Sunnydale? You’re Welcome To It!

Title: Sunnydale? You’re Welcome To It!

Series: Postcards From the Edge of the Hellmouth Part One.

Author: Ligeia.

Feedback welcome on ligeia@telstra.com

Member of The BtVS Writers' Guild: Because fan fiction makes anything possible http://btvswritersguild.dymphna.net

Summary: Giles receives his first Watcher assignment and decides to take a former colleague along but is she everything she seems? Or something else entirely?

Episode tie-in: None. Takes place between the time Buffy is discovered by Merrick and her arrival in Sunnydale.

Featured Characters: Giles, Darla, Luke, a glimpse of Angel and just a hint of Buffy.

Rating: Some violence. We are dealing with vampires here, after all!

Distribution: Anywhere. I like to share! Just email me the address.

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui, Sandollar, David Greenwalt Productions, 20th Century Fox and whoever else may have a hold upon them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights. Julia Devereaux is my creation.

Author’s Note: Julia Devereaux is a character I have created to interact with the wonderful folk of the Jossverse. She is part-Watcher, part- (well, something else! You’ll have to guess.)

*****

Postcards From the Edge of the Hellmouth Part One: Sunnydale? You’re Welcome To It!

Part One: Relics.

The small pottery tablet felt rough and grainy under her fingertips as she traced the ancient Sumerian characters imprinted in the red clay. Julia Devereaux removed the magnifying glasses she’d been peering through, brushing her long black hair back with one well-manicured hand. She marvelled at the tiny script pressed into the palm-sized tablet she held in her other hand. Nine similar tablets nestled in cotton-wool lined archive boxes beside her on the desk top, some showing signs of having been broken or chipped. It never ceased to excite her, handling an artefact crafted thousands of years ago, trying to fathom the mind and culture that produced it.

She had spent most of the day hunched over a work table in the Archaeology Department of the British Museum comparing the script on each of the clay tablets to a written translation made several decades ago. Dr Douglas Reed, Chief of Archaeology at the museum, sat at a table nearby, his close-cropped greying head bent low as he catalogued potsherds and blue-green faience beads from a new dig at Tel El Amarna.

Dr Reed had been the professor of ancient history when Julia had studied at Oxford but had returned to his beloved field work many years ago, not finding academic life wholly to his liking. While he had endless patience sifting through scraps from a Roman refuse heap and worked with infinite delicacy in restoring ancient artefacts, he had been gruff and intolerant with his students. Not that this had ever bothered Julia. She had been in awe of his vast knowledge of ancient languages while he had developed a fondness for the one student who never seemed fazed by his abrasiveness. Even so, Julia was surprised and delighted to receive an invitation from him to view the set of ten clay tablets known as the ‘Plague Prayers’, which, in light of some more recent discoveries, had been taken out of storage recently for a re-examination of the original translation.

The ten small blocks each detailed a prayer, thought to have been recited by Moses, exhorting God’s intervention in the release of the Israelites from servitude under Rameses the Great by visiting the ten plagues upon Egypt. Turning her deep green eyes towards Dr Russell, Julia spoke. ‘The syntax in the translation is wrong. Here, at the start of each of the prayers.’

Dr Reed put down the jeweller’s eye-piece he’d been using to scan broken pottery scraps for designs or writing that might assist in identifying the Egyptian court official from whose badly damaged tomb the jar had been recovered. He walked over to the cluttered desk where Julia sat holding the tablet under the bright glare of a desk lamp, the original translation attached to a document holder beside her. He leaned over her shoulder to view the tablet, rubbing his deeply lined pale blue eyes with slightly dusty hands.

‘Yes,’ agreed Russell. ‘The first lines of the original translation say “We call on you by name, spirit of the God Yahweh, to smite our enemy”. My own studies would indicate a closer approximation of the text should read, “We call on you, spirits, in the name of the God Yahweh, to smite our enemy”. The pronoun “you” in this case signifying the plural rather than singular form of address.’

Julia sat back in the office chair, looking at Dr Russell steadily. ‘So it’s not so much a prayer as an invocation? That’s odd isn’t it, Doug,’ she frowned slightly, ‘considering the Israelites didn’t approve of commerce with lesser spirits? How did they come to have the Sumerian tablets in the first place? And what prompted you to review the translation now?’

He stepped over to a small cabinet in the far corner of the office. Opening a drawer, he removed another, slightly larger tablet, apparently made by the same artisan.

‘This was recently discovered not far from the site where the first ten tablets were found,’ he said, handing the new tablet to Julia to examine. ‘It contains a “summoning” spell to call the demons and bind them to the adept’s will. We know that some of the nomadic Israelites tribes had passed through Sumer and Canaan before moving on to Egypt. The tablets may have been carried by generations of one of the High Priest’s families. Israelites weren’t always monotheistic, you know, so it’s not all that startling to find this sort of artefact. No doubt they considered the spells too potent to use. Until they were desperate, that is. As for the re-translation, it was obvious the new tablet was from the same source so a re-examination of the others was in order.’

‘This new translation’s going to upset the theologians isn’t it?’

The old archaeologist looked at her sharply. ‘It could cause a religious crisis by striking at the fundamental beliefs of both Christianity and Judaism if it were known that Moses called for help, not directly from God Himself, but from demons called forth in His Name to do Man’s bidding. That concept strikes at the very heart of two of the world’s most influential religions. This information could prove to be the powder-keg that sets off another cycle of Holy Wars.’

