Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy productions. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers... I think.
Rating: FR13
Spoiler: Spn all of season 3, btvs 7
She hadn't had the greatest expectations coming in, after all there was only so much a name like Potato Creek South Dakota could inspire. But the reality facing her was just sad. There was no other word for it, besides perhaps rank. Buffy stepped out of the passenger door of Giles's rental car and was hit with a wall of heavy country scents; dust, hay, and cow dung. She wrinkled her nose and looked around the deserted copse.
A large rundown barn stood before them, creaking on rotted timbers. Old barrels, bits of rope and long deserted wagon wheels were strewn about like the aftermath of an indian raid. She squinted up at the barn and saw several long claw marks scratched into the walls and roof, to long and deep for just an animal. So maybe not an indian raid then, werewolves, demons maybe. Over the door to the barn several ancient greek symbols for protection hung in welded iron.
“Nice place,” she groused, looking over the hood of the car at her once-upon-a-time Watcher. Giles pulled himself out of the driver's seat and stood, adjusting his trench coat and a leather case with pamphlets Andrew had drawn up. Buffy thought they looked more like old hollywood posters then information leaflets. That didn't really give the impression of professionalism she'd hoped for, but it kept the dweeb busy. Giles raised his head and looked over at their destination.
“Well, I understand there is some history to this place, though none of our contacts would say what exactly, and they believe it to be defensible I imagine or they wouldn't have chosen it.” He adjusted his glasses, eyeing the decaying barn up and down along with the rows of wild hedges and thorns dotting clearing. There were shadows behind the first rank of trees that might have been cars disguised with shrubbery, or might just have been bushes.
“I still think we should have just met in town. You know rent a nice dining hall, order some soufflé, and avoid all the mud,” Buffy complained as she stepped carefully around a suspicious looking patch of mud, her italian pumps crunching on the drive.
“We're fortunate that they agreed to meet us at all Buffy, and it is mostly do to Xander's efforts. These people are intrinsically paranoid, if it takes having an initial meeting in this...” Giles struggled for a polite word to describe the decrepit looking barn, “place, then that is that.”
“I get it Giles,” Buffy nodded. “Keeping the enemy on your own turf, hey if it was me I'd do the same. I'm just saying it would be nice to have a little less out-doorsy campfire-ness and more of the nice hotel room service.”
“I wasn't aware our bed and breakfast had room service.”
“I can dream.”
“Buffy,” Giles stopped her with hand on her shoulder. “I know your feelings on this matter are conflicted. I have no love of Hunters myself. But we agreed that past mistakes wouldn't be repeated. We cannot turn a blind eye as the old Council did and simply allow them to run amuck any longer. We need to keep them under control, so we need the hunters on our side.”
Buffy nodded but didn't unstiffen her posture. She was tense and would stay tense. Rebuilding the Council from the ground up was a laborious process, but they were coming across more ties and allies as they dug through all the buried information that was secreted away. Contacts were popping up all over the world. Things that could have helped if she'd had them in the past.
She just disliked the idea that Hunters were going to be one of them. She recognized the work they did, sure, a few ghost dispellings here and there, and they cleaned up the back roads round the country that her Slayers were to busy to get too. The urban hot spots and cities were more a Slayer's territory than boony little towns. In her experience evil didn't really congregate in places called Potato Creek. So she'd give the Hunters their due, but she didn't have to like them. Buffy still remembered the Hunter that had come to Sunnydale in her junior year looking for a werewolf skin. He'd walked into her town with a swagger, a gun, and a necklace teeth and come after her friends; come after Oz.
She'd had Giles and Dawn brief her on everything they could find on the Hunter community, which wasn't much. They were as elusive as the spirits they hunted, gruff and unfriendly to outsiders. It had taken Xander a year to work his way far enough into a their confidence to even set up this meeting. From what little they did know about the Hunters that surfaced under the Councils eye, psychotic was the best description that came to mind.
Most Hunters were mad for some kind of revenge. They had police records, and like modern day pirates moved from town to town looking for the hunt and the kill, addicted to the violence of the job. Little better then vampires themselves. Those who weren't doing it for revenge were in it for the money. Pawning off cursed items: witches bags and werewolf skins. She'd seen her share dark and evil things, but hunters gave her the creeps.
“It's your show Giles, I'm just here to look pretty, and hopefully talk pretty,” Buffy shrugged, noncommittal and stomped down on her welling dislike. She was here for a job and for Giles, and if she got her way, to show these hunters a thing or two about what fighting evil really meant. She didn't want any more Cain's walking around looking for poor kids like Oz.
“I'm sure it will be fine,” Giles assured her. “I'm hoping your presence as the oldest Slayer will be appreciated, a gesture of respect if you will with a meeting of equals.”
“Head honcho, to head honcho. I get it. Do you think anybody's here yet?” Buffy asked, scanning the empty yard around the barn. Giles looked up from where he was still rifling through his briefcase.
“Yes, I imagine they all are. They may even be watching us so we should be careful on our approach. Paranoid remember?”
“Right. So shall we go do the meet and greet?”
Giles got himself together and they started up the worn track toward the barn, Buffy muttering about how she'd need a pair of new boots if they were going to keep trekking through the country. Giles reached the building first and heaved the door open with a loud creak.
The barn was cool and dank inside, with the soft smell of old wood and some balls of regurgitated mice bones. There were stacks of boards, rusted chains, and hay strewn about. A busted up wagon leaned against a broken horse stall and everywhere there were moving shadows of people, waiting for them. They sat or stood on anything that would hold weight, surrounding the doors.
