Chapter 25—Out Of The Corner

Out of the corner of my watering eye—Pink Floyd, “Learning To Fly”

It was very early in the morning when the phone rang shrilly throughout the house. Giles rolled off the couch with a start, and made a futile search for his glasses as he dragged himself from sleep, stumbling over the coffee table to get to the telephone. He picked it up with a sleepy “Hello?”, and nearly fell to the floor when Quentin Travers’ voice bellowed into his ear.

“Giles! When were you going to tell us that Buffy Summers was alive?”

Giles looked helplessly at his Slayer as she came down the stairs, closely followed by Spike, a sense of peace radiating from bothe of their beings. His mouth moved soundlessly, and he heard Travers make an tsking noise over the intercontinental telephone connection. “We should have known when you didn’t notify us of her demise that any other occurrences on the Sunnydale Hellmouth would be kept from our knowledge as well. Nevertheless,” Quentin continued, “We’re sending the new Slayer to replace Miss Summers. You’ll take over as her watcher, since you are familiar with the locals and the particulars of the Hellmouth.”

“Wh-what about Buffy?” Giles stammered, stunned by the entire conversation and gaining the attention of Buffy and Spike.

“Miss Summers? She is…expendable.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Expendable my ass!” Giles winced at the Slayer's language, although he had similar sentiments that were much more elegantly expressed in his head. So far, he’d not been able to elucidate any of them, especially after Buffy had taken the phone out of his hand and yelled a few choice expletives at Travers before he had wised up and rang off.

“Expendable,” she exclaimed, pulling a face like she had something sour on her tongue. “Do they realize…? Of course, they don’t care. I was always a thorn to them…never followed the rules, was a bad Slayer, although not bad like Faith was…never read the handbook, never did what they wanted me to do…Giles, do you think they’ll send a wetworks squad after me?” She stopped pacing and froze on the edge of a step, swinging around to look piercingly at the man she trusted most in the world.

Giles was still hunting for his glasses, finally locating them under the edge of the couch. “I don’t know, Buffy. There is always the possibility…” he started, climbing to his feet and replacing his spectacles.

Spike gave a snort and put his two cents into the conversation. “The Council of Wankers better not pull anything of the sort. She’s done her part for the world, now it’s high time she was able to live for herself. Not to mention having a sister to take care of.”

“Yes, well, I’m quite aware of Buffy's responsibilities, Spike. I don’t believe that Quentin will force the issue, however.”

“Don’t know much about the Wankers, do you Rupert? He’ll do that and more, unless we put a stop to it.”

Giles brow furrowed, and he sat down on the edge of the couch. “What are you talking about, Spike?”

Spike threw himself in the chair opposite Giles, and motioned for Buffy to join him. She perched on the arm of the chair, and leaned into him, and he smiled up at her before he turned to face Giles, his soft look hardening as he began to speak.

“The Wankers have always taken care of their own, Rupert, and you know it. That includes taking them out when they find it necessary, don’t they?” Spike wrapped his arm around Buffy's waist, and pulled her tightly against his side. “They’ve killed slayers who didn’t follow the rules before, Watcher. They won’t lay a hand on Buffy, or there will be mayhem they never expected. All I have to do is say the word.”

Rupert looked at the vampire with his arm around the Slayer, and a chill ran down his spine at the image his words produced. He rubbed his face with his hand, and sat back on the couch. “Spike, I find it unlikely that Quentin will choose to take such drastic action as what you propose.”

Buffy stared with horror-filled eyes at Giles. “What does Spike mean, the Council has killed slayers?”

“It was long ago, Buffy…” Giles started, and Buffy interrupted him.

“I don’t care how long ago it was, Giles. Has the Council killed slayers?”

He saw no way out of this predicament that Spike had put him in, and gave a deep sigh of resignation. “Yes, Buffy, there have been times that the Council of Watchers has been forced to eliminate slayers who…performed at less than the acceptable standards.”

Buffy stood, clearly agitated. “That’s it, then. I’m done with them. The bastards.”

Spike watched her back as she went into the hall leading to the kitchen, then turned back to Giles, a remorseful look on his face. “Sorry, Watcher,” Spike offered, to Giles' surprise. “I didn’t want her to have only half the facts. Combine the variables of the equation, and you know what they’ll do…especially if they realize she’s considering a relationship with me.”

“I concur, Spike,” Giles finally said after a moment. “Aligning herself with a master vampire will not endear her to them in any way. I’m afraid that Buffy will not see it in that light, however. She will see it as a direct attack on her, and that could be her undoing.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy couldn’t sleep, so she cleaned.

