The Prize and The Price

By KNS

strickland@frontier.net
Disclaimer: Hey everybody, it's time to do the disclaimer hokey-pokey. All you have to do is say you don't own anything but the plot, admit Joss Whedon own all characters - including and especially Buffy and Angel - and beg not to be sued. That's what it's all about.

Author's notes: This story is the third chapter in the Years Later Series. It is preceded by the stories "Years Later" and "Last Try", which I suggest you read first or this chapter isn't going to make much sense. However, *sigh*, if you don't want to read those stories first, here's what happened: Angel and Buffy finally got back together after a twenty year separation. They've come to England to visit Xander and Willow, who are married and have three kids. If some things seem odd about my descriptions of the people/places in London, remember that this is set in a future time.


"I haven't seen you around here before."

Angel set his glass down on the bar to look at the woman standing beside him. She was pretty, with her long dark hair and soft brown eyes. She was young, in her mid-twenties - and she was dressed to impress, wearing a short black dress that revealed more than a little skin.

"I'm here with a friend," he told her firmly. Buffy would *not* be happy if she returned to find him flirting with this girl. She had departed not a moment before to see if their table was ready, leaving him in the bar to wait for her.

The woman was not about to be put off so easily. "And you're not from these parts, either. You sound like an American." She smiled, inviting him to correct her.

Angel looked around the bar, hoping to spot Buffy. It had been her idea to come here - well, her and Willow's idea. The two women had worked out the details during one of their shopping trips, leaving both him and supposedly Xander no other option but to agree. Not that the restaurant where he stood lacked in any form - the decor was simple yet elegant with long, glass chandeliers hanging from above while lighted candles graced every table; in the air was the sweet smell of spices and fresh flowers; an eight person band placed softly in a corner while couples danced together on the large wooden dance floor. It was an elegant place, and he was glad he'd given in to Buffy's pleas to ‘dress up'.

Still, there was one thing bothering him - Xander. He'd neither seen nor spoken to Willow's husband since a week before, and that night had gone particularly wrong. And now they were going to have dinner in public. Angel wasn't sure if that was a stupid or brilliant move on behalf of the two women.

The woman beside him laid a hand on his arm. "So, are you from the states?" she asked, smiling up at him.

He inched away from her. "No - I mean, yes," he corrected quickly. God, where was the Slayer when he needed her? The young woman probably wasn't a vampire, but he certainly felt like he was being hunted. "My wife went to check on our table," he added hastily. He held up his left hand, displaying his ring. "I'm married."

"Nice ring," she said easily, not at all perturbed. "My name's Mary."

"My name's Buffy."

Angel and the woman turned to see Buffy standing behind them, a smile on her face and a wicked twinkle in her eyes. Casually she slipped her arm through Angel's. "Table's ready, dearest. Nice meeting you," she told the woman in a tone that said exactly the opposite.

"She's your wife?" the woman asked Angel. "She's old enough to be your mother."

Angel and Buffy looked at each other and started laughing.

"Hardly," Angel told the confused woman before he and Buffy walked away.

"Can't I even leave you alone for a minute?" she teased as they threaded their way between illuminated tables, dark uniformed waiters, and well-dressed patrons.

"I'm fairly sure she was evil," he returned.

Giles and his wife Marianna were already seated at the table. Giles half-stood when Buffy appeared, then seemed to remember that she frowned
on such manners and quickly sat back down. "Buffy, Angel," he greeted them, smiling. "How are you this evening?"

"We're good," Buffy answered, sliding into the chair Angel pulled out for her beside Marianna. She smiled up at him, then turned to the woman beside her. "Hey, Mari. Wow - you look great."

