from hearing the doubt in Anson's voice. "Don't you?"

Knowing where Anson wanted to take this conversation and not feeling ready for it, Billie steered it in another direction. "Of course. I just meant, with all the Slayers I've met, there's plenty who want nothing to do with their calling and have simply walked away."

"Oh."

His answer was barely above a whisper and Billie just wanted to slap him. She wanted to find out if he would stand up for himself then.

Anson coughed, a little tick that all Watchers seemed to have, and spoke up. "Can I ask you a something?" He was trying, Billie had to give him credit for that, even if he didn't give himself.

"Sure," she answered, finishing her breakfast.

"What exactly happened in Boston?"

Billie nearly chocked on her last forkful of pancakes. She'd figured he would ask her about her past having spent the beginning of their meal talking of his own entrance into the world of Slayers, but she hadn't been prepared for this. She was set to talk about what happened in Sunnydale and the Hellmouth, but not this. It was so straight forward that Billie wondered if he'd been snatched by body invaders before her very eyes.

Calming down from the initial shock of the question, the Slayer spoke, "I'm sorry. You said last night that you had read my file. I figured you knew all about me."

"Well, I read what you had told Mr. Giles and Miss. Rosenberg. It's just that I want to know what really happened, not what you scripted for your file."

She was insulted, but she was the Slayer, she would not back down. "I'm sorry, Anson. What happened in Boston should not be important to you or why I'm here." Ignoring her opponent as he tried to speak, Billie continued, "And for the record, what I told Giles and Willow is what I felt comfortable telling them and I faced death with them. What do you think I would feel comfortable telling you, Mr. Tea?"

The man was silent, Billie knew she should have felt sorry for what she had said to the man, after all he was just doing his job, but she wasn't. Had he eased into the question, been sensible about the topic, perhaps Billie would've been easier on him, but he wasn't and that was pretty clear. She figured Anson to be sensitive, being a Watcher under Giles, but she was beginning to realize assumptions were rarely right. In that case, she would have to get him into that Watcher mind-set, even if that meant stomping over some of his tries to establish his authority if he crossed the line.

Anson was still speechless as she stood from the table. Picking up her purse and adjusting the olive green sweater she was wearing, the Slayer spoke, "I don't know about you, Anson, but I'm ready to get out of here." She began to walk out of the hotel's restaurant, listening to her partner stumble to his feet.

Billie stopped outside the hotel and waited for Anson to catch up. He did so, pulling on the black blazer he had to pull his business casual look. To herself, Billie had to admit that with the blazer over a gray sweater and sneakers he looked more like a Giles-Watcher than a Quentin Travers-Watcher. It was also sort of clear why fellow Slayer Vi was jealous, Anson's good looks were that of a movie-acting hotel manager, not the phony-acting hotel manager that he was.

He slid on his sunglasses, a la David Caruso, and started toward the row of staff vehicles. Looking at them, Billie felt a pang of envy. The cars were of the shiny sort and she knew that that entitled money and a job. Billie Edith would never be a working girl.

Contrary to popular belief, that statement wasn't true due to the fact she was a Slayer. In fact, the new Watcher regime encouraged education and careers for their girls, even if it might be an underhanded attempt at funding the Council. The reason this particular Slayer would not be a career woman in the foreseeable future was because she didn't see the point. Why strive for a mediocre life when everything could end tomorrow. That became clear during her two months at college, when, on the day of her midterm, she was unconscious in a sewage drain. So she fought. She was one to help everyone else live for the life they were building.

The life that bought cars like them. Including the seven passenger forest green van Anson was unlocking. Letting herself into the passenger side door, Billie tried to ignore the thoughts that roamed her head.

She was a Slayer, that had to be good enough for her, she'd promised.

Getting behind the wheel, her Watcher looked at her. "Ready to work?"
"You have no idea."