Julia thought this possibility rather remote, adding wryly ‘Or possibly only prove of minor interest to a few cloistered academics?’

Dr Russell began to bluster. ‘It’s no joking matter, Julia. Because of the implications this new translation will probably never see the light of day.’ He continued quietly. ‘The tablets will be removed to a storage area soon and the new findings won’t be published.’

From past experience Julia knew this was a distinct possibility. *It must rankle the old man to have his work go unrecognised,* she thought. *No wonder he’s so snappish!*

Julia rose to leave, brushing a little red dust from the cuff of her white silk shirt, then took her coat from the rack near the door. She turned to shake hands with her old mentor, taking his desert-brown hand in hers. ‘Thank you again, Doug, for allowing me access to this incredible find. I hope to see a copy of the full translation once it’s completed,’ adding wearily ‘before it’s once again lost to the world.’

She felt a familiar sense of melancholy when faced with the paradox caused by discoveries such as these - wonder and awe at the knowledge and courage of those ancient adepts who dared to wield vast powers which were only barely understood today and then only by a very few who closely guarded the secrets against the awful prospect of such power falling into the hands of the greedy and unscrupulous. Still, there were organisations in the modern world that worked behind the scenes to ensure this didn’t happen. Until recently, she’d been a member of one of them.

*****

Julia walked quickly down the corridor leading from the staff workrooms and took the West stairs down to the public galleries. She walked quickly past the Egyptian and Ancient Near East exhibition spaces and the Reading Room to the front counter where she handed in her visitor’s pass, then out the doors to the main entrance and through the huge ionic columns, putting on her dark sunglasses as she ran lightly down the wide steps and out into the asphalt courtyard. The Museum’s entrance way was crowded with visitors. The day was sunny and warm, great weather for locals and tourists alike who were out in droves. Julia stepped quickly through the crowd, heading for the Underground to take her home to her flat in Holland Park.

‘Julia, wait!’ A voice called to her from the mass of people around her. She stopped short, looking around for the person who had hailed her. Suddenly, a flushed but familiar face appeared from the throng.

‘Rupert Giles! I don’t believe it!’ She smiled broadly, holding her arms out to him as he trotted towards her, holding his glasses up with one hand. The kissed warmly but chastely, as old friends do, her hand lingering momentarily on his upper arm as they stepped apart. ‘How long has it been?’

‘Oh, about two years I should think,’ he trailed off, looking a little uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve last spoken’, he continued. ‘I really shouldn’t have let the time get away.’

‘It’s all right Rupert. The situation has been difficult for us both, but I’m really pleased to see you. You’re looking well. Very, ah, “bookish”!’ She beamed him another bright smile and he looked relieved. They locked arms and continued walking, more sedately this time, across the courtyard. ‘What brings you here today? More research? Something new and exciting perhaps?’ She paused, inclining her head a little to look up at him. ‘Maybe I should just let you get a word or two in?’

Giles avoided a direct responding to her chatty inquiry by suggesting a cup of tea at the Museum’s Court Cafe. Taking a seat, Julia draped her coat over the back of the chair and set her small Fendi handbag on the table top. The waiter came forward to take their orders. ‘Still English Breakfast with a slice of lemon for you, Rupert?’ He nodded assent while fumbling with his own coat. ‘And I’ll have a pot of orange pekoe, please.’ The waiter thanked her and moved off to fill the order. Julia looked across the small table at Giles, suspecting his visit to the museum was for the same reason as her own. He’d finished fiddling about and finally took his seat. ‘So, Rupert, what are you doing here today? Paying a visit to Dr Reed, too?’

Giles paused, then answered. ‘I understand Dr Reed has almost completed the new translations?’

‘Yes,’ replied Julia. ‘I assume the Watcher’s Council will take possession of the tablets once that’s done.’

‘I expect so. Most of the traditional plagues really aren’t that much of a threat today,’ he paused while the waiter set the tea pots, milk, sugar and lemon slices in front of them, then continued. ‘After all, with modern medicines and pesticides, a plague of flies or boils is hardly likely to bring a country to its knees. Compared to twentieth century bio-terrorism or the atom bomb, plagues just aren’t that big a deal, so to speak. However, the prayer for summoning the “Death of the Firstborn” is far too powerful and destructive to allow any potential terrorist access to the real spell.’

‘So the Antiquities Committee of the Council of Watchers will remove the items to the archive - the high security facility under the Vatican I assume?’

‘Yes. The original tablets will be replaced by copies with a few minor alterations to the text that will render the spells ineffective. With Dr Reed’s authentication it may be decades or even generations before anyone else feels the need to examine the tablets again.’

Julia considered this. ‘I guess it’s all for the best but it offends my scientific side to have counterfeit artefacts in the museum’s collection.’ She paused, and laughed. ‘On the other hand, I remember the chaos we managed to cause all those years ago at Oxford when we experimented with the spells from that rubbing of the Assyrian stele that one of the students brought back from his trip to southern Turkey. We summoned hundreds of those awful ten-legged spider things and had to run around stomping on them because the insect spray wouldn’t kill them! What a mess! They turned up all over campus for weeks later! Thank goodness they couldn’t breed in this dimension. The Dean was furious enough as it was!’