Mari was an interesting woman. A few years younger than Giles, she was nevertheless much like him in many ways - polite, knowledgeable, deeply loyal to the few she considered friends. But unlike Giles, she had a far more pronounced sense of humor, and liked to make other people
laugh. Physically, she was nearly as tall as her husband, and had soft blue eyes and long, pale blond/white hair that she usually bound into a bun at the nape of her neck. Tonight, however, she let her hair loose, and it fell in long waves to the middle of her back. Added to that wasthe fact that she had exchanged her usual slacks and shirt for a dark blue evening gown. As Buffy had pointed out, she looked stunning.

"Hi guys," Willow said, appearing at the table with Xander beside her. "Sorry we're late - traffic was atrocious."

"Hey Giles, Mari, Buff." Xander hesitated barely a moment before adding, "Angel."

"Nice duds, Xan," Buffy said, cutting into the silence that had fallen between them. God, she hoped she hadn't made a mistake bringing these two into public. . .

"You like?" Xander settled Willow into her chair beside Angel, then sat down next to Giles. "Willow found it in some box. I haven't worn a tux in years." He looked over at Angel. "Looks like Buff did the same thing to you."

Angel was tempted to make a cutting reply, but he saw the half-pleading expression on Buffy's face and changed his mind. "We arm-wrestled over it. Guess who won."

Xander actually chuckled. "You should know better than to arm-wrestle with the Slayer. But hey, I bet you didn't have to have yours altered, at least."

The two men laughed.

Buffy and Willow exchanged smug looks.

*****

The evening was a success. By the time the food was served, Xander and Angel were participating in the general conversation as if there had never been ill feelings between them; by the time after-dinner coffee was served, they were chatting like old friends. Angel even accepted a cup of coffee, although he did water it down considerably with milk and sugar.

"Angel and I are thinking about going to Ireland," Buffy said, stirring her coffee.

"Really? What part?" Mari asked.

"All of it," Angel answered, adding more milk to his cup. "Dublin, Belfast, even Galway." He glanced at Buffy. "I want to show her where I grew up."

"But, won't that be a little. . . painful?" Xander asked, confused.

Even Giles tensed at the question. Angel looked at the businessman and saw that he meant no harm by the question, he was simply concerned. And so he answered it civilly, not as he would have done had he been baited. "I don't think so." Again he looked back to Buffy, who was smiling gently at him. "Not anymore."

"Are you going to take up residence there?" Giles questioned, looking to Buffy.

Buffy shrugged. "We've talked about it," she confessed. "Angel keeps trying to talk me into it, but I don't know. . . I like the states."

"You'll like Ireland," he assured her. "Especially the parts I'll show you."

"And, on the plus side, you'll be closer to us," Willow said. "No more long flights."

"And maybe when you two get a place, our Buff could come to visit you," Xander said, casting a glance to Willow, who was quick to nod agreement.

"Really?" Buffy asked, liking the idea. "You don't think - I mean, Angel would be great for her, but aren't you afraid I'll - you know - be a bad influence on her?"

"No," the five other people at the table said together, then laughed.

"O-kay," Buffy said mildly, giving them all a look. "Anyway, it's something to think about. I could probably get a job at one of the universities there - what?" The last was to Mari, who was looking at her oddly.

"Do you know how long it's been since you even considered taking on a full-time occupation?" Mari returned. She ignored the warning hand
Giles laid on her arm. "Years. Several years. I'm not talking about ‘hi-I'm-here-want-to-hear-me-lecture' jobs, but a *real* job, one you show up for every day, one you see yourself preforming in the future -"

"-One you get a paycheck for," Xander finished.

Buffy laughed. "Well, what can I say? Angel inspires stability."

"And you have references from the best universities," Willow said, now truly excited at the prospect of having her friends so close. "You've lectured everywhere - Yale, Oxford, Harvard - "

"I knew it was you!"

They all turned to look at the stranger who stood a few steps behind Buffy's chair, a young man in his late twenties or early thirties with fair brown hair and deep green eyes. He was dressed professionally in a dark suit and tie.

"You are Doctor Summers, aren't you? Doctor Anne Summers?" he asked, catching Buffy's hand in both of his and shaking it reverently.