There were maybe twenty Hunters total, and every one of them had taken grunge fashion way to much to heart in Buffy's mind. They were blue collar workers, with ripped jeans, leather and plaid, and a couple of army fatigues thrown in the mix. They were rough and weathered with farmers tans and busted knuckles. They couldn't have been more different from her type of people than if they'd been Fyral demons.
Something odd about the crowd caught her attention and it took Buffy a moment to figure it out, looking from each worn, wrinkled face to the next. Nearly every Hunter present was forty or older. That was odd for Buffy, she couldn't remember ever seeing so many older fighters together before. Her Slayers were all teens or younger. Her friends and allies were either as young as herself or too old to tell the difference, like Spike. Giles had always been something of an exception in her mind. Most people who took up this calling didn't live long enough to get gray hair. She wondered where the younger hunters were, if they even had them. After a quick search she finally spotted a pair of young guys on top of the horse stall, but that was it. Being faced with so many adults was a little unsettling. She'd been prepared to argue their case to young men and women, her peers. She wasn't sure how to approach all these old glowering eyes.
Just let Giles start things off, she told herself, then this will be no biggy. Besides she'd dealt with adults before, all through high school. Hell she'd faced off with Snyder. She could deal with some Tobacco chewing bumpkins with... was that a shot gun?!
Buffy glanced over at Giles as they came to a halt in the middle of the barn, suddenly wishing they'd brought weapons of their own. Some weak rays of sunlight filtering through the beams overhead and lit the pair of them up like they were on stage while the hunters around them shifted in the dark, wary and watchful.
Giles glanced at Buffy then cleared his throat and thanked god he hadn't worn a suit. He had the feeling that if these people were to respect anything, it would certainly not be tweed.
“Hello. I'd like to thank you all for coming today. My name is Rupert Giles and this is Buffy Summers, we are representing the Watcher's Council. Before we begin, is there is a Mrs Harvelle present.”
Silence reigned for about a minute and then there was a shuffle of feet and an older man and woman came forward into the sun. The woman was tough with smile lines around her eyes, and a no-nonsense attitude reflected in clothes that were cheap and sturdy.
The man next to her stood with his thumbs in his jeans. He was older, with a scruffy beard, chubby face and a base-ball cap. A silver whiskey flask was hooked to his belt under a thin camping vest. He was laid back with a suspicious squint to his eyes, like a grandfather with a shotgun waiting for some traveling salesman to try and feed him line.
“I'm Ellen Harvelle,” the woman announced in a confidant drawl. “This is Bobby,” she nodded to her companion and Giles noted the lack of a surname in that introduction. “Not that we don't appreciate you showin' your face,” Ellen continued, “but that Harris boy of yours said he was gonna introduce this new Council policy your peddling. Where is he?”
“Xander was just sent to set up this meeting, He's on another assignment right now.” Buffy said briskly. Whispers and discontented rumbles echoed around the crowd like a disturbed herd of cattle, and Ellen turned to look at her sharply. Buffy had the feeling she'd suddenly spoken out of turn at the dinner table or something.
“Well that's a shame,” Ellen said. Her voice carried through the barn like the crack of whip and the grumbling crowd silenced. Buffy glanced around with raised eyebrow, appreciating this woman, who could slap down a rowdy group of men with one word, a bit more. She wondered if Ellen might have ever been a potential Slayer in her day.
“That Xander's a nice boy, got a good head on his shoulders and made quite a few friends round here, which ain't easy,” Ellen continued.
Buffy glanced over at Giles who was nodding at the older Hunters. She wasn't much of a subtext girl outside her own disastrous romances but she could see some heavy negotiation going on in eyebrow quirks. Giles was right, they were totally paranoid.
“Xander should be back soon, hopefully he can join us for any more meetings,” Giles soothed. Bobby smirked and took a long swig from the flask at his belt.
“So,” Ellen drawled “You want to tell us what this is all about? Harris said there were some big changes we needed to hear about, so here we are.”
“Yes well, down to business then,” Giles started. “Is everyone here? all the Hunters?”
“Hell no,” Ellen replied with a smirk. “Word travels fast with Hunters but they make up their own damn minds about what they hear. Most are out working a job, or just decided not to come. 'Sides,” Ellen waved around at the surrounding Hunters, “you think we'd let our kids walk into something like this?” The Hunters nodded and mumbled agreement at that.
“Something like what?” Giles asked and looked carefully at the two suspicious Hunters. Bobby looked quick as flick over to the right and back. Curious, Giles risked a look over there himself. There were a pair of young men, the only Hunters present below thirty five, sitting side by side on the railing of a horse stall. The taller one slouched over his knees, big and muscular. The light plaid shirt barely softened his look, while floppy brown hair fell in the way of his stare; silent, intense, and disturbing.
The one next to him wore a leather jacket with a gold charm around his neck, and fiddled with a large knife while he eyed Buffy and Giles up and down. Unlike his partner he didn't stare, but catalogued and assessed, actively looking for something beyond the ordinary. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him because he met Bobby's look with a nod and flipped his knife back into its sheath. Giles could have sworn a collective sigh went through the crowd right then.
Bobby nodded back and turned again to their visitors. Giles quietly filed the incident away in his mind for later. It might just be a case of good instincts, but if the Hunters had started dabbling in any magic it could make things that much more volatile for an alliance. Although it would surprise him. Hunters were notorious for their hatred of witches with their black and white moral views.
“Never mind what,” Bobby growled snapping Giles back to the present. “Just say your piece and then we'll be on our separate ways,” Bobby huffed.
