Trade Off
Quentin shuffled his notes haphazardly as he stumbled clumsily through the halls of the Headquarters of the Council of Watchers. The halls he had known as home his entire life.
He passed familiar faces of instructors and acquaintances, nodding politely as he walked by. He had no true friends. He had peers and work mates, but no one he would call a friend. All but the Head of the Council, Mr. Edward Crane. It was he whom Quentin was on his way to see.
He made his way through the halls past the faces of slayers gone by, then Watchers, and soon found himself at the Head's door. The secretary outside gave Quentin a nod, before motioning him to go in. He carefully straightened his jacket before entering.
"Mr. Crane, sir?" he said to the chair turned with its back to him, then shut the door behind himself.
The chair slowly turned around revealing an older man, thin, but obviously tall. His moustache and beard were full and neatly kept. Unlike most of the men and women that walked this hidden world beneath the streets of London, he had perfect vision and required no spectacles. "Please, come in." The man of power within these walls held out a hand indicating one of the simple wood chairs facing the desk.
"Thank you, sir." Quentin ran his fingers through his brown hair nervously as he approached the seats and settled into the one on the left. He took in the familiar surroundings of the nearly empty office, save the desk, chair and a large painting on the wall behind the desk.
Edward sat up in his seat and laced his fingers while he leaned on the desk. "Tell me, son, what have you discovered of our Slayer and her vampire?"
Quentin opened the folder that contained that which he was prepared to share. "Well, it seems she has pushed him away, but he still intervenes on occasion. They leave the battles separately, and I have yet to see any way arranged meetings could be accomplished."
The thin man nodded at his apprentice's news. "And the humans the vampire keeps company with?"
Quentin turned past some of his notes then settled on a new page. "Yes. Mr. Michael Cravats. He still keeps. In fact, makes a point to visit the pub he and his.." there was a notable pause, "His wife run."
"I see." Mr. Crane settled back into his chair. "These mixings are why our Slayer's morals were compromised in the first place."
Quentin nodded. "Yes, sir."
"They should know their place," The Head continued. "How many centuries have we tried to keep a relationship with the less dangerous? We focus on vampires, demon sciences and biology, castings, prophecy." He looked at the young man sitting across from him hanging on his every word. "And, Quentin, we depend on our children to follow our teachings."
Young Mr. Travers sat up straight in his seat. "Yes, sir. I understand."
Edward clapped his hands once and sat back up. "Good, my boy. Now report any new findings to Mr. Emerson. He needs to be kept apprised of his charge's progress away from her deviant ways." He sighed. "With any luck, we will not have to kill her until her sixth year."
Quentin nodded and stood. "I will be going out again this evening."
"So soon?"
Quentin closed his folder carefully. "Yes, the upcoming apocalypse may provide more information on what the vampire is willing to do. She will be preparing soon."
The Head nodded. "Very well. Be sure to report any new findings."
"Of course, Sir." Quentin exited the office he hoped would someday be his with a new enthusiasm. Of course he had left out the information on the new arrivals, but until he had something to report it would be a waste of time to share.
~~`~~
Tara flipped through the papers, making sure she had everything she would need, then looked at Michelle. "You're positive?"
"Of course. Mr. Giles thought it would be best."
Willow sat at the table with Dawn, Michelle and Tara. The redhead spoke on the phone quickly. "Yes, I understand it is very short notice, but it was all very sudden. All of her paperwork and records are in order, though, and she is anxious to begin soon." There was a pause.
"I can't believe you WANT to do this. I mean, you do know it's not like The Council. Right?" Dawn tried to explain to the newcomer, hoping to save her from the blinding torture.
"Yes, Ms. Maclay will be bringing her down this morning." Willow nodded happily. "Really?! Great. Thank you." Willow pressed the off button on the cordless. "Ok, you're all set. Just go to the office, and let Tara fill out the guardian stuff."
Willow turned to a paper in Michelle's official school records and handed it to Tara. Only slightly forged to hide where she'd truly been educated previously. "Make sure you give them this, too. It's the paperwork transferring her guardianship to us while she's here."