Buffy stood, as did Angel. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked, pulling back her hand.

The man smiled widely. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Of course you wouldn't remember me. I was at Yale the year you lectured there. I took all of your psychology classes, and I read both of your books. Fascinating. I've always wanted to tell you how intriguing I've found your concepts about the human conscience to be. Absolutely stunning work. I'm Geoffrey Hollander, by the way."

"*The* Geoffrey Hollander?" Willow asked, abruptly standing up. "As in the author of ‘Start At the Beginning' and ‘Tell Me No Lies'?"

"Yes indeed," the man answered, smiling tolerantly at Willow before looking back to Buffy. "Have you perhaps heard of me, Dr. Summers?"

"Uh, yes, of course," Buffy said a bit too quickly. "Very interesting."

Hollander glowed. "I'm so pleased that you think so. All of my theories are based upon the ideas I read in your books. Perhaps we could get together some time and discuss them - over coffee, perhaps?"

A slightly glazed look came into Buffy's eyes. "Well, um, I'd love to, but, um -" She looked to Angel desperately.

Angel took pity on her. "Unfortunately, Buffy and I are about to leave the country. Why don't you give her one of your cards, and she'll get in touch with you later?"

Hollander looked down his nose at Angel, which was rather comical considering that he was a good six inches shorter than the vampire. "Who are you?"

"That would be her husband," Xander answered smugly, setting his cup down.

The man at least had the grace to blush. "Yes, well, nice to meet you, Mr. Summers. Perhaps, Dr. Summers, I could have your virtual address and contact you in that manner?"

Buffy didn't like the way other people in the restaurant were starting to look in her direction. "Yeah, sure," she said quickly, then reeled off Willow's address. "It was nice to see you. We'll talk soon. Bye now."

After a few more ‘fascinating's and ‘deeply interesting's, the man went away. Buffy slouched back into her chair with a sigh. "That was weird. I didn't know anyone actually read that crap I wrote. . . "

Willow looked to Giles. "Was he evil?"

"Probably not in the strictest sense of the word," Giles answered, amused.

"But Buffy, how come none of us ever realized how ‘fascinating' you are?" Xander teased.

Buffy looked to Angel. "You. Me. Ireland. Tomorrow."

Angel grinned. "Fascinating, Dr. Summers."

The Slayer looked to Mari. "Help. . ."

"You are deeply interesting, Dr. Summers," Mari answered. "Do you have any infinite wisdom to share with us?"

"You know I said we'd go tomorrow? I changed my mind," Buffy told Angel. "We're going tonight."

"Um, actually, while we're on the subject of you leaving, I suppose I should tell you that I got a message today," Willow said reluctantly. "I was going to wait until later, but I guess now's as good a time as any. Wesley's looking for you."

Angel looked confused. "Wesley?"

"Yeah, Wesley. You know - tall, dark haired, screams like a woman," Xander answered. He signaled the waiter that he wanted more coffee. "Wesley the wimp, the moron, the idiot -"

"The head of the Watcher's Council," Willow tartly finished for him. "Wesley Wyndham-Price. My boss."

Angel glanced at Buffy. "I thought you didn't work for the Council anymore."

She grimaced. "Well, it's not quite that simple. I don't actually work for them. . . I work *with* them. Occasionally. Sometimes."

"As little as you must," Mari suggested.

"In a word - yes," Buffy agreed. The waiter appeared at her shoulder, but she waved him away. "The Council and I - we have a deal. They
don't bother me except when it's important - very important - and I show up when they call me."

"Sometimes," Willow added.

"If you're not otherwise occupied," Giles included.

"And if you think it's important enough," Mari said.

Buffy looked at them. "Anything else?"

"If Wesley says the magic words?" Xander guessed.

"Being sarcastic there, Xan," Buffy told him. "I haven't heard from the Frog Prince in almost a year. Okay, I've heard from him," she admitted quickly when Willow started to protest. "But it wasn't important, and I was busy."

