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Author's Chapter Notes:
Not mine, never will be.
Chapter 7

Changing Structures


Giles checked his watch. It was after the dinner hour in London. Pulling out his personal address book, he dialed a number and poured another cup of tea while he listened to the phone ring. “Gillian? It’s Rupert Giles.”

“Rupert, my dear boy, how wonderful to hear from you.” The elderly woman’s voice held enthusiasm. “Where are you?”

“I’m with the Slayer on a Hellmouth in Sunnydale, which is near Los Angeles. How are you Gillian?”

“As fine as an old woman can be. I could bore you with my myriad ailments, but I’m assuming you haven’t called to inquire about my health. What is it you want, Rupert?”

Giles smiled. How like Gillian to get right to the point. He allowed himself a moment of nostalgia for his old mentor. “Actually, I do have a reason for calling. After you stopped teaching magic to student Watchers, I know you spent a good many years as liaison between the Watcher’s Council and the Imperial Wizard Council.”

Her throaty chuckle echoed through the line. “Well, I don’t know if I would call them good years, but yes, I was liaison. What’s this all about? You’ve not become involved with the wizards, have you? Quentin won’t be pleased, boundaries exceeded and all that rot.”

He skated around the question. “What can you tell me about them? I’m mainly interested in the Chaplaines.” He could hear the clink of crystal as Gillian poured a post prandial brandy as clearly as if he were sitting across the desk in her book lined study. It was amazing the advances in technology. Suddenly tired, he wondered how long it would be until he could retire from the field. Not while Buffy still needed him at any rate. Gillian’s voice through the line snapped him back to the present.

“The Chaplaines, eh? The wizards play it close to the vest, but in my capacity I spent a fair amount of time around them, especially the Imperial Wizard. In my estimation, Roger Chaplaine is a good leader and tactician, impeccable credentials, from one of the oldest families. Widowed when his daughter was about eight, he was left to raise his only child alone. Utterly devoted to her, he groomed Margot to take over the reins. The mother had some sort of hereditary illness, became bedridden and finally succumbed.”

“What’s your take on his abilities?”

Giles could hear her taking a sip of brandy. He realized she was trying to decide how much she could actually tell him.

“I was allowed to participate in one of their inner sanctum rituals once. One of the Council’s inner circle died quite suddenly and the preparations couldn’t be stopped. As the only other person trained in the field at the time I was chosen as a temporary replacement.

We were attempting to close a huge time vortex that had opened in Barcelona and the power required was immense. Chaplaine acted in his capacity as Imperial Wizard and everything we could muster was channeled through him. It was incredibly draining; afterwards I was unable to do the most elementary spell for nearly two weeks.

Roger focused all that power and closed the rift. It was the most amazing and humbling thing I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. Roger Chaplaine is the most accomplished wizard I’ve ever known.”

“What do you know about the daughter?”

“Margot is a beautiful young woman, brilliant in her own right, passionate, protective of her own, headstrong with a quick temper, rash upon occasion. In my youth we would have called her fiery. Quite a handful when young, but grown into her own now.”

“I understand she was widowed.”

Gillian’s voice softened. “Margot Chaplaine and John Carter were a perfect love match. Childhood playmates raised together among the closed society of upper crust wizard families, they came to love each other madly.

As sometimes is the case, opposite temperaments attracted. Where Margot was rash, John was analytical. Margot quick to anger; John calm and easy going. He was good for her, Rupert, helped settle her, made her a better woman and helped hone her potential.

He was also being groomed for the inner circle, possibly at her right hand. His natural abilities were nearly as strong as hers. His sudden death left behind an enormous hole to fill on the Council and a completely devastated woman with two young children, one still in nappies. I don’t believe Margot ever got over John’s death and I hesitate to say that she ever really will.”

“What happened to him? Was he ill, too?”

“No, John was in excellent health. Because of his temperament, Roger asked him to be a mediator between two demon clans warring over territory. Normally this would have been a Watcher’s Council matter, but we were in a dither at the time. All within the same week we lost our Slayer to vampires, our Potential died in a freak car accident and an unexpected Hellmouth opened. We were all sixes and sevens and the Wizard Council stepped into the breach at our request. It should have been a walk in the park as these things go. John was sent to the summit and disappeared. They found his body two days later. He had been killed in a most gruesome fashion. Quite obviously a power play, it was never proven which demon clan did the deed, but it drove a wedge between the wizards and the watchers still in effect today.”

