Chapter Text
PART 1
NOW:
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce sat in the conservatory at Holdenby House, drinking his tea and reading the Sunday Times. It was the same thing he did every Sunday morning. It was his routine. Safe, secure and orderly. No fuss, no questions. That was how he liked things. He'd seen enough chaos to last him twenty lifetimes, and now that he was in his fiftieth year, the recently appointed Chairman of the Watcher's Council spent his days at the remote aristocratic house, keeping up correspondance with his colleagues and assuring that the current Slayer conformed to duty and protocol as dictated by the Council.
Outwardly, Wesley was a stereotypical, old-fashioned English gentleman. Well-educated, intelligent, courageous and respected by his fellow Watchers. He had displayed suitable modesty and surprise when the late Travis Hooper named him as succesor to the position of Chairman of the Council, although in all truth he had been expecting it. No-one else could have fulfilled the role. Hooper, and his right hand man, Quentin Travers, had left behind a startling legacy which only Wesley knew the details of, and which only Wesley could keep secure. During the day, these secrets didn't bother him. It was only at night, when everything was quiet, still and dark, that he could not control the places that his mind took him too. Places and times in his past which racked him with guilt, and which had slowly eaten away at him over the past seventeen years. Places and times which, no matter how hard he tried, he could not forget.
* * * * *
THEN:
"There's some cops outside checking out the car," Buffy announced, as she strode into the bar and slid onto the stool to sit opposite Giles. "We're gonna have to ditch it."
"Bloody Hell," Giles said, downing the last of his beer. "That'll be the fifth car we've abandoned in as many weeks."
"Well we can't keep them," Buffy reminded him. "If the cops catch us for grand theft auto the Council will find us. We can't run the risk. Besides, we don't do them any damage, we just borrow them for a couple of days, then give them back."
"Your apparent lack of morals is really starting to disturb me," Giles told her.
"We're on the run for our lives, Giles. Face it - we're outlaws, we're wanted people. Might as well act the part."
Over the past few weeks, Buffy had become harsh and deviant, constantly thinking up ways of conning people out of their money, now that their own supplies had run out. She had also begun to look the part. Dressed now in a leather jacket, black jeans and heavy boots, with her matted hair falling around her still soft features, she seemed to fit in much better in the dirty bars and dingy bed and breakfasts they had been living in than he did.
Yet underneath that rough exterior lurked the real Buffy. The kind, generous, heroic young woman that he was familiar with. Her appearences in public were few and far between and it was really only Giles who was priviledged enough to witness them. She sat now, twisting a stained silver spoon in her hands, her mouth curled into a petulant, bad-girl pout. But her eyes gave away the real story. She stared blankly at the small portion of shiny metal, letting the glimmers and glints fill her eyes; eyes which marked a longing, a sorrow, and most of all a fear and a sense of dread.
"We won't be for much longer," Giles said, reaching across the table to gently hold her hand.
She let it rest there for a moment before quickly snatching it away. "Are you done?" she asked, indicating Giles' empty plate.
Giles nodded. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"
"I'm sure," she said. For some reason, being on the run had diminished what little appetite Buffy had ever had. As a result her jeans hung low on her hips, out of which her bones showed prominently.
She started to stride confidently out of the bar when she was stopped in her tracks by the sound of a brash, cockney voice.
"Y'alright, darlin?" it asked. "She's got nice tits, ain't she?" it said to its companion.
"Excuse me?" Giles said, sliding out of his seat and walking up to confront the men. "What did you just say?"
"Oh, well, I was just wondering whether your little girl there fancied sucking on my length for a bit!" His remark was met with hideous cackling from his companion.
"You'd be wise to take that back," Giles warned.
"Or what?" the man said. "Come on, you little ponce, what ya gonna' do about it?"
Giles grabbed the man by the scruff of his collar and shoved him hard against the counter.
"Hey, hey!" shouted the other one. "Leave off, he was only havin' a bit of fun!" He pulled his hand back, ready to deliver a sharp punch onto Giles' face, but his hand was caught in mid-air by the feline reflexes of a Slayer.
