Joyce Summers grumbled. "So there I was, attempting to get several art exhibits set up and the pieces displayed to best effect, when my kids wander in…"

Susan hummed from her chair. "Kids? I thought…"

She shrugged. "I may have only birthed one, but not all children have a safe place so… Well, they are all basically my kids by this point. Anyway, they come in and my girl instantly declares that she would save me."

The other women blinked at the dramatic pause before Gretchin broke the silence. "Save you from what? Unlike my old place, Doe Park has been BEYOND safe! I told you, Dorathy, about those hoodlums that were hanging around my shop just a month ago? Not even safe in your own home these days out there."

Dorathy Donnovan nodded. "Yes, and I swore I was being followed a while back just before moving here. Didn't see anyone, but you know that… That tingling in your neck?"

The circled group of women nodded.

She sighed. "That all went away since I came down here."

Georgina leaned in, setting her knitting in her lap. "So your kids wanted to save you? From what?"

Joyce snarled! "According to them? From being press ganged into a sex cult!"

There was a pause… Then a group of titters and giggles swept the circle. "Really?" "Kids today." "Oh don't you start Gretchin, I know about your high school years." "Doesn't count, it was just a bit of experimentation." "Heh, followed by twenty more YEARS of 'experimentation' after!" "Shush you." "Still, it's sweet that they were worried!" "Yes, my grandkids didn't even call me before I moved to this new 'hip' and 'cool' location." "But you still sent them those scarves, yes?" "Of course! Disrespectful or not, they are still my little grand babies!" """True."""

Joyce gripped her failure of an attempt at knitting with frustration. "Like I'd have TIME for anything like that over these days! Securing the equipment and materials and transporting our stock and backlog and then having to change everyone's work schedules and… I've barely been HOME, much less have time for any kind of sex cult"

Susan nodded. "Cults require a lot of sacrifices, especially of time. I think that's why the Church of Lust is gaining so many members: People are USED to 'joining' a church and barely showing up except for the odd Sunday now and then."

Huh… That made sense. Still… "My little Buffy just yelled that in the middle of the art gallery, by the way. Just… 'Mom I will save you from a life of depravity and sin!' or something like that. No hesitation, no shame, no discretion…"

That got another round of giggles from the group. "I doubt ANYONE has ever been saved from ALL depravity." "Nor should they want to!" Yes, a bit of sin makes life worth living." "Spent my youth being on the straight and narrow myself, and all I got for missing the drug parties and drunk orgies was wrinkles and aching joints." "At least you are making up for lost time?" "Oh yes, I joined a 'GILF Appreciation Club' as soon as I arrived." "Oh, the one over down by the 'massage' parlors?" "No, that other one near the BDSM VIP rooms."

Joyce held back a blush at the older women's ongoing comments. "ANYWAY… After I got them away from all my coworkers, they started telling me about all the stuff that always seemed like stories and local legends and exaggerations, like magic and monsters and demons and all sorts of things I 'knew' to be falsehoods and… Well…"

Georgina nodded. "Harder to deny the situation when you spend day and night with magical statues moving stuff around for you, isn't it?"

Joyce huffed! "I never denied stuff! It all just seemed… Unlikely."

Not to mention that working down here had a sort of… Calming and energizing effect on everyone in the area. Since she had spent almost all her hours down here, taking short naps here and there in her free employee housing apartment while her daughter had been losing her mind about sex cults up there above ground, Joyce felt that there had been changes.

She felt more awake here. Her joints ached a bit less, her mind felt more relaxed and less stressed, the astoundingly large number of fast paced and hardworking hours getting everything arranged hadn't even felt like a burden for some reason… Not when she toiled away here, in this place.

A place with magical statues, as mentioned before. Magical statues of incredibly attractive men and women, with fangs and claws and feathers and scales and wings and sass and…

Point is? Her daughter's claim of the world being much larger than she knew didn't feel like a declaration, but more of an obvious notation on the whole topic.

And unlike before, that formless and heavy weight to just į̲̰͕̭g̱̭͢n̝̗͇͢o̢͖̥̱͓̳r̖̝̝͔͜e̳̥͓̦̯͜ the oddities surrounding her felt restrained and restricted.

Like things were easier to understand and grasp.

It was only after being confronted by her kids as they attempted to 'save' her from a den of lust and leather that she realized how many small events in the past had been… Pushed aside. Noted and discarded. Reserved for later thought, then forgotten.

She sighed. "Anyway, my daughter is hurling raw information at me as if trying to distract me from something, little Willow was wrapped around Xander like he was a new stuffed toy, and Xander himself was so distracted that only their librarian, Giles, was able to actually clarify anything for me."

And hadn't THAT been a conversation.

Susan leaned in. "So what did they talk about?"

Joyce grunted as she stared at her knitting attempt, now an abomination of yarn and disappointment. "My daughter has inherited some sort of holy mission or responsibility and now hunts monsters in the night. Little Willow is a witch, and is currently high on magic because my new workplace is apparently empowered by near divine levels of energy and raw power. My goofball Xander has somehow become the ambassador between their group of secret superheroes and the Doe family here at Doe Park, who are two young people that are both supposed to be impossibly powerful."

Even with an open mind, it had been a bit much. "Also, the librarian that looks after my kids is a secret agent of a British organization called 'The Watchers Council', sent here to guide my daughter in her battle against demons and stuff and… Yeah."

Georgina blinked, and several of the women suddenly looked… Far more deadly. WAY more deadly than any mothers and grand mothers should look while knitting. "Your daughter is the Slayer?"

