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Re-Defining Them
Disclaimer: These characters in no way belong to me. They are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, and Twentieth Century Fox. The story, however, is my creation.
Author’s Note: I had not intended for Defining Me to be anything but a stand-alone piece. However, a few souls requested to hear more and this came to mind. So…here’s what I came up with for you. Hope you enjoy! Oh, and I passed my final licensing exam this week – YAY! – so look for new updates soon for all my WIPs!
Re-Defining Them
The Council of Watchers was a staid and illustrious organization. The men who sat on this council had a long tradition of son succeeding father, of generations of family members serving the council. They were a well-established group that fancied themselves the cream of society. Unlike the socialites who had to rely on their family names and wealth. Unlike the celebrities who had to rely on a fleeting moment or more in the spotlight. They were different from others…better than others…accomplished – yes, wealthy – yes, from good families – yes…but more than that. They were the keepers of the secrets. They had knowledge that even the most educated scholars did not possess…could only hope to hear whispers of such troves of learning. And even among this esteemed group, there were those who rose above the rest…those who proved themselves to be true leaders of men,…those who ascended to the most coveted positions of power within their own ranks. These truly were the best of the best in all ways that mattered – to them, at least.
Their days were stately and ordered, a time and a place for everything. Nothing occurred which they were not ultimately prepared to deal with. There was the occasional bit of excitement – an escaped captive subject or the calling of a new slayer or even that best-forgotten occasion when the repugnant Sunnydale Slayer dared to turn her back on their wise and learned council. But those occasions were rare indeed, and most were quickly glossed over. To be frank, most members of the council had no idea that the Sunnydale Slayer had ever actually quit the council, let alone joined them in a reluctant partnership of sorts a mere two years later. The slayer, after all, had no place – no power – without the council. She existed at the council’s whimsy to do their will. Any matters not under the council’s direct purview were immediately relegated to positions of lesser importance. So it was that the majority of the council was completely unprepared for what they would face as a whole on that very day.
Rupert Giles was in the unenviable position of having to answer to men whom he passionately disagreed with on a number of subjects, but whom were his peers and really all he had left. He had no family living and after his former charge passed on…America held no appeal for him. He had returned to his homeland seeking peace in the familiar. He had indeed found things to be very familiar with the Council of Watchers; however, peace continued to elude him. Having to listen to men he had once admired, but now secretly despised ate away at his self-respect. There were a few good souls still left among their ranks and he sought out their company whenever possible, but the views of the leadership continued to rankle. As he schooled his face to hide his true emotions, he entered the doors of the meeting hall and prepared to spend hours listening to more tripe and rhetoric.
On this day the head of the Council was especially long-winded. As he entered the second hour of what was apparently to be a monologue seeing as no one else was contributing, something unusual happened. It was a little thing, to be sure, but it caught everyone’s attention immediately. The lights flickered overhead. That was all, but it was enough. For a place as sacred as the Great Meeting Hall of the Council of Watchers was heavily warded against everything from out-and-out attack to simple power failure. All present were aware of the measures taken to protect them at these gatherings, else they could be quite susceptible when so many were in one place at the same time. So it was that a simple flickering of the lights was enough to set everyone there on edge.
When nothing else occurred, the Head of the Council motioned for two of his most trusted to check outside. When they returned mere moments later with nothing to report, the venerable man in charge cleared his throat and continued the meeting as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. With not a few exchanged glances amongst themselves, the rest of the body followed suit. Even if a few were still uneasy, the monotonous droning of their leader soon had them lapsing into a glassy-eyed calm, not realizing that it was the calm before the storm.
It was nigh on lunchtime before anything else out of the ordinary occurred. Most of the esteemed men present had allowed their thoughts to wander enough to question if they would be lucky enough to enjoy Beef Wellington this day of if the chef was still out sick and they would be forced to endure a poor substitute instead. As the Head Watcher was wrapping up his commentary on the current state of affairs and preparing to dismiss them for a luncheon break, the lights flickered again. This caught everyone’s attention and thoughts of food were forgotten as the lights flickered once more and then went out completely.
