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Author's Chapter Notes:
Busy Thursday means I only had time to update this today. Beta by Marilyn Rowan.
*Summers residence, the next day*


Buffy was terrified. She’d faced death many times; she’d confronted evil up close and personal, and had stared it down armed with nothing more than a splinter and a knife. Now she had no weapons, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. What had her utterly petrified was the fact that she was sitting in her living room, on her couch, with her mom next to her, holding her hand, and her dad in the armchair, holding her mother’s other hand, while they were all listening to her Watcher explain about the things that go ‘bump’ in the night. Yup! Major wiggins time on aisle 5. Damn it! I was supposed to have more time to prepare for this. Damn Spike and the Master’s bones, and dads who change plans and…aargh! She took a few calming breaths while watching her mother from the corner of her eye.

Joyce looked like she was on the verge of a nervous break-down, while Giles talked away without a care in the world. Hank had made his ex promise that she would wait patiently and listen to what the librarian had to say, and so far she was keeping her promise, despite her obvious disbelief at what was being said.

“And that’s how, thanks to your daughter, we managed to rid the world of the Master.” Giles finished his presentation and finally actually looked at his audience to gauge how Joyce had taken the news—apparently not well.

“You’re crazy! You’ve all gone completely insane!” She was looking at her daughter, former husband, and the school librarian as though they had grown extra heads. “I thought we’d gotten past this idea—” The words died in her throat when Buffy stood and raised her father, armchair and all, from the floor without even breaking a sweat. “That’s impossible.”

“It really isn’t, Joy. I’ve seen these monsters for myself, so trust me; this is real!” Hank was completely calm, having been the one to come up with the idea of showing off Buffy’s strength in the first place. Apparently his hunch was right on the money.

Joyce’s expression changed from appalled horror to stubborn defiance. “Well, she’s going to have to stop doing it—this slaying thing. She’s just a girl, and she has school to focus on. If she still wants to, she can do it on vacations or, better yet, after she finishes college.”

Buffy put her father’s armchair down while her mother talked and took back her seat on the couch, feeling drained all of a sudden by the stress.

“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Summers. Her sacred calling isn’t something one can simply take up whenever it is convenient. The forces of the night do not rest; they don’t respect holidays, and they most certainly don’t wait around for your daughter to be prepared to do her duty before they perform their acts of evil.”

“I don’t care! My daughter is not putting herself in danger for this. It’s not her job—” Joyce’s voice was rising with each word she spoke, her eyes gaining an almost crazed look.

“But that’s exactly it, honey: it is her job.” Hank was being as soothing as he could be, reminding Buffy of when she had gotten the measles and her father had talked her out of using sandpaper to rub all of her skin off. “Just think about it. If Buffy doesn’t prevent one of these creatures from unleashing Hell on Earth, then the world will simply end. We’ll all die, including our daughter. What good would it do for her to die before her life can even start, just because she didn’t do her duty to stop the bad guys from winning?”

“But she’s just a kid.”

“I know. That’s why we have to do everything we can to help her, to make sure she’s the best there ever was.” Hank met his daughter’s eyes and stressed his next point. “That doesn’t mean she should neglect her schoolwork.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and huffed in displeasure. They’d been over this before, her dad insisting that she not only get fighting instructors, but tutors for any and all school subject matter in which she felt she was unprepared. According to him, money was no object when it comes to my baby. In the back of her mind, the Slayer wondered where this man had been for the past several years. Maybe if he’d behaved like he was talking now, and if he hadn’t cheated on her mom with his secretary, then… Best not think such thoughts, though.

“I’m glad we agree on at least one thing, Hank.” Her mom stressed her dad’s name. She chose to keep it as formal as possible among exes, while he was using endearments he hadn’t spoken in years. It was almost sickening for Buffy to witness. Her mom fixed Giles with her best ‘mom look.’ “And what about this Council of yours? What’s it doing to make sure my daughter has everything she needs to be her best possible self?”

“Well, certainly…Yes. That is to say, I am here to oversee and indeed watch over your daughter, providing her with any aid she may require.” Giles was becoming more and more flustered, having mostly avoided dealing with parents throughout his career. “I research, train, acquire weaponry, and develop battle-plans, all in all providing the very best help the Council can offer a Slayer.”

“Do you actually fight any demons?” Joyce’s question was asked almost off-handedly, but both members of the Summers’ family that witnessed it recognized it as the beginning of very bad things for the Watcher.

“I have already mentioned that during the battle with the Master I was present to defend—”

“Do you patrol, though? Do you go out in the middle of the night to keep my daughter company and make sure she comes back alive? Do you personally stake even a tenth of the vampires my daughter apparently does? And what of the other demons? I mean, I would think that some of them would have different characteristics from others. Are you there by her side, telling her exactly what she needs to do to kill whatever it is that needs killing?” Her voice was cold and accusing.

The man in front of Joyce seemed to shrink before her in the chair in which he’d taken a seat after his initial speech. “That is not what a Watcher does—”

“So then, all you do is look in some old books and write away in your diary about what my daughter does, while she puts her life on the line. Is that it?” Giles was apparently too stunned to answer even with a nod at this point.

To make matters even worse for the man, Hank decided to throw in his lot with Joyce. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that, Mr. Giles. I’ve already considered which classes Buffy needs help with, as well as what training courses she could take, but I was wondering exactly how much the Council is willing to pay for my daughter’s services.”