Joyce blinked. "Uh… Yes? I think that's what they called her at some point." Hadn't one of them mentioned that? Honestly that yummy British accent combined with her fatigue and busy work schedule had a few details slip her attention back then.

Georgina nodded, beyond serious. "You need to talk with Ms. Doe about this. As soon as possible." The other girls nodded as well in agreement.

What… What was happening right now? "I'm sorry?"

Susan gently offered support by gripping her shoulder. "Joyce, we are old… And we know people, and we talk about things, and those we know have also known people. Here on the Hellmouth, a topic that most people constantly gossip about is the Slayer…"

Georgina solemnly nodded. "Slayers, historically, have a short life span… And some claim it is partially due to that group called 'The Watchers'."

Joyce's heart dropped. "...What?"

The women glanced at each other and then back in sympathy. "The 'Watchers' don't provide much to their 'charges' in many cases." "No guns, no armor, no backup, no advanced medical care." "Many Slayers are convinced to avoid everyone else to 'keep them safe', segregating them from loved ones and society and any outside support." "From what my little Greggory claimed, the girls barely get taught some physical combat tricks and are only given enough information to detect and find the next fight." "Some say they don't even get paid for risking their lives! They just get emotionally blackmailed and pushed by the powers they gain into action!"

Susan saw her growing horror and she gently squeezed her shoulder again, letting her know she was still there. "Talk to Ms. Doe. She has her little brother John… She'll understand! She won't accept YOUR little girl being put at risk like that."

Joyce felt like she had lost her grip on the world, that it was tilting. "My little Buffy? But Giles wouldn't… Are you all sure? Is being this 'Slayer' so dangerous!?" They had made it seem almost like a club, where friends got together to protect their homes! Not some sort of suicide mission!

Georgina sighed. "From what I've heard, many Slayers don't last more than a couple of years… And NONE of them make it past the age of eighteen. It may be a coincidence that all of those powerful girls, each one about to become independent and leave the far reaching grasp of the Watchers Council, all happen to have incidents. Accidents. Thus leaving some new and manipulatable young girl needing guidance under their thumbs…"

Oh god. Oh god, she was going to be sick. "What… What…" When had she started crying!? "I… My girl…"

Then Susan was there and the other girls were pulling her into a hug as her friend whispered into her ear. "Just talk to Jessica Doe, and she'll take care of it. She took care of all of us, and I know she will find a way to keep your little girl safe."

Georgina sighed at the cluster of women hugging their knitting member and carefully stood. "I'll inform Security that Ms. Doe's presence is needed, You girls help Mrs. Summers calm down a little while I get things moving to protect her children."

Thankfully, none of them mentioned her sobbing as Joyce fought for self control, wrapped in the arms of the best knitting group ever.

~~~Pocket System~~~

John blinked as his sister stomped into his 'idle Crafting room'. "Uh… Everything alright sis?"

Jessica glared at him. "There might be a secret British organization called 'The Watchers Council' that is raising suicidal warriors chosen from a select group of little girls to 'fight evil', and the jerks may be killing those girls off when they get too old to fully control."

Oh. "So who do we have to kill?"

For some reason, his sister was caught off guard by that… But then she sighed. "No one, for now. Not until it is confirmed… And anything like that, let ME handle it. Alright bro? You just make stuff and design things, let me handle issues like this when it comes to 'final solutions'."

Alright. "Then what can I do to help them?"

She began to pace as she moved through the room, thinking rapidly. "We focus on short term solutions first: Supporting the current girl being raised for combat and any future girls to come later on. Apparently a part of being 'Chosen' involves inheriting something like superpowers when the previous host dies, so her needs will be a bit unique I think."

Jessica began using a clipboard and pen to make notes as she walked back and forth. "First of all, funding. We'll set up a series of financial funds, across the globe and out of any one organization or country's influence… Ensure that the current 'host', this 'Slayer', will have plenty of money to buy food and weaponry and fully stock up a base, all that mess, without needing to work a crappy part time job."

John blinked. "Are part time jobs bad?"

She grimaced. "Trust me: MiB taught me the downsides to having a cover id with ANY employment that isn't self owned. Missions can force you to skip work shifts and get docked pay or fired, the job itself cuts into sleep and training time, it puts everyone in the job at risk if your targets hunt you down… And that was with me getting a secret paycheck as an Agent! If I had to support myself financially from my public cover id AND do my job at MiB, I'd be worked to death."

Huh… yeah, that made sense. Alright, he just needed to set up some income sources dedicated to an ongoing charity or something, right? Easy enough. "I can have my System get that set up in an hour or so. Faster if we don't care about being noticed."

She shook her head. "No, most of the stuff we are going to establish now can be finished over a day or two if needed. Especially since that girl you led to me earlier, Buffy Summers, is the most recent 'Slayer' who's been empowered."

The one who kept yelling about sex cults? Slayers seemed a bit kinky. "Wow, really? I guess she did seem pretty energetic and gung ho... But when you mentioned child soldiers, I was thinking about someone a bit younger than that honestly."

Jessica scowled. "The youngest ones might not live long enough to be noticed or even recorded before something eats them… And I think that Buffy is on a clock anyway, so we can't slack off there either. Apparently, NONE of the girls are allowed to grow past their 18th birthday… Either due to fate or enemy action."

John stared at her.

She nodded, not joking at all.

Well then. "System, let's start setting up these new financial accounts by confiscating everything belonging to this Watchers Council first. I'm sure we can find better ways to use those assets anyway."

[[Confirmed. Gathering information…]]

Oh, more money would no doubt need to be digitally moved about and all that… But these British jerks had managed to jump the queue. How fortunate for them!