Rupert Giles had long practiced magic, and having been intimately acquainted with the darker side of this field in his youth, he possessed the ability to differentiate between good and evil energy. As disorder overtook this esteemed bunch, as grown men stormed the doors en masse only to be turned back when they refused to budge, as voices grew louder and questions were thrown out…Rupert Giles sat quietly and focused himself as he reached out toward the energy that he could now feel building by the head table. After determining that it was indeed powerful but bore him no ill will that he could sense, he allowed himself to relax slightly. Opening his eyes, he leaned over to those few friends sitting nearby that he considered worthwhile and indicated they should sit still and wait.
They had not long to wait as a glowing figure had appeared in front of the head table. As the group watched to see what would happen next, Rupert Giles was gratified to see that the only members still sitting calmly were those familiar with magic. He exchanged knowing glances with a few and then returned his eyes to the front of the room. The details were still obscured, but the glow was taking on an intensity that continued to grow brighter and brighter, until it reached its peak and flashed once – momentarily blinding all who were looking at it directly – before maintaining a soft luminosity. Rupert Giles was among those who had the sense to shield his eyes and was able to see before several of his fellow watchers. However, the sight before him caused tears to form, blurring his vision for another reason altogether.
It took only a few moments before the whispers started. Echoes of “Summers” and “Slayer” and “can’t be” and “she’s dead” were thrown around the room. Rupert Giles could do naught but stare in joy and recognition of his returned charge. His circle of friends took their cue from him and so it was that their table alone was silent amongst the rising furor. The voices continued to grow in volume, demanding to know what was going on, insisting on an explanation. The notably quiet exceptions were the Slayer herself and the Head of the Council who were currently engaged in a staring contest, one that the Head Watcher was determined not to lose. However, as the din of voices grew and the glare directed his way seemed to grown in malevolence, this powerful man felt the first tendrils of fear creep up his spine.
The Slayer seemed to find whatever she was looking for and broke eye contact with the Head of the Council. Although he would have liked to think of this as a victory, he knew dismissal well. He had been on the dismissing end often enough in the past and found that being the one set aside did not sit well with him at all. He composed himself to say something and even opened his mouth, but the words would not come. Instead he found himself watching the show unfold along with the others.
The Slayer, for it was indeed she, made her way down the head table. She would stop in front of each man and stare directly into his eyes. And although private thoughts questioning what right she had to do this were echoed by many present, none wished to seem unmanly, so all faced her head-on. After searching the eyes of the man in front of her, the Slayer would nod to herself and move on to the next man. Each man would feel either a sense of dread or relief, but knew not why. When she turned from the head table and moved to the next one in line, all present grew quiet. And although several of the more powerful men there wondered why they were waiting on the whim of a mere slip of a girl, this question was answered when she faced each of them in turn. The obvious power present quelled any thoughts of physical action against her. Instead, they joined the ranks of those waiting to see what would happen next.
There were several present who felt no real fear and who were excited even to see what would happen next. They mostly included Rupert Giles and his circle of influence. But a few others there were and these included their historian, the librarian, as well as some of their mages, and a few of the eldest members present. A few of them had the slightest inkling of what was to come and a few simply sensed that a change was upon them and welcomed it with open hearts, if not arms. Rupert Giles, for his part, had a song in his heart, for the Slayer had recognized him and smiled before moving on to the next at his table.
Finally the Slayer completed her circuit around the room and returned to stand by the head table. She did not speak right away, much to the chagrin of the men at the front table who were beginning to get annoyed by the way that the whole room was waiting on one girl. None of them were brave enough to speak up themselves though, so they remained privately aggravated and publicly attentive. After a few moments, the Slayer finally did say something, and her words were shocking and unexpected, much less acceptable. “You have been judged and found wanting as a body. There – ”
Cries of outrage interrupted her as irritation and insult overcame fear. She allowed them a few seconds to vent and then a resounding command of “SILENCE!” and the inability to talk rendered the room quiet once more. Continuing on as if no interruptions had occurred, the Slayer pronounced their fate. “There are those among you who are still worthy of fulfilling the original purpose of this Council. Now that the True Slayer has returned, we will work together to accomplish much. The rest of you are not worthy. Your hearts reveal your shortcomings and your sins. You are dismissed from the Council from this day forth, never again to return to these hallowed walls.”