Dawn picked up the paper. "Giles really set you up to stick around, didn't he?"
Michelle shrugged. "I am the Slayer. This is the Hellmouth."
"True," Dawn agreed. "But when Buffy gets back, you may have to work out a patrolling schedule. She's kinda territorial. I remember this blue sweater I borrowed once. There was just one little stain and she went completely bal-"
"Dawn," Willow interrupted. Dawn turned her head abruptly. "School?" The redhead reminded her.
"Sorry." Dawn took one last bite of her cereal and the two young ladies cleared the table.
Tara gathered the paperwork and placed it in her satchel. "I'll meet you before Post Modern Art, ok?" she asked Willow.
"Ok." She smiled and gave Tara a quick kiss before the three ladies walked out, Dawn still trying to warn Michelle of all the horrors of high school.
Willow stifled a giggle and picked up a few books she'd wanted to take over to the magic shop with her. Some more research was needed.
The night before, she'd asked Giles to see if he could find more on Samantha, and what Buffy and Spike might be there to change, or what the crystal would have been used for then.
He was worried about the blonde pair but confident. Willow was familiar with his attitude on Buffy. If something needed to be done, she would find a way to get it done.
The question was, what was IT? And when was IT?
~~`~~
The air turned thicker as they went down the steps in single file, Mrs. Walsh leading with Sam, Buffy and Spike following. Soon the steps stopped, and a large basement filled their vision.
Buffy turned her head as she scanned the rooms that made up the lowest level of the building. "What is all this?" she asked when her vision revealed desks, chairs, bookcases, couches, dressers, beds and knick-knacks of every shape and size. There were chandeliers and boxes like the one at her home that held the good silver her mom had cherished. There were several chests, like the one she kept her weapons in, and other items throughout.
Mrs. Walsh walked down the main hall that the rooms opened up to. "These are the treasures my ladies saved."
"Your ladies?" Spike asked as he eyed the rooms as well.
"Well, not all of them are ladies. I opened up to the elder men as well, but this is where they store what their rooms cannot. Things they scavenged from their homes after the bombing."
Buffy kept walking, listening while Mrs. Walsh explained that after her husband died, she took over this property and was in the process of converting it all into a women's dorm.
Then the Blitz came and drastic measures had to be taken. Many of the would-be apartments began filling with refugees that lost their homes, families and husbands.
The people worked together, helping to convert each apartment into a useable space. "It's why many of the apartments have very little indoor plumbing," Mrs. Walsh finished.
"The pump?" Buffy asked.
"Yes. Ms. Samantha was quite kind in taking the one room we have yet to fit with proper facilities." Mrs. Walsh beamed and came to the only door other than the exit in the basement. She opened it and all four of them felt a cool breeze filter by. "Well, come on in. It's not the chill of death you feel. It's only the cellar."
Sam smiled back at the couple before going in with her parcels. Spike and Buffy walked in as well, and Mrs. Walsh closed the door behind her when she passed into the room.
Buffy scanned the shelves, stocked much better than the pantry on the upper level. Spike took note of the meat, vegetables and grains all stored low in the ground in the hopes it would not be tainted by age or warmth before it could all be used. Nothing could be wasted.
Sam set her packages on the ground and waited for Buffy and Spike to do the same. "We need to make some care packages," she tried to explain.
Buffy and Spike weren't sure what was going on. After all, Sam had just rearranged her packages upstairs, but they did as she did, and watched Mr. Walsh walk to the other side of the room and pull open some cloth bags. "First on our list is Mrs. Hallstead. That baby of hers is due any day. No time for her to miss meals to feed the others in that brood of hers."
Sam laughed lightly and went to the shelves picking out carrots and lettuce along with small bags of grains. "I also found some cloth for diapers and some baby clothes," Sam stated proudly.
Mrs. Walsh held the bag. "Well set them in here then, dear. No baby in England will go with out clothing." She smiled at the blondes who simply watched from the ground as the experienced ladies prepared a care package. "Not if we have anything to say about it," she winked.