Giles smiled a little at the memory of the two of them hopping about his lounge room while the creatures, looking like giant ‘daddy long-legs’ bolted for the cracks in the windows and under the door. ‘We were pretty naive in those days,’ he said, adding sombrely ‘I guess we’ve both had a few hard lessons since then.’ Changing the subject, he asked ‘What are you doing with yourself these days? I’d heard you were working for some research group, “Psychics Anonymous”, isn’t it?’ Giles couldn’t keep a hint of distain from his voice; he considered these ‘amateur’ occult societies little better than unscientific enthusiasts, on a par with bird-watchers or train spotters.

‘I’m sure you know quite well that I’m doing investigations for the Centre for Metaphysical Research’, Julia replied. ‘It’s a privately funded group and quite legitimate.’

‘Still,’ continued Giles ‘I wish you hadn’t decided to throw over your career with the Council of Watchers over a disagreement.’

‘You make it sound like a whim. It was hardly as trivial as that, Rupert.’ Julia looked down at the tiny vase of yellow rosebuds on their table, not wanting to meet his gaze. Looking up again, she continued ‘Besides, I thought you looked on Council affiliation as a vocation, not merely a career.’

‘To some of us it is,’ Giles said, his blue eyes steadily regarding his former colleague, friend and occasional lover. ‘I never expected you to feel the same way I do, but are you really happy “Ghost-busting”?’

‘There’s more to it than that, Rupert,’ she began, but Giles cut in.

‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten. You also organise crack-pot conventions and publish the newsletter.’

‘Get stuffed, Giles,’ Julia answered gaily, but Giles’s comments really stung. She knew her talents were wasted with the CMR but she refused to rise to the bait. She looked at him over her tea cup, sat back in her chair and said, ‘You know, Rupert, you never really answered me when I asked you why you were here today. You aren’t here to see Dr Reed at all, are you? Are you still doing research for the Watcher’s Council?’

‘Well,’ Giles began, ‘actually, I’m just about to go on active assignment. Overseas. It should prove, as yoid eid earlier, quite exciting.’ He smiled thinly.

‘I see.’ Julia was suddenly suspicious. ‘And the reason you’re here at the museum today?’

Giles paused, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose - a ploy to avoid looking his companion in the eye. Julia recognised the gesture of old; Giles was about to make a statement and wasn’t sure how it would be received.

‘Actually, meeting you here today wasn’t entirely, ah, serendipitous. I knew you had an appointment with Dr Reed. In fact, I asked him to arrange iHe pHe paused again. ‘I needed to speak with you.’

‘Why didn’t you just call me at home?’ Julia responded. ‘I’m sure the Council knows where I am. They keep tabs on all their ex-operatives don’t they?’

‘I wasn’t sure you’d agree to see me.’

‘This is Council business then?’ She glared coldly at Rupert.

‘Yes.’

Julia rose quickly, fishing a five pound note out of her bag, she tossed it onto the table and grabbed up her coat. ‘It was nice seeing you again, Rupert. Thanks for the tea.’ She stormed out of the cafe and off into the crowd as Giles blustered at the table, crumpling two more pound notes onto the table and almost knocking over his chair as he tore his own coat from the backrest. He hurried off across the courtyard towards Julia’s fast-disappearing figure in time to see her turning right into Great Russell Street.

He finally managed to catch up with her at the kerb of Bloomsbury Street, part of a knot of people waiting to cross at the traffic lights. Giles was puffing as he pulled up beside her. The lights changed and she quickly stepped forward with the surge of other pedestrians without acknowledging him. Giles hurried after her again, starting to get angry now. He caught up with her in the middle of two lanes of busy traffic. Catching her by the shirt sleeve he said sharply ‘Can’t you put aside your pride long enough to listen to what I have to say?’

Julia stopped dead in the middle of the road, the rest of the crowd flowing past. Giles was caught by surprise and bumped into her. ‘My pride?’ she fumed as she turned to face him. ‘How dare you say that to me, Giles!’ The traffic started up again but she stood her ground. Giles looked around uncomfortably as cars, black taxi cabs and a double-decker bus hummed past, some tooting angrily. He grabbed her arm, harder this time, dragging her the rest of the way across the road and onto the footpath.

She turned towards hgaingain, angrily tearing her arm from his grip. ‘Don’t you know what I’ve been through in the last few years? After what happened in Venice, I swore I’d have nothing more to do with the Council.’

Momentarily taken aback Giles replied, ‘I know something about what happened, of course. But you can’t give up doing what you love because of that!’

‘The Council killed someone I cared about!’ she said angrily. ‘Surely you don’t expect me just to forget that!’ She was shaking,rtinrting to feel ill. All the horror of that moment in the hallway of the Doge’s Palace in Venice came flooding back.

Giles was at a loss for what to say. He had thought at the time that there was a lot more to the incident than the Council’s agent, Kyle MacHeath, had reported but Julia had resigned and never submitted a final report of her own. He said quietly, ‘He was a vampire. The Council’s purpose is to kill vampires.’ Even Giles didn’t seem convinced by this argument.

