Origins: Resolutions by Niamh

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Chapter 19: Let every eye negotiate for itself

Author's Notes: I thought for sure I was gonna work on Safe in My Own Skin, but for some reason that’s not really wanting to get written. The muse let loose on this one, so that’s what’s here. And nothing I just wrote is coherent. I’m sorry, for a couple of reasons. As some of you know, I’ve recently moved, and that’s taken up a huge chunk of my time (rightfully so); added to that some other personal RL issues, and you have a delay. But I should be back on track with everything, gods willing *knocks wood* and should have another update (on one of the stories) next week. Anyway, here it is. Title and quotes are as attributed, and the disclaimers mean that Joss still owns it all. Wanker. Git has no clue what he’s got.

Let every eye negotiate for itself,
And trust no agent.
Much Ado About Nothing, act ii, sc i

A bargain is in its very essence a hostile transaction . . .
do not all men try to abate the price of all they buy?
I contend that a bargain even between brethren is a declaration of war.
George Gordon Noel Byron, Letter, July 14, 1821.

In the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I’ll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
Henry IV, Part I, act iii, sc i



“And now, my day is complete.” Buffy grimaced and her face flushed dark red. “This is just icing on the cupcake. Why are you here?”

“Good evening, all.” Quentin Travers smiled, his gaze taking in everyone arrayed around him. It wasn’t until his gaze rested on Faith that his equanimity faltered. “Miss Lehane. This is a surprise. I’d thought only one Slayer was defying death’s odds.”

Faith shrugged nonchalantly, though it was clear to Jenner she was a bit on edge. “Well, you know me, don’t like to let Summers have all the fun.”

Momentarily dismissing Faith, Travers turned his attention to Buffy. “Congratulations, Miss Summers, on the impending arrival.” He forestalled her retort with a raised hand. “Please, let’s skip the back and forth. Giles, Wyndham-Pryce, I would have expected one of you to inform the Council of the situation here in Sunnydale. Either of them.”

He proceeded down the steps, stopping just in front of Buffy and Spike. “William the Bloody. I’ve heard much about you.”

Spike stiffened. “Sure you have. Why is it you’re here?”

Travers inhaled deeply, his gaze again roaming about the room. “I’d rather not play games. I’m aware you have all been notified of our impending arrival. It would have been far better had we been informed of circumstances here in Sunnydale.”

He indicated his companions. “This is John Nicholson, my personal aide. I’m sure at least one of you is aware of his identity.” When both Wesley and Giles moved to speak, he waved them off. “Spencer Whitworth is also known to both of you. The young lady is the newest Slayer, Kennedy.”

She preened under the attention, though she bristled when both of the other Slayers ignored her. “It appears that we have a bit of a conundrum. Two Slayers was unprecedented, but three? This is definitely one for the chronicles.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Buffy couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her tone. I so don’t have the patience for this. “Can you get to the point?”

“Very well.” Travers motioned Buffy toward the table, holding out a chair for her. “Initially the decision to visit was precipitated by the dual reports of your condition and Miss Lehane’s demise. However, additional information came to light while we were en route.”

Thinking better of declining the proffered chair, Buffy sat down heavily. Spike moved to stand behind her while the two erstwhile Watchers approached the table. Travers sat down opposite Buffy, then waited for the others to follow. Faith took Spike’s usual position on the stairs, with Jenner leaning against the steel risers. Tara and Oz settled onto the stools at the counter, which left Nicholson and the two women standing.

“What is the additional information?” Giles questioned his former employer, after exchanging a heated look with Spike.

“Two years ago, when the Initiative’s base in Sunnydale was dismantled and ordered destroyed, the Council, through the Defence Ministry, exerted considerable pressure upon the U.S. Military and obtained an agreement preventing any future presence on the Hellmouth. That agreement has been breached.”

Buffy groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Great. Just great. Try to do one thing right and it all backfires. I’m never thinking again.”