Some time passed and, before either the Slayer or the former vampire knew it, they had more than a dozen packages for local residents in need.
Sam gathered up four of the cloth bags. "You asked what you could do." She looked at Buffy.
Buffy nodded.
"Well this is part of it. Mrs. Walsh and I do this nearly every day, and she lets me stay here rent free."
"These old bones don't get around so well anymore," the plump woman explained. "Samantha also has the ability, it seems, to get whatever it is we are in need of." Her eyes popped open. "Which reminds me, I nearly forgot." She turned and pushed some of the baskets and bags used to carry the packages aside to reveal two large jars filled with what looked like blood. "These are for your young man."
Sam's eyes flew open, and she began to shake just slightly. She knew the couple behind her knew that she and Ashton had something, a connection, and that he was a vampire. They had all but said so that morning while she feigned sleep, but somewhere inside, she knew it should be hidden. All of it.
She quickly reached out. "Thank you. I'll be sure he gets it."
Mrs. Walsh seemed not to notice Sam's sudden discomfort. "I don't understand why you don't bring him around more often. He's so polite."
"He's been very busy." Sam tried to brush the subject off. "We need to get going. My friends here need to get some information tonight."
"Oh, of course." Mrs. Walsh picked up another bag and gathered items off the shelves. "I understand, dear. Business must be done. It's almost time to prepare the evening's meal. When my girls finish at the factory, I would swear they put any man to shame when it comes to appetite."
Sam grinned. "We'll be back tomorrow. Have a good evening." She led Spike and Buffy back out of the door.
"And good luck to you," the old woman called after them then turned to her selection of meats. Not much to choose from, but enough to make something tasty.
~~`~~
The bell overhead rang as Richard and Christian came through the door of the magic shop. Each took quick appraisal of the items surrounding them. Christian was the first to descend the steps.
"This is amazing," he proclaimed while walking to a shelf filled with tiny crystals, statues and small bottles of herbs. "To have all of this at hand, it must be very convenient."
Anya watched Christian from the loft as he fingered the items. "Well, this is a magic shop. It's most beneficial to keep a large quantity of the more frequently used items." She backed down the ladder. "In most cases, the crystals are used as paper weights."
"Paper weights?" Richard followed his friend to the shelf.
Anya nodded and came to the two gentlemen. "I once heard Giles used an Orb of Thessulla for the very same thing."
Both boys looked at her, unbelieving.
"Well, ask Xander. I think he and Willow… maybe Buffy, too, were there. It had to do with Angel and his soul."
"Oh yes, I do recall that in lessons," Richard agreed. "A Gypsy woman died trying to restore Angelus's soul."
Anya shook her head. "No. She translated the spell, but she never got to try it. Willow did it." Anya looked past them, trying to remember what she'd been told. "But Buffy had to send him to Hell anyway. Not at all a fun place to visit, let me tell you."
Christian frowned at the thought. Angelus was a terror, but Angel, he had learned, was one of the good guys.
Richard looked from the ex-demon to the crystals. "Tell me, do you have a crystal like the one used by the vampires to entrap Buffy and Spike?"
Anya nodded and walked back to the counter with Richard and Christian following. "We decided to keep the supplies that might mimic the crystal, but out of the average Joe's reach." She disappeared behind the counter while she looked for the hidden treasures. "Unfortunately, I don't think we'll be able to use them ourselves."
She came back up with one of the small box containing the supplies in her hand.
"But this would act as the type used?" Christian asked and took the container from her, studying its content.
"That's right," Anya confirmed.
Richard removed his glasses and began chewing on the end of one of the rounded wires that held onto his ears. "It's perplexing. Why would the vampires intend to go back and have no way to return?"
Anya shrugged. "They're immortal. Maybe they thought they'd just wait till it was now again."
The bell rang on the door and they all turned to see Willow come in. "Hey guys. Did you get nice rooms?" she asked and walked to the research table.
"They are quite suitable," Richard said and walked over to her. "Why are you here so early? I was lead to understand you had classes. University?"