“Well that's sort of what this meeting is about,” Buffy said, crossing her arms.“Separate ways aren't gonna work anymore.” The tension from before returned full force when she spoke, and some of the gathered Hunters glared out past the dust moats. It was like she was a child speaking out of turn, or they simply didn't want to hear from her. Well, she shrugged to herself, they would have to get over it, because like it or not, she was as close to a boss as they were going to get. Giles was her adviser, but he hadn't lead an army. Her watcher stood back and gave his slayer the floor, while she looked around at all the farmer Bill's and pitch fork fighters.
“The Watcher's Council has been aware of you for a long time. We know what you do, and what you don't do. You've all been fighting ghosts and little hobgoblins on the highways, occasionally some creatures in little towns, maybe some of you have even seen a demon.”
Angry whispers flew up around her when that word left her mouth and tension round the barn grew stiff and thick. Buffy smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so different from speaking to her girls after all. She certainly had their attention now.
“You've been doing this for years, decades even, but things have changed and its time you knew what's really going on out there. There are places, and things in the world worse than any urban legend or walking spirit.”
She began to explain to the crowd of Hunters what she had so many times to each new Slayer. She told them about the vampires and demons she had faced, and about the origins of evil, just as Giles had told her back in Sunnydale. This wasn't playing hopscotch with a few ghosts anymore. She wasn't even sure how many of these hunters had seen a real vampire, but she couldn't afford to have any clueless allies. She remembered the Initiative and Riley who had proudly announced he had caught a total of four monsters. That wouldn't happen anymore, no more amateurs. If these Hunters were gonna be in the game they needed to wise up. It was time to let these people know what was really going on, hell was real, it had mouths and gateways to earth, and saving the world was top priority.
“Now we have a lot more Slayer's to fight this,” she continued. “Every girl who could be a Slayer, is one. We've started a school to train them once we find them, but we're tight on staff and stretched thin. Just before Sunnydale fell the Watcher's headquarters were bombed. Most of them were killed and now we barely have enough trainers to go around.”
Mutters broke out through the gathering and scattered wide, some angry, some snickering.
While Buffy spoke Giles watched the Hunters, taking mental notes on the expressions and personalities in the crowd. Trying to judge which way the mob might run. There was more independence than he'd thought. He'd been hoping that if they could convince Harvelle and perhaps this man Bobby the rest would follow their lead, but the Hunters didn't seem to look on either them as a leader, and that could be a problem.
He looked over at them again. That man Bobby had to be Robert Singer, Giles would bet his best copy of the Vampyre Vulgate on it. He was supposedly an expert on ancient demon lore and brilliant man. Rumors about him had slunk around the Watchers headquarters but not many of his co-workers believed he actually existed. Giles had always suspected. Quentin Travers had always gotten a certain look when someone mentioned Bobby Singer, like the dirty laundry was being aired. Giles had occasionally mentioned the name in his more rebellious moments just to see Quentin's eye twitch. Now he stood before the man, real, breathing, and decidedly more gone to seed then any legends liked to portray.
Singer listened with intent and unflappable aplomb as the speech flowed from Buffy's mouth. He didn't take his eyes off either of them except to check back at the stable and the two young Hunters periodically. Giles looked over again, wondering if they were family.
When he met Bobby's gaze again the man was still smiling through his beard, but his eyes had gone cold. Saying that 'hands off' didn't cover it with those boys, Giles would lose a hand before he got close enough to lay one on them. He knew the look, he'd seen it in the mirror and he'd used it with Snyder, and the Mayor.
“Look I understand you're all independent,” Buffy continued, and Giles tuned back in as she started winding down. “But we all need to pull together now. This is our chance to finally work together and beat the evil in this world, and I say, if your willing, that we take it.”
There was silence in the barn as her words sunk in, and Hunters began nodding or shaking their heads as they willed. Murmurs got louder and grew into arguments as they discussed it among themselves. Finally Ellen, who had been following the loudest comments shrugged and said,
“It sounds more like you wants us working under you than with you.”
“No. No of course not.” Giles insisted. “But the Council is a very old and ancient organization. They have been fighting the forces of darkness for millennia and have the resources and the experience. Together we believe we could save a great many lives.”
“But you'll still be charge of that, and us.” Ellen said “I can't speak for anyone but myself, but I doubt most Hunters would be willing to go along with your council. It goes against a Hunters grain to follow anyone like that.”
“That's exactly the point,” Buffy argued back a little heat rising in her tone. She tossed her hair an regarded the circle of old hunters. “You people have no structure, no leadership, you even admitted most of you aren't here. You are never gonna win a big fight if you can't unite together. Frankly right now you're a liability to the people who are fighting. We're trying to save the world, every day, and if we can't tell ally from enemy we might as well accept defeat now. You need a leader and you need to fall in line.”
“Buffy,” Giles warned, as the grumbling in the crowd grew more tense and aggravated, but Ellen waved him off.
“Let her say it how she sees it Watcher.” She turned to Buffy. “I'm sorry hon but you can't expect that here. I understand the tough spot your in, your ranks are thin. But people round here fight for family, and we've got our own problems...” Ellen began, but Buffy cut her off.
“There are bigger things at stake here then family.” She insisted. The rumble of discontent grew louder and boiled over in crowd, but she spun and glared at them, speaking louder. “And bigger then your problems. We're running a war here. An apocalypse isn't just a word, its real, its happens, and we fight them off. Saving the world comes at price, and its about time you stood up with us took some, instead of playing hero around the campfire. I have seen and done things you couldn't imagine. I have sacrificed school, my friends, my family, my whole life for this calling. I have died to save you people and your families.”