Spike dropped a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it in support. “Told you it wasn’t your fault, Slayer.”

“It doesn’t matter who is to blame. Their presence in Sunnydale poses a considerable risk for Miss Summers, especially given her condition.”

“Gee, and here we thought the Council was gonna be more of a problem.” Buffy kept her eyes trained on the table, afraid to look up and find disapproval everywhere.

“I have to say, Miss Summers, your lack of faith in our organization is rather disappointing.”

“Oh, please. I can’t believe you’d even think for one second I’d trust any of you. Cruciamentum come to mind?” She glared at the Council head. “How about not giving me info on Glory? Sure could have used your help then.”

Travers had the grace to look apologetic. “The Cruciamentum is a necessary test of ability.”

“Sure it is. How able do you think a slayer is gonna be when you take away all her strength?” Drumming her fingers on the table, Buffy continued. “Huh? Just how stupid do you think we are? That test is designed to eliminate problem slayers.” She used air quotes around the word.

“Actually, that is quite far off the mark. That test is designed to test our best slayers.” Travers shifted his attention between both Slayers. “It differs for each girl. Miss Lehane would have had to undergo the test on her eighteenth birthday, however, she spent that day in a coma.”

“Gee, really glad I lucked out on that one.” Faith’s derisive comment garnered smiles from some of the new Scoobies, but the look on Travers’ face remained grim.

“The Council has never had to face a situation quite like this one. For the first time in history there are three active Slayers.” A pensive look crossed his features and he brushed a hand over his goatee. After a glance at Nicholson, Travers leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, then fixed his gaze on Buffy. His scrutiny lasted so long, that even Giles grew uncomfortable and when he started to speak, Travers held up a hand to forestall him. “A moment, Rupert.”

When he finally did start speaking, it was on a topic so far removed from what they had been discussing that everyone but Travers was thrown for a loop. “Tell me, Miss Summers, how is your sister?”

“What? Why do you wanna know how Dawn is? What is this all about?” Buffy struggled to her feet, trying to ease some of the cramps in her lower back. “You came all the way from London just to drive me crazy?”

“No, that was not my intention. My intention was to obtain information on your current situation. And your sister is part of that.”

Spike’s patience was at an end. “She’s fine. Get to the point, got more important things to worry about.”

Travers answered, “Very well,” but then lapsed into silence.

“Oi!” Spike angrily slapped his hand down on the table. “Get on with it, you old git.”

Preferring to ignore the insult, Travers focused instead on Buffy, who was pulling Spike away from the table. “Miss Summers, as head of the Council, I’m prepared to offer you protection from the Initiative.”

“Sheyah. Don’t really need protection.” She waved off his statement, silently urging Spike to step back and away from the table.

“While that is quite possibly true, that isn’t the entirety of my offer.” He looked pointedly at her extended belly, then shook his head. “What lengths would you go to, to protect your child?”

Spike and Buffy both froze at the question. While seemingly innocent, neither of them applied that attribute to the Council. The vampire stepped in front of Buffy, shielding her from Travers’ intense gaze. His low growl reverberated in the shop, but the older Englishman just waited patiently for an answer.

“What would you do, Miss Summers?”

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?” Graham stepped in front of Riley before the bigger man could exit the Espresso Pump. Dr. Gebhardt had already exited, though Graham didn’t particularly care. He wanted Riley’s undivided attention. “You did not just threaten to kidnap the Slayer’s baby.”

“I wouldn’t call it kidnapping.” Riley had the sense to not look Graham in the eye, as if he knew what the blond was thinking.

“No? What the hell would you call it, then?” Graham’s eyes flashed and his jaw tensed.

“We have no idea if what she’s carrying is even human. So it’s not kidnapping.” Riley moved to step around him and had almost made it when the shorter man grabbed his arm.

His grip was strong and he dug his fingers into the muscles of Riley’s arm, holding him in place. “Are you kidding me? You aren’t sure? It doesn’t matter if you’re sure or you aren’t. That kid is not yours. You can’t just take it away from its mother. That’s wrong.”