She was half in, half out of the oven, her elbow moving erratically as she scrubbed at the imaginary dirt on the floor of the appliance. Spike leaned against the doorframe and watched her wordlessly as she attacked a menace that she could deal with at the moment.

“Slayer,” he said, and she startled, bumping her head against the top of the oven. She pulled herself out, rubbing her head, and glared up at him, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “Buffy. Why are you cleaning the oven?”

“It looks like the last one who cleaned it was my mom. I can’t believe how filthy it is.” She glared at more imagined grime, and Spike took the scratch pad out of her rubber-gloved hand, and tossed it in the sink.

“Pet, I don’t think the oven has been used since your mum died.” He helped her to her feet, and wrapped his arms around her. “Travers wouldn’t dare do anything to you, love. Not with all of us here to protect you. Not with Dawn and Tara and Giles and me to fight him and his goon squad off.”

She leaned against him, and buried her face in his shirt. “I’ve faced their squad before, Spike. It isn’t pretty.”

He lifted her chin, and looked her square in the eye. “I’m not suggesting it is, pet. I just know that you are more than a match for them, and you do too. You got out of the last jam they had you in, now didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “I guess. Ever since then, though….” She let her voice trail off to silence, and he knew she was reliving memories he wasn’t part of. “I just don’t want to go through that again.”

“You won’t have to, pet. I still have contacts, and so does Demon Girl. You think that I won’t make good on my statement in there? I meant what I said. We’ll have a demon uprising in this town like the world has never seen.”

She looked up into his face, her tremulous smile belying the turmoil inside her. “I know you did. That’s why I love you so much. You always mean what you say, and say what you mean.”

Giles heard their voices in the kitchen, but couldn’t get the gist of what they were saying. He watched them walk up the stairs together to Buffy's room, and prayed the Slayer would not regret her choices.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Early the next evening, they were back in their usual spots. Giles sat at the head of the table, books open around him. Willow sat at the other end, listlessly researching on the computer. Tara sat next to her, watching her closely as she thumbed through a book lying in front of her. Dawn sat between Tara and Giles, doing her homework. Anya and Xander lined the other side of the table; Anya looked longingly at the wedding dresses in the brides’ magazine she hid behind her large book, and Xander read a comic book behind his.

Buffy and Spike were in the kitchen, cooking. Actually, Spike was cooking, and Buffy was snarking about the food. “What makes you think that hot chocolate needs cinnamon in it, Spike?” she asked from her perch on top of the counter, watching his fluid moves with lazy eyes as he moved around the kitchen.

“Because that’s the way your mother made it, Slayer. Don’t you even know how your mother made hot chocolate?”

“I don’t ever remember her putting cinnamon in it, Spike, and I watched her make it for years.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the front door. “Who can that be? Everyone’s here.”

Curiosity overwhelmed her. She went to the door, and opened it, to find a young girl with long black hair and brilliant violet eyes. “Hi. My name’s Eden. I’m the new Slayer.”

Buffy stood there, mouth open, as she watched Quentin Travers walk up the stairs to her front door to stand behind the new Slayer. “Miss Summers?” he said, with an unpleasant smile. “So very nice to see you…alive, that is. Aren’t you going to invite us in?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Travers and his new Slayer sat on the couch with the Scoobies gathered around the chairs that held Buffy and Giles. Buffy's mouth was a thin line of compressed anger, waiting to spill onto the Head of the Watcher’s Council at the slightest provocation.

Travers knew that he was treading on thin ice. “So, Miss Summers, what are your plans now?”

She folded her arms, mimicking the stance of the friends surrounding her. “Well, I won’t be working for you anymore, Quentin. I thought that I made that clear to you last year.”

He smiled, and it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, you did, Miss Summers. Although I must say, your death was…fortuitous. At least, for the Council, it was. Why your Watcher never reported it is beyond me.” He stood, and paced precise, even steps where he stood, then looked up at her. “It allowed a more…malleable Slayer to be called, one that the Council could control and shape into the type of Slayer necessary for these days and times.”

Buffy crossed her arms and gave him a cold look. “And what kind of Slayer is that?”

Quentin gave her another small smile, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Why, a soldier. Does what she’s told, follows every order and never,” he said, pausing for effect, “allows a vampire to live.”

He turned on his heel to glare at Giles. “Their Watchers will be of a different breed as well. More reliable, less headstrong, less likely to shirk or be derelict in their duties as a Watcher. The complete opposite, in fact, of you, Mr. Giles. What made you into the failure that you are? You showed such promise at the Academy,” he said, his tone dripping with false remorse.

Giles gave Travers a cold look. “Perhaps because of the relationship that I have with Buffy. She showed me that the traditional can coexist with the modern, and it doesn’t’ have to be done by the book. And since you hold me in such inestimable contempt, you will accept my resignation from the Council. I could not imagine watching another Slayer after Buffy died. I still cannot imagine doing so.” Giles extended a folded sheet of paper to Travers. “I believe that you will find this in order.”

