Betas: Slaymesoftly and Mabel Marsters

Soul Survivors
Chapter Fifteen: The Lion’s Den


Buffy paced the length of the hotel bedroom only stopping to peek out the window now and then. She was nervous. Two more hours and their suite would be overrun with Watcher Council personnel. Not her idea of fun.

She smoothed her modest blue dress down for the hundredth time. It reached to mid-calf and had a relatively high neckline. No matter how she dressed, she was still a vampire, but Giles suggested that she do her best to give them a nice first impression. The hair on either side of her face was pulled back and worked into a French braid. A few shorter tendrils framed her face to give her a soft look.

Giles was out with his cousin having dinner in the hotel restaurant, and Spike had been given the job of getting last minute supplies for refreshments. She glanced at the clock. He should have been back fifteen minutes ago. The store wasn’t that far from the hotel.

The knock on the door effectively brought her out of her musing and stopped her pacing. Spike and Giles both had their keys. She frowned as she hesitated by the door. If it was one of those watchers, what should she do? It was way too early for one of them to show up.

She opened the door a crack and then pulled it open wide in shock. A short, skinny girl in black jeans, white t-shirt and black suede jacket lined with white faux fur stood there grinning at her. Her very long and wavy hair was the very definition of strawberry blonde. Her blue eyes stood out against a pale face.

“I know Americans are pretty rude, but isn’t considered bad form not to invite a girl in?”

Buffy snapped out of her trance with a shake of her head. “Andra?”

The girl, who looked about sixteen, spread her arms out wide. “The one and only.”

Buffy stepped back to let her pass, watching the girl as she took in the room.

“Very nice,” Andra conceded.

Buffy was intrigued by her accent or lack there off. There was a hint of her Scottish roots, but it sounded more like Giles’ accent. It was much easier to understand than Torch’s.

She motioned to the couch. “Have a seat.”

Andra sat in the chair with a relaxed easiness that made Buffy envious.

“So, wanted to see me, did you?”

“Yes. I was surprised to hear that you were still around. Your watcher wrote in his diary that he thought that you had walked out into the sun.”

Andra’s laugh was deep and hearty. “That was all his idea.”

“Huh?”

“He made it up, so I could go on without having to look over my shoulder. He told me about his oath, but there was no way he could do that with me having a soul and all. So, he suggested that I leave the country until that generation passed on.”

“And you went to Italy?”

“Aye.” Andra regarded Buffy with open curiosity. “Torch says that you are in love with Spike, The Slayer of Slayers, but that he didn’t turn you?”

“That’s right.” Buffy smiled at her. “I’m really glad you decided to come see me.”

A ghost of a smile graced Andra’s lips. “When Torch came looking for me, I knew it was something big. That idiot rarely moves from the bar where he parks his arse night after night.”

“He’s a character.”

“Aye, that he is. When he told me about you, I just had to come and see for myself.” Andra leaned her elbows on her knees, giving Buffy a long hard look. “So all slayers who are turned keep their souls?”

“Yes. It was a well-kept secret until my watcher got hold of a couple of key books. One of them being your watcher’s diary.”

Andra relaxed again in her chair. “My watcher thought maybe there was some kind of problem because Torch was such a young fledge. He had no idea and neither had I for all these years.”

As they talked about their experiences, Buffy had to agree with Torch. They were nothing alike. Andra was all confidence and nonchalant ease. She was quick to laugh, but just as quick to get upset. When Andra got around to telling her how she went about fighting against crime, Buffy listened in shock. She was about to tell Andra what she thought when they heard noise from the hall.

Spike opened the door, pausing there with bags in his arms when he saw Andra. He smiled smugly. “That explains it.” Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Get in here.”

A sheepish looking, orange haired vampire followed him into the room.

“I found this genius loitering about in the hall.”

Andra stood up, glaring at Torch. “I told you to stay out of my business!”

“Ach! Don’t be biting me heid off, woman!” he yelled back at her and then he said, in a softer tone, “I was just making sure you’d be safe.”

Andra started rambling in another language, or maybe it was a combination of languages, but it was clear that she was upset.

“I got everything on the list.” Spike handed Buffy the crumpled piece of paper before putting things away in the mini bar.

Andra refused to look at Torch and sat in her chair sulking.