Angel laughed. "Well, I guess since you're not busy now, you'll go to see him?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, alright. Wanna come and torment him with me? I'll be fun, I promise."

"We'll see," Angel said, knowing he would accompany her. He remembered the rumors she had told him about members of the Council believing she had outlived her usefulness. He didn't want her going anywhere near them without someone to watch her back.

"Hey Will, isn't this that song you like?" Xander asked.

Willow - and everyone else at the table - paused to listen closely to the music. The band was plating a soft, gentle song that was pulling couples to the dance floor like a magnet.

"Oooh, yeah, it's the new one by Southern Lights - ‘Your Turn'," the red-haired woman said excitedly.

Xander smiled lopsidedly at her. "Wanna dance?" Together they threaded their way to join the other couples.

"Is he going to do one of his bizarre little dances?" Angel asked Buffy.

She laughed. "Nah. They do the sophisticated, all-grown-up dances now. You know, with regular steps and everything. Those funky dances he use to do at the Bronze wouldn't really go with his Wall Street image."

Mari looked at Giles. "You know, I've never heard of the group Will mentioned."

Giles shrugged. "Neither have I, but it is a nice song. Shall we?" He extended his hand, which she quickly took.

When the two were gone, Angel slanted a look at the woman beside him. Would she like to step onto the floor with him? She had once, a long time ago, but she was different now. Now she strenuously avoided public displays of affection, going so far as to express reluctance to even hold hands while walking down the street.

But she was looking at him expectantly, hope reflected in her hazel eyes. "I remember how to dance, you know," she hinted gently.

So he smiled, stood and linked her arm through his, and led her to the dance floor, where he took her in his arms and she laid her head on his shoulder, and they danced as they had long ago, so long ago, and it was if they had never parted.

*****

It was well past eleven the next night when the pair made their way to the meeting with the head of the Watchers' Council. They made their way without incident through the great city, pausing only once for Buffy to stake a vampire that had the ill luck to cross her path.

"How did you get Wesley to agree to meet you at this time of night?" Angel wondered as he helped her brush the vamp-ash from her jacket.

"Did I get any in my hair?" she countered, brushing at her neck. Some things never changed. "Nope, guess not. Wesley doesn't get to pick the time we meet, just the place. That's part of the deal."

"The you-call-I-come deal?"

"The very same." They proceeded on their walk and she added, "And don't you know, he never chooses the same place twice. One time it's a warehouse, one time it's a bar. Now we're headed for a park. A park, of all places."

Angel halted. "Why aren't we going to the Council's offices or something? I know they have at least one building in this city."

Buffy stopped beside him. "Of course they do. It's miles away from where we're headed. He doesn't think I know where it is. Paranoid little frog."

"You know where it is," Angel said, half asking, half stating.

"Of course." She grinned. "Willow told me the moment she found out."

*****

The park was hardly more then a sandbox with a swingset. Set in the lower part of town, it contained only two or three trees and a small space of patchy grass. It was also badly lighted, having only one dim streetlamp to drive away the darkness.

Buffy glanced around the area and cursed. "I can't see him."

Angel could see fine in the dark. "He's over there on the right. And he's not alone."

"He never is, the wimp," she snorted. "Can you tell how many are with him?"

He counted. "Six or seven others." He shot her a speculative glance. "Is he afraid of you for some particular reason?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I threatened to kill him once, but I wasn't serious. I said I was sorry. Besides, he usually only brings one or two friends. Oh well, this will still be fun."

Together they strode forward into the dim light.

"Hey Wes, guess who's here," Buffy called, looking directly to the spot Angel had told her he stood waiting. "And look - I brought a friend too."

"So I see." The head of the Council emerged from the shadows, his subordinates in tow. He looked much as Angel remembered he had, give or take twenty pounds, a few facial wrinkles, and a receding hairline. He was still stiffly proper in his dark suit and tie - a practice both the four men and two women in his group also followed.