Surely there would have been an outcry from those just dismissed, except that they were no longer present. Seemingly the majority of the room had vanished. While the three dozen or so left looked around astonished and wondering at the power that could do such a thing, those removed were also wondering. The former Head of the Council found himself in his study, wondering why he was so dressed for his morning game of cricket. Shaking his head at his own daftness, he proceeded to change clothes. Another of his closest council found himself in the kitchen eating a mildly unappetizing lunch and despairing that his wife would ever be a proper cook. Yet another found himself in traffic with no idea of why he was heading to the market. And so it went on and on, with each dismissed member being mildly confused at the day’s events, but each holding no memory of the Council of Watchers, Slayers, vampires or any other manner of being. Indeed, were you to have even suggested the existence of supernatural creatures to one of them, you would have been promptly ridiculed and dismissed out of mind.
Those remaining were understandably nervous as they waited to hear what the Slayer would say to them. So it was a pleasant surprise when she motioned them all to take their rightful places at the front of the room, before indicating that they had much to accomplish, but perhaps a meal was in order first as she was hungry. As conversation began over the luncheon meal, the first bonds of camaraderie among the new core group formed. As the men talked excitedly and the Slayer answered their questions, a sense of belonging filled them all. Rupert Giles smiled and discovered that he had found not only the peace he was seeking but also a purpose beyond that which he could have ever hoped for.
The Council of Watchers was indeed a staid and illustrious organization. The men who sat on this council still had a long tradition of son succeeding father, of generations of family members serving the council. They were still the keepers of the secrets, and in possession of great knowledge. But now they had a higher purpose. Now they truly did matter.
The End
Author’s Note: I had not intended for Defining Me to be anything but a stand-alone piece. However, a few souls requested to hear more and this came to mind. So…here’s what I came up with for you. Hope you enjoy! Oh, and I passed my final licensing exam this week – YAY! – so look for new updates soon for all my WIPs!
The Council of Watchers was a staid and illustrious organization. The men who sat on this council had a long tradition of son succeeding father, of generations of family members serving the council. They were a well-established group that fancied themselves the cream of society. Unlike the socialites who had to rely on their family names and wealth. Unlike the celebrities who had to rely on a fleeting moment or more in the spotlight. They were different from others…better than others…accomplished – yes, wealthy – yes, from good families – yes…but more than that. They were the keepers of the secrets. They had knowledge that even the most educated scholars did not possess…could only hope to hear whispers of such troves of learning. And even among this esteemed group, there were those who rose above the rest…those who proved themselves to be true leaders of men,…those who ascended to the most coveted positions of power within their own ranks. These truly were the best of the best in all ways that mattered – to them, at least.
Their days were stately and ordered, a time and a place for everything. Nothing occurred which they were not ultimately prepared to deal with. There was the occasional bit of excitement – an escaped captive subject or the calling of a new slayer or even that best-forgotten occasion when the repugnant Sunnydale Slayer dared to turn her back on their wise and learned council. But those occasions were rare indeed, and most were quickly glossed over. To be frank, most members of the council had no idea that the Sunnydale Slayer had ever actually quit the council, let alone joined them in a reluctant partnership of sorts a mere two years later. The slayer, after all, had no place – no power – without the council. She existed at the council’s whimsy to do their will. Any matters not under the council’s direct purview were immediately relegated to positions of lesser importance. So it was that the majority of the council was completely unprepared for what they would face as a whole on that very day.
