As the elevator slowly crept towards their destination, Buffy couldn’t help but feel antsy. She’d never had any trouble facing the Council head on, but it had always been on her turf. Things were different now; she was going to meet them in their own headquarters, halfway across the world from Sunnydale. She tried to keep her mind occupied by scanning the elevator; there wasn’t much to see, however--it was just a plain, albeit very old, elevator.

The doors opened at the 8th floor, and all four passengers walked out. They found themselves in a small room containing only two chairs (Spike thanked the powers that be that they were made of metal--just a small reassurance) and one door. Amelia asked them to take a seat and made her way to the door that led to the Council. What happened next surprised both vampire and Slayer.

As the Council representative faced the door, a small square of wall, about five feet from the floor, slid to the side to reveal an electronic pad. Amelia placed her hand on it for digital recognition, and then keyed in a pass code. A clicking sound was heard, and she opened the door. She stood aside, letting the driver by, and faced the two stunned blondes. “Just a small security measure--the Council has yet to reach the 21st century. Please take a seat. Someone will be by shortly to greet you.” She smiled warmly at them. “Truly, it’s been a pleasure to meet you both.” With that, she walked through the door and only two were left in the little room.

A short while later, Buffy sat on the edge of one of the chairs and watched the vampire pace. “Spike, sit down. You’re making me dizzy--all you’re doing is walking around in circles.”

Stopping in front of the other chair, he growled. “Yeah, well you can hardly blame me, can you? A master vampire in Council headquarters? Not really normal, is it? I can’t help but shake the feeling that this is some kind of lark--the minute I walk in there, they’ll stake me, or do tests on me or something.”

Buffy had to laugh at his remark. “Yeah, like there’s anyone out there that would go around kidnapping demons just to study what makes them tick... You’ve been watching too much X-Files, Spike.”

Just as he was about to argue back, the vampire spied a small TV screen up in one of the corners. There must have been a camera, somewhere, filming them. Speechless, he gazed in wonder as he caught sight of himself for the first time in years. Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, he began to preen in front of the small screen. “Slayer, why don’t you ever tell me how good I look in this coat?”

Frowning, Buffy turned around to see what he was talking about. “Huh? Spike, what are you...” When she saw what he was doing, she couldn’t help but smirk. “When was the last time you saw yourself?”

Examining his hair, the blonde vamp paused. “’Bout 10 years ago, I suppose. Caught sight of myself on the telly--news story about some kid dying at a heavy metal concert.” He took his eyes off the TV long enough to turn around and face her. “And before you come to certain conclusions, he jumped off a balcony and landed on his head. I had nothing to do with it.”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy was about to respond when the door opened and a woman stepped into the room. About twice Amelia’s age, and not half as pleasant, the woman fit the Council bill to a tee.

“Mr. Travers is ready to meet with you.” The woman handed them each an ID card. “Please pin these to the outside of your clothing, and make sure it is visible at all times. Anyone without a visible card will be... escorted out.” She pursed her lips to relay the full meaning of what she said. She turned around began to walk away.

Spike watched Buffy pin the ID to her blazer and scoffed. “No bleedin’ way I’m pinning anything to this coat. They can threaten to ‘escort’ me all they want...” ID held in hand, he slipped in line behind the two women.

***

As they were led through corridors, both Slayer and master vampire tried to take in as much as they could. Amelia had been correct when she’d said that the Council had a ways to go before it joined the 21st century. Heck, they still had to get to the 20th...

When they reached a large room brimming with wall-to-wall bookcases, the woman stopped and turned to the two ‘guests’. “Wait here. I’ll let Mr. Travers know you’ve arrived.” She turned away from them, paused in her step, and faced them again. In a voice one tends to reserve for small children she warned them. “And I don’t need to tell you not to touch anything.” With that, she walked away.

Snorting, Spike was first to break the silence. “Hmph... Bossy chit i’nt she? I liked the first bird better...” He walked to one of the tables and scanned the books piled on it. “Treatise on the Breeding Habits of Minor Demons... Anatomy of Faeries... Vampires and their Thrall... Ooh--now there’s some titillating night-time reading.” He sat down on a leather chair, kicked his feet up onto the table, and proceeded to flip through the book.

“Spike! What part of ’don’t touch anything’ don’t you understand?” Buffy was looking around, expecting alarms to go off at any moment.

“Oh please. What are they going to do--stake me for reading a book? Anyway this thing’s a bloody joke. ’How to fight the thrall’ . Figures the wankers would think that they can learn how to fight a thrall.” He threw the book back onto the table, and rocked back on the chair. “If a vamp decides to do his mojo on you, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Taking a seat beside the peroxide vamp, Buffy picked up Anatomy of Faeries and examined the binding. Why don‘t they make books this pretty anymore? Looking back up at her companion, she retorted. “Oh, and I bet you have a thrall, Mr. Master Vampire?”

“No, as a matter of fact I do not have a thrall. That’s for ponces, like Dracula. Females are always better at thralls, anyway. Real harpies, you lot are. Dru has a thrall--you might want to ask ol’ Rupes about that one, some day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What, the harpy bit? ‘S the truth--you lure some poor, unsuspecting man to fall in love with you. He gives you over 100 years of faithfulness and devotion, taking care of you because you’re off your rocker, and you go off snogging some phlegmy Chaos demon, not caring anymore...”

“Somehow I don’t think we’re talking about generic examples, here. No--I didn’t mean the whole woman-bashing bit. I meant the ‘ask ol’ Rupes’ bit.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and gave him a pointed look.