‘Lorenzo was my friend!’ Passers-by were staring at them now. She continued a little more quietly. ‘He never hurt anyone. His death was a assassination ordered by a Venetian politician who wanted to hide his own involvement with the local vampire sect. That’s why they sent in a Council operative instead of a Slayer. Slayers aren’t cold-blooded killers, which is more than I can say for the Council member who organised the murder.’

Giles was dismayed by this piece of information. ‘I’ll admit I wasn’t aware of everything that happened in Venice,’ he said. ’I knew something went very wrong, obviously. After all, it was the talk of the Watchers’ Committee for weeks; how you broke MacHeath’s nose and resigned from the Council. I’d hoped for months afterwards that you’d contact me, maybe talk over what happened, but you’d disappeared.’

‘I went to Paris to see my parents. But I’ve been back in London for over a year and a half, Rupert, and you haven’t bothero cao call me.’

Giles looked crest-fallen. ‘I don’t really have an excuse for that, Julia. I … well, I suppose I thought you might not want any contact with the Watchers for a while.’

Julia smiled again at last. ‘And I guess I couldn’t face you either, Giles,’ she said gently. Although, now she wished she had. *It would have helped to have someone I could trust to talk it over with at the time,* she thought. *Might have saved me some heartache*. Although she had sought emotional refuge with her family, she could hardly begin to explain to them what her real work entailed.

The street was becoming increasingly congested as people vacated the surrounding buildings at the end of the working day. ‘Let’s go some place where we can talk privately,’ Giles suggested. ‘My flat is just a few blocks from here.’ They walked together in silence, each concerned with their own thoughts. Julia’s centred on her determination not to re-join the Watchers, while Giles considered how his new insight on the ‘Venice Incident’, as he thought of it, would affect his ability to convince her otherwise.

*****

Giles’s flat was situated above a small, old-fashioned-looking book store in New Oxford Street called ‘The Hierophant’ which specialised in occult and rare volumes. *How surprising*, thought Julia wryly. Entry was through a door beside the store at street level then up two flights of stairs to Giles’s landing. Taking out his keys, he opened the door and gestured for Julia to precede him into the unexpectedly spacious interior.

‘Have a seat,’ Giles said, indicating a much-used sofa near the fireplace. Julia tossed her coat over the back and her handbag onto one of the sagging seats. Giles settled in a worn leather wing chair opposite then quickly jumped up again. ‘May I offer you another drink?’

‘Do you have anything stronger than tea,’ asked Julia, having an idea she’d need it. She kicked off her shoes and curled her long legs up under her.

‘I have Dimples’ said Giles ingenuously.

‘So I seem to recall,’ she replied, making Giles blush, adding with a smile ‘Thanks, Rupert, that’ll be fine.’

Giles unscrewed the bottle cap, pouring a generous measure of the amber liquid into each of two cut-glass tumblers. He handed one to Julia who took it and started to sip the pale whisky, savouring the mellow, peaty flavoured Scotch. She had calmed down quite considerably on the walk to the flat. She knew Giles wasn’t responsible for what had happened previously and that he was trying to be sympathetic. Even so, she had real concerns about re-establishing any kind of contact with the Watchers Council.

Giles took his seat once more in the cracked leather chair. ‘Are your parents still in Paris? I saw an article about your father in the medical section of “Science Review” a few months ago.’

The Devereaux’s were often in the news, either because of her father’s multinational drug company which was currently being lauded in the press for its efforts to provide cheaper medicines to third-world countries or for her mother’s involvement on her many charity committees. Even her brother, Jonathan, was becoming well known as a successful architect both in England and overseas.

While they were a devoted and loving family, Julia’s passion for the unknown had never been understood by her wealthy parents. They had tolerated her interest in the occult throughout her teenage years, putting it down to an adolescent phase, but could not come to terms with the fact that it had turned into a full time occupation. Of course Julia could not discuss with them the real scope and activities of the Council of Watchers when she had been an agent of that organisation. She was even less able to explain why she now spent her time setting up infra-red photographic equipment and electromagnetic field generators in draughty old houses or trudged around soggy wheat fields taking samples from the insides of crop circles. More and more she felt like the black sheep, alienated from family and old friends by an obsession she couldn’t explain.

‘Yes. It looks like Dad might make Time’s Man of the Year this year,’ Julia said. James Devereaux’s company, DevCo Medical, had committed to provide AIDS medications to several African countries at cost over the next decade. ‘Mum’s working with the Red Cross raising funds for humanitarian aid for the Romanian orphans and Jonathan’s in Saudi Arabia working on a huge government contract.’

‘Do you see much of them these days?’ Giles asked.

Julia sighed. ‘No, not really. It gets more and more difficult every time I visit. I hardly even bother to phone any more. I can’t stand the sound of the concern in my mother’s voice.’

Giles looked down into the remains of his drink. ‘What about your brother? You two were always close as I recall.’

‘Jonathan accepts what I do but doesn’t really understand it. It’s just too hard to explain. Sometimes when I try to talk to him about it his eyes start to glaze over and I know I’ve gone too far.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I feel like we live in two separate worlds.’ Julia took another sip of the Dimples, concentrating on the warm feeling it created as it went down. ‘It’s not like your family, Rupert. I don’t really have a support system.’

Giles considered this. He came from generations of Watchers; his father and grandmother had both been actively involved with Slayers. Dealing with the occult was a daily part of family life. It was accepted, in fact expected, that at least some members of each generation would follow in the ‘family business’. So far Giles had only been engaged in research, but this was about to change.

