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by the wonderful edgehead


Author's Chapter Notes:
OK Katkin what are you going to bribe me with for the next chapter??

many many thanks to those nice people who were kind enough to review Ariadne, cordykitten, pam s katkin and dusty,
Buffy held onto the door-knob of her bedroom door with slayer strength as Spike pulled on the ribbons of the corset. She felt like she was being cut in two by the whalebone and canvas and she was regretting agreeing to Dawn’s requests – sorry, demands. Dawn had insisted on all their clothes being authentic so no nice comfy bra and thong set from Victoria’s Secret underneath the beautiful travelling dress that was waiting for her to put it on. Oh no, it was a chemise and corset and then knickers with a hole in them. Morgana had referred to them as Harvest Knickers…all safely gathered in; but Buffy was just concentrating on breathing. She could not believe women tortured themselves like this every day. And it did feel like torture. When Spike had pulled hard he finished off the cords with a bow and let Buffy up from her uncomfortable position. She looked glorious. There was something about his beloved dressed in the clothes of his time that really turned him on. She slipped the travelling dress over her head and turned her back on Spike again, this time to allow him to do up the row of small fabric covered buttons that ran from her neck to her waist. Buffy had been astonished at the complexity of the clothes: no wonder they needed maids to help. Spike had yet to change but it had taken Buffy over an hour to dress, and it wouldn’t take him anywhere near that long. Buffy sat carefully on the bed while Spike changed himself back into Sir William Pratt, Baron. He stripped off the jeans and tee that he habitually wore and put on the dress and style he had been born to.

Spike looked spectacular as he escorted Buffy downstairs. She walked carefully, very aware of the skirts that limited her movement and she was still giving her lover grief at how tightly he had fastened the corset. Spike was laughing.

‘If you can nag me pet, you’re breathing too much and it’s still too loose. You wait until you see how tight me sister wears ‘em,’ he told the pouting slayer.

Morgana had arrived early that morning looking every inch the Victorian matron and had asked, then demanded, that Dawn open up the portal early and let her through. Dawn had started to sulk until it was pointed out that if a vampire from as notorious a clan as The Aurulians came waltzing through Watcher Headquarters without prior warning he was more likely to be met with a crossbow bolt than a warm welcome. Dawn hadn’t thought of that, neither had Buffy from the look on her face, but Morgana was prepared. She had vanished into the swirling lights with a swish of expensive silk and a cloud of rose water. Septamus had been passing by and had barely stopped to say hello before wandering off again to the library.

The Watchers had been in a meeting, trying to track down the latest slayer when they had been interrupted by a glowing doorway appearing in their midst. Out from it had stepped Morgana De Merthyn, one of the most powerful witches of any age. She had looked around the room and then taken over the meeting completely. Mr. Morgan wasn’t used to being sidelined, but he wasn’t a stupid or blustering man. He was sharp and intelligent and believed very much in the cause they all fought for: protecting their world from the evil that invaded it. Morgana’s feats and history with the Council over the last five hundred years guaranteed that what ever she asked for would be done, if they possibly could.

Robert Morgan stood and offered the lady his chair, his Victorian manners insisting and his watcher’s heart backing that decision.

‘I am sorry to disturb your meeting gentlemen, but I have a request,’ she began, only to be interrupted by one of the other Watchers offering tea.

‘Yes please, Mr…?’

‘Alfred Travers, and this is Antony Giles,’ Robert introduced the two younger men.

Morgana gave them a slight bow and carried on with what she was saying, gratefully accepting the tea cup from the young watcher.

‘And you are?’ Antony Giles bristled with his own importance. ‘And how did you get in here? This is a private meeting.’

‘If it is a meeting of any part of the Watcher’s Council, Miss, sorry Madam De Merthyn has every right to be here,’ Robert began. ‘She has held a place at this table for over five hundred years and will continue to do so for as long as she wishes. We wouldn’t have fought off the great attack of 1665 if it hadn’t been for her, and we certainly wouldn’t have been able to blame all the deaths on illness if she hadn’t found that awful disease in Africa.’

