Spike stood back against a bookcase, half hidden in shadow as he studied the battle before him. Buffy and the others were easily making their way through the evil they had found present in the upper library. The whelp—no, not the whelp anymore—Xander had joined them not long ago and was concentrating on evacuating the innocents from the room. He was protecting them with a fierceness that Spike had not witnessed in the boy before. Spike felt a small measure of pride at the young man’s actions; time after time he shielded and defended, not only the innocents, but also the demons that fought on their own side. He’d watched as Xander had moved without hesitation to the side of different demons and aided them against a particularly strong enemy. Spike also noted the number of times that his gaze had sought out Buffy and the others; checking that those he cared about were safe. When the young man’s gaze sought out and caught his own, Spike gave him a quick salute; Xander merely nodded before returning to his task.

“Hey, watcha doin over here?” Buffy came to stand beside him, drawing in steady, strong breaths as she took a moment to rest.

“Studyin’ the field, luv.” Spike motioned to the door and elevator that lead to the council building above them. “The containment field is weakening, see every now and then it kinda shimmers.”

Buffy studied the door carefully, a frown marring her forehead as she watched the air around it seem to thicken momentarily, rippling slightly as it did. “He knows we’re here.”

“Knew it wouldn’t take long, luv.”

Buffy began to stride forward, back into battle. “Spike get Willow and the others. We’re heading up now.” Buffy headed towards Giles, taking out a few shrouded watchers who stood in her way. “Giles.” She caught her watchers attention. “Spike and I are going to take the main body of fighters up; we’re running out of time. I need you to finish up here and then come find us.” She pointed towards the doorway. “The barrier isn’t gonna to last much longer. I need Jayela and the others concentrating on placing one around the building above ground.”

Giles nodded his understanding. “Once you arrive in the Council proper, I suggest you have some of the fighters seek out the mages that are counteracting our spell; removing them should ease the situation slightly. It should also mean that Willow and the others will be able to assist in the actual battle once the containment field is in place.”

Buffy nodded her understanding before turning and seeking out those she had chosen to lead her forces.

“Oh and, Buffy,” Giles called after her, his face softening as he took in her questioning look. “Be safe.”

Buffy smiled; the chaos around her drifting into the background. “You too. Ok?” She turned her attention back to the battle, calling out orders to those around her.

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

Quentin Travers sat quietly in his office, watching the scene below play out on a large monitor embedded in the wall. He had been surprised at first when one of his trusted aids had informed him of the security breech in the upper library. Surprise had turned to anger when he’d realised that the breech had occurred from within the walls of his stronghold, and from the very weapon he had wielded for so many years. He snarled his disgust as he watched the blonde slayer take out one of his most promising watchers. The man, although human, had shown a particular flair for making those who stood in the way of the council’s plans disappear. Travers allowed himself a moment’s reflection to savour a few instances when he’d witnessed the man’s particularly brutal form of persuasion.

A terse knock on the door drew him from his musing, and after schooling his face into one of horror and disbelief, he bade the person enter with a curt word. He felt a small twinge of pleasure race through his body when a young brunette walked through the door; Milla Brooks was his latest son’s fiancé, and Quentin had spent many a night savouring the prospect of the pleasures the young woman’s body would offer him once he had taken his son’s life as his own. He would, of course, treat her like a queen once she was his; any of his twisted little fantasies would be played out with other young girls.

Quentin suppressed the shiver of anticipation elicited by that thought. Only a select few amongst the council knew that once a potential slayer was identified, they were brought to the council and subjected to a barrage of physical and psychological tests. The weakest of the girls were trained and readied to be called, those that were found to be the strongest of both mind and body disappeared to a heavily fortified, and highly classified, location where he and his aids could act on each and every desire that crossed their minds. He glanced towards the monitor once more; if she had not gone undetected Buffy Summers would have been one of those lucky few to have tasted his personal form of pleasure.

“Milla, my dear, we must get you to safety.” Travers rose from his seat clasping her hands in his in fatherly concern. “Have you seen Justin? We must make certain he is safe as well.”

“Quentin, it’s so horrible. So many dead already.” The young woman tried desperately to reel in her emotions and display the impassive watcher façade that she had been trained to project. “Why would the slayer attack? I don’t understand.”

“None of us do.” Travers filled his voice with disbelief. “I can only assume that her continued association with demons,” he fixed his gaze upon the screen, easily picking out the blonde vampire who was never far from the slayer’s side, “has corrupted her beyond redemption.”

Travers pulled his soon to be daughter-in-law/wife into a fatherly hug, frowning when she gasped and began to pull away from him.

“Milla, dear, what is wrong?” Travers looked at her in concern as she wrenched away from him and began backing away.

Milla stared at him wide eyed and fearful. “You…you’re…,” She began to sob, taking large gulping breaths as she pointed at his face. “Oh no, you…I can’t…” Milla clutched one hand to her mouth as though she were going to be sick.

Travers turned around, momentarily forgetting the scene playing out before him and moved to stand before a large ornate mirror that hung on one of the side walls. The image staring back at him was shrouded in a thick black demonic cloud, distorting his features and showing the true face of his Dretgo heritage. “Well this is unfortunate.” He spun around, crossing the room with alarming speed, to grasp the young woman, his fingers biting into the tender skin of her arms. “Never mind, my dear, all is not lost.” He passed a hand roughly across her body. “Peters! Smith!” He grinned at the horror openly displayed on Milla’s face. “We’ll just get you tucked away somewhere safe until I have more time for… other activities.”

