Joyce sipped at a cup of coffee while she and Emma discussed how to contact Phillip Mooreland. While the investigator had provided his address and telephone number, neither one of them gave any serious thought to simply walking up to his apartment and asking to come in and have a little chat. That would be too direct, and too easy for things to go badly wrong if he wasn't a decent sort.

It had also been obvious that the matters were not the sort of thing to be discussed over the telephone. A face to face meeting, preferably during the daytime hours so that they could all be reassured that nobody was a vampire, would be best.

"If we don't want to go into his apartment, his territory, it might be a good idea not to have it on yours either," Joyce suggested. "He might already feel threatened by our knowing about his involvement with these Watchers."

"And if he's trouble, then it might be best not to have him anywhere near the children, and deniability works best if he doesn't go near the corporate building," Emma agreed. "So, somewhere neutral and halfway public. Open enough that he won't feel we're planning to kill him and private enough to prevent eavesdropping."

"Now that we've sorted that out, I should probably take Buffy in to the Academy early tomorrow. That will let her inspect the locker room, and perhaps she will be able to learn something that will be of use," Emma sighed, rubbing at her shoulder.

"You said it was messy. Will she still be able to focus on schoolwork after something like that?" Joyce asked. Buffy had said that it was her duty to handle things like that, but she was still only fifteen, still her daughter. "How much will the police and their crime scene people have moved or cleaned up?"

"Things will still be messy," Emma admitted.

As she saw her friend wincing again, Joyce sighed, "Emma, you look terribly tense. Why don't I give you a backrub?"

"That would be wonderful," Emma smiled, leaning forwards a bit. "Or are you just looking for an excuse to put your hands on my body?"

Moving to stand behind Emma, Joyce started kneading Emma's knotted muscles. As she listened to Emma making contented little noises, Joyce asked, "Do you think I should tell Misty about these crazy British guys who think my daughter needs to fight monsters?"

"It might be a good precaution," Emma sighed, "Oh, that feels good. Wonderful. You have about a century to stop that."

"Hedonist," Joyce giggled, her hands running down beside Emma's spine in search of more knots.

"You say that as if it were a bad thing," Emma purred.

"Should I even ask what I'm supposed to do with you?" Joyce teased, her fingers working on a knot just beneath Emma's ribs, one probably not helped by the corset that her friend was wearing. Tracing the edge of the stiffened lace, "This is probably making things worse."

"Then maybe you should help me out of it," Emma smiled.

…..

In the morning, Emma took Buffy with her to the Frost Academy. Joyce hoped that things wouldn't be too unsettling, too dangerous. Even if Buffy was this Chosen Slayer, which Joyce still wasn't sure she believed, Buffy was still only fifteen. Buffy was still her daughter, and a part of her wanted to keep Buffy and Dawn safe from the world. Impossible, and foolish to try, but that desire was still there.

She left to go to Misty's art gallery. If she took care of everything early enough, she could be home before Buffy and Dawn, and watch over her girls while Emma talked to Phillip Mooreland. Not that they'd be safer with her there than if she wasn't – Emma had wonderful home security – but she'd feel better about it.

"You look lost in thought, Joyce. Is it your daughter's stalker again?" Misty asked.

"Yes. My friend hired an investigator to look into the stalker and his background. Apparently he's part of a group that call themselves Watchers, and they seem to have ties overseas. The investigator couldn't determine if the rest of these Watchers are also out stalking girls and trying to have them fight monsters, but…" Joyce sighed.

"But it's a possibility. And people fight to keep their beliefs, especially the ones who have issues with reality and limits," Misty finished.

"If there are more of them fixated on the idea that my daughter needs to fight demons and vampires, they might go to extreme measures to make her follow their beliefs. Parents make good leverage against their children, and people might move against the employers of the parent to get them off balance or to look stronger," Joyce repeated part of the lecture that Emma had given her when convincing her to take martial arts lessons.

"So you wanted me to know about these people so that I can be prepared, in case they try anything?" Misty smirked. "You don't need to worry about me, Joyce. I can take care of myself if things get messy. If anybody is foolish enough to try anything against my gallery, or me then they will suffer. And maybe God will have mercy on them in the afterlife if they try anything against Irene."