"You make one move on him and they'll need more than a spatula to scrape you off the floor." To emphasise her point, she tightened her grip around his fingers. The whole bar winced collectively at the sound of the knuckles cracking.
"JESUS!" he screamed. "Alright, alright, ALRIGHT!"
Buffy and Giles threw each other a knowing glance and simultaneously dropped their victims. Then they turned sharlpy and sauntered silently out of the bar.
"Get a load of Bonnie and Clyde," one man said, when the couple were out of earshot.
"Thanks for that," Buffy said, as soon as they were outside.
"I could say the same to you. I used to have to deal with yobs like that all the time when I was younger. Ah, who am I kidding, I *was* a yob like that when I was younger!"
Their glances fell on the car they had been using for the past few days. Two policemen were still standing beside it.
"Shall we walk for a bit?" Giles said.
* * * * *
Thirty miles away, the assasin Corrick sat in the dark in his basement, crouched over a mass of green swirls and mists, which were slowly forming into shape.
"Ah," he whispered to himself. "There you are. You thought you'd gotten away from me didn't you? Well, you've escaped me so far, but I'd like to see you get out of this one." He smiled evily, as he gazed at the image of Buffy and Giles that was forming in his misty pool. "I'm going to get inside your mind," he said. "Where you can't escape me."
* * * * *
NOW:
"Sir?"
Wesley looked up into the doorway to where Mrs. Diggins, his housekeeper was standing. She was a middle-aged, unaffecting woman, with a large build and a mop of tight grey curls on her head, who held her employer in high esteem. She had no idea what his job actually entailed. She just knew he was on a council of somesort. It always made her very proud to be able to say she worked for a chairman.
"Yes?" Wesley said. "What is it?"
"I have a messge for you Sir, from some Americans." She swiftly handed him a piece of paper, before turning and hurrying out of the room.
Wesley's eyes quickly scanned over the page and panic set in almost immediately. "Mrs. Diggins!" he called out, careful not to let his voice show any emotion.
"Yes Sir?" she said, poking her head round the door.
"Bring me the telephone, would you?"
"Of course," she said, disappearing quickly.
While she was gone, Wesley read and re-read his message. Willow and Xander! Here! He chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. Once Mrs. Diggins returned with the telephone, he quickly dialled the number he had learnt off by heart many years ago.
"Corrick?" Wesley said, once the other end was answered. "It's Wesley. We have a problem."
* * * * *
THEN:
Buffy couldn't sleep. The east london motel they were staying in was right by the river, and right now she could hear the wind howling outside, and the rain crashing against the thin window panes. She shivered, as she burrowed further under her blanket. In the corner of the room, Giles lay on the floor, sleeping soundly as a baby. How she envied his ability to sleep anywhere, at any time, in any conditions!
She pulled the blanket around her head, blacking out the rest of the room, till all she was aware of were the sounds around her. The crashing of the rain on the river, the sirens from the road below, her own breathing and palpitating heart...the opening of her creaking door.
She peered out from under her covers and looked over to where a tall, dark, sillhoutted figure was standing in the doorway. It took a few moments for her eyes to focus before her brain was able to register that it knew the figure before her.
"Angel?"
"Hey Buffy," he said, moving into the light, so that it illuminated his pale face.
"How did you find me?" she said, climbing out of bed and making her way over to the vampire.
"Did you really think I wouldn't?" he asked, incredulously. "Come on," he said, reaching for her hand. "There isn't much time. The others are all waiting for you," and he began to lead her out of the room.
"What about Giles?" she said, looking over at his sleeping form.
"Don't worry about Giles," Angel said. "I'll come back for him later."
He clasped his hand around hers and pulled her out of the room and down the corridor, to the outside. He opened the heavy black door and sunlight streamed onto her face, as she moved out into the freedom of the day.
Sunlight? Angel!
She spun around to where he had been standing beside her, only to find that she was suddenly alone.
"Where did you go?"
"You know Angel can't be in the light, Buffy. He had to go away."
Buffy looked back out to the road ahead of her, to identify the owner of the voice, and was amazed by the sight that greeted her.