‘It’s all right Robert, I seem to remember you as a young man asking exactly the same questions and getting just the same answers over forty years ago,’ Morgana chuckled as she sipped her tea. It was one of the nicest things about Victorian England, good quality tea.

The gentlemen around the table settled back down and Robert took the spare seat at Morgana’s left side.

‘Now where were you, gentlemen?’

‘We are trying to track down the latest slayer: our old one died yesterday.’

‘Oh I am so sorry, but you are not in Mourning?’

‘Well no, its not like we actually know the girl, they just work for us,’ Alfred started saying. Morgana could feel herself bristle.

‘I thought that little piece of thinking had been put back where it belonged, Morgan! These girls are the very reason you exist, you are supposed to guide and protect them, care for them…’

‘I know and we try, that’s why these two are here, they need a little further education. The problem is, Morgana, they have never met, in fact we have never actually met, a slayer.’

‘Well that is something I can solve for you. We await the arrival of the shining ones.’

As soon as she said those words, Alfred and Anthony jumped to their feet.

‘How do you know our most secret password? Who are you?’ They started firing questions at her.

‘I am Morgana de Merthyn and I know the password because I was there when the seer gave you the prophecies. Now sit down and calm down.’
She shook her head. ‘If this is the quality of Watcher, God help the Council over the next few years!’

Morgan had stayed in his seat the whole time. He had seen Morgana at work before and had no desire to get another lecture off of the lady: he had enough of those when he was a boy.


‘Morgana, what was that about solving our problems? We are looking for the next slayer.’

‘Anita, charming girl, lives in the Ural Mountains at the moment. Needed in St Petersburg so you will have to find her a house there to live in.’

‘Thank you Morgana, you never let us down.’

‘Well I try not to. Now as for you all meeting a Slayer, that’s what I’m here about. I have just timed it from the beginning of the twenty-first century and have come about a birthday party. One of our slayers has a young sister who wants to go to a ball and we are coming back in time so she can go to a real one. Things have changed in the century and a quarter between then and now.’

‘One of your slayers?’

‘Caught that, did you? Yes, one of our slayers. All the potentials have been awoken and are protecting our world. They were needed when hell itself opened and started spitting out demons.’

‘Good God!!’ Anthony exclaimed.

‘Yes, he was. Allowed a young witch to tap into the source and release the great spell. Also allowed the shining ones to meet and they will be here later today. My Slayer and her sister, and my slayer’s husband.’

‘Husband? They are not supposed to marry: no mortal would be able to deal with a slayer in full power - provided she lived through her Cruciamentum,’ Alfred Travers added with a smirk. The thought of a young girl trapped with a monster excited him a little. He couldn’t wait until he could oversee the ritual.

‘She not only lived through it, she succeeded against a master, so technically she is your boss.’

The men started spluttering. ‘A woman leader? Don’t be ridiculous!
How much does her husband know of our world?’

‘Everything.’

‘She broke oath and told him about us and the creatures of the night? This woman needs dealing with!’

Robert Morgan just smiled and let Morgana deal with his imbecilic underlings. He could see where the conversation was leading, and Morgana was not someone to be messed with. He got up quietly and slipped out the door: let Aunty Morgana deal with the idiots for a couple of minutes, he had messages to send to get the newest slayer a Watcher. Slipping back into the room he could still hear the raised voices, his juniors still arguing that they needed to deal with this rogue slayer.

Morgana had had enough. She waved her hand towards the teapot and Robert watched in amusement as a fresh cup of tea danced down the table and into her hand.

‘Enough! You really have become a council of fools. This slayer was called ten years ago. She has stopped more than one apocalypse and is coming here for a much needed rest. She IS bringing not only her husband but her younger sister, whom she has raised, and you WILL make her and her family welcome. You WILL be paying any and all expenses they incur and you will be issuing invitations to your homes.’

‘I for one will be delighted to meet them: a slayer that has been working for ten years, she must be amazing.’ Robert answered swiftly.

‘She is,’ Morgana’s voice softened as she thought of the young blond woman she had left just hours before.

‘Now here comes the bit you won’t like.’ She added and looked straight at Robert Morgan.

‘What’s that? Her husband?’

‘Well yes, he is quality, but…’

‘There’s a but?’

