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Maggie Walsh was the picture of arrogance and calm as she stalked through the dank sewer. On either side, she was flanked by a heavily armed commando and as she neared her destination, she drew a cross from her waistband and gripped it firmly in her palm. Nodding at the young man on her right, she watched as he kicked in the doorway that housed a maintenance room. The commando on her left flipped the switch on a large light he had carried with them and Maggie smiled as the vampires that had been sleeping soundly sprang upward in confusion, game faces raging. "Rise and shine," she barked, before stepping inside the room.



"What do you want?" asked the leader, the same burly vampire who had tossed a flaming bottle into the Slayer's house.



Maggie held the cross up and the commandos stepped forward, protecting their boss with laser guns that hummed noisily when they were activated. As the vampires hissed and drew back, she smirked and surveyed the demons. "There were more of you, weren't there?"



"The Slayer and her friends took out several," the large vampire said, trying not to look at the crucifix.



"I see." Walsh stared around the room. "Which one of you would like to tell me how a crippled Slayer and a handful of misfits were able to 'take out' what was once the Council's elite?"



One of the vampires, another large and hulking man, cleared his throat and stepped out of the shadows. "We attacked her again at her place, but her Watcher came in from behind and he had all kinds of weapons. Water guns-"



"Water guns?" Maggie shook her head and glanced upward, chuckling softly. "Tell me ... what exactly were you going to do to the Slayer this time? Kill her? You tried and failed."



"We was sidetracked that first time. After everything you told us, I figured you wouldn't care that we didn't kill her," the leader announced, his voice tinged with a heavy southern drawl. "She's got a vampire stayin' with her now. Spike - William the Bloody - and for some reason, he stopped us from killin' her the first time. We figured he was just wantin' to do her in by his lonesome, but he saved her life and now he's living there. We went back to kill him for being a turncoat to his own kind."



"Hmm, interesting," Maggie replied. "The Slayer, however, is of no concern to us. I've seen to it that she won't heal and we have more pressing matters at hand. A few months ago, before the Slayer was injured, we captured and implanted a Hostile. He escaped. Inside his head is a one of a kind implant that we have been unable to reproduce. He was our first and only test subject and he has the only implant. I want you to find him."



"We don't owe you nothin'," the southern vampire replied. "You sure do seem forgetful. Our debt to you was paid when we done the Slayer in. She's out of commission, just like you was wantin' and there ain't no other one being called to come to the Hellmouth. You're free and clear to run this place yourself." He pointed at the two commandos. "And you've got all them boys running around with fancy gear. You don't need us. Let us be."



Maggie stared at him for several long minutes, until he began to fidget under her scrutiny. When he broke eye contact and looked at the floor, she took a deep breath. "Our deal? Our deal means I own you. I can put in a telephone call to my father right now and let him know that I've found his runaways."



A female vampire stepped into the light and gazed at Maggie. "If your father knew what you had done to that Slayer he'd-"



Clearly startled, Maggie moved quickly to one side and backhanded the woman across the face with the crucifix. "You don't speak to me. The only reason you are still alive is because I know how much you loathe the thing that you've become."



The female pulled her lips back, exposing her white fangs, and smiled. "No, Maggie, I do not loathe the thing I have become. I loathe the only thing I created when I had mortality. You, my daughter."



Maggie turned on her heel and grabbed a briefcase from one of the commandos. Opening it quickly, she yanked out a photograph of the missing Hostile and held it up. "This is Hostile Seventeen. You have three days to locate him and bring him to me. Don't dust him. I want him whole and with as little damage as possible." Thrusting the photo toward the leader, she glanced at her mother once more. "And you, don't tempt me. Having you killed once was easy enough. If you contact my father, he'll be joining you."



The leader watched as Maggie turned on her heel and stormed out of the small room. The two soldiers followed, taking their source of light, and the vampire asked for a candle to be lit. As soon as he was able to see the photo clearly, he smiled. "Well, well. Paybacks are a bitch."



"That's Spike!" one of the vampires shouted, pointing at the photo. "I'll be damed!"



"You already are." Licking his lips in anticipation, the vampire in charge folded the picture and turned to the others. "Walsh has threatened us for the last time. Now we know where Spike is and we know that Walsh don't want that Slayer dead because another one will be called and sent here. After we kill Spike, we're gonna take that Slayer, take off whatever mojo Walsh put on her, and make her one of us. Then we're gonna tell her the whole story about what Maggie done to her and then let her loose."



"Ain't gonna be nothing worse than a vamped out Slayer," one of the vampires replied with a chuckle.



"No. There is something a lot worse than a vamped out Slayer." The female, who had once been very much alive and very proud of her daughter, shook her head. "A Watcher with vast knowledge and a heart as black as night. A Watcher who had it in her head that she should be the Slayer and went about corrupting everything in her path when it wasn't to be so. And she was just here."







Giles read the text in front of him for the third time, and for the third time, he found his mind wandering back to Buffy's face as he had told her the truth about the Council. Certainly, when he had first joined the ranks as a bonafide Watcher, he had questioned the techniques and practices used, but he had accepted it. He had accepted the demons that were paraded back and forth on display, accepted the myriad of young girls who were constantly conditioned on the off chance that their calling came next, and he had accepted that the ways were archaic, but necessary.



When the Slayer before Buffy had perished in a battle with a Draloc demon, there was an eerie hush in the Council headquarters and all of the active Watchers had been called in. They had flown from all over the country, many of them bringing their female charges, and many hoping to be assigned a charge. However, none of the girls was the one. The Chosen One. Merrick, an older man with the ability to read signs, had been called in to locate the girl. He had pinpointed her location to Los Angeles, and for unknown reasons, she had not been made aware of her lineage.



