Disclaimer: Joss owns the BTVS characters. I own Reagan.

Author's note: *hugs* to BLT for putting up with my atrocious propensity for repeating words. Thanks to everyone who has been taking the time to review! You rock!
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Chapter 10: Watchers

The streets of London were quiet as Buffy and Anyanka returned home from some late night vengeance, home being Reagan’s flat.

“I will never understand why you insist on living here, Arashamahar is so much more...Well it smells better anyway,“ said Anyanka.

Buffy sighed. “You are probably going to tell me I’m being unreasonable, but I like this dimension, I was born here. So were you if I’m not mistaken.“

“Well if you must know, yes, I was once human and it was a degrading and soul sucking experience. Orphaned, taken in by an oafish man who was cheating on me with a bar wench. So I turned him into a troll.“

Buffy nodded, she had known this before but it was different now with her friend actually telling her.

“As you can imagine, I don’t look fondly on my human years, and it was a thousand years ago that I was elevated. And there is a prostitute that wants vengeance down that alley,” she added off handily with a nod down the darkened alley

“By all means, go,“ said Buffy waving her friend down the alley. Though the late hour and the chill in the air did not affect Buffy in the slightest, she was done for the evening and could finish walking home alone. She was a demon, a Slayer, and she could take care of herself.

A block further down the road, the mist that had hung in the air for so long turned into a regular London drizzle, coating Buffy’s exquisitely tailored dress with a heavy dew.

Cursing herself for not teleporting like Anyanka has asked her to, she carried on with her journey, more concerned with her dress than with the vampire that was stalking her.

She was going to have to take Annette with her to the seamstress’. She had to get a few new dresses anyway, having ruined a few with blood and then there had been that unfortunate incident with a bottle of ink while she and Reagan filled out thank you cards.

“Now what’s a pretty little thing like you out here at this time of night?” came a voice, his words not cultured like Buffy expected in a vampire nowadays.

Not William she thought, turning around and pulling out her watch to inspect the time.

“It isn’t that late,” she countered. “And I go where I please,” she said firmly.

The vampire chuckled, sending a cringe of disgust up Buffy’s spine. He was dirty, a state of filth that she had never seen another human being exhibit. Buffy had to remind herself that this thing in front of her wasn’t a human being. It hadn’t changed into his demonic face yet, but Buffy was sure it couldn’t be any better than the missing tooth, scarred, and stubbly vampire that faced her now.


Buffy put her watch away and faced the vampire with a scowl on her face. She seriously wasn’t in the mood to fight a vampire. Just as she was about to teleport away, she heard a voice drift from behind her.

“Miss Summers?” It was Miss Cruickshank, one of the Watchers that had been at Reagan’s house for tea.

Buffy turned to see the young woman approach, stake in hand.

“Good grief,” muttered Buffy, before turning and slugging the vampire in the jaw, bringing loose another tooth.

“Oh Miss Summers!” said the shocked woman. “Is that a vampire?” she inquired.

Buffy rolled her eyes at the figure lying on the ground, mentally counting to ten in her head.

“Yes, it is a vampire,” Buffy said with a note of concern in her voice. “That is why you must go home.”

“I wish to observe your technique,” continued the woman.

“My technique?” asked Buffy shocked. “Did you follow me?”

“Oh no Miss Summers, I did no follow you. Well not all night at least,” she admitted with a small blush. “I observed you from my window with your friend, and knew at once that you were intent on slaying vampires. Please let me help.”

Buffy found it very hard to keep her cool. She wanted to rage at this young girl and shake her senseless. It was nearly 2 am.

“Miss Cruickshank, it is not safe for you to be out on the streets at this time of night, there are evil creatures out.”

“Yes! That is why I wish to be a Watcher, to slay the evil creatures.”

Buffy exhaled, using her Slayer training to remain calm.

“Fine, whatever, but first you must know that it is a bad idea to have a conversation with your acquaintance while a vampire is lying prostrate on the ground,” said Buffy. “They do not remain that way long.”

Miss Cruickshank nodded, in time for Buffy to push her out of the way as the vampire who had been on the ground lunged at the two women.

Buffy grabbed the stake from Miss Cruickshank’s hand and stood protectively in front of the young girl.

When the vampire charged again, Buffy let loose a flurry of punches at the toothless one’s face. She kicked out, sweeping her leg out under the vamp’s feet, knocking him down.

Buffy plunged the stake into his heart and dusted her hands off as his corpse disintegrated.

“Oh Miss Summers! That was brilliant!” exclaimed Miss Cruickshank.

“Perhaps, Miss Cruickshank, but you really must get in off the streets. It is late.”

Miss Cruickshank nodded and allowed Buffy to escort her home, her mouth not closing once on the way there.
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Buffy saw Reagan at the breakfast table the next morning. After exchanging pleasantries Buffy launched into the topic that had been on her mind since the night before.

“Reagan, while it is commendable that the Council is permitting women amongst their ranks, don’t you think that they would be more discerning as to just whom they allow in?”

Reagan smiled, “You mean Miss Cruickshank, don’t you? She seemed rather infatuated with you at the tea. You are her hero,” Reagan pretended to swoon and giggled at Buffy‘s scowl.

“It is not funny Reagan. She followed me last night, and was nearly killed by a vampire!”

Reagan looked critically at her friend. “And what were you doing out so late last night?” she asked.

“I was doing my job,” she replied. “I was about to teleport away from the disgusting specimen of a vampire when Miss Cruickshank appeared out of nowhere wanting to observe my technique.”

Reagan giggled again.

“No! Not funny! What if she had seen...” Buffy trailed off, biting down on her lip.

“Seen what Buffy? Did you do something last night that was evil?”