“How much—That is preposterous! Being a Slayer is a sacred duty. I daresay, maybe even the highest calling for the side of good. You cannot even begin to presume—”

“Why can’t he?” Joyce had, by this point, leaned back and crossed her arms, seemingly confident in having Giles on the ropes, and enjoying the tag-team with Hank. “The way I understand economy, if someone provides a service, the side benefitting from it should pay. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but Buffy seems to be providing a unique service, for which the Council—as her employer—should be paying her. Otherwise, this Council of yours is pretty much useless, and I won’t allow them to have any more contact with my daughter.”

Giles’ spluttering was so funny that, watching him, Buffy felt her dread from earlier completely evaporate. “Okay, guys, lay off on the Watcher-man. Why don’t we all just chill, and I’m sure you can talk this all out tomorrow. Or the day after. Or sometime.”

The three adults finally agreed with the Slayer and decided to talk the rest of the details about Buffy’s calling at length at a later date. Until then, Buffy was to patrol for three hours a night, so as to not be sleepy at school. Buffy rolled her eyes at all of them and went to her room to change to a more ‘slayage-appropriate get-up’.

~~~***~~~

*Warehouse District, two and a half hours later*


Buffy was bored out of her mind. The patrol had, so far, turned out a big fat squishy zilch on the demon/vampire front. It felt as though someone had given everyone a night off to do whatever, and not let her know about it. So there she was, the big bad Slayer, all amped up and with no-one to kill. Finally giving up on that area of Sunnydale for the night, she headed for her final stop: Willy’s. If she was unable to find at least a lead on something evil even there, she was going to be very pissed.

~~~***~~~

*Alibi Room, ten minutes later*


The doors banged open, the sound eerily loud in the normally bustling establishment. Buffy strode purposefully to the counter, while taking in the room out of the corner of her eye. It was, in a word, empty. No more than ten demons and humans were spread out around the bar, all of them nursing their drinks and doing everything in their power to look innocent. Surprisingly enough, it was actually working, since Buffy knew most of them to belong to harmless species, probably there only due to the lack of prejudice in clientele, rather than the desire to plot evil schemes. Coming back to Sunnydale really sucks on the slaying front.

“Willy, my favorite low-life, ’dja miss me?”

“Ah, hello, Slayer! Two visits in two days? Maybe I should abide by the laws and forbid people under the legal drinking age from coming in here. Of course, exceptions could be made.” His nervous grin was as insincere as she remembered it.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s the what with the quietness around here, or do I have to threaten you?”

“Why would you think anything was going on? As you can see, I run a respected establishment—”

“Cut the crap, Willy. Tell me where the bad guys are tonight, ’cause I haven’t gotten in a good slay in a couple of days, and I’m getting antsy.” She accompanied her words by grabbing the collar of his shirt and putting just a bit too much strength behind the act for it to be comfortable on his side.

He dropped his voice to a whisper, careful so that none of the other patrons could hear him. “Look, all I know is that something big happened last night, made everyone go a bit more on edge than usual, and today almost everyone was gone. I would maybe look into someone possibly taking on the mantle of Master of the town.”

Buffy felt her blood run cold. This can’t be a coincidence. Damn you, Spike. What the hell are you doing? “What does that take?”

“A little ritual, followed by a couple of days of taking out anybody else that might have a stake to the claim. My guess is that whoever started things up last night is knee-deep in fighting about now, costing me a lot of money in clients.”

Buffy released Willy in disgust. She then turned around and shouted, “Who is the new Master? Tell me now, and you can go on sucking down your beverage of choice. Don’t tell me, and things will get really uncomfortable.” She admitted to herself that what she was doing was pretty lame, but she was this close to losing it.

She stormed out of the place as soon as she heard a whispered ‘Spike’ from one of the demons. She had a vampire to find.

~~~***~~~

*Restfield Cemetery, half an hour later*


Buffy was stomping her way home, since her mom’s rules meant her patrol was over for the night. She couldn’t spend any more time running around town trying to find Spike, and it frustrated her to no end that he was doing something that would make her have to kill him, at the same time managing to keep her from slaying anything else. It’s all the Bleached Menace’s fault! All of a sudden, she felt a slight tingle, the relief it brought making her almost giddy. “Here vampy, vampy, vampy! Innocent victim over here. Full of blood that’s just pumping away, all nice and tasty like.”

Her whispered siren song was rewarded with the appearance of a half-bald, bookish-looking vampire with glasses. Who’s turning these people? Before she could start a verbal sparring match to defuse some of the tension built up inside of her, she was interrupted by her intended target, who had stopped a good twenty feet away.

“Buffy Summers, right?” At her nod, he seemed to be relieved and more anxious at the same time. “My name is Dalton, and I have a message for you from Master Spike.”

“What does the bastard want?” The vampire flinched at the way her eyes seemed to be throwing flames at him while she talked through clenched teeth.

“He wishes to invite you to a meeting on Saturday, at this very place. He also wishes to express his regret for the lack of slaying material, but promises you will be suitably entertained during your rendezvous. Also of note, you are invited to come alone, just as my Master will be on his own. His exact words were: we dance better, just the two of us.” His message delivered, Dalton took advantage of the fact that the Slayer was mulling his words over to make a hasty retreat.

I really hate that smug, no good, low-life, evil, idiotic vampire! Buffy resumed her way home, thinking about what to wear for her and Spike’s meeting.





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