Silence filled the barn as her last statement rang through the crowd, like a slap in the face. The Hunters stilled and stared back at her, tense with horror and anger. The only sound was the creaking barn timbers. Giles went to pinch the bridge of his nose. Buffy had just broken the crowd, but whether it was out of their own belligerence, or out of their willingness to listen he couldn't tell. He should really get her some books on public speaking.
Then into the silence came the sharp sound of clapping. Buffy spun around, along with the eyes of crowd and looked into the dark corner of the horse stall. Sitting on the stall was the young man in ripped jeans and leather who'd given Bobby the nod. He brought his hands together in a slow mockery of applause.
“Well color me impressed,” he called, his voice low, rough and full of command, enough to grab every Hunter's attention, even Buffy's. “Someone get this lady a gold ticket to the 'I've Been Dead' club,” he joked. Harsh snickers trickled through the assembly. Buffy opened her mouth, not sure for a moment whether to gasp in shock or hurl back an insult. But Bobby beat her to the quick,
“Dean,” he swore under his breath, starting forward across the barn.
The young man 'Dean' Giles guessed he was, jumped down from his perch to stand on a hay bale below, where he could look them all in the eye.
“I get it,” he drawled, leaning back against the stall with and arm resting by his partners leg. “I mean dying doesn't happen to just anybody. That makes you special.” He pointed at Buffy sarcasm dripping from his voice like bacon grease. “The rest of us, we're just a bunch dumb ass redneck pee-shooters. We don't know anything about hell, or demons, and none of us are as special as you, but, hey, lets take a poll just for the fun. Anybody here who's been dead before raise your hand,” he called out to the rest of crowd around the barn. Dean's taller companion hissed down from his seat on the stall above,
“Dude shut up.”
“God-damn it Dean,” Bobby growled, looking like he was going to take the back of his hand to the boy's head.
“Come on don't be shy just cause she's a Slayer,” Dean encouraged with a rakish smile. “How many people here have been dead at least once? Come on Sammy get your hand up,” he ordered the young man sitting above him.
Several hands raised cautiously among the crowd, including Dean's, and after a hesitant moment Sam's. Bobby had stopped his charge when the hands started raising and now rubbed his face, pulling his cap off in exasperation. Giles looked around the barn and started counting. five hands raised, including the two young men, six if he counted Buffy and her stubbornly crossed arms. Five out of twenty death experiences, good lord.
“Now. How many have been dead twice?” Dean asked, grinning like the wolf. Every hand in the barn lowered except for Dean's. Then Buffy's hand slowly raised and the two stared each other down. Giles winced contemplating that sad and horrific fact and all its possibilities. Death was transient when you worked with supernatural. Half the creatures they fought were undead, and there were always stories of some champion cheating death. But Buffy wasn't referring to a bit of quick CPR now, and neither it appeared was this boy Dean. That had to be looked into. True resurrection was rare and extremely dangerous.
Then Dean, sh!t eating grin plastered on, called out again just for fun,
“Anybody been dead three times?” no one kept a hand up then “No?” Dean asked. “Looks like its just me and you and me toots,” he turned back to the Slayer with a leer. “We'll have to arm wrestle for that place in the Guinness book.”
That last statement got Bobby moving again, and he charged across the barn shouting like a pissed off bull.
“Dean! shut it.”
“Awe come one Bobby,” Dean called back, with his first real emotion breaking past that fake, eat me, grin of his. He was angry, furious in fact and his anger reflected that of the hunter's gathered around the barn.
“We don't have to listen to this crap. We've all lost someone to this job. Everybody's sacrificed something, its part and parcel of the gig. You deal with it and move on, you don't see any of us pulling it out for browny points.”
Before anyone could reply he turned back to look straight at Buffy.
“I mean hey I get it. Having that crap destiny speech about being the one gal chosen to fight evil shoved down your throat every day? That can really screw with someone's head. My sympathies. But princess we ain't your f**king toy soldiers, and we're not civilians. Well I guess technically yeah, but whatever. You've got no idea what we do or don't deal with, or what's brewing under your own damn doorstep.”
Dean was growing more and more heated as he spoke, and other hunters were nodding vigorously in agreement as he went. He opened his mouth to throw out another opinion on where the Slayer and her Watcher could shove it, when Sam hopped off the stall and stood beside him on the bale of hay.
“What Dean's saying is that we know what we're doing,” Sam said taking up his brother's argument. “We're not amateurs. You balk at any of us seeing a demon before, but have you? have you ever seen a real demon? Not the kind that run around L.A. I mean a real, pure, untainted by humanity, straight from hell, incorporeal demon?”
“Boys!” Bobby's voice snapped across the barn, causing every mouth to clamp shut and mice to scurry into hiding. “That's enough,” he growled, then stepped in front of the two young men, who slouched back against the stall with hung heads. Bobby turned to face the Council's representatives.
“You've said your piece, now you hear ours. Once not long after the French and Indian War, the Council came to settlers with a lot of fancy words about what they knew and we didn't. But they'd been fighting evil things a continent away and didn't know half of what went on in America, so we Hunters took things into our own hands. They kept coming after that and we kept saying no. The Hunters who were stupid enough to fall in line with the Council lost all they had, books and protective talismans. When one of their Slayer's was born to a Hunter, they came and took her. Stole our children from their beds. We never saw or heard of them again, and the parents could only guess how and when they died. Hunters have damn good reasons not to trust you folk, and we've got long memories. ”
“Well that went crappy,” Buffy sighed and scuffed her heels in the dirt. Giles murmured under his breath and continued to frown beside her. The two of them sat in the now empty barn on bales of hay, little straws jabbing into their pants. The afternoon had grown late and the sun was casting long shadows across the dusty floor.
