Title: Slayer Central chapter 32
Author: Gileswench
Contact: gileswench@yahoo.com
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind which you really don't want. Please don't sue.



Sheila Rosenberg scanned the living room of the house her daughter now lived in. She'd been taught many years before that important clues to the psyche can be found in interior design.

The place looked far more conservative than she'd expected. The sofa and chairs were upholstered in dark ruby velvet and clearly well stuffed for comfort. The walls were painted a soft, warm tone of cream above the dark paneling. A well worn Persian rug carpeted the room in rich reds and blues and greens. A few paintings hung on the walls. Sheila Rosenberg didn't know much about art, but these looked to her as though they belonged in a museum.

A suit of armor stood near the imposing staircase, complete with sword held in it's articulated steely hands. Incongruously, a pair of sunglasses sat perched on its visor.

This, a few textbooks, and a portable stereo in the corner blasting the college alternative station were the only signs that anyone under the age of sixty resided in the house.

"This is Willow's home," Anya asserted. "She lives here."

"She's supposed to be living in the dorms. It's an important formative experience for her. This...commune...really...I know she wants to experiment, but this is a bit...extreme, surely."

"This isn't a commune. I know. I've seen communes. This is just a house. A much nicer house than communes usually have."

"So this isn't a political statement?"

"No. We don't care much about politics here."

By this time, Sheila had wandered to a bookshelf and pulled down a volume.

"Hey!" Anya told her, "You can't touch that. That's very ancient, and possibly in Latin."

Ignoring the ex demon, Sheila flipped the pages open at random until she found an illustration that held her attention.

She sat hard on the overstuffed sofa. When she spoke again, it was with steel in her voice.

"I'll wait here for my daughter."

*****

Giles parked in front of the Magic Box with a few minutes to spare. He turned to Buffy before they left the car.

"Buffy, are you certain you have to do this?"

"Yeah. I have to."

He pulled her into his arms.

"Be careful, luv."

She allowed herself a moment of comfort before she pulled back and looked him in the eye.

"Let's do this, Rupert."

She hoped her voice didn't shake as badly as she thought it did.

"You're sure you're ready?"

She smiled tightly at him.

"Can't see how I could get more ready. We've got enough weapons in the trunk to take out half the demons in Downtown Sunnydale. Plus I have you. Whatever they're bringing doesn't stand a chance."

Giles stopped her as she reached for the door handle.

"I have one more thing for you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ceramic pendant on a leather cord. Buffy took it, raising a quizzical eyebrow at her husband.

"Okay. It looks...very...like it clashes with my outfit. What's with the back to the earth look? Don't you have something a little more Tiffany's?"

"It isn't just a necklace, Buffy. It holds a powerful protection spell. It's to - to keep you safe."

With a slightly watery smile, Buffy handed the necklace back to Giles.

"Put it on me?"

He complied, then rested his hands on her shoulders and his forehead against hers. Her hands reached up to grip his forearms.

"No matter what," he said, "no matter if they bring the devil himself, I will not let them hurt you. Not again. Never again."

"They won't hurt you, either, Rupert. Never again."

With a final kiss to seal the vow, the pair left their car and headed for the shop.

*****

Cordelia paused for a moment in front of the beauty parlor. she could still back out. After what Wesley had said about Angel the night before, she wasn't sure she wanted to go through with the three tasks anymore.

Still, she had accepted Wesley's terms. Somehow she felt it would be wrong to back down from that, even if she decided at the end to reject him. Nobody would be able to call Cordelia Chase a coward. Nobody would be able to say she didn't keep her word.

Besides, Wesley would keep being such a damn white knight. He was just so darn...adorable when he did that.

Cordelia squared her shoulders and went in to meet the scissors of fate.

*****

Giles pulled his keyring from his pocket only to see the door swing open before he could unlock it. He and Buffy entered the building warily.

"Good morning, Rupert, Ms. Summers."

"The name's Giles, now; Mrs. Giles. What are you doing here, Travers?" Buffy folded her arms over she chest and glared at the roomful of Watchers.

"What is he doing here?"

Giles glared angrily at his father.

"Cedric is here because he is the one who brought these charges to the Council's attention. Surely you remember enough Council procedure to know he is required to be here?"

"And the rest of them? I don't think there were this many tweed suits here the last time you decided I needed testing."

Travers gave a small, tolerant smile.

"I see you've not lost your...colorful manner of expressing yourself, Mrs. Giles."

"Keep this up and see how colorful I get, Travers."

Giles gave Buffy's shoulder a warning squeeze. She returned a nearly imperceptible nod of understanding.

"So let's get started. What's the test?"

Travers turned and led his contingent to the tarot table.

"Why don't we have a cup of tea first? No need to rush things."

A woman with deliberately unflattering glasses and an alarmingly severe hairstyle for one so young set about making a pot of tea on the electric hotplate in the corner. Travers settled himself comfortably in Giles' usual seat as Cedric sat stiffly next to him.

Buffy raised an eyebrow at Giles. At his tiny shrug they advanced to the table. Giles glanced at the ring of Watchers glowering menacingly around the room.

"Fine. Tea. You lot stand about and look somber." He glanced at them and rolled his eyes at their stock still figures. "Well done."

He held out a chair for Buffy before seating himself.

"So what's the deal this time?" Buffy asked, getting to the point. "Another psycho vamp? Maybe you'd like a few days to sap my superpowers first? Or did you come up with something worse?"

"Patience, I take it, is not one of your virtues, Mrs. Giles."

"I just don't like to play games."

"Oh, we don't play games on the Council. We are very serious indeed."

*****

Willow and Tara walked up the path, hand in hand.

"I can't believe we'll never be there again." Willow intoned mournfully.

"But you knew the class had to end at the end of the semester, honey. There'll be another class in a few weeks."

"Yeah, but it won't be the same. It'll be a different class in a different room with a different professor and students. It'll be all wrong."

"And at the end of the semester, you'll hate leaving it just as much as this one."

"Stop trying to distract me from my misery with logic. Logic is not my friend right now. A pox on logic, I say! Whatever that means."

"Um...I think you just wished logic would get a sexually transmitted disease."

"Oh. I guess that's not really possible, huh?"

"Not really."

They reached the door and entered the living room.

"So what can I do to - Mom?"

Sheila stood.

"Willow, you're coming home with me right now."

*****

"I'm serious, too, Travers. So what do I have to do to find out what you know about my father?"

By this time, the young woman Watcher had finished making tea and began handing it around. Travers waited until everyone had a cup in front of them to continue the conversation.

"Milk or sugar?" Travers offered.

In an unconsciously twinned gesture of disgust, Buffy and Giles pushed their teacups away.

"Can we just get on with this?" Buffy asked.

Travers took a sip of tea.

"Not too bad, Rupert, for teabags."

"So glad you approve, Quentin. Are you going to answer Buffy's question?"

"America has changed you, my boy," he said sadly, shaking his head. Suddenly, he was all business. "Right. Since you're in such a hurry, we'll 'get on with this' as Mrs. Giles has put it."

He set the teacup down deliberately and gestured to the woman Watcher. She approached, pulling a package from a bag.

"This is your test, Buffy. Oh, and to see to it that you don't cheat in some way, you will be accompanied."

Travers gestured to the woman to indicate that she would be overseeing the test. The woman moved to Buffy's side and handed her the package. The Slayer scrutinized the package briefly.

"Okay. Just one question: when the stick turns blue, does that mean I've passed or flunked the test?"


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