“My watcher will be back in a few minutes, so we’ll have to visit another time. Unless-” Buffy said, remembering their conversation the other night about Andra helping.

“Unless what?” Andra asked.

“Well, we’re having a meeting with some the Council members in a little while to get the current head guy to step down and call his watch dogs off me and my watcher. He refused to fulfill that same oath that your watcher took.” Buffy stopped and glanced at Torch. What to do with him?

Torch stood with his arms crossed and watched Spike with amused fascination. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He shook his head sadly. “A vampire--a master vampire--turned into the Watchers’ Council’s errand boy.”

As Spike put a bottle of scotch on the counter, he threw Torch a murderous glare.

Buffy jumped up when she heard the key in the door, grabbed Torch and Andra and shoved them into her room.

“Stay there! Please,” she added when they each gave her a stony glare.

Her nerves were already shot and she didn’t need this. She forced a smile as she greeted Aida and Giles. The older woman had met Spike earlier, but she was still wary of him and she stayed close to the door. Spike was not helping matters. He slammed the small refrigerator closed and kicked the metal trashcan.

“Errand boy,” he mumbled under his breath.

With her arm around his shoulder, she led him to the bedroom. “Honey, you are making our guest nervous. Why don’t we go finish getting ready?”

“Don’t take too long,” Giles said. “We need to go over strategy once more before the others arrive.”

Buffy nodded before shutting the door behind them. The room was almost in complete darkness. Andra stood, looking out the window while Torch reclined on the bed. Buffy turned on the bathroom light and whispered for them all to come inside.

It was a nice large bathroom, but with four vampires all squeezed in there, it didn’t seem so big. Buffy quickly went over what they should do and with minimal protests, it was agreed on.

The most unhappy was Torch. He didn’t fancy being cornered in a room with a bunch of watchers having a meeting in the next room, but he realized that at this point, it was too late to leave. Buffy and Spike would go talk to Giles and let him know about Andra being in the room and that she was willing to come out and speak to the members when the time was right.

As they filed out of the bathroom, Buffy remembered something. “Oh, and Andra?” When she knew for sure that the vamp was paying attention, she said, “Whatever you do, please don’t go into details about how you fight crime.”

Andra broke out into a wicked smile and nodded her head in agreement.


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


They’d had only fifteen minutes before their guests started to arrive to go over the plan, and most of that time was taken up with questions about Andra. Now Buffy and Spike were back in their room with the door cracked open. They had to fight for position to see the goings on.

By the time Giles got things started, there were twenty people crowded into the sitting room. Giles went on and on about why they were there and Buffy giggled when she caught a short bald man standing near Giles’ bedroom door stifling a yawn.

“Will that windbag ever shut his gob?” Torch whispered.

“Shh,” Buffy and Spike hissed at the same time.

“Buffy can you come here, please?” Giles asked, raising his voice above the chatter.

Spike squeezed her hand in a show of support before she went out into the lion’s den. All eyes were on her and even through her nerves, she was able to quickly assess the situation. Some were openly curious; others a bit hostile and a few appeared to be scared. Well at least she wasn’t the only one.

Once she was by Giles’ side, she waved at the group and waited for him to lead the way.

“This is Buffy. She was my slayer. As I’ve told you all, she was turned by Drusilla, but she has retained her soul, just as this book says all slayers who are turned will do.” He held up the book again before placing it on the mini bar’s counter.

A tall, stocky gentleman in a tan suit, who was easily the oldest in attendance, stood up. His healthy head of white hair was neatly combed, setting off his darkly tanned and weathered face. He had been sitting close to her, so he didn’t move. His brown eyes bored into hers as he studied her closely.

Someone coughed and another watcher cleared her throat.

“George Foster, lately of South Africa,” he offered as a greeting. “How do you do?”

The man was making her uncomfortable as he watched her with eagle sharp eyes. A silence fell over the room as they all waited for her to speak.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Apparently, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting if his disapproving frown was any indication. “I say. Really?”

She frowned back at him. “Yes, really. I’m perfectly fine.”

“And you really have a soul?”

As a whole, the group behind him leaned in closer and stared at her as if she were a lab experiment.

Giles came to her side. “Yes, she has a soul.”