Willow opened her pack and began setting up her laptop, books and notes. "I do, but my first class isn't until this afternoon."
"They were just asking about the crystal," Anya supplied.
"Oh." Willow smiled. "Good, because I'm going to need all the help I can get."
Christian pulled out a chair. "That is why we are here."
Richard joined them, and soon all three were researching while Anya attended to the random customers that walked in.
~~`~~
Sam knocked on the door again. "Mr. Raymond? It's Samantha." She turned to the impatient blondes standing behind her on the stoop. "He's a bit paranoid. It usually takes him at least five tries before he-"
The door swung open. "Samantha. I was afraid it wouldn't be you this time."
Sam smiled and walked in when the door was opened wide. "It is. And I brought some fellow agents to help us today."
The old man with a very bald head and wire frames outlining his eyes looked Buffy and Spike over carefully. "If Sam says you're safe, then you are welcome in my home," he said, not so convincingly.
The house was scantly furnished. One wall was obviously rebuilt. It lacked the paint and care taken to decorate the home. Several shelves were empty and only two chairs were available in the sitting room. Much of the other walls were scorched, revealing the supports under the plaster.
"Mrs. Raymond is out just now. I'm sure she'll be upset having missed your visit again." Mr. Raymond shuffled into the sitting room. "Why don't you ladies take a seat while the young man and I gather refreshments?" He motioned towards the chairs that, at some point had been beautiful, but were now ratty and torn from some unnamed disaster.
Spike looked to Sam, who nodded.
"Right then," He smiled at the elderly man and set down the two bags left from their rounds to the locals. "Be right back." And he followed Mr. Raymond into the kitchen.
He watched as the old man set up a silver tea service and filled the kettle with water. He then set squares of bread along the edge. "It's difficult now, isn't it?"
Spike tipped his head at the man trying to follow an etiquette taught him long ago. "S'pose it is."
The old man backed away from the silver. "Would you mind? In my state, I do believe the tea would find its way to my floor before it made it to the young ladies."
Spike smiled and stepped up, taking the service in hand before walking back out to the sitting room, where Buffy and Sam waited.
Buffy had just found out where the carpets came from. The floors were lined with them.
"So, Samantha, what have you brought us today?" he asked while Sam took one of the water filled tea cups.
Buffy leaned down and opened up the bag she knew was for this home and began pulling out bottled dyes along with thick thread and yarns.
After they'd taken a carpet in trade, they said their goodbyes to the old man. "And, Miss Samantha?"
She turned halfway down the stoop behind Spike and Buffy to see the old man smile. "We will miss you."
Sam nodded politely. "Thank you. The feeling is quite mutual."
Sam took the last few steps and joined her visitors. "That's the last one for tonight."
Spike looked at the bag holding two jars of blood. "So it's off to see Ashton now then?"
Sam nodded. "And maybe get a few questions answered." She looked over her shoulder. "For all of us."
Buffy gave her a curious look while she walked beside her down the dark streets of London. "All of us?"
Sam smiled then frowned. "Yes. I still have a problem of my own to solve."
Buffy nodded knowingly. "I understand."
"If anyone would, it would be you. And I still have no idea how to prevent it." Sam pulled her jacket around her more tightly. "If I can't, then we are all doomed, war or not."
Both Buffy and Spike exchanged a look before the blonde Slayer asked. "What are you talking about?"
Sam stopped walking and turned to both of them. "The talisman." The looks on their face told her. "You have no idea what I'm talking about?"
They shook their heads.
"I thought… My watcher had me study the battles fought by other slayers, and you seemed to know us." She was lost. "Tomar? You have heard of Tomar?"
Spike's eyes widened. "Shit."
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I did intend to have this up last night, but then I decided to test a free aniviral scanner that bogged up my server so badly I was unable to get browser to load properly. So I was doomed to clean out all the bits causing that problem. Lukily all worked out and here I am. That said, enjoy.
Chapter End Notes:
I kinda like messing with young Q. He's gonna be on the outside looking in on and off throughout.