"Willow!" she exclaimed, pulling her friend into a hug. "Xander - you too? And Mom!" She hugged them all tightly, and they returned her sentiments.
"What are you all doing here?" she asked, disbelieving.
"We came to take you home," Joyce said. "Come on. We have to hurry."
She lead her daughter away from the motel, over the road and into a huge field, lush and green as far as the eye could see.
"Up there," Joyce said, pointing to a hill that suddenly appeared before Buffy. "Come on," she told her, climbing confidently.
"Shouldn't we wait for Giles?" Buffy asked.
"His turn will come," Xander said. "You come home with us now."
Casting a last glance back at the motel, still shrouded in darkness, Buffy followed her mother and friends to the top of the hill. When she stood at the peak, she struggled to balance, as she gazed down over the view that greeted her. The ripples of water from the ocean that flowed beneath her feet obscured her vision for a moment, but as she became accustomed to the interference, she was able to make out the town that moved beneath her. The sunlight bounced off the water, blinding her for a moment, as she took in the image of the place she had thought she would never see again.
"Home."
"Come on!" Xander yelled, as he ran towards the egde of the abyss and jumped down, hurtling toward the water.
"Join us!" Willow told her, as she followed Xander over the edge.
Buffy hesitated for a moment. The wind began to whip around her ears, casting a chill over her body. The town below her looked so warm and inviting...
"I have to wait for Giles," she whispered.
"For God's sake, Buffy! How many times do I have to say it? Giles will follow later!"
"Mom?" Buffy said, turning to look at the figure beside her. But it wasn't her mother anymore. She looked on in horror as the woman began to grow, taller and darker, and her soft eyes changed to a horrible, harsh, icy blue.
"GO!" she ordered, and she grabbed hold of Buffy's arms and tried to push her over the clifftop, into the waters below.
"NO!" Buffy yelled, struggling against the grip. She fought back her tears and screams of terror, as the figure before her began to shout her name, over and over.
"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy..."
...Buffy!"
Buffy opened her eyes and found herself being jerked back to reality. After a moment she became aware of the rain spattering down on her cheeks, followed by the cold wind thrashing around, assaulting her body, and then she noticed where she was. Standing on the side of the bridge outside her motel in the protective arms of her companion.
"Buffy, are you all right?" Giles asked. "Look at me! Are you alright?"
She couldn't answer him. She sank into his warm grasp and let the tears of relief fall freely from her eyes.
<It was just a dream.>
* * * * *
"Here," Giles said, handing Buffy a steaming mug of tea.
"Thanks," she whispered, pulling her blanket tighter around her.
"Are you all right?" Giles asked.
Buffy shook her head. "No. Giles, this wasn't any dream. He was making me see things, making me do things, and I couldn't stop him. I'm scared, Giles. You were there to save me tonight, but next time... He can get inside my head and there's nothing I can do about it!"
"Yes there is," Giles said, flatly, hesitantly.
"What do you mean?"
Giles swallowed hard, not looking Buffy in the eye. "Buffy, I've never told you this before," he began, "but in the past there have been instances where Watchers and Slayers have developed a certain, shall we say *closeness.* It's called Unification. You see, the first Watcher families were chosen because they had a natural affinity for magic. Since the Slayer is created by forces beyond nature, it was necessary for the Watchers to be more 'in tune' with that. However, because of this, the close partnerships began to develop Unification. When their bodies and minds become entwined somehow. They become aware of what the other is feeling or doing and they're able to use their minds to fight their enemies." He turned to look at her. "The council can fight one mind, Buffy, but they can't fight two."
"So, are you saying we have this thing?"
"No. Not as such. Almost. Buffy, I came after you tonight because I knew you were in danger. I woke up and I just *knew.* I didn't even need to check that you were gone. And it's not the first time it's happened. I knew when Ethan was putting the mark of Eyghon on you. I could feel it."
"I don't understand why you've never told me about this before," Buffy said. "Surely if this Unification thing is such a huge deal the council would want to encourage it."
