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Angels and Demons by TalesofSpike
 
Chapter 4.16
 
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Note: Thanks to my beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support.

SECTION 4 - ANGELS AND DEMONS

Angels and demons and screaming saints
You're all normal and they're insane
They stand alone in the fallout rain
You're all hung up on little pains
Yea Yea (everyone's hung up)


(The Tourists)




Chapter 4.16
Thursday, June 13th, 2002


Faith wandered nonchalantly into the communal area of the roof space, her face flushed and her hair still damp from her recent shower, dressed only in a short robe that she had borrowed from Buffy. The robe didn't cover as much of Faith's rather more ample cleavage as it did of Buffy's. Brandon's wandering gaze earned him a swift elbow in the ribs from Dawn and a sultry smile from the brunette slayer before his eyes fixed firmly on the toecaps of his boots.

Buffy pointedly cleared her throat at the by-play before questioning her counterpart. "How did it go today?"

Faith shrugged. "The rugrats are nothing but a liability. Anything under thirteen I figured we might as well leave with the watchers. We'd have to be really desperate before we'd consider sending them into a fight. The rest I've split up into groups like we figured."

"How many of them are ready to go out on patrols?"

"That depends... Are you talking as ready as Xander and Willow back in the good old days or ready enough to have a hope in hell of getting out of there alive if they run into one of those Cro-Mag vamps of yours?"

Buffy gave a bitter smile. "Alive would be-." The blonde's words froze on her lips. Seconds stretched into minutes before her lips took on a warmer curve than before. "Looks like we've got first contact, guys, but so far no fight. Dawn, can you go and find Giles and the others? Tell them that they met up with a couple of sentries who seem to be taking them somewhere but that it faded out when Spike started to relax again."

Her younger sister scrambled up from her seat on a slightly dilapidated sofa, the tug on Brandon's hand making it plain that she had no plans to leave him unsupervised with a semi-naked Faith. Naturally, since Spike had managed to evade her, Rogue trotted along behind Dawn as the next best option. Buffy couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Quentin's face if he saw the dog following her sister into the library, but amusing as that might be she had no desire for a team of council operatives to follow their allies' trail in order to take back that which they had gone to considerable trouble to return to their rightful owners. "And, Dawn... Be discreet!"

"Yeah, right! And who's the one who's going to be using a cell phone?" Dawn retorted, gesturing in the direction of the device Buffy had taken from her pocket in preparation for passing on the news to Marie.








The tension in the air caused Dawn to sidle as quietly as possible over to the table Tara and Oz were sharing, with one hand clasped in Brandon's and the other firmly on Rogue's collar.

Giles' face took on an uncharacteristic sneer as he faced off against what was undoubtedly a senior watcher. If he'd been your average Joe Public, Dawn would have said he was going grey and had a beer gut. For some reason, this guy struck her rather as portly and distinguished with his neatly trimmed beard. No doubt he and Quentin were the best of chums. Dawn edged around as Giles' voice dropped to the low, controlled tone that even Buffy wasn't particularly fond of dealing with, ready to take position at his back should her support be required.

"I'm surprised you didn't do your homework better. Had you done so, you would realise that having withstood torture at the hands of one of the more notorious vampires known to the council, I would hardly fall in line for an overblown bully such as yourself."

"I had merely hoped that you possessed the civility and good breeding to treat those whose experience in these matters exceeds your own with a modicum of respect."

"Length of service does not necessarily equate directly with experience. You may have managed to make your slayer into a cowed automaton who followed the council's every wish, but that is most likely why she only lived four months after she was called. Wesley was fortunate that he got the chance to escape your clutches and become a man instead of the simpering imbecile into which your domineering ways moulded him."

The older man exhaled in a derisive snort. "Wesley's mother made him soft, not I, but discussing my son's many inadequacies now will only lead to having to repeat myself when and if he deigns to return."

Dawn's shocked gasp as she realised the identity of Giles' aggressor did nothing to halt Roger Wyndam-Pryce's vitriolic rant, though the disparaging glance he gave her and her friends as she and Brandon stepped up on Giles' right and Tara and Oz moved to stand on his left did allow him a second's pause. Rogue's growl was a steady rumble and Dawn was forced to hold tight on her collar for fear that, should she attack, the watcher would doubtless ensure she was destroyed.

"Nevertheless, Wesley has now rejoined the council, as have you, you would do well to remember. If you know where he is, it would behove you to tell me."

"Wesley works for the council on a part-time basis, as do I. Whatsoever we may choose to do in our spare time and whomever we may associate with, it is of no concern to either you or anyone else within the council."

"And yet it is written that no man may serve two masters. How can either of you serve the council and at the same time harbour those who are its enemy?"

"I cannot answer for Wesley but the money I am paid by the council buys only my services, not my soul. I follow the dictates of the council only so far as they do not conflict with those of my conscience. If this means that at some point in the future the council and I shall part paths again, it does not unduly distress me. I have long since learned that the council's way of doing things is far from the only way to get things done, even though its resources can prove useful from time to time."