“Evil is in the eye of the beholder, Reagan,” she answered critically, though she did not feel any remorse for her actions last night. “You know I have a job to do, that is my first concern, above all this Watcher business you have me attending to.”

“I am aware, Buffy. And if Miss Cruickshank is the girl I know her to be, the tale of your slaying prowess will no doubt be the talk of the Council this morning. She is rather loose tongued.”

“Another reason to be cautious. Just how did such an idiot get to be a Watcher?”

“Her mother was a Travers,” said Reagan sipping her tea.

“Oh,” said Buffy understanding.
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Spike stumbled from the cargo hold of a ship in Kent pissed out of his mind. The cargo had been an extensively good collection of French wine and he had generously partaken of some of the load, in an attempt to rid himself of the images that haunted his brain.

He imagined that Drusilla would be terribly mad at him for his desertion. He’d get quite the whipping when he returned.

Doesn’t mean you have to return, he tried to convince himself. Ah you know you’ll go back, you pussy whipped nancy boy

Spike hopped aboard a train bound for London. He had had a terrible time finding out exactly where the object of his wet dreams was lodging; he had had to wring the information out of a bar keep at Rome’s most seedy and well known demon bar.

She had gone home, was what he had been told. Home. London. From his location in Rome he had taken the next train to France, once there catching the first ship to England.

Hours from London and envisioning himself biting into her sweet flesh again, Spike faded off to sleep, his hand drifting to the bulge in his trousers.
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Reagan had been right. Miss Cruickshank had told her tale to everyone who had a willing ear, or unwilling for that matter, at the Council of Watchers leading to Miss Summer’s invitation to meet the head of the Council at a afternoon formal tea.

Buffy didn’t want to go.

“If you don’t go,” said Reagan worried, “Then they will know that something is wrong.”

That made sense.

“But Reagan, the demon wards? The spells?” Buffy reminded her.

Reagan nodded. “I can take care of the spells, it is my department after all,” said the Watcher. “I have a theory about the demon wards though. You were elevated in the Council building itself.”

Buffy nodded.

“So that may mean that the wards won’t work on you. And what about D’Hoffryn? Did the wards go off when he appeared in your room?” she asked.

Her brow crinkled in thought before shaking her head. “No, they didn’t. But Reagan that was years ago.”

“They haven’t been updated I can tell you that. The same spells that protected the Council then are still in effect.”

“I don’t know Reagan,” said Buffy.

“Well if you are found out, you can always teleport away.”

“That much is true.”
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The next day at breakfast Buffy received a note.

The Watcher’s Council insisted on paying her for her services.

Buffy rolled her eyes and flung the note into the air, settling back in her chair. The big high and mighty head of the Council was summoning her for a meeting. She had expressed her views about demons and Slayers and her opinion of the Council rather liberally at the afternoon tea she had attended. After that performance she hardly expected to get a summons.

Buffy looked up at her friend who was walking about the room packing her things. Reagan was getting married in the morning and subsequently moving in with Mr. Arthur Price.

“I told you it was coming,“ said Reagan, wrapping a china plate in a towel.

Buffy nodded. “You did, I can’t help but be nervous about it.”

“You’ve been a consultant to the Council of Watchers for three weeks now and you’ve not been inside the building. It is natural that the head of the Council would wish to meet the famed Miss Summers.” Reagan sat beside her friend and took her hand. “We’ve discussed this before, Buffy. I will be there with you.”

Buffy tried to smile. “Still worried though.”
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The imposing edifice that housed the Council of Watchers brought a queasy feeling to Buffy’s stomach.

Reagan grabbed Buffy’s hand and squeezed, imparting support and the fact that they were a little bit late for the meeting.

It doesn’t matter if I’m late if the stupid wards and alarms go off, she thought.

Buffy crossed the threshold with trepidation and closed her eyes in anticipation of badness.

When none happened Buffy exhaled that breath she had been holding in. Reagan gave her friend a smile and led her through the corridors.

Buffy and Reagan were escorted into Mr Bradford’s office and given tea.

Henry Bradford was as imposing as the office that he held. Buffy briefly remembered him being at a few of the meetings she had had with the Council, more specifically the meeting in which she was instructed to break William’s heart.

“Allow me to thank you for Miss Cruickshank’s life, my son is most grateful to have his fiancée alive and well,” said the head of the council, taking a seat next to Reagan and helping himself to tea.

“No problem,” said Buffy.

“Perhaps you are curious as to why after these three weeks I have at last wanted to meet you?”

Setting down her cup Buffy looked hard at the Watcher. “I’m sure that a man with your responsibilities, with so many lives riding on your decisions, are a very busy man.”

“That much is true Miss Summers, however busy I am. It has come to my attention that you have been spreading rumours about the late Slayer’s death...”

“They aren’t rumours Mr Bradford,” she interrupted.

“I know that certain individuals wish to glamorise the lives of the slayers, to romanticize them if you will, but I assure you that your cousin’s death was not glamorous. Elizabeth Underwood suffered a terrible injury, an injury which took from her the use of her legs, and after weeks of depression she took her own life. This is the truth. Naturally such truth would not be an uplifting tale and so we let the tale of the demon D’Hoffryn’s involvement spread.” He took a sip of his tea, not in the least bit affected by Buffy’s look of dismay.

“This is why you wished to meet with me?” she questioned, her voice belying the anger she felt. “To tell me how...my cousin died? To stop the rumours that have been flying about the Watchers in your employ since long before I arrived in London?”

“Anne...” warned Reagan trying to calm her friend.

“Not entirely, Miss Summers,” Mr Bradford continued on. “There is another matter. A demon, terrorizing the streets of London. With your expertise, I thought perhaps you would be willing to work with our watchers, here in the council...to find and destroy the demon Anyanka.”
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tbc...