Giles murmured. “So that’s what caused the rift. What happened after Carter’s murder?”

“Although grief stricken himself, Champlaine tried to control the fallout, but his Council voted unanimously to never again become involved in anything except their own specific area of expertise. They became isolationists. Margot passionately led the charge against her father, campaigning tirelessly against anymore involvement with us. It caused a huge rift between them.

I returned to London at this point; there was no need for a liaison any longer. Later I heard through the grapevine Margot reconciled with her father and had been put up as Successor.”

“Thank you Gillian for both your prodigious memory and your candor. This has been most enlightening.”

“Rupert, I’d like to leave you with one piece of advice.” He could hear the hint of warning. “I don’t know what you’re involved in, but it would not be prudent to cross the Council or the Chaplaines. There are no stronger wizards in the entire world.”

I don’t know what I’m involved in either. After promising to phone the elderly educator again soon, Giles hung up. Taking a sip of his now-tepid tea he pondered everything Gillian had revealed about Margot.

Given her history it was no surprise she had seized the opportunity to deal a serious blow to the demon community. Giles now understood that for Margot Chaplaine, revenge was the name of today’s dish and she was serving it icy cold.


******


The Gashi Chieftain wiped his mouth with the linen napkin and bared his serrated teeth in the parody of a contented smile. “Luncheon was excellent.” He gazed at the man cowering before him in front of the finely set trestle table. “My complements to the Chef. Provided you cook this well every time, human, you’ll be allowed to continue in my service.”

He nodded to the Clan soldier holding the end of the Chef’s chain. “Take him back to the kitchen and chain him again.” As the soldier pulled the man toward the door, the Chieftain called, “For dinner I would like a cheese soufflé with braised Portobello mushrooms and steak béarnaise, not too heavy on the sauce.”

He turned and waved a furred brown arm at another soldier hovering in the room. “Kill the wine steward- that was a most appalling vintage.” The soldier nodded and turned away. “Afterward bring some port to my office.”

The Chieftain pushed away from the table, stood up and held out a paw to his mate. She rose gracefully, tail twitching lightly. The couple, arm in arm, strolled toward their personal quarters. It was their custom to nap after lunch.

The Chieftain escorted his mate to their den. “I’ll return a bit later, Sweetling, I have some work to do.” He held the door for her until she silently passed through and then closed it. Continuing down the hall, he turned into a roomy study lined with books and sat down in his leather chair behind a large mahogany desk. A light knock on the door preceded a soldier bearing a crystal decanter and glass.

“Tell tonight’s Raid Leader that I will require another wine steward and yet another lady’s maid. The last did not please my mate.” He shrugged his enormous shoulders and spoke conspiratorially, “Females, what can you do? If they’re not happy, we’re not happy.”

Taking a sip of Port, the Chieftain began rummaging through his desk. Completing his search, he pulled out a small, antique book. He hated Grimoires, having no use for anything he could not subdue with teeth, claws or cunning, but this particular book held a newfound interest.

He had spent several hours searching for its location, having misplaced it after removal from a conquest years before. Now that he was about to embark on a partnership with the Imperial Council, he wanted to see if anything within the book could enlighten him on their peculiar ways. He prided himself on understanding any enemy as completely as possible, thus allowing him to always remain one step ahead. This philosophy had enabled him to rise and remain Chieftain within the Gashi Clan.

Unfortunately he couldn’t read any of it and recent raids hadn’t uncovered anyone else who could read the obscure language either. He leafed through it for a few minutes staring at the incomprehensible words and willing them into either Gashi or English.
Growing increasingly frustrated, he closed the book and dropped it back in the drawer.

He just needed to remain patient. Each nightly raid brought the possibility of acquiring an interpreter. Then he would discover the secret to controlling and using the wizards. Feeling confident of his prowess in the art of leadership, he went off to find his mate. Giving her the news that she was to have another new maid offered the hope that she would have sex with him several times this afternoon. If she refused he would be afforded the additional pleasure of beating her until she acquiesced.

