The Seventh SlayerBy Kantayra
Chapter TenBEEP, BEEP.
Pause. Silence.
BEEP, BEEP.
Buffy groaned in annoyance and snuggled deeper into the side of her mate.
BEEP, BEEP!
Despite all the laws of physics, the beeping managed to sound more and more annoyed every time it sounded.
“Fine,” Buffy grumbled, sitting up and searching the room for her pants.
BEEP, BEEP!
Her communicator screamed in annoyance, pointing her in the right direction.
“Coming, jeez… Keep your shirt on,” she rolled her eyes, reaching over Spike’s nude body to retrieve the small black phone from her back pocket.
“What?!” she demanded, irritated, flicking it on.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for over an hour!” Fletcher’s voice complained. “You are still on assignment, in case you’re forgotten!”
“What?” Buffy retorted sarcastically. “You couldn’t just follow the sound of the crashing furniture?”
She could almost hear Fletcher blush.
“I…I…” he stuttered a bit on the other end, trying to force his mind back on track.
Buffy yawned and then purred slightly when Spike rose up beside her, lightly kissing her shoulder and throat.
“You have to complete your assignment,” Fletcher seemed to have recovered at the other end of the line. “I’ve been trying to inform you that the debriefing’s in fifteen minutes.”
“Tell ‘im you’ve already been ‘debriefed’, luv,” Spike whispered into her free ear with a sultry voice.
Buffy swatted at him playfully and tried to ignore his exploring hands so she could concentrate on getting Fletcher off the phone as soon as possible.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “Fifteen minutes. I’ll be there.”
“And bring Spike with you,” Fletcher said wearily.
“Uh-huh, sure, bye!” Buffy hung up before he could respond and dropped the phone, turning her full attention to her mate’s advances.
“Mmm…” Spike murmured into her shoulder, pushing her back onto the rug.
“ ‘Mmm’ indeed,” Buffy agreed, her hands splaying over the muscles of his chest.
“Missed you so much,” he said, kissing her gently on the lips.
“Not as much as I’ve missed you.” Her hands caught in his hair, and she pulled him down for a deep, passionate kiss.
Their tongues explored, rediscovering territory that they’d had memorized for over fifty years yet never seemed to grow tired of. They finally pulled back, both panting unnecessarily.
Spike lazily licked at the mark where he’d claimed her while Buffy continued to toy with his hair.
“Seriously,” she finally commented, “we’re really going to have to do something about that hair…”
“Don’t like the change, Slayer?” he teased.
Buffy shuttered slightly. “It reminds me of your soulful self,” she confessed.
Spike frowned slightly. “’ll fix it tonight,” he agreed.
“You’d better,” she gave him a wry smile and pulled him down for another kiss…
BEEP, BEEP.
BEEP, BEEP!
“What now?!” Spike yelled into the receiver.
“Ten minutes,” Fletcher informed him briskly. “I’d suggest you two get up and going.”
“Twerp, when I get my hands on—”
His threat was abruptly cut off when Fletcher hung up.
“Can I kill him?” Spike implored Buffy.
She giggled slightly. “No, but you could throw him into the pond again. That was fun to watch…”
He smiled before sighing and dropping the phone.
“We’d better get dressed,” Buffy said gloomily.
He shut his eyes and rested his forehead against hers for a minute before he nodded. “Right then, let’s go an’ get this over with.”
The search for clothes was always a challenging prospect, and Buffy tried to dig one of her boots out from under the couch while Spike searched in vain for his shirt.
“Plant,” Buffy informed him, pointing to a small potted tree.
Spike managed to extricate his garment from the branches and began fastening up the buttons. “You do realize that this is big, right?” he commented off-handedly.
“Most direct attack the Watchers have ever made against us,” Buffy agreed, finally liberating her boot and sitting down to put it on.
“Probably some big action comin’…”
“Probably,” she smiled a bit at his none-too-subtle hints.
He finally sighed in exasperation and caught her roughly by the shoulders. “We’re s’posed to be on vacation,” he informed her sternly. “If we get caught up in this…” he trailed off.
“I know,” she agreed. “I’ve already been working non-stop for almost four months, and I deserve my break.” She nodded mock-seriously.
“Buffy…” he pleaded.
She placed one finger over his lips to silence him. “They need our help,” she insisted.
“If you just keep volunteerin’ for every bleedin’ mission you hear about—” he began.