Wesley walked forward until he stood only a few steps away from the pair; his people stopped only a pace or two behind him. "It's been a long time," he said, looking at Angel. "I would have thought you'd been staked by now."

"I thought you'd be a janitor by now," Angel returned. "Guess we were both wrong."

Wesley glanced at Buffy. "I suppose he's on your leash again? Better be careful he doesn't slip off and go for a walk without you. We certainly wouldn't want that to happen."

Buffy laughed. "How do you know that hasn't happened already?" She casually slipped her arm around Angel's waist. He draped an arm over her shoulders and smiled down at her.

They were rewarded with a flash of uncertainty in Wesley's eyes and a murmur of unease among his people. "Angelus," one of them whispered. And another asked, "Has he turned her?"

"No," Wesley said sharply, glaring at the pair. "They're playing off your fears. We'd be dead by now if they were evil."

"Tell me, Wes, do you still scream like a woman?" Angel asked, making Buffy laugh.

Wesley was not amused. "Enough chatter. There's a pair of chaos demons down at Killanger Port." He reeled off an address. "They're hiding out in some abandoned warehouses there. I advise you to be careful; they've killed two Watchers."

"Which is why Watchers watch and Slayers slay," Buffy said lightly.

"Yes, well, you haven't done much slaying lately yourself. Been busy with other things, I suppose," Wesley sneered.

Buffy gave him an annoyed look. "You got the money?"

Reluctantly Wesley took a small sack from one of his subordinates and handed it to her.

"Small bills?"

He nodded, looking faintly ashamed. "British currency. Lord, this is such a disgrace -"

"Why, because you're not my master and I don't follow your orders for free?" Buffy snipped. "Or because I don't but into the ‘sacred duty' thing anymore?"

"The Council has always taken more than adequate care of you," he began haughtily.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. . ."

"We got you out of the war!"

"And I do *so* appreciate getting shot in the gut and being forced to leave my people -"

"Your people -!"

"That's enough," Angel said, stepping between the Slayer and Watcher. "Back off," he told Wesley. He didn't understand what the two were fighting over, but there was no doubt with who he sided.

Wesley glared at Angel, then looked to Buffy. "Kill the demons. Get yourself killed if you wish, makes no difference to me. It may even save me a little trouble. I'm sure the next Slayer shan't be as difficult as you." He spun on his heel and stormed away, the other Watchers shooting nervous glances at Buffy before quickly following him.

"Little toad," Buffy muttered, watching them walk away. "Little arrogant toad." She looked at Angel and sighed. "That wasn't as much fun as I thought it'd be. I must be slipping."

"What's with the cash?" Angel asked, gesturing at the cloth sack she held in her hand.

"Oh." She smiled. "My fee. I quit working for the Council a long time ago, you know, but there are just some things that only a Slayer can do. After the war, we worked out this deal where I do what has to be done, but I get payed. That stops him from calling me everytime his shadow scares him."

"Makes sense." Angel was tempted to ask her what her ‘fee' actually amounted to, then thought better of it.

"It's roughly six thousand US dollars," she told him, guessing his thoughts. "Wanna come with me to deposit it?"

"Are banks open this time of night?"

She smiled wryly. "The one I use is."

*****

She led him to one of the poorest areas of the city. Drunks and homeless gathered around tiny fires in narrow alleys; prostitutes of both sexes stood beneath streetlamps on every corner, calling out to passing vehicles. In the shadows people exchanged currency for small packages that were quickly concealed in pockets or bags.

Turning a corner, Buffy brought him face to face with a grate of wrought iron over a steel door. He read the sign on the door as she activated the doorchime.

"This isn't a bank," he said, surprised not because of what the place was not, but because of what it was. "This is a safehouse and an orphanage."