*****


The delivery boy scanned the hall of the apartment building. After only a few days working lunchtime deliveries in Sunnydale, he had already learned to check stops carefully. Balancing the pizza box, he used his free hand to knock.

When a woman opened the door, he smiled and tried to hand over the box. Instead of reaching for it, she motioned him forward. Warily, he looked behind her, but couldn’t see anything or anyone. Stepping closer to the apartment’s entrance, he placed the box over the threshold and into her waiting hands. “Here you go ma’am, one large deluxe. That’ll be fifteen even.”

Holding a twenty between her thumb and forefinger, she waved it gently.

He reached across the threshold again and took the money. The door closed abruptly.

The words “Thanks. Enjoy the pizza” died on his lips. Shrugging, he headed for the exit.

Buffy waited a few seconds for the delivery boy to start down the stairs before slipping away from the alcove and over to the apartment door. Stepping close, she pressed her ear to the door. No dice. The heavy oak door muffled any sound inside.

Disappointed, she wished she’d waited to do this until tonight. She could have used Spike. The vampire would’ve been able to give her complete intelligence on everything going on in there. He’d know whether the woman she’d seen was demonic and even how many other people or demons were hiding in the apartment. If she’d decided it was necessary, the vamp would have helped take them down, too. He reveled in a good fight.

Stepping back from the door, Buffy blinked. She hadn’t realized until this moment how much she’d begun to depend on Spike. It felt as if things had changed between them. Somehow he just didn’t seem too evil or even really annoying any more. What in the world is going on?

A little voice inside her head played devil’s advocate. Remember Tara invited the vampire to her party. She must have noticed something going on with Spike. Maybe he was changing long before now and you just hadn’t given him any opportunity to show you.

Putting the demons in the apartment out of her mind for a moment, Buffy focused on the last couple of days. Almost dazed she walked over and sat on the stairs, trying to get a handle on the confused thoughts swirling around in her head. She thought back to the things she’d noticed but had been too busy to really digest.

First had been Spike agreeing to chauffeur her to that initial meeting and continuing to drive her all around Sunnydale although she knew he had very limited money for gas. You never asked Giles to pay him gas money either, even though it was official Slayer business. Grimacing at the voice, she continued her mental list.

He’d offered to help find the wizard for Joyce’s sake, not for money. Joyce liked Spike and Spike had a soft spot for Buffy’s mom, so that rang true. Giles had never offered to pay him and Buffy knew the Imperial Wizard wasn’t compensating him. In fact, she wasn’t sure the wizard was even aware the vampire was helping. Spike didn’t seem to care whether or not anyone knew either, so he definitely wasn’t doing it for the accolades.

Next was Spike’s kindness and affection toward Kyle. Spike had made a conscious effort in the car to make the boy feel better. Then later the declaration from his own lips that they needed to find Margot for the child’s sake.

Several times during the last couple days, Spike had proven that he was ready and willing to fight at her side. He would certainly never expect her to hold back, in fact the vampire would laugh uproariously at the very idea of the Slayer not going all out.

Last night in the car when she’d asked for his opinions about Margot, Spike had tried to help her by opening up and offering his thoughts and impressions of both the wizard and the demons. Then you ran to Giles and shut him out.

He’d even voiced concerns over how Margot’s crazy plot would affect everyone involved. Okay, he’d given her a loophole for her phone conversation with Kyle, but hello, that didn’t necessarily make him evil. You willingly grabbed the out and ran all the way to the phone with it.

Okay, it was true. The real deal. For whatever reasons, Spike had obviously changed, and maybe she’d done a bit of changing, too. With the result that during the past few days she and the chipped vamp had forged a bond.

With complete clarity, Buffy realized that Spike had become someone she could call a good friend. Huh.

Still pondering this perplexing epiphany, Buffy stood up. She’d spent enough time sitting around on the analyst couch. Time was getting away from her. Moving back to the apartment’s door, she concentrated on returning to Slayer mode.

No matter what the end result of all this thinking was, besides making her head hurt, she was solo now. She needed to get into that apartment. Raising her hand to finally knock on the door and mean business, she heard someone else climbing the stairs.

Drat. Grumbling that the stupid hall was busier than the Sunnydale train station, Buffy slipped back into the shadowed alcove again.





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