Rupert Giles was in the unenviable position of having to answer to men whom he passionately disagreed with on a number of subjects, but whom were his peers and really all he had left. He had no family living and after his former charge passed on…America held no appeal for him. He had returned to his homeland seeking peace in the familiar. He had indeed found things to be very familiar with the Council of Watchers; however, peace continued to elude him. Having to listen to men he had once admired, but now secretly despised ate away at his self-respect. There were a few good souls still left among their ranks and he sought out their company whenever possible, but the views of the leadership continued to rankle. As he schooled his face to hide his true emotions, he entered the doors of the meeting hall and prepared to spend hours listening to more tripe and rhetoric.
On this day the head of the Council was especially long-winded. As he entered the second hour of what was apparently to be a monologue seeing as no one else was contributing, something unusual happened. It was a little thing, to be sure, but it caught everyone’s attention immediately. The lights flickered overhead. That was all, but it was enough. For a place as sacred as the Great Meeting Hall of the Council of Watchers was heavily warded against everything from out-and-out attack to simple power failure. All present were aware of the measures taken to protect them at these gatherings, else they could be quite susceptible when so many were in one place at the same time. So it was that a simple flickering of the lights was enough to set everyone there on edge.
When nothing else occurred, the Head of the Council motioned for two of his most trusted to check outside. When they returned mere moments later with nothing to report, the venerable man in charge cleared his throat and continued the meeting as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. With not a few exchanged glances amongst themselves, the rest of the body followed suit. Even if a few were still uneasy, the monotonous droning of their leader soon had them lapsing into a glassy-eyed calm, not realizing that it was the calm before the storm.
It was nigh on lunchtime before anything else out of the ordinary occurred. Most of the esteemed men present had allowed their thoughts to wander enough to question if they would be lucky enough to enjoy Beef Wellington this day of if the chef was still out sick and they would be forced to endure a poor substitute instead. As the Head Watcher was wrapping up his commentary on the current state of affairs and preparing to dismiss them for a luncheon break, the lights flickered again. This caught everyone’s attention and thoughts of food were forgotten as the lights flickered once more and then went out completely.
Rupert Giles had long practiced magic, and having been intimately acquainted with the darker side of this field in his youth, he possessed the ability to differentiate between good and evil energy. As disorder overtook this esteemed bunch, as grown men stormed the doors en masse only to be turned back when they refused to budge, as voices grew louder and questions were thrown out…Rupert Giles sat quietly and focused himself as he reached out toward the energy that he could now feel building by the head table. After determining that it was indeed powerful but bore him no ill will that he could sense, he allowed himself to relax slightly. Opening his eyes, he leaned over to those few friends sitting nearby that he considered worthwhile and indicated they should sit still and wait.
They had not long to wait as a glowing figure had appeared in front of the head table. As the group watched to see what would happen next, Rupert Giles was gratified to see that the only members still sitting calmly were those familiar with magic. He exchanged knowing glances with a few and then returned his eyes to the front of the room. The details were still obscured, but the glow was taking on an intensity that continued to grow brighter and brighter, until it reached its peak and flashed once – momentarily blinding all who were looking at it directly – before maintaining a soft luminosity. Rupert Giles was among those who had the sense to shield his eyes and was able to see before several of his fellow watchers. However, the sight before him caused tears to form, blurring his vision for another reason altogether.
It took only a few moments before the whispers started. Echoes of “Summers” and “Slayer” and “can’t be” and “she’s dead” were thrown around the room. Rupert Giles could do naught but stare in joy and recognition of his returned charge. His circle of friends took their cue from him and so it was that their table alone was silent amongst the rising furor. The voices continued to grow in volume, demanding to know what was going on, insisting on an explanation. The notably quiet exceptions were the Slayer herself and the Head of the Council who were currently engaged in a staring contest, one that the Head Watcher was determined not to lose. However, as the din of voices grew and the glare directed his way seemed to grown in malevolence, this powerful man felt the first tendrils of fear creep up his spine.