She shrugged. "There's more than one kind of evil, contrary to the Council's belief. Evil is a child without enough to eat. Evil is a woman that can't escape from the man that beats her to a pulp. Evil is the man who makes too much money for financial assistance and too little to afford a place to live. The Watchers' Council thinks it's fighting evil. No one ever wants to think about the everyday evil."

Before Angel could respond the door cracked open, allowing light to spill into the dark street. "Yes?" a woman's voice said. "What can I do for you?"

"It's just me, Sister. Buffy Summers," the Slayer answered.

The door opened wide enough that the woman could be seen. She was an older woman dressed in simple clothes that looked to have seen better
days. Around her neck she wore a large silver cross. "Buffy Summers? Where have you been, my child? I haven't seen you in years." She smiled warmly, then quickly unlocked the grate between them. "Come in, come in."

Angel followed Buffy into a small room inside the building. The tiny room was a safety chamber; another large door separated it from the rest of the building. He had no doubt that the door was locked.

The woman embraced Buffy affectionately. "It's so good to see you, Buffy. Ah, I see you brought a friend with you! How wonderful. I do so hate to see you out alone so often."

Buffy smiled. "This is Angel. He looks out for me. Angel, this is Sister Elen. She lives here at the center and makes sure everything runs smoothly."

"Nice to meet you,' Angel said. He didn't offer to shake her hand - he was hesitant to touch her in any way. Vampires weren't known to get on well with holy people. . .

Sister Elen was all smiles and good cheer. "Welcome, Angel, welcome. I'm so glad you care for our Buffy. She needs someone to ‘look out' for her. Bless you, my child." She laid a hand on his shoulder, and all at once her expression changed.

She yanked her hand away from him and reached for her cross. Glancing at Buffy, she exclaimed, "Stand away, Buffy! He belongs to the Evil One."

"No," Buffy cried, seizing Angel's hand. "He's not like that, Sister. He's on our side. He loves me," she added, as if that should count for something.

Angel wasn't sure what to do. He was tempted to leave, but Buffy's grip of death on his hand rather canceled that idea. "I would never hurt you," he said, which was only half truth. He himself would never hurt anyone - but the demon inside him would like nothing better than to conduct a massacre in this place to which he had so quickly been invited.

Slowly Sister Elen looked from him to the woman grasping his hand. "How can this be?" she asked. "You are of the light; he is of the dark. I have never heard of such a pairing."

"Light drives away the darkness," Angel answered simply.

The woman looked back to him. "Yes, it can," she slowly said. "And for her sake, and your own, I pray it has."

A silence lay between the three. Buffy broke it by handing the brown cloth sack to Sister Elen. "Here. I know you'll use it better than I would."

The woman took the sack, looked inside and then quickly glanced at the Slayer. "Where did you get this! Honestly earned, I know - but the work you must go through to get it. . . and then to give it away. . ."

"It's not a gift, it's an investment," Buffy replied. "What goes on here at the center is building a better future - I like to be a part of that in as many ways as possible."

Angel knew what she was saying, but he doubted the sister did.

But then again, perhaps she did. Sister Elen reached out and placed a kiss on Buffy's forehead. "Be careful, my child. The path you walk is full of dangers. May God bless you and keep you safe from harm."

Sister Elen looked to Angel. "And you - if you love her as she says you do, then God bless you as well. Watch over her. Perhaps in time the burden you carry will ease." She gave him a knowing look. "It can be no easy matter to be what you are yet do as you do."

In all his years as a vampire, it was the first time Angel had ever found himself gifted with a blessing.

*****

Buffy threw herself down beside a fallen crate, trying to regain her breath. She glanced at her sticky hands, saw that they were covered with the blueish-grey slime and gore from the chaos demons. Groaning in disgust, she wiped them on her pants.

"Don't do that,' Angel advised, slumping down beside her. "It won't wash out. This is the voice of experience talking." He started to run a hand through his hair, then thought better of the idea and lowered his arm.