Naturally, the Council had been up in arms. Could it be possible that a girl who had never been trained and never been exposed to demons survive in their world? Merrick seemed to think she could and had set out to find her. Word came back within weeks that his charge had accepted her fate and had slain upward of thirty vampires in just three weeks. In three months, Merrick was dead. The Council blamed the Slayer, blamed her carelessness and her lack of experience.



Discussions were called again, this time to decide if the girl should be killed so that the next in line, someone conditioned, could take her place. Giles had listened intently, hearing nothing but reasons for her to be taken out of commission, and finally, he had raised his hand and spoken clearly. "There seem to be hundreds of reasons that this girl, this child, is a liability, but shouldn't the Council take responsibility for her lack of training? Before you make any rash decisions and end a precious life, please consider what Merrick said to us about her. Her potential, her raw ability, is like nothing he had seen. Surely there is a Watcher who can harness that ability. Think of the possibilities, if she truly is as exceptional as Merrick claimed."



They had put him on the next plane to Sunnydale, California, after a Seer had told them that was where she would be. He was not a fool. He knew exactly why he was sent. Not because of his own track record, but because the Council felt that an untried Watcher and untrained Slayer would surely fail and perish, quite neatly solving the problem without anyone getting their hands dirtied. It had been a struggle from the first moment he clapped eyes on her, the dainty little blonde who seemed to live in a bubble. She was stubborn, willful, and uncooperative, but Giles had continued forward, unwilling to admit that he could see glimpses of himself in her. It wasn't until Angel had given him the Pergamum Codex, and the prophecy it contained, that he'd been forced to confront his feelings. The prophecy foretold Buffy's death and had hit him like a hammer blow, making him realize just how much his Slayer had touched his heart. Other watchers buried their Slayers and moved on, but the thought of losing Buffy was practically unbearable.



The fates must have heard his silent cries, because she followed through with her destiny and died, but through some miracle, she had been resuscitated and had come back to him. If it was at all possible, she came back stronger, even more powerful and the Council had seem pleased when she defeated the Master. Her death, however, had brought about another Slayer, forever altering the balance of things within the Council, and from that moment on, things inside the organization began to spiral out of control. His colleagues on the inside had alerted him early on that there were rumblings about the way he had handled his responsibilities. He allowed her to have friends, allowed her to see a vampire socially, and ultimately had done nothing to stop her from taking that vampire as a lover. His superiors had been less than pleased with that shocking turn of events.



Giles pulled off his glasses as he recalled Kendra's death, Faith's appearance in town, and the eventual testing on Buffy's eighteenth birthday. When it had ended, when he had been fired and she sat at the research table, shaking and covered in her own blood, he had gone to her, not as her Watcher any longer, but as her friend. He had bathed her wounds, hoping that she knew the truth in what Quentin had told him. He did have a father's love for her, and he made no apologies for it.



Now, alone in his apartment, Giles slammed his books shut and stood, pacing the length of his living room. Maggie Walsh had been a thorn in his side for much of his training as a Watcher. He had only seen her a handful of times when they were both very young, and never would have connected the dots between Buffy's psychology professor and his old nemesis. If anything, he'd made certain that Walsh was far removed from his thoughts. She was crazy. And if he recalled correctly, she had been determined to be a Slayer. Even after she was far too old to ever be considered, she had worked with her father, her 'Watcher', and he had placated her by giving her false hope.



When it became apparent that the Council would only offer her a job as a Watcher, she had trained alongside Giles, learning the finer points of the quarterstaff. From the moment that Giles had bested her in a meet, she focused on him, going out of her way to trip him up or put him into situations that were not only deadly, but earned him the ridicule of the others. It wasn't until her mother vanished that Maggie grew solemn and concentrated all of her attention on her father and her schooling. By the time Giles had completed his training, he only saw her in passing, and she seemed to be oblivious to all that was around her.



But now she was in Sunnydale. She could have targeted Buffy in order to get back at him, or, given her mentality, she could have had Buffy attacked because Buffy was everything she never got to be. And since her father was in charge of the Council, he could brush her activities under the rug. Darren Walsh had always been far too doting on Maggie, never allowing her to take responsibility for her own actions.



Moving back across his living room, Giles took a seat at his desk and tried to read the passage in his book for the fourth time. He was about to give up entirely when the phone rang, startling him. "Yes? Hello?



"Giles, it's Angel."



"Oh, Angel, hello." Giles closed his book and sat back in his chair. "Is everything all right in Los Angeles?"



Angel glanced at Wesley, who was holding a cloth to Cordelia's head. The girl was sniffling quietly, hugging herself. "Yes, things are fine here. How are things there?"



Giles shifted uncomfortably. At Willow's insistence, he had never mentioned Buffy's injury to Angel during their many phone calls. Willow felt that a visit from Angel would only serve to upset Buffy, and he had been forced to agree that he felt the same way. However now, with all of the new information and the looming threat of the Council, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for a long story. "I'm afraid not, Angel. It seems that-"



"Is Buffy okay?"



"No, she's not. Not at all. I haven't been forthright with you in our conversations for quite some time."



"I see." Angel turned away from his friends, not willing to let them see the panic on his face. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"



Taking a deep breath, Giles relayed everything that had happened to Buffy, leaving out the details about the Council. He allowed Angel to shout at him and did not argue when Angel said that he would be coming to Sunnydale that night. When he hung up the phone, he stood again, unsure of what to do with himself until nightfall. Moving to his couch, he sat down roughly and leaned his head against the back. His temples throbbed, the tension, worry and exhaustion taking its toll. Shutting his eyes, he told himself he would only doze for a second.



He was asleep before it ever dawned on him that he should alert Buffy that Angel was coming.





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