Spike flipped his hand in the air, as if he was swatting a fly. “Oh that. Not much to it, really. Back when Angelus took the watcher in for his personal style of fun and games, Dru did a bit of a thrall on him--pretended she was his girl.”

His girl? Oh God, Jenny... “You asshole! How can you talk about it like you’re discussing the weather? Angelus tortured Giles, and murdered Jenny, and you’re sitting around like... like...”

Pulling his feet off the table, the vampire sat up straight and pulled Buffy’s chair until she was knee to knee with him. He leaned in looked her straight in the eye. “Yeah, and if I recall properly, this asshole was the one to discourage Angelus from testing out his new chainsaw on your watcher, so you might want to lay off with the guilt trip.” He got up and kicked his chair out of the way. “Where the hell is that old bat, anyway? I’m getting hungry...”

“That old bat,” replied a deadpan voice, “Is right behind you.” Both blondes turned to find the older council member glaring at them. “Mr. Travers is ready to meet with you, if it’s not too much of a bother.”

Since there wasn’t a safe response to the woman’s ‘invitation’, Spike and Buffy stood up and followed her out of the room.

She led them into a large conference room, detailed with dark paneling and a large oak table surrounded by leather chairs. As they seated themselves, the door located at the other end of the room opened, and in walked Quentin Travers.

***

The head of the Council of Watchers approached his two ‘guests’. Never having seen him before, Spike sized the man up. Although not big in stature, he was nonetheless imposing; Travers had an air about him that spoke of authority. He had short, greying hair that was beginning to thin on top. His gaze was calculating and his posture rigid. The suit he wore cost a pretty penny, and Spike was sure that the tie was silk-- he’d seen enough of it during his stay in China to be able to tell the difference.

The watcher turned his eyes to Buffy. “Nice to meet you again, Ms. Summers.” He didn’t acknowledge Spike’s presence, which, although insulting, suited the vampire just fine. “I didn’t think we’d have the opportunity to meet again, although under the circumstances, you’ll forgive me for wishing we wouldn’t have reason to.”

The smile the Slayer returned didn’t meet her eyes, which remained cold. “Well, Travers, I can assure you the feeling’s not mutual, aside from the wishing I wouldn’t have to be here.”

All pretence left the older man’s features and his face-hardened to match the young woman’s. When he turned his gaze to Spike, the latter couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. He couldn’t quite read the human, and began to have doubts as to whether or not he was the only soulless one in the room.

“Well, William, I finally get to meet the problem child of the line of Aurelius.”

Fidgeting in his seat, partially restraining his anger, mostly uneasy with the authority of this man, Spike returned the steely gaze. “Yeah, well, pleasure’s all yours, Watcher.”

Playing on the vampire’s obvious discomfort, Travers egged him on. “Please explain one thing, William. What makes a master vampire, former scourge of Europe, side with the Slayer of vampires? I’m curious to know why you accepted our offer--is it because you’ve nothing better to do? Or is it because your beloved sire’s flitted to the nearest available demon, and you’re looking for a suitable mate?”

Spike’s body became rigid, every muscle tense under the watcher’s taunting. His eyes had changed from clear blue to deep amber--his demon was fighting to be released, and seemed to be getting the upper hand.

Buffy had never seen Spike fight so hard to exercise control over his demon. She was on edge, and wondered what she’d do if the demon did get out. Would she fight the vampire to save Travers, or would she let the watcher get his just desserts? Evil undead or not, Spike had just been majorly dissed and had every right to be pissed off. Her attention was brought back to the situation at hand by the sound of the master vampire’s barely controlled voice.

“Listen here, Watcher, I have my own reasons for joining your little tosser brigade and I don’t see how I have to...”

Not waiting for the vampire’s answer, Travers cut him off. “It seems to run in the family, this tendency to join us white hats, doesn’t it, William? Are you following in the footsteps of Angelus, perhaps? A bit of soul envy?”

Before either Buffy or Travers had time to register what was happening, Spike leapt and had the watcher pressed up against the table. Demon at the forefront, the vampire’s face was just inches above the older man’s. “That, old man, was the last time you’ll ever taunt me. I hope you have a high tolerance for pain...” The demon smiled as he leaned in and grazed his fangs over the man’s neck.

“Spike!” Buffy jumped up and grabbed the vamp by his collar, pulling him off his victim. Tossing him in the nearest seat, she gave him a ‘move and be staked’ look before returning her attention to the watcher. The fact that the man was hyperventilating was sign enough that he was alive, if not too well.

Pointing her finger at the vampire, she let her Slayer take over. “You--put your fangs away and stay put.” Then she turned her attention to Travers. “And you--I would have guessed that the head of the Council of Watchers would have more common sense than to piss off a master vampire in the presence of an ex-Slayer who doesn’t give two shits about you.”

Addressing Travers, who had managed to crawl back into his chair, she decided to take control. “Look, you called us here to help you with a prophecy. We’ve both accepted your offer, for whatever reasons that aren’t important for you to find out, but the deal won’t hold if you keep treating us like crap.” Pulling herself onto the tabletop, she kept a wary eye on Spike, whose eyes still gleamed yellow. “Now be a good little Watcher and tell us about this prophecy. We need to know the who, when and where; Giles has already filled us in on the what and why, so don’t waste our time with those.”

Author's Note: Hello again! I hope you're still enjoying this. I'm going to try my best to remember to update on Thursday, but it's Canada day, so who knows if I'll even be at home (Happy B-day Canada!!). Worst case scenario, the update will be on Friday. Thanks to all who are generous enough to review--please keep doing so :)