"*Now* you tell me," Buffy panted, glaring at the wet, icky splotches on her pants. "Yuck." She looked over at the decapitated corpse sprawled against the warehouse, only a handful of paces from her. "Have you ever seen anything so disgusting? I mean, the slime - and those antlers - ugh." She shivered.

Angel shook his head. "And those trunks. . . A male and a female. Makes you wonder how they breed, doesn't it?"

She was silent for a moment, then groaned. "Just when I thought things couldn't get any yuckier. You just had to say that, didn't you?"

"I'm going to be stuck with these mental images for the rest of my un-life," he agreed.

A comfortable silence lay between them as they recovered. The two demons had been more than a handful, Angel found himself thinking. Tricky and surprisingly agile for creatures so big, the demons had put up quite a fight. It had taken nearly an hour to kill them both, and it'd taken a fair amount of time simply to *find* them to begin with. Still, for all their hiding, trickery, and speed -

"Buffy," Angel said, turning to look at her.

"Yes?" She turned to face him.

"I'm not saying they were easy kills, but - how did those two manage to kill two Watchers?" Angel added, "They seemed more interested in making things a mess than harming people, even us. We could have walked away half a dozen times and they wouldn't have tried to follow us."

Buffy's eyebrows knitted together. "You're right," she said, frowning. "Things didn't really heat up until the female was cornered. What Wesley said doesn't make sense. Watchers aren't Slayers by any means, but they are well-trained."

Angel shook his head. "It's almost as if this was -"

"- Just a test," Buffy finished.

"Is Wesley trying to get you killed?"

"By two chaos demons? Pretty low odds of that happening. There are much easier ways to get me dead." She paused. "Of course, we are talking bout the Frog Prince here. . ."

"This isn't funny, Buffy," Angel said, concern making his voice sharp. "If he really is after your death, then it won't be long before he eventually finds something that will kill you."

Buffy nodded wearily. "I know, I know. We're gonna have to have a heart-to-heart about it real soon."

"Let's go." Angel stood up and offered her a hand. He was ready to tell the head of the Council a thing or two - like how miserably he would die if he harmed Buffy . . .

Since his hands were as filthy as hers, she accepted it. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to pay Wes a little visit tomorrow in his office. He doesn't even think I know where he is." She laughed shortly. "Little toad. Can't wait to see the look on his face . . ."

*****

Wesley Wyndham-Price was holding a meeting with his chief advisors when the commotion first started. It began with a bang somewhere down the hallway, then was followed by shouting and the sound of something heavy being hurled against a wall, and just as he and his advisors were standing to investigate the ruckus, the antique, wooden double doors of his officer were thrown wide open.

"Hey there, Wes," Buffy greeted him. "Thought I'd come by and see how you are today." She was flanked by a number of confused, concerned Watchers.

Wesley and his advisors exchanged glances. He had expected the Slayer to call demanding an appointment - not that she would show up at his door, so to speak. He had always taken great precautions that she not know their headquarter location. Someone, however, had obviously told her - probably the old librarian or the witch. Their loyalties had always been questionable. . .

Well, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing his surprise.

"It's all right," he assured the Watchers standing warily behind her. "You can go."

Buffy turned and flashed a predatory smile at those flanking her. "Yes, we're good here. Wes and I are just gonna have a little talk." The men and women did not look convinced. She waved goodbye cheerfully and shut the double doors in their faces.

"I assume you've come about last night?" Wesley asked nonchalantly. He resumed his seat, motioned for the others to do likewise.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, I'm here to talk about the weather," she said sarcastically. "What the hell was last night about? We have a deal, remember? You only contact me when it's *important*."

Wesley quickly glanced at his advisors, then said calmly, "Well, I have important information for you now. Sit down -"

"Sure you do," she interrupted, pacing around the office. She cut between the advisors, well aware that her nearness made then uneasy. To them, she was a thing of both good and evil - she was the Slayer, but kept no counsel but her own. She was a rogue, a rebel; she was powerful, undefeatable. She was a legend made of flesh and bone.