‘So,’ Julia continued, ‘this new assignment of yours, what’s it all about?’

‘I’ve been offered an active assignment. In the United States. Of America,’ he added unnecessarily. ‘I’m going to be a Watcher.’

Julia couldn’t suppress a wider smile. Giles always started to speak in quick phrases when he was excited. This was his dream, to continue the family tradition as Watcher for a Vampire Slayer. She dreaded asking the question that next sprang to mind.

‘I’m pleased for you Giles, but what has this to do with me?’

‘I want you to accompany me - assist me with the assignment.’ Giles looked at her expectantly.

Julia considered this for a few moments, her emotions in turmoil but not showing through her calm exterior. All her reactions were distilled into her brief but puzzled response, ‘Why?’

‘I know it’s highly irregular for a Watcher to have an assistant,’ Giles agreed, ‘but this situation is not at all usual.’ He paused to refresh his drink, offering Julia a refill which she declined, before continuing. ‘A new Slayer has been discovered in America and I’ve been assigned to her training.’

‘What do you mean “discovered”?’ interrupted Julia. ‘Who is she, Giles? Which Family is she from?’

‘She’s not from any of the known bloodlines,’ answered Giles.

Julia leaned forward, interested now. ‘But how is that possible? Are you sure the Council isn’t mistaken?’ Julia knew that all Slayers originated from one of the Nine Families. Slayer mythology states that the First Slayer was created in prehistoric times to defend her people from a vicious vampire clan. She had nine daughters, each of whom founded a genetic line which continues to this day from which all of the Chosen Ones are born. Each of the Families, which now spread across six continents, were closely monitored by the Council of Watchers for potential future Vampire Slayers. Every female born to these lines was accounted for; no Slayer in recorded history had sprung from any other source. Until now.

‘Her genealogy is one of the things I’d hoped you’d investigate.’ Giles knew Julia loved a challenge. He hoped this one might pique her curiosity.

‘But why this girl, Giles?’ Julia asked. ‘Why not one of the girls currently being prepared? Last I heard the girl, Kendra, from the Seventh Family was favoured as the next Slayer. What makes this American girl so special? Has she received any preparation or training?’

Giles paused a moment before replying. ‘She was a cheerleader,’ he offered hopefully.

‘Good grief, Rupert!’ Julia exclaimed. ‘You can’t be serious! An unqualified girl with rainraining? Who is she? And how on earth did the Watchers Council find her in the first place?’

‘Her name is Summers.’ Giles rose from his seat to retrieve a bulging manila folder tied with string which he cut with a pair of scissors from the desk drawer in which the folder had been stored. The folder bore the legend ‘B. Summers’ in thick black marker. The contents spilled out onto the coffee table between them. Giles shuffled through various official and unofficial records and reports, typed and hand-written, selecting a single sheet headed ‘Council of Watchers Field Report – Confidential: Access by Authorised Personnel Only’.

‘Here it is - “Buffy Summers”. As to how she was discovered, the Council of Watchers had a ‘tip’ from one of the staff psychics that there was an unknown with slayer potential somewhere in the U.S.A. There was an incident in her home town culminating in a vampire attack at a high school dance during which she dispatched several vampires including an ancient Master vampire named Lothos.’

‘Why wasn’t a Watcher assigned immediately?’ Julia inquired.

‘Someone *was* assigned; it was Merrick,’ Giles hesitated. ‘He’d been searching for this girl on and off for years.’

‘So why isn’t Merrick continuing her training? I know he’s getting on in years,’ she added, ‘but he’s very competent.’

‘Julia,’ Giles said quietly, ‘Merrick’s dead. He was killed by one of the vampires.’

Julia didn’t speak, couldn’t speak; she was stunned by the news. Anton Merrick was the Council member who had recruited her as an agent straight out of university and they had developed a close relationship that had continued right up to her resignation two years ago. He had been like a favourite uncle to her, always kind and supportive, and she was shocked to hear that he was gone. Giles reached for the bottle of Dimples and refilled both their glasses without asking if Julia wanted more. She didn’t decline, swirling the alcohol as she warmed the glass in both hands.

Giles continued, ‘Miss Summers is being transferred from her current school in Hemery, where, incidentally, she managed to burn down the gymnasium during a confrontation with the vampires, to a new school where I intend to take over her instruction.’

‘So, you’re off to America to Watch over a Slayer who has no background you know of, no physical training other than cheerleading for gosh sakes, probably no understanding at all of what it means to be a Slayer,’ she looked at Giles who nodded in confirmation, ‘and has so far partially burned down a school and allowed a vampire to kill her Watcher?’

‘Well, you know me; I love a challenge.’ Giles offered a lame smile. ‘Also, Merrick felt this girl displays qualities that cannot be instilled by instruction alone; instinct, the ability to think for herself, courage … ‘

‘And which of these sterling qualities got Merrick killed, Giles?’ Julia interrupted angrily.

Giles understood her resentment. On top of her other issues with the Council, losing Merrick was quite a blow. He continued leafing through the contents of the file, selecting a handwritten repor the the now-deceased Watcher. ‘ “Buffy Summers shows exceptional natural ability, a talent the like of which we haven’t seen in generations.” These are Merrick’s own words,’ Giles said gently.