After Bobby Singer had spoken up the whole meeting had been done for.
Giles wasn't naïve. He could sympathize with the Hunter's anger. He knew all about the Council's policy's, their medieval methods of control and archaic practices. He'd done his best to protect his own Slayer from that. Buffy had never realized how lucky she was to born a continent away and Giles hoped she never found out. Their interference on her birthday had been bad enough.
He had tried to explain, after Bobby's speech, that things would change at the council. That the old practices were dead. That they weren't simply rebuilding but trying to reform it. That neither he nor any watcher would dream of kidnapping a Slayer from her home, and compromises could be made for training if their daughters were Slayer's.
They hadn't wanted to listen. The whole debate had quickly degenerated into hurled insults, accusations and name calling. Buffy had responded in kind, just shy of calling them mindless yokels and Giles himself had nearly told a tattooed biker he was a 'gormless prat.' It reminded him of some age old feud, with hurts and betrayals going to deep on either side to be considered rationally. The Council and the Hunters as Capulets and Montagues. Lord, it gave him a headache.
It was far worse then their worst predictions, and all because they didn't know any damn better. They didn't know anything about these people, what they fought and how they lived, even after Xander's remarkable success. Apparently that had been the equivalent of a 'hello nice to meet you'. Not the historical and psychological profile they'd hoped to acquire. The implication of so much twisted history between the Hunting community and the council left Giles disturbed.
The Council's sparse records left them with tremendous gaps in their knowledge of the community. What they didn't know about Hunters could probably fill a library. They were hard enough to find much less talk to. They had become so good being invisible, working undetected, and staying off the grid that they might as well have not existed at all. What Bobby's speech had told him, was that their information barely scratched the surface of the Hunters history. Giles wondered, had they known more about the men and women they'd come to convince, if would it have made a difference.
“Giles?” Buffy suddenly prodded him, and drew him out of his brooding. He looked up and for a moment she resembled the teenager she'd once been, who came to him for advice, and weapons, lolly-pops and hall passes.
“I didn't... This wasn't my fault was it?” She asked out of the blue. Giles shook his head and rushed to reassure her.
“No, no of course not,” he said. He didn't know if it was or wasn't really. A lot of the Hunter's initial belligerence could have come from her, but Giles didn't blame her. She'd done exactly what she always did with new Slayers. That was what she knew.
“There is no way of knowing if it could have gone better Buffy. We know so little about these people. The last official contact I can find between the Watchers and Hunters was over a hundred years ago.”
“But all that stuff they were yelling about, that couldn't have been a hundred years ago.”
“No.”
“Could there have been unofficial contact?” She mused. Giles nodded and dug into his coat pocket for a handkerchief.
“More than likely I think. But if so, it was illegal or... shady, and they didn't keep any records. Anyone who could tell us is now...”
“Dead,” Buffy finished.
“Yes,” Giles said, sadly.
“Giles what that guy said, about that old war and Watchers kidnapping Slayers, did they really?”
“Its quite possible. The Council always considered the Slayers and Potentials their... property, no matter what the country. As for the war,” Giles continued, “according to the diaries that I remember, after a truce was signed with the French the Council approached the English colonies offering to set up another headquarters here in America, to protect the local settlements. They were rudely refused and told in so many words to 'piss off'. I'm sure there's much more to the story, but that's all I know.”
Giles paused and looked out open barn doors. A few Hunters were still there sharing a smoke, water and conversation under the eves before they too scattered to the winds. They were, Giles thought, an intriguing people. A culture of gypsies that had survived the centuries and still thrived in the modern world. He would have loved to learn more about them, if things had been different.
“I guess it's over,” Buffy sighed. It was probably true and Giles couldn't hide his disappointment at that.
*
Not far away, down in the dell below the barn the trees were rustling gently, greeting each Hunter that came stalking beneath them. Bobby marched through the tall grass at the edge of the vale, while the boys John had left him in everything but name followed behind like a pair of defiant pups.
“Bobby?” Dean called, stomping through the dirt in his heavy biker boots to catch up with the old man. You'd never think Bobby was, what, sixty? Guy moved like hamster when he was pissed.
“Not a word, from either of you two blockheads,” Bobby growled over his shoulder. He was worried. It was easier to turn it in to anger and keep going, but the truth was, it was fear gnawing deep at his gut. Fear for the boys, for the future. Things were a mess already. Demons were walking the earth, old ones. A god-damned feudal war was going on between them, fighting each other and fighting Hunters, and while every petty beelzebub was vying for power human beings were getting caught in the crossfire. Now the Council was moving in? Hell, they might as well castrate themselves.
“You two were supposed to lay low and stay quiet,” Bobby growled. “How many times have I told you these folks are bad news, always have been,” he rumbled. It might have been alright if they'd remained unnoticed, but Dean just had to put his foot in it. John's boys might as well have wanted posters with their names on them given how many demons were after them. Now the Watchers Council was gonna be poking their nose in too. Since that little display in the barn it was only a matter of time before they came looking. Hell, he'd be burning his house off the map with every bit of magic he knew if he hadn't done it already.
“I shoulda sent you two off with Jo. It'd be a helluva lot safer. The only reason I let you come at all...”
“You needed me here and you know it,” Dean cut him off. “By the way, their both clean in case you didn't catch that.”
Bobby spun around and Dean faced him open arms, Sam standing solid behind his back like a specter. It was true. They'd needed the boys, well, needed Dean, but taking one without the other was like trying to separate H2o. Hell the only reason he'd come himself was because Dean was there. There was no way a possessing demon could sneak past him unnoticed.