"And your conscience fails to trouble you even though you seek to protect the very demons that ambushed one of the potentials you are purportedly protecting?"

"The demon, singular, of whom you speak, could, indeed, consider herself under my protection, such as it is, if she were to need it. However, it would appear that the account of the situation which you may have heard is somewhat divergent from the truth. Rather than being ambushed, the psychotic-in-training that you're trying to defend chose to make an unprovoked attack on an essentially harmless being, who was simply waiting for his friend to return from the ladies room at the local cinema, where, far from wreaking havoc or lying in wait, the couple had been doing nothing more morally reprehensible than watching Nicole Kidman prance around in something that purports to be a musical. The fact that, on her return, Clem's girlfriend was able to prevent the girl causing any damage in excess of a black eye, I consider a matter of extreme good fortune. I also consider her to be extremely forbearing in that she limited her retribution to ensuring that the hand which was raised against her loved one would not do so again any time soon. No doubt, the girl in question would not have been such a model of restraint had our friend, who was attacked, truly been on his own." Giles' emphasis on the word friend did not go unnoticed.

"So you make no attempt to hide the fact that you and Wesley are both consorting, not only with William the Bloody but with other demons, and that your relationships extend beyond professional expediency and are in fact personal?"

Giles squared his chin and looked the other watcher squarely in the eye, making no effort to hide his low opinion of the other man. "When demons live in peace with those around them, seeking little more than the chance to live quietly and protect their own... when they prove to be steadfast and true allies and help those I care for, at their own personal risk, then I find them deserving of my friendship and loyalty. That is more than can be said for most of the humans in this room who it seems, even in the council's time of direst need, are too caught up in prejudice and politics to see the situation in front of their eyes for what it really is. If you'll excuse me, my friends and I have more constructive things to do with our time."

Giles turned on his heel and, completely ignoring the other watcher, began to make his way around the various groups of researchers in the library to get updates on their progress. Wes's father was still standing in stunned silence at Giles' blatant disregard as Oz's nose twitched and a slow, lopsided smile formed on his face.

Dawn nudged the werewolf and whispered in his ear, wanting to know what had amused him so. Oz simply nodded toward the elder watcher's expensively tailored and now slightly speckled trouser leg. "I don't think the cat likes him any better than Giles does."








After leaving a brief, cryptic message for Marie with Lori, Buffy returned her attention to the other slayer. "So... how bad is it?"

Faith shrugged. "We've got girls who've never seen a day's training in their lives and one or two that were learning martial arts when they were still in diapers but they've never had to take on anyone that was actually trying to kill them. They know fancy names for all the moves but they think the bad guys are gonna walk up to them, bow and issue a formal challenge. I reckon we might have a dozen we can lick into good enough shape to patrol by the end of the week."

"It's a start."

"So, how are we gonna do this? One person teaching the same two groups all the time or rotate them round?"

"Rotate the groups, rotate the patrols but we each take overall responsibility for two of the groups. That way if they have a problem they know who to come to. Split the four best groups between the two of us. Make sure I get the one with Clem's little princess, otherwise she'll spend all her time complaining to you about me. Give Spike the two worst ones."

"Ain't that a little unfair to Debbie Harry?"

"Probably, but Spike's the only guy I know who can put the fear of hell into them until they can catch up but still be able to see if any of them are going to break. He'll get more of the weak ones through than either of us could."

"That's..." Faith seemed to pause, unsure how to express what she wanted to say. "The Buffy I used to know would have wanted to do it all herself. You must trust him a hell of a lot."

"Yeah..." Buffy's answer was little more than a whisper. "Yeah, I do. He's earned it."








Wesley could not have said what it was that made him follow their escorts' lead and kneel before the demon he assumed was their senior priest when they reached his chamber, nor if his motivation was the same as Spike's or Bee's. It could have been simple instinct or a sense of self-preservation. It could have simply been a sense of etiquette so finely tuned during his formative years that it was now almost second nature. Most likely, he suspected, it was the aura of sanctity that seemed to emanate from the demon, the feeling that here was a being worthy of the respect. Wes felt that if he were to meet the Dalai Lama, the renowned holy man's presence would be little different from that of the demon they currently faced with their heads bowed.

Unlike the others of his kind, he needed no translator but somehow conveyed his thoughts to the group fully formed without resorting to anything as crude as words or language. The three visitors rose as one at his silent bidding and it seemed that he offered each his personal thanks for the orbs' safe return. Wes tried not to notice as Spike's lips formed into a smile so serene it seemed alien on his pale visage and a few stray tears overflowed from his bright eyes. The vampire blocked Wes's view of Bee's face yet he knew that she could not fail to be equally overcome by the experience, just as he knew that none of them would ever ask or tell of the profundity of their encounter. It simply wouldn't be possible to adequately put it into words.








In an attic, miles away, a quiet tear fell onto the notebook where Buffy was drawing up schedules and lesson plans. Her communion with her mate, for once, wasn't a result of adrenaline-fuelled battle, but the gift of an improbably holy demon. It wasn't the only gift he gave them. He also gave them a promise.
 
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