"Should I take it that you've had problems before?" Joyce arched one eyebrow, certain that the expression looked more elegant on Emma.

"I have indeed," Misty's expression looked downright dangerous.

"Then I won't worry about these stalker people attacking you," Joyce smiled. "That's one thing off my mind. Now, there's a small company that wanted to know if they could purchase two dozen assorted sized paintings by that last artist to decorate their new office building. Do you want to talk to her, or can you point me towards the contact information for Indra Patil?"

End part 32.

While Joyce was off working at Mystique's art gallery, Emma Frost had started their plan to contact Phillip Mooreland. It had been a simple matter for her investigator to learn when he was normally working at his part time job, so she'd placed a call to his home this morning. She'd made the call from a public telephone near her corporate building, giving enough information to hopefully catch his interest without giving away too much. 'Phillip Mooreland, I'm calling about your other job, the one involving correspondence. I'd like to talk to you about it this afternoon. Meet me at one at the Café Oleander on 5th street, ask for Emma.'

The café wasn't one of her holdings. It didn't belong to a close friend. What she did know was that it was a frequent meeting place for dates and affairs, and due to that, nobody but the staff paid much attention to who was there or what was said. If they had an outside table, there would be enough privacy if they didn't shout, and it was public enough that he shouldn't be worried about some sort of kidnapping or assassination. Meeting at one in the afternoon, in an outdoor location should keep him from worrying too much about her being a vampire or demon as well…

Emma made sure that she was there early. Speaking to the host, she gave a small smile before offering, "Someone is supposed to be meeting me here in a little while. His name is Phillip, and he should be asking for Emma. Could I get an outdoor table for two?"

As the host smiled, murmuring that of course she could have an outdoor table and other such politenesses, Emma could hear him thinking about what he'd like to do if she were meeting him for lunch. That he doubted her name was really Emma, or that the man she would be meeting was named Phillip, though they were far better aliases than many that he'd heard.

Seated at an outdoor table with a glass of water, Emma sighed. "Some people make it hard to remember that lobotomies are illegal. Tempting, but illegal."

Phillip Mooreland arrived precisely at one, looking just dressed up enough that any casual observer would assume him to be meeting a lunch date and give the matter no more thought. He was radiating uncertainty and nervous tension, though very little of it showed, and the host was smirking as he led him to the table where Emma was waiting.

The pictures didn't really do his resemblance to David Bowie justice.

In a few moments, he was seated at the table in the sun, with his very own fresh cup of ice water, Emma's cup had been topped off, and they were left 'to look over their menus' in privacy.

"Were you the one who left me the message?" Phillip asked her, glancing at Emma over the menu.

"I did call you," she glanced at the menu, unimpressed by most of the offerings. Though there were a few that tempted her and she did need to eat something for lunch anyhow. "You were in regular contact with a man named Jeremy Claybourne, who caused a bit of a problem at my school."

"That hardly sounds like the best impression. I do hope you won't hold him against me?" Phillip paused, and then sighed, "What did he do?"

"He was stalking one of my students. Taking pictures of her when she was minding her own business. He attempted to take pictures of her in my school," Emma paused and sipped her water. She was curious how this one would react.

"Terribly rude of him," Phillip murmured. His mind was circling, wondering if this student was a possible Potential, or could be mistaken for the Slayer. Wondering how much this Emma knew, and if she was going to make trouble. Wondering just what else Jeremy the idiot was doing.

"I was upset at his voyeurism. She was most upset by his claims that she had to go fight monsters with a pointy stick. By his attitude that she was the rightful tool of his organization," Emma placed the water back on the table.

While his mind spun through an astonishing range of curses and profanity aimed at Claybourne, what actually emerged from Phillip's mouth was "I suppose such behavior would be very upsetting. I do apologize for any dismay he may have caused you and your student."

Emma waited until he wasn't drinking before she spoke again. "We were hoping that you might be a more reasonable member of this Council of Watchers."

Phillip Mooreland froze, his mind spinning through excuses and possible denials. There were also repeated thoughts best summarized as how does she know and does she have proof. What actually emerged from his lips was a simple, "Should I ask what causes you to associate me with such an organization?"