Dean had spent three months in Hell. That was human time, who knew how long it had been for Dean. He wouldn't say, but he was still feeling the aftereffects months later. The hallucinations he'd gotten from the hellhounds, and then from hell itself kept him attuned to local demons like a god-damned radar. He saw their true faces, no matter who they possessed. It made him damn useful to have around, but it wore on the soul. Bobby was hoping it was just a symptom that would fade, but he didn't know. No one had ever come back from hell, not that Bobby knew of, not ever. He didn't know how it had happened either, just that Sam had something to do with it. From the dark and trodden look in that kids eyes Bobby wasn't sure he wanted to know either.
Whatever had happened, they should have kept the whole thing to themselves. Hell Dean had only let two people know about Sam and his psychic thing, the whole community found out anyway. They should know better, the both of them. They didn't have to advertise to the god-damned Watchers. Bobby hadn't been so close to decking one of the boys since Dean had gone to the crossroads. That damn family never learned to just let it lie. This wasn't even life or death, just a couple of insults that should have fallen off them like water off a duck. He could hardly believe Sam had joined in. He used to be able to count on Sam to have some sense, but he was becoming even more reckless than his brother.
“Oh I caught your heads up Dean, and so did they, real subtle there.”
“Come on Bobby, gimme a break,” Dean groaned throwing his head back in exasperation.
“I should break your backside for opening your mouth. Nodding like blooming elephant wasn't bad enough.” Bobby stomped forward, pointing a finger at Dean's chest. Their voices started to rise over the country dell as two Winchesters and Singer went at it.
“We only said what every Hunter in there was thinking. They were about riot,” Sam argued behind them and Dean picked up his line like the two were a comedy damn act.
“Someone would have called them on that arrogant crap they were dishing out,” he finished.
“Your damn right they would have,” Bobby yelled, losing his grip on his patience, “but it shouldn't have been you!”
“We're not ten Bobby,” Sam argued, spreading his hands as if to emphasis his six foot four height. “You can't send us packing like kids, and working a job instead isn't any safer.”
“The hell it isn't,” Bobby hissed, stepping forward and getting in their faces. “This ain't vengeful spirit dangerous. This is government dangerous.” The two brothers shifted their feet and looked at each other, nervous now. Bobby looked back and forth. “Do I have you attention now? Imagine the god-damned FBI with psychics, seers, magic and inhumanly strong fighters to work for them.”
“Eeugh. Super villain Henrickson,” Dean made a gagging face.
“Damn right,” Bobby nodded. “Do you have any idea what that Council would do if they found out about the two of you. They're the damned supernatural Inquisition. If they decide something or someone is too dangerous or dark they take them out. Try, convict and execute. They'd take Sam in an instant and you wouldn't be far behind Dean. Hell I'd be cooling my heels in a cell for half the books I've got on demon lore, and there's no other body big enough the gainsay them if they catch you. So Hunters don't get caught. You two are all I got left for family, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna lose you. Especially not to some damn Watcher.”
Silence descended on the dell for moment, broken by the rising sound of crickets in the evening. The Winchesters each had a head turned to the side in perfect unison. They looked at each other, than back at Bobby, and Dean frowned and asked,
“Does have anything to do with McKinley's disappearance?”
Bobby sighed and readjusted his cap, he'd been playing with that a lot lately Dean noticed. He wasn't used to Bobby being so nervous, normally he was their rock. He was the guy they called up on a hunt when they were stumped, and would sedately calm them down and tell them what morons they were. They were used to Bobby knocking them for stupid pranks and antics, the Trickster came to mind as Dean glance back at his little brother. But Bobby always had a little laugh under his gruff insults before. Now it was different. All Dean could hear was fear, and that made him angry. Bobby Singer had faced down a sea of demons, and gone up against Lilith for them. He didn't want Bobby to be afraid of something so... human.
“Bill's daughter got called as one of these new Slayers,” Bobby admitted. “ I don't know how they found her, but someone came looking and they booked out of Jersey as soon as they could, afraid they'd take her. Hell the girl was only thirteen.”
Bobby looked up at them both, his eyes weary and sad.
“Your dad didn't learn to travel round just because of the work, or to keep the police off his tail, he didn't want the council to find you either.”
A cold breeze came drifting through the vale, rattling the trees and sending chills down their spines. All three men huddled deeper in their coats and wondered in the privacy of their minds if it was a sign. Bobby shrugged his shoulder and waved them under the trees where the sleek outline of the Impala waited.
“Come on, lets get our asses home.”
*
Ellen shook hands with the last Hunters leaving the barn, reminded them to be careful, and blessed their roads with a whispered prayer to old Sarn Elen. Her family hadn't been Welsh since her great grandfather's day, but hell, she figured every little bit helped.
The sun was running low on the horizon, shadows long and sharp on the ground. Soon it would be getting dark and she'd have to light the candles round the barn to keep up the protections if anyone was still here. She heaved a sigh and rested her hands on her hips, looking out over the dry, yellow country before turning round and going back to check the place.
The barn was full of shadows and the sweet hay smell. There weren't any Hunters still lurking about, but sitting by the old rusted wagon on a bale of hay were their two visitors, lingering with hung heads. The Watcher and his Slayer sat together with shoulders slumped in the dying sunlight. They were such a comically dejected sight that Ellen nearly laughed. The poor Slayer looked like her girl Jo when she had been stuck hauling beer back at the roadhouse. Such a long faced pout on that girl.