“Let her speak for herself,” the bald man standing by Giles’ door said.

Rolling her eyes, she told them, “I do have a soul.”

A younger woman, who was sitting in the back and looked somewhat familiar spoke up, “Do sit down, Foster.” While she glared at him, she adjusted her glasses.

He glanced back. “Sorry,” he said and then took his place in the chair behind him.

Buffy stared back at him in defiance when he continued to look at her with narrowed eyes. The noise level in the room increased as people started to talk amongst themselves. The bald man took a few steps forward and put his hands on the back of the couch.

“How do we know that she’s even really a vampire?” he asked and set up more murmurings.

Next to her, Giles sighed and rapped his knuckles against the counter to get their attention. “Now why would we lie about a thing like that?”

Then they were all talking at once and Buffy had enough of it. Nerves coupled with her growing anger made the transformation of her face an easy thing to do. She got a bit of satisfaction when there were gasps all around, and then blissful silence reigned. Now she knew how Spike had felt all these years. It was a rush to see all these people just a little bit horrified and frightened.

“I am a vampire and I do have a soul.” She turned her attention to Giles, who seemed a little taken back as well. “What is it with these people? Can’t we get on with this?” She turned back to the others. “Aren’t we here to discuss what to do about Travers?”

Foster’s frown turned up a bit and he coughed to cover a snicker. “Yes, the vampire is quite right, but I have one question to ask her first.” He narrowed his eyes at her again and his frown returned.

Crossing her arms and widening her stance, she stared boldly back at him, giving him a short nod of her head.

When he was through clearing his throat, he said, “I have been the watcher to three slayers in my lifetime. All were brave and took their duties very seriously. I doubt very much that any one of them could have endured existing as you do now. What I want to know is how come you didn’t find a way to end your own existence or get your watcher to do it for you?”

It took her a moment to let the question sink in. How did she explain to these strangers such personal things? Stalling a bit longer, she relaxed and closed her eyes before giving her head a quick shake. Her face went smooth and she congratulated herself for the quick transition.

“I had people who cared about me. A sister who needed me and friends who depended on me.” She paused and used one booted foot to scratch at the other. “I focused on surviving so I could be there for them. I didn’t think about suicide or vampicide. What ever you want to call it.”

Foster crossed his arms and leaned back in disbelief. “You are telling me that you can stand to walk around in your undead state; existing as one of the demons that you used to kill?”

“Used to kill? I still do--well, I will when I get my strength up.”

Again, the others began to talk amongst themselves, so she said a bit louder, “My heart does not beat.” She put her hand over her heart, and then moved it to rub her arm. “My skin is cool to the touch, but my soul is very much alive. I have a lot to live for and I’m not going to stand by and let someone end it all just because some old rule book and tradition says I shouldn’t be allowed to continue on.”

A man in a gray suit behind Foster stood up. “And you expect us to what--side with a vampire over the head of the Council?”

She nodded and the man sat down. “At this point, I’m asking for your help. I didn’t have a choice when I was called to be a slayer, but I choose now to live. With or without the Council’s help, I plan to be around a long time.”

“The issue here,” Giles chimed in, “Is that we’ve either taken an oath or will be asked to take one in the future. One in which we have not had all the information before taking it.” He glanced around the room at his colleagues. “Are any of you here willing to take that oath now, knowing that you may one day have to kill the girl that you were charged with training and protecting. Even though she has a soul and intends to harm no one?”

“You’ve got a point,” another man said. “But, I hardly think it’s Quentin’s fault that things are they way they are. This goes way back.”

Foster stood up again and faced the others. “The damn fool went into a binding contract with a filthy demon to have Giles killed. I hardly think that’s the kind of behavior the leader of our Council should be partaking in.”

Foster sat down and the young woman on the couch spoke again, “There is no question that we need to discuss Mr. Travers’ future with the Council, but right now I think we need answers to more questions about Miss Summers here. I can still call you Miss Summers, yes?”

“Lydia,” Giles began in polite frustration, “I went over it all when I met with you individually. What can you possible still need to know about Buffy?”

Consulting her notepad, she bit at the eraser on the end of her pencil. “Ah, yes. Here it is.” She looked up and directed her question to Giles. “How do we know that her soul is not a temporary thing?”