"I had Claybourne investigated. He received regular correspondence with the return address of the Council of Watchers. He also regularly met with you. Some of your behaviors are similar, though you are thankfully not spying on schoolgirls. It was quite the reasonable assumption," Emma admitted.

"This is where I'm supposed to spin an effective denial that any such organization exists and that I wouldn't belong to such a group if they did exist," he paused, sipped his water, and with a small grin said, "halfway plausible denial that you won't believe, feeble excuse, sputter, different excuse, hand-waving, oh look a distraction."

"A very credible effort," Emma fought not to smile. "But we both know better. Will you help us keep our Slayer reliably informed and prepared?"

"Now I can say that I attempted to convince the private citizen who isn't related to the Slayer that there was nothing to look into. An effort that failed due to you having prior information from said Slayer and Claybourne. I think this is a matter for further discussion. What did you have in mind for my role in this situation, and we can go from there," He offered, his mind filled with memories of fussy Senior Watchers and their words about keeping ordinary people out, about keeping and maintaining the secrecy of the Council, and his utter dislike of one of his instructors, a man named Travers. Part of his mind was already sketching out the report of this, though he would probably not release the details until his eventual – hopefully far off – demise.

"The first item on our list is that Buffy will keep and retain her basic rights, including dignity and privacy. You will treat her as a person, not as a weapon. No spying on her in locker rooms, bathrooms, or her bedroom. I can think of no reason for you to see her less than fully dressed," Emma gave him a mild glare.

"That sounds almost reasonable, except that some injuries require more than the standard hospital style treatment. A doctor or nurse won't be familiar with everything needed, or how to treat all sorts of demon venom or poisonous effects. It isn't that I want to see the girl half naked, but I don't want her to die because she wound up with a poisoned wound somewhere under her clothing and didn't get it properly treated," he glared right back at Emma.

As much as Emma wanted to insist that she had already arranged medical assistance, she could feel in his mind the memories of demon poisoned injuries. Feel the knowledge of books detailing the ugly deaths possible from demon-inflicted wounds. The awareness that some injuries needed to be treated with things that sounded more like a faerie tale than medicine. And the whole reason that she and Joyce were even considering bringing in one of these Watchers was that they didn't know enough about demons. "I suppose you have a valid argument."

"You mentioned that she is a student at your school. I suspect that you want her to continue to take classes, to have friends among the other students?" he shifted the subject away from voyeurism and injuries. "Has she considered the increased problems that would arise in a dating situation?"

"I do want her to remain in school, and to keep friends should she make them. She is a new arrival, and sometimes friendships are slow. As for dating…" Emma sighed, admitting, "That's a whole separate matter."

The discussion continued, with Emma explaining the demands and conditions that she and Joyce had decided on, conditions that they felt were very reasonable. Phillip Mooreland listened carefully, willingly agreeing to most of them. He had very logical arguments for the times that he didn't agree, such as the possible need for demon-aware medical treatments, and the possibility that her trainers didn't have the full range of weapons experience. This was countered by Emma's offhand remark that she could just hire another instructor in that case.

Phillip wasn't used to people just tossing money at problems like that. Most people simply didn't have that much money available.

"Of course, Buffy should have backup on her patrols. Skilled individuals who can help her fight the monsters," Emma murmured as she glanced at the desert list.

Phillip had opened his mouth, his mind insisting that such an idea wasn't traditional. Without insisting on tradition, he considered that for a few moments before his own comment, not quite an objection or a demand. "Most people are neither trained nor strong enough to fight demons and vampires."

"Properly trained and equipped, as well as gifted. A pair of mutants with abilities that are quite beneficial for the task," Emma countered.

His response was a quiet, "You do realize that I'm going to be concerned about any deviations from tradition until I see how well they work for myself?"

"Reasonable enough. You will soon understand that I don't do things without a reason, Mr. Mooreland," Emma lowered the menu.

"I think I can work with you, Ms. Frost. I am not devoted to tradition for the sake of tradition, but I do believe we should be careful about making changes until we can be sure that the new ideas will work," he smiled at her.

"There's nothing wrong with a little caution," Emma decided. "Welcome to the team."

End part 33.