“This one’s different,” she cut him off, “and you know it. This is my fight.”
“I know,” he said softly, smoothing the hair on her head down to cover up the evidence of their recent activities, “but that doesn’t mean I ‘ave to like it.”
She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Once this is over,” she smiled slyly, “we’ll take a nice, long vacation. Make another round of the world, kill all the nasty things that try to bother us…”
“Promise?” he demanded, looking her sternly in the eyes.
“Promise,” she agreed, and then frowned slightly. “As long as you do something about that hair…”
* * *
“Wow, any more fun around here, and a funeral would break out,” Isabelle joked lightly. “These things always so dour?”
Ajaya frowned. “I’ve never been to one before,” she confessed, “but I think it’s more serious than usual.”
The expressions of those around them certainly seemed to indicate this. Alex and Fletcher sat perfectly still and stared at each other, grim looks on their faces. Monica, Xeris, and Nicolas were all whispering amongst each other, frowns furrowing their brows. Lily wasn’t there; she had been given a sedative to help her rest after the attack. The three old women were also silent for once, leaving Fletcher to look authoritative and official in peace. Buffy and Spike hadn’t arrived.
“They’re sure taking their time,” Isabelle whispered to Ajaya. “Suppose they’re at it again?”
Ajaya blushed slightly and whapped Isabelle lightly on the arm. “I’m sure they’ll be here,” she said. “Although,” she checked her watch, “they are late…”
She trailed off when she heard two familiar voices arguing in the hallway.
“I told you I’d fix it already!” Spike was exclaiming. “Sometimes I think the only reason you claimed me was because of my hair!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Buffy said right back. “To quote a recently dearly departed friend: ‘I find many of your other physical attributes equally pleasing’.”
“Oh, an’ who could ever ‘ve said something like that?” Spike opened the door and rolled his eyes sarcastically.
“Sorry we’re late,” Buffy shoved right past him and quickly took the available seat next to Ajaya.
Spike preferred to lean back against the doorframe. He took out a cigarette and lit up as Fletcher cleared his throat to start.
“We now have magical confirmation that it was the Watchers’ Council indeed that was behind this latest attack,” he turned to Willow.
“We checked the source of the magic that drained Lily,” she said, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. “It led straight back to those bastards. They created the Magic Drinkers.”
“And it would’ve taken a huge effort to create so many,” Aida added. “We’re talking at least a dozen mages.”
“They were after us,” Monica commented thoughtfully. “We had much more to lose from the Magic Drinkers than the Veliks.”
“I’m afraid I have to agree with you,” Fletcher sighed. “The attack on the Veliks was merely a tactic to draw us out.”
“Pretty bold for those wankers,” Spike commented. “Generally they spend all their time, sittin’ around, drinkin’ tea, and talkin’ ‘bout actually doin’ somethin’ like this…”
“They seem to be stepping up to our most recent challenges,” Fletcher agreed. “This attack was not the only one. Three other incidents have been reported by our offices around the world, though none,” he said to the concerned looks around him, “as serious as the attack on us.”
“You think it’s because of the Slayers?” Nicolas asked.
Fletcher nodded wearily. “This is the first time we’ve ever managed to snatch a Slayer right out from her Watcher’s nose,” he gestured to Isabelle. “Usually, they’re terminated before we have the chance. And our success has put the Council in a rather awkward position. We now control three Slayers, four if you count Buffy. The Council itself only has three…”
“An even playing field,” Buffy’s eyes narrowed.
“Actually, I’d say that we have the advantage,” Fletcher corrected her. “Whether or not the Watchers officially classify you as a ‘Slayer’, they have undoubtedly figured you into their calculations.”
“So we’ve really got ‘em running scared this time,” Buffy said with satisfaction. “Good.”
“Unfortunately, it gives them only one option for obvious retaliation,” Fletcher commented.
“Kill us and hope the new Slayers are more to their liking,” Isabelle guessed. “Am I right?”
Fletcher nodded. “Isabelle here managed to capture all her Watcher’s files. I’ve been looking through them, and it appears as if the Council is in serious trouble. They have tightened their security quite a bit recently, and many of the younger Watchers didn’t make the cut, so to speak.”
“They’re weakening,” Buffy said, surprised.
“Which means they’re getting desperate. Their resources are nowhere near what they had back when I was a member.”