The Watcher was sitting with his knees on his elbows, methodically wiping his glasses as if they were a pair of meditation balls. His long hansom faced stared out at nothing, lost in thought, and Ellen figured he probably didn't have any idea he was still cleaning his lenses.
Ellen shook her head, exasperated at herself at being such a gull for dejected souls. Probably why she opened the old Roadhouse in the first place. She walked slowly up to the pair, softening the sound of her steps on the spread hay. Then propped her foot up on a broken barrel and rested her own elbows on her knee while she leaned forward and regarded them both.
“You two look as happy as dead pigs in the sunshine,” she announced.
The Watcher jumped in his seat and dropped his glasses as he spun around. Ellen chuckled gently at the man. His Slayer though, she just looked up once and glared, not surprised at all. Probably heard her approach from the door. Ellen remembered Bobby saying something about a Slayer having improved senses, like a vampire. She shuddered inwardly at the idea. It sounded like messing around with nature to her, not something that should be tampered with. Still, she'd felt the same way about Sam at first. She figured, if she could give a psychic a chance, she could afford a Slayer the same courtesy.
The Watcher rose from his seat to address her, picking up his glasses first.
“Oh, ah, Mrs. Harvelle, we didn't know you were still here.”
“It's no trouble Watcher,” she said, offering the poor man a smile. “I gotta make sure everyones out of here by sundown, or else light the candles.”
“Oh...” Giles paused and looked around the barn, noticing for the first time the torch brackets placed in the barn's four corners. Above them he could just pick out the outlines of symbols drawn in chalk.
“Extraordinary,” he mumbled, looking about. That was complicated magic of some sort, not amateur stuff. Anya would have been impressed. He'd have to bring Willow here someday.
“Why sundown?” Buffy asked, suspicious. “What is it with this place?”
Ellen chuckled and shook her head.
“Well that would be telling,” she said, “and there ain't nothing Hunters love so much as their secrets.”
“Yeah, we got that,” the Slayer grumbled standing up and crossing her arms.
“I expect that's one thing we have in common then,” Ellen drawled. The Slayer shrugged. She looked like she wanted to pursue it but an intent cough from her Watcher closed her mouth. She looked back and forth between Ellen and Giles, who was shifting nervously on his feet, and announced,
“I'll go wait by the car.” She threw a suggestive little smirk at her Watcher over her shoulder as she left.
“Yes thank you Buffy,” Giles said with an wince. Ellen raised her brows,
“Oh she's got spunk,” she said.
“You have no idea,” the Watcher mumbled, putting his glasses back on. They stood together for a moment, Ellen waiting and Giles awkwardly sticking his hands in his pockets while each one wondered what the other had going through their mind. Finally Giles cleared his throat and said,
“Um, I wanted to thank you for helping Xander before I left, I know it was mostly your word that put all this together.”
“I just lent hand, that boy seemed pretty earnest when he came by.”
“He's worked very hard for this. I just wish it could have gone better.”
“You trying to sell me another line about your Council here,” Ellen asked, amused.
“Guilty I'm afraid,” He admitted with a self-deprecating little smile. “I must sound like traveling salesman to you.”
Ellen laughed outright at that. Hell she'd heard stories of the Watchers like every other Hunter. Even met a few herself, scary, stuffed up sons of bitches that they were. But she'd give it to this man, he was trying hard, even with his tail between his legs. If this was the man Xander Harris had learned from she could see where he got some of those fine, earnest traits of his. She was half convinced to give him a hand.
“You want some advice Watcher?” She asked
“Giles please,” he insisted and Ellen nodded.
“Giles then. When the Watchers came round last time they were, frankly a bunch of arrogant asses hungry for power. Thought we were grunt labor. If you want to talk to any Hunters, you've gotta prove your different.”
“We knew we'd be up against their old reputation. I'd simply hoped some Buffy's history might prove the difference,” he said. He leaned back against the wagon with a sigh and regarded the fiery woman next to him. Of course it was difficult to judge her character, he barely knew her, but unlike the others she seemed willing to listen.
“You may not believe this but I do understand your reservations,” he offered softly, hoping that perhaps with just this one woman, he could make a connection. “I understand why your people have struggled to keep autonomy. It wasn't long ago that we, Buffy and I, were in your position. The old Council was... well they liked everyone under their thumb, the Slayer especially. Buffy called them 'evil and scary' if I recall correctly.”
Ellen smiled and nodded, a laugh hiding in the back of her throat.
“Sounds about right,” she said. “We did hear about you, Harris told some stories round the bar about the Slayer 'firing' the old codgers. That got a few folk to show up here. But when she started her speech making that girl sounded just like 'em. That isn't gonna buy friends no matter who you are. Especially the ones in Bobby's court.”
“Bobby? Ah yes I meant to ask, that man from before is that Robert Singer?” Giles inquired and Ellen nodded. “Do you know him well? He was something of a legend among the old Watchers, a bad legend if you will.”
Ellen chuckled and stepped off the hay bale, coming to stand beside him and lean an arm against the wagon.
“Yeah I know Bobby. He loves his whiskey and his dogs. He's a good man but he's dead set against the your Council, and its not just old history for Bobby, its personal.”
“Really. How so?”
“Don't know for sure,” Ellen shrugged, “but I know he got burned by them sometime in the past.”
“I see, and those two young men who were with him, do you know them?”
Ellen tensed up next to him, her smile dropping and her open posture closing up quick as a rattler bite.
“The Winchesters? Sure,” she said, cold as a north breeze. “Tough as nails and twice as sharp, the both of 'em. Why you asking?” She demanded, her voice taking on the sharp form of a threat.