‘There is a but. He is a Victorian gentleman turned in 1880, and by 2008 is a master vampire of the Auralian line. You see, gentlemen, we don’t await the arrival of the shining ones; for us it IS the time of the shining ones.’

Robert was astounded, he could barely make out the words that both Anthony and Alfred were shouting at him.

‘You need to invite him in: actually you don’t, do you? Buffy passed her Cruciamentum, so technically this is her house, isn’t it? I do strongly suggest, however, that you give them a bedroom a little away from anyone you actually like. They have only been mated a short while and you must have read what it is like for a mated pair.’


‘A mated pair?’ Robert managed to say.

‘Yes, mated, and he is incredibly protective of both Dawn and Elizabeth, Buffy, so I wouldn’t shout at them if I were you. And if you value your lives don’t lecture her!’

‘Why, will the vampire,’ Alfred spat the word out, ‘will the vampire kill us?’

‘Oh no, but if you spoil Dawn’s birthday treat and Buffy’s holiday, I will.’
She said it in such a light and undramatic way that it hit every primeval nerve and chilled the listening Watchers to the bone.

‘You mean that? You value a demon over us?’ Robert asked.

‘Oh yes, you see I know their future and if keeping them safe means destroying half of London I will do it without so much as a thought. Now how about some more tea?’



The cases had been loaded onto a wheeled truck and were ready for the journey. Dawn was bouncing, she might be 23 but this was a huge adventure, an adventure she got to share with her sister and her best friend. She turned around to hurry Spike and Buffy along only to find the vampire kneeling at Buffy’s feet holding out a ring box. She didn’t speak, not wanting to break the spell. Dawn couldn’t hear what was being said but Buffy looked happy. Spike slipped not one but two rings onto Buffy’s ring finger. A simple gold wedding band, engraved with orange blossom and a large and spectacular emerald. It shone with the fire that was usually seen in Buffy’s eyes.

The portal was ready and Buffy led the way through. It always made both Dawn and Spike a little apprehensive and the two old friends shared an understanding look before stepping through and back to the past.

Dawn stepped into an old-fashioned parlour. Even the piano in the corner had its legs covered. The room was brightly lit with early morning sunshine and the curtains had been pulled right back, letting the light flood into the room. It was a good job that Spike had the Gem otherwise he’d be vampire flambé before he’d taken a step. There were two men armed with crossbows pointing straight at her.

Dawn couldn’t step back because Buffy was right behind her. Spike was coming through last, pulling the little wagon that was loaded high with their luggage.

He saw the men as soon as the flashing lights dimmed and quickly stepped in front of Dawn to protect her. He and Buffy started doing a little dance, each trying desperately to cover the other one. Spike had shifted into game face without even thinking and Buffy could feel strength invade her limbs. Her mind seemed clearer and faster, she could even feel her eyes change colour. Her heightened senses could hear every heartbeat, smell every different person in the building, let alone the room. She knew, even with the dress encumbering her legs, she would move faster than she ever had before.

Morgana stood watching, then laughed.

‘See? I told you he would defend them, now be good boys and put down your toys before I start to play.’ Her voice had gone cold at the last part. The watchers lowered their weapons but kept a close and wary eye on the vampire.
‘I will repeat again: we await the arrival of the shining ones, well actually you await the arrival, for me and my time they have already arrived. Now Robert, be a dear and order tea and dismiss your foot soldiers.’

The man she had been addressing nodded at the weapon holders who left the room quietly and efficiently.

‘Buffy my dear you look wonderful, now this is Robert Morgan, Head of the Watchers Council. Robert, may I present Sir William Pratt; Lady Pratt, Elizabeth; and Miss Dawn Summers.’ The man held out his hand to William very carefully. He had never been this close to a vampire let alone a master vampire.

Spike shook off his game face and took the other man’s hand. He could feel how nervous the poor sod was, he wanted to grin and show fangs – hey, still evil here - but one look at Buffy and Dawn’s faces warned him that if he wanted the rest of the holiday to go nicely he had better behave.

‘How do you do?’ he asked, allowing his native upper class English accent to shine through.

‘How do you do?’ Was the instinctive reply from an exceptionally nervous Robert Morgan.





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