Milla whimpered as two men entered the room and dragged her out the door and into the reception area. One of them pressed something hidden beneath the receptionist’s desk and a wall panel slid silently to one side. Milla struggled violently as the men dragged her down a hidden stairway, casually discussing her fate at the hands of the one man she had trusted as much as her beloved Justin.

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

The battle seemed to be progressing well; at least she thought it was. Buffy turned from her place near the foyer entrance; the innocent watchers had quickly realised that the demons who’d swarmed into their halls were, in fact, the good guys. Many of them had turned their weapons away from the invading forces and towards those about them who were shrouded in evil., One had even shown them the hiding place of the mages who were casting counter spells on Travers’ behalf. All save one spell caster had been quickly dispatched with the thrust of a sword or the arc of an axe. The last had shown no sign of evil intent; his face unblemished by the damning spell. Horror had soon settled over him when he realised that he had been unwittingly aiding the very darkness he thought he had been fighting against. Tara had gifted him with a forgiving smile, before drawing him into the power circle and directing his abilities towards strengthening the barrier he had moments before been trying to destroy.

The Sh’Ralens had proved to be useful allies, materialising from the ornate walls of the council building to pull a marked watcher into their embrace, then dematerialising with the struggling figure seconds later. The watchers didn’t even have time to scream before they were transported from one dimension to the next. Buffy shuddered at the thought of what may greet them when they became solid once again. A part of her hoped that it would be quick for them, while another part—the part that desired vengeance for all that she, and others, had endured at the hands of the council hoped that they knew what it felt like to be at the mercy of a creature that only desired their horrific and painful demise.


Buffy surveyed the scene before her once more, a small frown settling on her brow as she took in the room. “Something’s not right.” She paused, turning to Spike as though searching for confirmation of her suspicions. “I thought it would be harder up here. I thought there’d be…” She grasped for the right words, “More.”

“Know what you mean, luv.” Spike eyed the stairway leading to the second floor of the building. “There shoulda been more defences; I think ole Travers has got something special waiting for us.”

“Trap!” Buffy stated simply.

“Trap,” Spike agreed as he called the others over to where they stood. He frowned when he noticed that Isabo was fighting against an unblemished watcher, carefully dodging his blows as she tried to disarm and subdue the man without causing him undue harm. “Anyone know who Bo’s fighting? Boy’s got some good moves, but we need to get moving.”

One of the young watchers, who had joined their fighting force stepped forward. “That’s Justin Travers,” he offered. “Mr Travers’ son. It will take a lot for him to believe that his father is involved in any of this.” He waved his hand haphazardly towards the room. “I mean, it’s still hard for most of us to believe. You are certain about this, aren’t you?” His question trailed off as Isabo cried out in pain.

Buffy and Spike sprinted across the room and to her side, both of them ignoring the younger Travers as he headed upstairs towards his father’s office.

“I’m ok,” Bo reassured them, as she pressed and hand to her upper arm. “It’s just a flesh wound. See, already healed.” She pulled her hand away to show the smooth unmarked skin beneath. “I’m sorry. I was trying not to hurt him, but he was in a corner, and if I didn’t let him past he was going to be seriously injured.”

“You did the right thing,” Buffy reassured her, offering a small smile. “We’ll find him when we go up.”

“Get the feeling there’s not going to be many up there to rescue, Slayer.” Spike tightened his grip on the Redwulf in his hands.

“Yeah, I think you might be right.” Buffy turned to address the others. “Ok we’ve got one more level to go.” Her voice rang out strong and clear. “All this down here—this is nothing. You can bet that the hard part is waiting for us up those stairs.” Buffy moved to stand at the base of the stairway. “It’s pretty much going to be a trap. So go nowhere alone, and look after your friends.” She paused, gathering her strength for the fight ahead. “And Quentin Travers is mine,” she added with a growl.

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

Quentin watched with amusement as the slayer rallied her troops; did she not realise how fruitless her efforts would be in the grand scheme of things? He had sent his minions out to retrieve his son when he’d witnessed the boy’s escape from the female vampire’s grasp. A plan had sprung to mind as he watched his son’s flight; all was not lost with young Milla after all. If he could perform the ritual in time, he would be able to slip into his son’s untainted life—reaping all the benefits that would come with it. Quentin looked towards the door as one of his underlings entered silently. “Is everything ready?”

The man nodded curtly at his leader’s simple question.

“I had expected my son to put up more of a fight.” Travers seemed almost disappointed.

“Father!” A panicked voiced floated through the open doorway.

“He’s still up here?” Travers hissed the question at the man standing in the doorway. “Did you not just tell me that all was ready?”

The man swallowed nervously. “The room is prepared, sir. And the necessary items are in place.” He began to fidget, silently hoping that his boss would not lose his temper—and he his head. “We did not wish to leave you unprotected at this time.”

Sighing, Quentin made his way to the door. “Very well. I suppose that it was a wise move, given the situation.” Pausing, he studied a small photograph that sat on an ornate sideboard near the doorway. “It is disappointing that my wife will be unable to attend.” He picked up the photograph staring at it intently before tossing it casually aside and flipping open a small panel on the wall. Quentin pressed a few numbers on the pin pad, before turning back to cast one last look around his office. “Perhaps, once this is all finished with, Justin will pay his mother a visit. Before he rescues young Milla, of course.” He smiled widely at the man at his side, before slipping through the door and heading towards the secret exit in the wall of the outer room, confident that his minions would escort his son below to meet his fate.