And she was not pleased. Her anger could be felt in the hand that brushed a shoulder, heard in the nearly silent step on the carpet, seen in the sharp light in her hazel eyes.

Only Wesley was not in awe of her. He knew how she could be controlled.

"What little mission are you going to send me on today, Wes?" she continued, cris-crossing between chairs. "More chaos demons? A vamp or two? Some missing amulet? A -"

"-Another Master."

She halted dead in her step and turned to look at him. "You're lying." Her voice was hard but lacked conviction.

He shook his head carefully. He had to be very cautious now; everything depended on how he presented this new deal. "I am not, unfortunately."

She glared at him. "There was only one Master. He's been dead for a long time."

"Time moves differently in Hell, Buffy - you know that." Quickly he leeched the irritation out of his voice. "It's been thousands, maybe millions of years since you killed the last Master. Another one has come to power, and soon it will Rise."

Buffy looked to the other Watchers. Their grim faces supported Wesley's words.

"No," she said, shaking her head. Already she knew what would be asked of her.

"You must destroy him."

"No," Buffy said again, her voice fierce now. "I took care of the last one. It cost me big time. I won't do it again."

"If the Master Rises, the world will be covered with darkness. Society as we know it will end. Evil will trample out Good, and there will be no stopping it," Wesley said calmly. She already knew these things. "It is your duty -"

"My duty!" she echoed angrily. "Not a chance in hell, Wesley! I've done my duty. Where's the other Slayer? It's her turn to kill a Master. We'll make it a new rite-of-passage act."

"You're afraid," one of the advisors accused.

"You're damn right I am," she snapped, turning her fiery gaze on him. "The last one *killed* me. Not wounded, not harmed, killed. I died. Dead, as in no more life. Only a miracle saved me. I won't get that lucky twice."

"The other Slayer is not fit to face the Master," Wesley said desperately. "She is still a child -"

"- I was a child -"

"She's fifteen years old!" another advisor cried.

Buffy ran a hand across her face. "Dammit, dammit, dammit." Abruptly she picked up a crystal vase on Wesley's desk and hurled it against a wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces. "I won't do it," she said softly, and headed for the double doors.

"Perhaps we could make it worth your while," Wesley desperately called after her.

"Doubt it," she answered, reaching the doors.

Wesley lost his cool, threw out his last card. "We have the cure for Angel!"

Slowly Buffy stopped. "Are you threatening me?" she asked softly, oh so softly.

"Not at all," Wesley quickly answered. He stood up and walked over to her. "What I meant to say was, we have discovered a spell to revert Angel back to his original form, to drive the demon from his body forever. In short, to make him human."

Buffy turned to face him. There was an odd look on her face. "Human?" she echoed, her voice strange.

Wesley nodded. "Fully." He let the implications sink in. He watched as hope was born in her eyes. "All you have to do is destroy the Master."

She swallowed, glanced around the room at the others. Suddenly her gaze shifted back to him. "I could die fighting the Master. I probably will." Her voice took on a desperation of its own. "Please, please give me the spell now. Willow will preform it; you can trust her -"

Wesley shook his head.

"Please, my word is good," Buffy pleaded. "I swear I'll face the Master. Just let me have it. . ."

"No," Wesley said, careful not to let his delight show. Here was the perfect way to control the rogue Slayer. . . "If you defeat the Master, it's yours. Even if you die, the spell will still be given to him in honor of your sacrifice. Either way, you win - and so does he."

Buffy heard the finality in his voice. She glanced at the advisors, but none would meet her eyes. Not one of them would side with her against him; no one would plead her cause.

"Do we have a deal?" Wesley asked.

When she looked at him, the desperation was gone from her eyes, had been replaced by iron-hard resolve.

"Yes."

The End