Note: Thanks to my beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support.

SECTION 4 - ANGELS AND DEMONS

Why do you choose to live this way
I can dig those games you play


(The Tourists)




Chapter 4.07
Wednesday, June 12th, 2002


Leaving Brandon and Dawn with the washing up, Buffy beckoned Giles onto the back porch as he placed the stack of dirty plates and cutlery that he had been carrying on the counter next to the sink.

"Yes?" he asked as he slipped through the door and pulled it to behind him. He couldn't help feeling satisfaction at the contented smile on Buffy's face as she leant back against her fiancé, pulling the arm that wasn't occupied with his cigarette around her waist. The watcher in him still wasn't totally reconciled to the cause of her happiness, but as a man, he felt fortunate to see his daughter, in all but name, so at peace.

"We have a problem, Giles."

The watcher simply propped himself against the doorjamb and waited for Buffy to elucidate further.

"Having the council and all the potentials here should make my work easier. That isn't how it's turning out."

"In what way?"

"Spike?" Buffy prompted the vampire to explain.

The blond launched one of his precious few remaining cigarettes out into the middle of the lawn only half-finished. His head tilted on one side as he considered how to explain and then straightened again when he made his decision. "You watchers, you're all supposed to know your history, right?"

Giles gave a gentle inclination of his head. "Yes?"

"Then you know how the Germans managed to hold so much territory in the last war with relatively few troops..."

"I think I can see where you're going, but why don't you go on."

"They worked by rewardin' those people who collaborated with them. Those that let them get on with running things their way, they mostly left alone... unless they had the misfortune to be born with the wrong DNA... but whenever anyone interfered with how they wanted things to be, they went in hard. They knew how to use fear to their advantage. If one of theirs got hurt, they'd take out everyone who had the least connection to it, an' if they couldn't do that they'd pick a dozen people at random and kill them instead. Now, Buffy's never been big on the random slaughter... but that other bit, findin' the ones responsible an' kickin' their arses, she's had that off to a fine art for years..." He paused and gave a self-deprecating grin. "...With the occasional notable exception."

The blond brushed his lips against the top of the slayer's honey locks. Then, with his head still angled forward he looked up to pin the watcher with his gaze. "By rights, once her identity became common knowledge she should have been wiped off the map. It's simple arithmetic. No matter how good anyone is, if you throw enough opposition at them, sooner or later, you'll take them down. There are hundreds of demons live in Sunnydale itself and you can double or triple that if you count the surroundin' countryside. So why's she still stood here... other than Red's hocus pocus? Because them as are lookin' for trouble have mostly all learned that with her around, here ain't the place to look. A bit of fun is all well an' good, but to most folks, demon or human, it's not worth dyin' for. Them as don't interfere with the human folk, Buffy's never really interfered with them, so it's never been in their best interest to do anythin' to disturb the status quo. Buffy is alive simply because there have never been as many demons as you would need to ensure a win with enough incentive to want to risk takin' her on.

Your boss an' his little choir girls, though? They're a whole different ball game. Hell, they're like a bunch of part-timers from the Vauxhall Conference tryin' to play against bloody Man U. Folks'll only be pushed so far, an' then, they'll push right back, Rupert, an' demon folks ain't known for their patience."

"Well, I can't say that I agree with everything that's been going on around here, but in case you haven't noticed, it's not as if Quentin is interested in getting my input on policy decisions."

"More chance of you talking him 'round than there is me... an' besides from what I hear Young Giles in there already tried the direct approach when he found out what happened with Clem. Travers more or less patted him on the head and told him now that the council were here they'd help him get his head straight again. Of course, the fact the dopey tart didn't have an unbroken bone in her right hand, didn't exactly help Wes's argument that Clem and his lady were the innocent parties."

"Clem? Lily's son? He hurt someone?" Giles seemed genuinely shocked at the very thought.

"Don't you bloody watchers even talk to one another?"

Buffy twisted in Spike's arms, pressing a petite finger against his lips. "One of the evil watchers' apprentices attacked Clem in the middle of the cinema foyer, with no provocation other than the fact he isn't human. His girlfriend is big on payback. That's a feeling I can relate to. In fact, if she hadn't been there and he had been more seriously hurt, I would have been hunting down our little girl-power freak myself... once I found out about it, that is." She leaned back and gave as much of a disapproving glare as she could currently manage to her fiancé. It ended up somewhere nearer an adoring gaze.

"I take it he came to no permanent harm, then?"

"What do you think, watcher? He might not have been physically hurt worth mentioning, but some stuff is every bit as bad. Apart from not knowin' if he so much as goes to the video shop whether he's gonna make it back without bein' set on by a bunch of adolescent harridans, what the hell do you think it does to the womenfolk, wonderin' every time he does go out if he's gonna just disappear like his brother did? Wonderin' how the hell they could go through that again with The Bite Size? I think if she could afford to walk away from her job an' the mortgage on the apartment block, an' if it weren't for Boy Watcher, Marie would pack up and get the hell out of town.

Look, I know you an' the big boss don't exactly see eye to eye, but you're the watcher in charge of the best damn slayer in living memory. That's got to at least buy you some clout with some of that crowd. It's a bloody council, right? That means there's folks other than QT who get to have their say? Talk to them, an' see if you can do it while they're still in a good mood from last night..."

Buffy looked puzzled. "Last night? What happened last night?"

Spike shook his head in disbelief at her ignorance. "England got through to the next round?"

Buffy continued to look blank.

"World cup. Proper football... Why did you think I'd been over the road so much the last couple of weeks?"

"I just thought with us not talking that maybe you and Wes were bonding ."

"Well, you were right, but for people from civilised countries that involves beer and football."

"And uptight watcher guys watch football? Not that Wes is uptight..."

Giles took off his glasses. "When it's the World Cup? Most of them." He scrubbed self-consciously at the lenses as if to avoid looking at Buffy whilst he owned up to the fact that council members took an interest in such uncouth matters. "In fact there's normally a fair few wagers, with the mix of nationalities..."

"It's obviously a guy thing..." Buffy screwed up her face. "An English guy thing, at least. We tend to go for a bit more contact in our sport."

"Yeah, right," Spike replied obviously sceptical. "You hide behind a mass of armour and paddin' to play cut-rate rugby an' you go for more contact?

Football isn't about blood an' guts... well, not since Vinnie Jones decided to switch to actin'. It's about finesse, poetry, passion an' if you think it's just a man thing try comin' over the road with me after patrol."

"But you said you weren't going to patrol until after Xander left tonight. We won't get back before two."

The blond nodded. "Uh-huh... an' kick off's at half-four. Not that I would mind watchin' the Brazil game before we go out, but then, I can't see Costa Rica puttin' up much of a fight."

"Who on earth has kick off at half-past four in the morning?"

"Well, see, slayer, that would be those pesky time difference things again. You might think it's half past four in the morning but the people over in Japan and Korea think it's half past eight at night. What's up? Is the slayer gonna be too tuckered out to stay up an' watch the footie?" His tone implied it was a dare.

"I just don't think it would be that interesting and it'd be weird watching with a whole bunch of English guys..."

"And Marie an', if she can get away with it, the mite. After all, it's the Mexicans as are playin'."

"Mexico's playing England?"

"No, pet. Mexico's playin' Italy."

"You're sitting up till half past four in the morning, when you could be in bed..." Buffy left the words 'with me' unsaid. "...And it's not even your country that's playing?"

Spike shrugged. "Have to size up the opposition..." He looked down at her with that same irresistible, soul-melting gaze that normally meant he was about to suggest something kinky. "Your lot are playin' Poland same time tomorrow."