"They don't. In fact, they've outlawed it. The last time it happened was in the 1920's. The council knew nothing about it until it was revealed that the Slayer was pregnant with the Watcher's child. The pair were brought before the council for discipline." Giles lowered his eyes as his voice became harder. "The Watcher was executed for misconduct almost immediately. The Slayer followed after the baby was born. The child grew up in the care of the council, but as she became older, she developed astonishing psychic powers. She was almost preternaturally aware of her parent's fate. She nearly destroyed the council, so they dealt with the same way they had her parents."
"Did you say executed?" Giles nodded. "So the council have us on the *death* penalty?"
"No," Giles assured her, hearing the panic in her voice. "They can't since the death penalty was abolished in Britain."
"But they can send assasins after us," Buffy said, her voice a barely audible whisper.
"Yes."
Buffy sniffed a few times, blinking back tears. She placed her hand over her starry, tear-stained eyes, trying to block it all out. "What can we do?" she said, her voice only a few moments away from a sob.
"This..." Giles said. Buffy opened her eyes and found her ex-Watcher kneeling on the ground before her, reaching his hand out to cup her face. With grace and ease, he brought his lips down to hers and for a moment the world disappeared, as they surrendered their bodies and minds to each other. Buffy felt herself falling into a swirling blackness, where she was blind, yet somehow everything was clear.
"Wow..." she breathed, as Giles broke the kiss. What the hell had just happened? Giles had just *kissed* her! Shouldn't that be...gross, or something? But it wasn't. It was mind numbing. It was comforting. It was perfect.
"Buffy?" he said, looking straight into her eyes. "If we're going to do this, we have to do it right. But I want you to know that if you feel uncomfortable at any time, or you want it to stop for whatever reason, you tell me, alright? Alright?"
Buffy nodded. "Don't worry, I will," she said, her eyes closed, pulling herself towards him, ready to surround herself once more in that nirvana she had so fleetingly visited.
* * * * *
NOW:
Xander, Willow and Grace arrived at Heathrow Airport late in the morning, so they left their baggage behind in the lockers and took a taxi into the city where they bought some sandwiches and teas, which they quickly devoured, grateful for some sustanance after eight hours of airline cooking.
After walking for about an hour they found themselves in the east end, right by the river. A line of down-market motels stretched along the road beside them, and a long, steel bridge, with thick railings surrounding it, broke up the flow of the dirty, murky river.
Without even realising she was doing it, Grace was drawn to that bridge; was drawn to the side and compelled to look out over it, into the horizon.
"Grace?" Willow said, following her onto the bridge. "What is it?"
"It's nothing," she said, but the truth of it was on her face.
"Well, that obviously means it's something. Come on, spill. What's up?"
She hesitated for a moment, before repeating, "It's nothing," harsher, more confident this time. "Come on," she told them. "We'd better get back to the airport."
"Okay," Willow said, realising that the girl did not want to share her worries. She turned, and motioned to her husband to do the same. As Xander and Willow walked away, Grace hesitated for a moment. As she stared out over the view, she half expected a chill to envelope her, just as it had done every time she had stood on that spot in her dream.
* * * * *
The two men paced slowly up and down the room, not meeting the gaze of the other. One was tall and slim, with small, gold-rimmed glasses, dressed in a charcoal suit and silk tie. The other was taller still, built of solid muscle. Wild traces of thinning hair flailing from his bruised head, a deep scar running from his hairline, over his left eye and down his cheek. His eyes themselves were bloodshot, surrounded by thick, dark circles.
"I don't see why I should get involved in this," Corrick said, eventually. "It was my job to eliminate. I did that. It was up to you to make sure no trail was left."
"No trail *was* left!" Wesley said, defensively. "I don't understand why they're here, but I can say pretty much for certain that this won't be a social call."
"Are you sure you're not overreacting? It could be nothing."
"Can we afford to take that chance?"
Corrick looked thoughtful for a moment, while Wesley waited, expectantly. "Call them up," he concluded, at last. "I want to meet them. We can try and determine why they're here and what they know. Then we can take whatever action is necessary to remedy the situation."