‘I still don’t see how I figure in all of this, Giles,’ Julia said, struggling to come to terms with his unexpected offer. ‘Between you and her mother, just what role would you expect me to play in her development?’

‘Mrs Summers has no idea that her daughter is a Slayer, or even what she is capable of.’ Giles continued, ‘Buffy has had no female role model to help prepare her for her destiny.’

‘thisthis just gets better and better!’ Julia couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. *Poor little girl*, she thought, *being thrown into Slaying with no preparation. The Council will take over your life now; or what’s left of it*. Slayers had a very short life expectancy; throughout history few had lived beyond their teens or twenties. ‘How old is this girl now?’ she asked.

‘About sixteen’ Giles replied. He knew there was nothing to be gained by pushing Julia to accept the assignment. If he just let her think it over, Giles felt sure she wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to renew her studies into the nature of vampires and vampirism. This had been a life-long preoccupation for Julia and the reason she had agreed to join the Council of Watchers in the first place.

‘But why me, Giles?’ she insisted. ‘Surely the Council has dozens of female operatives to choose from? And I’ve hardly endeared myself to them over the years. They must be aware I’ve never entirely agreed with their methods, even before the events in Venice.’ Julia was still racked with guilt over the killing of the vampire sect-leader Lorenzo. She suspected that his death was partly attributable to her continued presence in the Venice casino which he and the other vampires occupied. The Council had repeatedly requested her return to England following another assignment which had turned out badly after she had become too intimately involved with a vampire she had been sent to Canada to observe. Instead, she had gone to Venice to investigate a long-established vampire colony she had heard of there. She believed Lorenzo’s murder was, in part, an attempt to bring her back into the fold, a signal that her protracted absence would no longer be tolerated.

‘Well,’ Giles began, ‘you are an expert in the fields of both ancient and modern weaponry and have a black belt in two martial arts disciplines.’

‘Actually,’ Julia broke in, ‘it’s three now. I took up kendo when I came back to England. I find the ceremonial aspect relaxing.’

‘Also’, continued Giles, ‘you have in-depth knowledge of the enemy we will be facing, along with an understanding of the Council’s methods, albeit you don’t necessarily agree with all of them, and of Slayer history and traditions.’

‘I might have knowledge of weapons and hand-to-hand combat training, Giles, but I have no real field experience. All my assignments with the Council were research only,’ Julia responded.

‘I’ve reviewed some of your old field reports, Julia, specifically those from your assignments in Toronto and Venice.’ Giles frowned slightly. ‘Even I can see that a lot more must have occurred than what you chose to include in your reports. I have a feeling you’ve had a lot more, say we say “practical” experience, than what your personnel file might indicate.’

Julia looked down into the ashes of the cold fireplace, vainly seeking some kind of response that would not lead her into revealing events she wasn’t ready to discuss. Giles sensed her discomfort but continued, ‘I feel you may have information which might prove vital to this assignment.’

‘I don’t have any information, Rupert, just theories,’ Julia said resignedly, ‘and the Council is aware of all of them.’ *Unfortunately, they don’t agree or don’t want to consider most of it*, Julia reflected. *Will Giles be any different in the long run?* ‘I just don’t know how much help I’d be to you.’

‘I don’t expect you to be active out in the field,’ Giles suggested. ‘You would be helping me with the Slayer’s physical training regimen, conducting research and generally assisting with Miss Summers’ instruction in what is required of her as the Chosen One.’ s pas paused, hoping for a positive reaction, but Julia still didn’t seem convinced. ‘Julia, I need an assistant I can trust, someone who can think independently. This girl Buffy hasn’t had the benefit of being brought up in the ways of a Slayer. I need someone who can handle that, who is open-minded and adaptable, not some hide-bound Watchers Council bureaucrat.’

Julia was surprised at Giles’s vehemence. He’d never spoken of the Council like that before. ‘It was my independent atde tde that got me into trouble in the first place,’ she reminded him. ‘Up until today I believed I was persona non grata as far as the Council was concerned. Now they’re willing to trust me with their precious Slayer!’

‘Well, actually, no.’ Giles was frowning again. ‘The Council is not especially keen on re-instating you.’

Julia took a deep breath, lost for words. ‘Oh,’ was all she could manage. ‘I see.’ *Well, that puts me in my place!* she thought.

‘I told them I would accept the assignment only if I could choose my own assistant and approach the situation in my own fashion,’ Giles continued. ‘Technically, you will be deemed a consultant, “free-lance” if you will, reporting directly, and only, to me.’

Julia had still not responded. Giles tried another tack. ‘Think of the opportunity this offers you to study vampire activity again first-hand. And on the Council’s payroll.’

‘I don’t need the Council’s money, Rupert, you know that,e sae said at last.

‘I’m aware of that but once you are back on board so to speak, you’ll have all the Council’s vast resources at your disposal. You’ll once again have access to the entire database, written and electronic,’ Giles was certain this approach would have the desired effect. ‘I know you must be eager to regain the library and computer privileges that you had before. Conducting your research alone must be extremely difficult and frustrating. The Committee have authoriseth oth of us to have unrestricted access to *all* areas of the Council’s records, both the written and physical archives.’