The Slayer seemed to find whatever she was looking for and broke eye contact with the Head of the Council. Although he would have liked to think of this as a victory, he knew dismissal well. He had been on the dismissing end often enough in the past and found that being the one set aside did not sit well with him at all. He composed himself to say something and even opened his mouth, but the words would not come. Instead he found himself watching the show unfold along with the others.
The Slayer, for it was indeed she, made her way down the head table. She would stop in front of each man and stare directly into his eyes. And although private thoughts questioning what right she had to do this were echoed by many present, none wished to seem unmanly, so all faced her head-on. After searching the eyes of the man in front of her, the Slayer would nod to herself and move on to the next man. Each man would feel either a sense of dread or relief, but knew not why. When she turned from the head table and moved to the next one in line, all present grew quiet. And although several of the more powerful men there wondered why they were waiting on the whim of a mere slip of a girl, this question was answered when she faced each of them in turn. The obvious power present quelled any thoughts of physical action against her. Instead, they joined the ranks of those waiting to see what would happen next.
There were several present who felt no real fear and who were excited even to see what would happen next. They mostly included Rupert Giles and his circle of influence. But a few others there were and these included their historian, the librarian, as well as some of their mages, and a few of the eldest members present. A few of them had the slightest inkling of what was to come and a few simply sensed that a change was upon them and welcomed it with open hearts, if not arms. Rupert Giles, for his part, had a song in his heart, for the Slayer had recognized him and smiled before moving on to the next at his table.
Finally the Slayer completed her circuit around the room and returned to stand by the head table. She did not speak right away, much to the chagrin of the men at the front table who were beginning to get annoyed by the way that the whole room was waiting on one girl. None of them were brave enough to speak up themselves though, so they remained privately aggravated and publicly attentive. After a few moments, the Slayer finally did say something, and her words were shocking and unexpected, much less acceptable. “You have been judged and found wanting as a body. There – ”
Cries of outrage interrupted her as irritation and insult overcame fear. She allowed them a few seconds to vent and then a resounding command of “SILENCE!” and the inability to talk rendered the room quiet once more. Continuing on as if no interruptions had occurred, the Slayer pronounced their fate. “There are those among you who are still worthy of fulfilling the original purpose of this Council. Now that the True Slayer has returned, we will work together to accomplish much. The rest of you are not worthy. Your hearts reveal your shortcomings and your sins. You are dismissed from the Council from this day forth, never again to return to these hallowed walls.”
Surely there would have been an outcry from those just dismissed, except that they were no longer present. Seemingly the majority of the room had vanished. While the three dozen or so left looked around astonished and wondering at the power that could do such a thing, those removed were also wondering. The former Head of the Council found himself in his study, wondering why he was so dressed for his morning game of cricket. Shaking his head at his own daftness, he proceeded to change clothes. Another of his closest council found himself in the kitchen eating a mildly unappetizing lunch and despairing that his wife would ever be a proper cook. Yet another found himself in traffic with no idea of why he was heading to the market. And so it went on and on, with each dismissed member being mildly confused at the day’s events, but each holding no memory of the Council of Watchers, Slayers, vampires or any other manner of being. Indeed, were you to have even suggested the existence of supernatural creatures to one of them, you would have been promptly ridiculed and dismissed out of mind.
Those remaining were understandably nervous as they waited to hear what the Slayer would say to them. So it was a pleasant surprise when she motioned them all to take their rightful places at the front of the room, before indicating that they had much to accomplish, but perhaps a meal was in order first as she was hungry. As conversation began over the luncheon meal, the first bonds of camaraderie among the new core group formed. As the men talked excitedly and the Slayer answered their questions, a sense of belonging filled them all. Rupert Giles smiled and discovered that he had found not only the peace he was seeking but also a purpose beyond that which he could have ever hoped for.
The Council of Watchers was indeed a staid and illustrious organization. The men who sat on this council still had a long tradition of son succeeding father, of generations of family members serving the council. They were still the keepers of the secrets, and in possession of great knowledge. But now they had a higher purpose. Now they truly did matter.
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