“Ah...” Giles paused taking a mental step back, at the suddenly closed off bearing and the distinctly displeased mother bear vibe coming her. He thought of all reasons he had catalogued before, the allusion to a resurrection, very dangerous, the mention of demons from elder lore. He frowned, remembering some of the impressions he'd gotten from the three men back in the meeting. Odd little things which were adding up to an unhappy bigger picture.
Ellen could see the thoughts whirling through his head, and waited for some question about the Hunter's doings. Sam and Dean had practically let the whole cat out of the bag before, and every Hunter knew the Council man caught it.
“They were... intriguing,” the Watcher finally said. Ellen looked at him for moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it didn't come. That was all he'd say, and finally she felt a warm relief that he wasn't going to push it. She was ready to trust him a bit more then the others, but not with family secrets, not yet. Even if she was, they weren't her secrets to tell.
“Intriguing huh? That's one way to look at 'em I guess. There's only two ways to go with a Winchester, either you love 'em, or you hate 'em. Whichever way you lean, Watcher, you'll half have the hunters buying you drinks and other half trying to knife you in your sleep because of it.”
“They sound... controversial.”
“You've no idea,” Ellen repeated his earlier words with a smirk. She considered him for awhile. It'd all come out eventually of course. That display of Dean's had gotten the crowd talking before they threw fists, but hell it was a good as a billboard saying 'we've got an apocalypse here'. The Watcher wasn't pushing now, and she was grateful, but he would eventually. She knew a smart man when she met one, and this one was waiting for the opportunity to sink his teeth into a mystery. Question was, could she risk trusting him with it or not. There wasn't a lot of room for stringent rules and black and white morality in hunting. Folks like Gordon Walker who felt that way got themselves in trouble, cause no hunter was squeaky clean.
“you know what, here.” Ellen grabbed a pen and a match pack from her shirt pocket, coming to a quick decision, and started writing on the back. “This is Bobby's place. You can find him there most of the year and I know the boys are staying with him right now.”
“What, I ah, thank you, Mrs Harvelle. This is quite... unexpected.”
“Well Harris vouched for you on his soul, Watcher or no Watcher.”
“I'm honored.”
“Don't be honored just yet. Bobby might shoot you before you get past the porch, and if you breath a letter of that address to anyone else, even your Slayer, or make a move on any one of them I will put you down like dog,” she said, deadly serious and looking him straight in the eye so he knew it.
“May I ask,” Giles began gently, “why are you're telling me at all?”
“Because you seem like a good man,” she answered. “Because if you can convince Bobby your gold, you can convince anyone. Because I'm a woman and a mother, and unlike some around here I know enough to ask for help when I damn well need it. I'm hoping you can help them a little. In bad times you need all the friends you can get.”
“Very true,” Giles whispered, and wondered about that little statement. Yet another mention of bad times, and trouble. He was getting more and more sense that there was more going on then standard hunting.
“Good luck, and you watch yourself up there,” Ellen called as he shook her hand and walked away.
He left the barn and wandered back down to his car, parked on the little dirt drive next to a wild hedge. Buffy was by the car facing waiting for him. She looked like he'd seen her on patrol a hundred times, just waiting her opportunity to spring into action at the slightest sound of something wrong. He probably wouldn't have even gotten a whole scream out before she came running in to his aid.
“You get anything?” She asked crisply, all business when he reached the car.
“Yes, surprisingly,” he answered, digging the key out his pocket. He looked down at the little matchbook in his hand. “An address.”
“Great lets go,” Buffy declared throwing open the passenger door.
“No Buffy” Giles said immediately.
“What?” she asked, disbelief turning her mouth into an open fly trap. Giles watched her bounce on a the balls of her feet, ready for another fight, and knew that this was exactly why she shouldn't come, not yet. Buffy and her habit of looking for threats in every corner had just made an already belligerent crowd of Hunters, more hostile. They were clearly up against something, the mentions of elder demons giving Giles some spine chilling suppositions. Whatever it was it had them running scared. If they had perceived Buffy and himself as another threat, they would disappear so quickly it might take decades to find them all again. Good lord he should have seen it before. From Xander's stories they were acting like soldiers in the trenches, and despite this Ellen Harvelle had offered him her trust.
“Buffy, I think it would best if I did this alone.”
“Oh, no way, Giles, I do not trust these people,” Buffy argued. Giles grabbed his glasses off his face, blinking down at her in frustration and very near his last straw.
“That is precisely the point. We don't trust them and they don't trust us, hence our current impasse. Buffy this information was given to me confidence, I cannot take anyone with me or it will blow our only chance to ally with these people.”
“But, but there could be... I don't, evil there.” Buffy insisted, unhappy with the whole idea. “What if you get knocked on the head again?”
“I don't think that will be an issue,” Giles muttered, deciding not to mention Ellen's warning about getting shot. He wished he had lead vest. “When we get back I want you to call Willow, and get her and Xander up here. I don't know how long I'll be gone so...” he continued, stuffing the matchbook into his coat pocket.
“It's okay Giles, I'll take care of it.” Buffy said and got in the car beside him, eyeing his pocket as she sat.
I didn't comment on it yesterday when I read this as I was not sure if you wanted it in here or was going to make a discussion thread for it. I did comment in the OoC for your upcoming rpg about it though so I will say what I did there. I loved the two posts so far, the interactions in the barn I could display in my head and totally see those characters going that way. Dean sitting back until he had enough and being the first to make an outburst, then doing the whole who has the bigger stick routine. Loved it!
Great stuff dude! I haven't read all of it (it's long, lol) but from what I have read, it's great. I only know Supernatural, but you've gotten me a little interesting in Buffy as well.
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