This meant not only access to the Watchers own libraries which contained written records dating back to the beginning of recorded history, a comprehensive internet database and all physical sites where records and artefacts were stored, but also included the highest-security archives of the Vatican State and here in London at the Council’s own world headquarters. Such a level of access was unprecedented and wholly unexpected.

‘You certainly know how to exploit my weaknesses don’t you, Rupert?’ Julia said wryly, considering what this might mean to her research, which, as Giles had so accurately pointed out, was almost at a standstill. ‘How long is ass assignment expected to be?’

‘Approximately two years; at least until the new Slayer reaches majority at eighteen years of age,’ Giles replied.

‘And is there anythinge I e I need to know, Rupert?’ The ‘unrestricted access’ offer still puzzled Julia. *There must be something else behind this*, she thought. *This sort of arrangement just isn’t normal; something else must be up.*

‘Well, there is one other factor,’ Giles admitted. ‘It appears that it’s no co-incidence that a Slayer has appeared at this time and place. A new Hellmouth has been reported in California, the same state where Miss Summers currently resides.’

Julia laughed. ‘Saving the best for last, eh, Rupert!’

Giles blinked owlishly behind his glasses then continued. ‘There have been suspect incidents appearing in the local press over several decades describing the sort of occurrences which usually precede full-blown Hellmouth activity. Reports of incidents have escalated alarmingly in the past few years so the Watchers Council have decided to move the Slayer closer to the source. She’ll be starting the new school term in a little town called …’ Giles referred to another page of official correspondence, this one stapled to a sheaf of recent newspaper clippings. ‘Ah, yes, here it is … Sunnydale.’

Julia shook her head disbelievingly. ‘The Hellmouth is in a place called *Sunnydale*?’

‘It seems to be the focal point of activity at this time,’ said Giles dryly, ‘although the actual site of the Hellmouth has yet to be determined.’

‘What sort of events have been reported?’ Julia was sitting forward now, obviously interested.

Giles consulted the news clippings attached to the report he had referred to earlier. ‘Let’s see,’ he said, adjusting his glasses. ‘Multiple unexplained metaphysical occurrences, deaths – especially of young people, sightings of “unnatural” creatures … the usual sort of things, really.’

*Well, that just sounds like a barrel of laughs*, Julia thought.

Giles sorted through the papers on the coffee table, selecting a thick file of clippings, many yellow with age, and handed it to Julia who leafed through the contents as they continued talking. ‘You might like to look these over,’ he said.

‘Considering the girl’s mother is unaware that her daughter is a Slayer, I assume we’d be there under some sort of “cover”,’ Julia speculated, the reference to both of them not going unnoticed by Giles.

‘Precisely,’ he responded. ‘The Council has obtained employment for us at Sunnydale High School. I will be taking up the position of librarian with you as my part-time assistant library technician.’

‘Why part-time?’ Julia asked.

‘To allow you flexible hours. You may need to travel at times in your capacity as researcher. I’ll be in charge of your working hours, so any absences won’t be queried.’ Giles had obviously taken it for granted that she would agree to accompany him to California.

Julia got up from the sofa, placing her empty whisky tumbler on the mahogany butler’s table which held several cut crystal decanters and glasses. She selected a fresh glass, filling it with water from a plain glass lidded jug.

‘I don’t really know much about the Hellmouth phenomenon, Rupert, except that it’s very rare. Have any of the current Council operatives been involved with this sort of thing before?’

‘Not in any practical sense,’ Giles answered. ‘The last recorded incidence of a full-fledged Hellmouth was in England near Exmouth in South Devon around the 1850s. It lasted several years and produced the infamous “Devil’s Footprints” incident. I’m sure you’re familiar with the newspaper reports of the event.’

‘Yes. The Times wrote it up. As I recall, there was a trail of cloven hoof-prints which appeared in deep snow one night. They formed a single bipedal track traversing about a dozen towns and a frozen river. Whatever it was crossed over haystacks and the roofs of buildings, walked over the tops of narrow walls, in and out of enclosed gardens and across open fields and farms for many miles all in the one evening. It even approached doorways, then retreated. People were too terrified to go outside after sunset for weeks in case they met the devil in the dark.’

‘Precisely,’ agreed Giles. ‘It was the final episode in a nine-year wave of mysterious phenomena that included demonic sightings, sea-monsters off the Devon coast and a huge upsurge in poltergeist activity in the immediate area. There hadn’t been another occurrence of that magnitude until now. The current Californian Hellmouth far surpasses any previously recorded activity and seems to have produced related phenomena well outside its geographical centre.’

‘How is that possible?’ asked Julia.

‘The latest theory suggests there may be minor temporary portals created as offshoots of the main confluence,’ Giles confirmed. ‘You’d remember Dr Aubrey, I expect?’ Julia nodded. ‘He’s a Board member of the Council’s Scific fic Committee now. Well, Dr Aubrey postulates that the structure of a hellmouth may be analogous to that of a volcano with the largest “vent” forming the major portal with several smaller portals pushing through the dimensional envelope up to several hundred miles away. These secondary incursions can last just hours or even minutes, others might exist in a relatively stable state for several years.’

‘Have any secondary portals for this Sunnydale hellmouth been confirmed so far?‘ Julia asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Giles. ‘There have been several individual occurrences as well as series of incidents over the past few decades which Dr Aubrey feels are the result of temporary portals, some as far afield as Mexico. The recent Chupacabra sightings are suspected of being caused by a temporary ‘arm’ of this Californian portal.’