“Your resignation, Mr. Giles? Really, do you think that you need to go to such measures? Throwing yourself upon your sword. Overtly dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Not at all.” When Travers ignored the sheet of paper, he laid it on the table in front of the man. “I will not be a part of your organization anymore, Quentin. You know that you and I have differed in the past over some of the Council’s measures, and your…intimidation of Buffy is unacceptable.”

“I see.” Travers took the folded letter, and placed it in the inner pocket of his jacket without looking it over. “Unfortunately for you, your tenure is not over until the girl’s replacement Watcher is dispatched, so she will have to remain here with you.”

Buffy stood, her temper rising over “Mr. Head Council" was still trying to order her around. “Oh, no way. My house is not becoming Slayer central for any Slayer that isn’t me. Take your newbie and get out.”

“Miss Summers, you are being quite unreasonable.” Travers stood, and buttoned his jacket. “I think that you can house Eden for the short amount of time it will require to arrange other accommodations for her. Kindly send me an invoice for any costs for her lodgings.” He started toward the door, and Buffy's voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Has she gone through the Cruciamentum yet, Quentin?”

He turned smartly, and put on his blandest mask for the slayers standing there looking at him; one was quite confused, and one the picture of innocence. “You will be pleased to learn that we have discontinued that practice, Miss Summers. We found it to be…antiquated. We perform other testing methods now.”

“Good, because I would hate to have to come out of retirement because you screwed up another Slayer.” She grinned, and Travers pulled his jacket down sharply, then took a step toward her.

“Miss Summers—you have always been too…independent for the Council’s comfort. Please ensure that you are not…detrimental to our future endeavors.”

Spike stepped in front of Buffy, his voice a low rumble. “Is that a threat?”

Travers smiled, pretending to notice Spike for the first time. “Ah, the vampire. How are you, William? Doing well in the bosom of the enemy, I believe.”

“Sod off, Travers.”

“Shut up, Spike. Quentin, get out of my house.”

He went toward the door, and looked slyly over his shoulder. “Take care with my Slayer, Miss Summers. I am holding you personally responsible for her safety until her watcher arrives. If anything untoward should happen to her, you will hear from the Council.”

“I’ll bet,” Buffy muttered, turning to look at the new addition to the family.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since Eden and Dawn were the same age, it was decided that they would share a room for the time being. Dawn immediately hated the invasion of her space, and reminded everyone of it, both frequently and loudly.

“She smells funny. And she doesn’t pick up the bathroom after she showers—she leaves hair all over the tub, and—“

Spike put his hands in the air in front of him. “Enough, Bit. She’ll be gone soon enough, and you’ll be moaning about how much you miss her, mark my words.” He leaned across the counter from Dawn in the deserted kitchen, everyone strangely absent for the day. It was a rarity when he got to spend time with the Bit alone anymore, ever since Buffy's return.

“No I won’t. I don’t have any privacy anymore!” She quivered her lip, trying on Buffy's pout. Spike arched his scarred brow, and she grinned, quickly abandoning her pretense. “We never get to talk anymore because she’s here.”

Spike looked around. “Hmm. Seems we’re talking now, Nibblet. What’s on your mind?”

She propped her chin on her fist, and looked at him gravely. “Will I ever be normal, Spike?”

He mockingly drew back, staring at her in horror. “You aren’t normal?” He pressed his hands to his chest. “Oh, my unbeating heart!”

Dawn giggled, and slapped him on the arm. “You know what I mean. First I’m a Key, now I’m a steward, whatever that is. Why can’t I just be a teenager for once?”

Spike's face took on a serious look. Leaning on his elbows, he said, “Honestly, Bit. Don’t you think that your sister has said that enough times that you don’t have to echo it? She’s been the Slayer since she was fifteen. And yeah, she whined about being a teenager too. She also went and did the job—slayed people she knew—missed dates, proms, and dances of all sorts. Complained loud and long, but never shirked. The way I see it? You have the easier job. You’re like one of those barometer birds…when the pressure’s on, you dip your beak, and it goes into the water. Bloody genius, those things.” He blinked, and stood straight. “Anyway, Platelet, is anyone around here normal? I mean, we have a Slayer, a Watcher, a witch who ruined herself, an ex-demon, a Key who’s now a Steward, a witch who’s now a Guardian for the Steward that was a Key, and a chipped vampire. The only one who’s even close to normal is Xander, and if that’s normal, well, I’ll stay a vampire.”