“So, if they want to come after us, they have to do it soon,” Monica nodded slowly. “Hence the attack.”
“Then my people were just pawns in their game,” Xeris frowned.
“Typical Watcher tactics, luv,” Monica gave him a sad smile. “All demons are expendable to them.”
“But if they want to kill the Slayers,” Nicolas’ brow furrowed slightly, “then why the Magic Drinkers? Slayers are about the only thing they don’t harm…”
“Well, except me,” Buffy added.
“They had no way of knowing you would be there,” Alex, who had been uncharacteristically quiet all this time, finally spoke up. “The problem is I don’t think we have any way of determining exactly what the Watchers’ goal was in the attack this morning.”
“Kill as many as they can?” Monica suggested.
“Leave the Slayers the only ones left standing, so they can deal with them themselves?” Willow added.
“They didn’t know Buffy would be there,” Alex reminded her. “Or Ajaya.”
“A simple strike then,” Fletcher agreed. “We’ll assume Monica’s guess is correct.”
“Then why focus most of their energy here?” Willow frowned slightly, something seeming a bit off to her.
“Any number of reasons,” Alex shrugged. “Maybe that information we stole…”
“They’d have no way of knowin’ that’s here, either, mate,” Spike pointed out, taking another long drag on his cigarette.
Monica cast him an annoyed glance and pointedly coughed.
He merely smirked at her and kept right on smoking.
Fletcher let out another weary sigh. He seemed to be making a habit out of that lately. “Can we tell anything from the actual attack itself?” he asked.
“I have spoken to Simon and several of my people,” Xeris said somberly. “They say that the creatures drove them into hiding, but then stopped their pursuit. The goal seemed to be to capture, not kill.”
“Same thing happened to us,” Monica agreed. “Xeris and I were practically herded over to Alex and Nicolas. Once we’d locked ourselves into the office, they just kept watch.”
Buffy frowned. “That’s not what happened to us. They were out to get us – kept banging on the door trying to get in.”
Dawn nodded. “We barely managed to teleport out of there,” she agreed. “There were a lot more going after them that the others.”
“We were popular,” Buffy agreed. “Everything wanted to kill us…”
“I’ll look into it,” Fletcher nodded. “Maybe something about the behavior of Magic Drinkers…”
“Or maybe they’re just really bitter about what happened in India,” Buffy shrugged.
“In any case,” Fletcher leaned forward, “I think the general meaning of this attack was clear. We have always opposed the Watchers’ Council, but rarely have we come into conflict before. However, there have now been nearly a dozen incidents over the last few weeks, putting more and more of our people in danger. Like it or not, the Watchers seem to want war…”
* * *
Clifford Fitzpatrick pressed the flashing red button before him, activating the viewscreen at the end of the Council chamber. The six Watchers on either side of him watched the static-y, scrambled image on the other side of the receiver with just as much interest.
“Report,” Fitzpatrick demanded in the clipped, precise tones of his upper class British accent.
“Objective failed,” the voice at the other end said, sounding just as scrambled as the image looked. “They escaped.”
“I see,” Fitzpatrick’s brow furrowed and turned to look at one of the Watchers at the end of the table. “It appears you have failed us twice over, Mr. West,” he commented stonily.
West removed a handkerchief from his pocked and wiped his brow. “I-I assure you, Sir,” he stuttered slightly. “E-Everything will be taken c-care of.”
“It had better.” Fitzpatrick fixed him with a cold stare for a minute before turning back to the screen. “Do they realize our intent?” he inquired.
“Completely in the dark,” his informant said. “The plan can still work.”
“Good,” Fitzpatrick said, “I’m glad to see someone succeeding in their assignments… Tell me, do they even suspect that they have a spy in their midst?”
“Not at all,” the screen replied. “They’ll never know what hit them.”
“Ah, revenge is sweet…” Fitzpatrick muttered to himself.
“I’ve got to go,” the voice on the videophone said. “I could be caught at any minute.”
“By all means, go,” Fitzpatrick gave him a snakelike smile. “And we thank you for your loyalty to the true forces of light…”
With a flicker, the screen was blank.
“I take it your next plan will be more successful,” Fitzpatrick returned his attention to West. “I’d hate to have to remove you from you position…”
“I won’t fail you again,” West insisted nervously. “This time the target won’t stand a chance…”
Continue
Return to Round Winners
Return to Listing