‘And Sunnydale is experiencing a wide range of paranormal phenomena, not just vampire activity?’ Julia suggested.

Giles agreed. ‘Yes. Vampires, as you know, are, in a way, a natural part of our world, having existed here since before the evolution of modern Man. The Hellmouth provides a means of access for creatures or metaphysical forces from outside our own dimension.’

‘So we could encounter just about anything?’ Julia said thoughtfully. ‘Monsters, demons and the like, as well as increased para-psychological activity amongst the local human population?’

‘Quite so.’ Giles added, ‘A larger extension of the Hellmouth is expected to break through in the area of Los Angeles sometime soon. The recent vampire activity there may be the precursor. Although, quite frankly, with the level of weird behaviour normally found in that city it has been difficult to determine what has been Hellmouth-related activity and what’s, well, *not*. In any case, that is not our assignment.’ Giles paused, attempting to gauge Julia’s reaction to all of this information. ‘I *can* assume it’s to be *our* assignment, can’t I?’

‘Rupert’, she began. ‘I really need some time to think this over.’ Listening to Giles describe the Hellmouth, Julia experienced the peculiar blood-thumping, stomach-churning thrill she had become familiar with during her time as a Watchers Council operative. Whether this was from fear or excitement she never really knew, but it was something definitely missing from her job with the CMR.

‘To be perfectly blunt, I really don’t know what you have to think over.’ Giles had gotten serious again. ‘The organisation you’re currently working for has no real standing or credibility. You are reduced to spending your spare time on vampire research without benefit of organised backing or resources with no possibility of your work being recognised or used in any practical sense.’

*I don’t need recognition*, she thought, *just answers*. ‘Just how closely has the Council been monitoring my private life?’ Julia was infuriated and a little scared by Giles’s obvious knowledge of her recent activities. She stood up and moved over to the window ledge, leaning forward momentarily to look out into street which was now shrouded in night. She turned back to look at Giles, leaning against the sill, crossing her arms and ankles, tying to suppress the urge to pace around the room.

‘Not the Council, Julia, just me. I’ve had someone looking into your current circumstances,’ Giles admitted. Julia glared at him, very much unimpressed with this revelation. He added hastily, ‘No reports have gone to the Watcher’s Council. I used a private agency.’

‘So you’ve had me followed and you suspect I’ve kept things from the Watchers Council in the past, yet you say you trust me?’ Julia considered just walking away from Giles’s offer. *The last thing I need is to have someone watching my every move*, she thought. In a way it was fortunate that Giles used a private investigator. They would have overlooked certain peculiarities which a Watchers Council agent would have found suspicious. *Maybe I should just tell him the truth. Get it over with.*

‘It’s because I had you investigated that I know I can trust you,’ Giles said quietly. ‘Julia, I’ve known you a long time. We’ve been through a lot together and we didn’t always report everything that happened. If you withheld certain facts from your field reports I’m sure you had good reason to do so.’ If he had expected Julia to offer an explanation, he was disappointed. ‘Nothing you did ever compromised your assignments or put other operatives or the public in danger. If sometimes you took a path not sanctioned by the Council it was because you followed your heart instead of following procedure.’ Julia felt her throat constrict. Her eyes were stinging and she could hear her heartbeat loudly in her ears. If Giles noticed her continuing discomfort, he didn’t say anything. ‘There is no procedure for the situation in Sunnydale. The strength of your convictions may be all you will have to guide you.’

*And where has following my heart ever got me*? Julia wondered. *All I’ve ever loved, I’ve lost. Maybe you trust me, Giles, but can I trust myself?*

Finally, she felt able to speak. ‘Rupert, I need a few days to consider your proposal. When do you need an answer.’

‘I’m sorry, my dear, but there really isn’t any time. I’m leaving for California tomorrow.’ Giles looked at the antique station clock on the wall. It read 1.24 am; they had talked through the evening. ‘Or later today I should say. I have to organise accommodation and set up the operating systems at the school.’ He looked at Julia expectantly. ‘I have to know now if you will be joining me.’

*You bastard!* she thought. *You think I’ll be swept away by the prospect of investigating the Hellmouth and don’t want to give me time to have second thoughts.*

Julia took a deep breath. ‘Well, I guess in that case the answer has to be … yes.’

*****

Before she had left, Giles gave Julia the address of the boarding house in Sunnydale where they were booked in until they had each found themselves more permanent accommodation. He had suggested she join him as soon as possible and they had agreed on a date just over a week from now. He had also handed her a copy of the files on Buffy Summers and the Hellmouth activity along with a copy of Dr Aubrey’s research papers.

Giles pottered around his flat, packing a final few items into his suitcase, checking his passport, itinerary and other documents. He hated using deception to obtain Julia’s co-operation but knew she would find a reason to reject the offer if she had time to reflect on her dislike of the Watchers Council’s methodology. She obviously had fair reason for her resentment. Giles had been unaware of the circumstances surrounding her resignation and hoped he could encourage her to open up to him once they were settled in Sunnydale.

*She looks well*, he thought, *still trim and fighting-fit. A little pale perhaps*. He packed a spare pair of prescription spectacles into his cabin bag. *I guess that goes with the territory*. Not much occult research was conducted outdoors in the sunshine after all.

*****