He watched the giggle forming on her face, then burble out of her mouth, changing her entire demeanor. Her eyes sparkled with the idea of abnormal being normal, and he felt his spirits lift.

“Anyway, Nibblet, she’ll be gone tonight. Her watcher got here yesterday, and she and Buffy are moving her stuff right now.”

Instead of the relief he expected, he saw Dawn's eyes filling with tears. “She’s leaving? Already?”

Spike circled the counter and wrapped his arms around his Bit. “Thought you wanted her to leave, sweetheart?”

She buried her face in his shirt, and snuggled deeper into his arms. “I thought I did. At least, until you said that, I thought so.”

“Just think, poodle—with Eden gone, we won’t have to worry about the council finding out about you or Tara. We can rest easy now, Bit.”

Dawn moved away from him, and flapped her hands ineffectively at her face. “I know. I’m just such a blubberbag since Buffy came back. Does all this seem like a dream to you?”

He leaned his hip against the stool under the edge of the island. “Sometimes. Especially with things the way they are now. I’da never believed it if someone told me it woulda worked out this way.”

Dawn turned quiet, her voice soft when she spoke again. “Do you—Spike, do you sometimes think about what could have happened? I mean, if Buffy hadn’t wanted to come back?”

He looked into Dawn's wide eyes, and instinctively knew that she wanted his real opinion, not the platitudes he would have told the others if they asked the same thing. “It would have been hell, Dawn. Pure hell, for her and for us. She would have been a broken thing, with no desire to live, and no reason for living.”

“You think?”

“Bit, I’ve known your sister a little bit longer than you have. I know she would have been like that. She would have put on the brave face for everyone, but she would have been damaged beyond repair.”

Dawn's face fell. “You’re probably right. Good thing she wanted to come back, otherwise we would be dealing with a lot of grief.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Willow dragged her feet as she exited the classroom, knowing that Tara was waiting patiently outside the room. She couldn’t stand the looks of sympathy that seemed to dominate her friends’ expressions since she got out of the hospital. Everyone treated her like she was okay, and she didn’t have the heart to tell them that she wasn’t.

She wondered exactly what she could have done wrong, to bring this punishment on. She was doing Buffy a service, she thought, and it didn’t seem fair that she was being punished for it. Buffy still looked at her in her peculiar way, and Willow knew that she wondered if she could be trusted. How could she not trust her anymore? She had given up the one thing that was most important to her in the world—her magic—just to bring her back from the beyond.

Just like Buffy to take her powers for granted. Seemed like that was the norm for her—take everyone for granted. Just because they were friends and all, you would think that she had an exclusive contract with the Slayer.

Not her…not Willow…she was going to be proactive girl from here out. She slipped off to the side, away from Tara's searching eyes, and mingled and hid in a large group that was going down the other half of the hall. She was going to find her own way, and to hell with anyone who didn’t like it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy wiped sweat from her forehead with her shirtsleeve as she finished wrangling the single-size mattress up the spiral staircase. This was not one of the days when Slayer strength came in handy, especially with prissy Watchers in tweed running the show.

She looked down to the first floor and saw Giles and Fitzpatrick, Eden’s new Watcher, with their heads over another important book of useless knowledge. Eden, already up the stairs with the boxsprings, followed her glance, and sighed loudly. “It seems when they get a book in their hands, they lose all sense of purpose, doesn’t it?”

Buffy heaved, and the mattress went flying over Eden and into the room. “At least he gave you the cool room with the window access and the spiral staircase and took the crappy little downstairs room. How is he paying for all this, anyway?”

Eden shrugged. “I don’t know…I guess the Council is paying for it.”

Buffy bristled with an indignant look and huffed breath. “Well! Those jerks could have offered to pay Giles or me either one, and never did. They just let my mom pick up the entire tab for years. Moneygrubbing bastards,” she mumbled.

Eden gave a small chuckle as she and Buffy assembled the bed. “You know, I really appreciate how you took me in and all. I never expected you to be that nice, especially after some of the things that Mr. Travers said on the flight over.”

Buffy straightened, and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. It’s hard enough for me to tolerate that asshole without knowing exactly what he says about me.”

Eden felt the tension emanating from the blond Slayer, and tried to diffuse it. “Oh, he said good things too. He told me that you are the longest-lived Slayer in the history of the Council. And that you could teach me some of your tricks to staying alive and coming back to life.”

To her surprise, Buffy laughed. “Believe me, someday you’ll want to lay down and rest too. Especially when you’ve been doing this as long as I have.” She flipped the blankets, and they settled perfectly over the mattresses. “I just have stubborn friends. They wouldn’t let me go.”


a/n: I loves my beta! She is the bestest! Is this the last of Eden and her watcher? We'll have to see....