“How wrong is it if that ‘baby’ is a demon? If that kid has the potential to destroy everything?” Riley glared down into Graham’s eyes. “We can’t take that chance.”

“Demon or not, that baby has a mother and I’ll bet the mother – the Slayer – your former girl? I’ll bet she loves that baby already.” Graham pushed Riley away. “I don’t understand you, man.”

“What’s to understand?” Riley stepped into Graham’s space, looming over the shorter man. “Your orders are to make every effort to obtain the infant.”

Graham didn’t back down. He refused to. What Riley was asking him to do was wrong. He stared at Riley’s back as the other man finally moved away, shaking his head. “It may be orders, but that doesn’t make it right.”

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but Graham thought he’d better figure it out soon, before Riley really went further off the deep end.

Willow raced through downtown Sunnydale, long red hair flying behind her like a banner. Sundown was only minutes away, and she knew there was a possibility no one but Giles and Anya would be at the shop, but she had to try. Someone – or something – had broken into Warren’s house and stolen everything, including the nearly-assembled robot. Her first and only thought had been to warn them. Whether they rejected her wasn’t important, it didn’t matter. She just needed to tell someone.

Dodging around a group of people outside the Espresso Pump, Willow slammed into the back of a man who’d moved across her path. “Ow!”

His companion steadied her, holding her upright when she started to fall. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” Willow shook her head and made as if to move around them, only to stop dead in her tracks. “Riley?”

“Willow, how are you?”

She wasn’t sure which of them looked more surprised. Riley Finn was one person she’d never expected to see ever again, not after the way he’d left. Warning bells went off in her head and Willow figured she’d better play it cool. Her eyes darted from his figure to the man standing beside him and she flinched from his intense gaze.

“I’m good. What brings you back to Sunnydale?” The forced cheerfulness wasn’t noticed by either of the two males and Willow relaxed fractionally, until another man joined them. She recognized him immediately and stepped away from Riley.

“Ah. I, uh, heard about Buffy and came back as soon as I got leave. Didn’t realize it was a – “ He searched in vain for a word to describe what he’d found. “That Xander’s letter was wrong.”

Confusion flooded her. “Xander’s letter? He wrote to you?”

“Yeah. He. . . ah, said Buffy was, um, gone.” Riley shrugged. “But you know, not possible since she’s here and . . . ah, obviously healthy.”

Willow stared at him, unable to believe he was as stupid as he was trying to make her believe. “Right. Healthy as a horse, that’s our Buffy.” Nervously, she wrung her fingers together and she tried to come up with some way to extract herself from this awkward meeting. “So, I’ve gotta go. Got a couple of things to do. How long are you staying?”

“Just a couple more days. I’m hoping Buffy will let me take her to dinner or something.” Riley shifted restlessly, his eyes never meeting Willow’s.

“Um, Riley? You do know Buffy’s kinda moved on, right?” Willow was having more and more trouble with this whole conversation, though she wasn’t entirely sure Riley was either. It didn’t take any magical or special ability to figure out he was hiding something. His body language was clear enough. And the fact he didn’t introduce his companions was both rude and weird, though Willow was pretty sure she didn’t want to know who the older guy was. He was giving off some very creepy vibes.

“Yeah. Got that message. Still, for old time’s sake, maybe she’ll go for coffee or something. During the day.” The slam was obvious and so heavy-handed that Willow winced.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Willow shrugged, then put on her best cheery, ditzy smile and waved her hand. “You never know. Gotta run, see ya.”

She raced off, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. This is not good. . . . Maybe the Initiative guys nabbed him and. . . . Whoever it was, Willow had to tell the others about Warren – and Riley.

What would I do? Buffy’s hand brushed over her belly in a classic motion as she carefully contemplated Travers’ question. Movement from Dawn caught her eye and Buffy realized exactly what she would do. She’d died for Dawn when she believed she was only her sister. A sarcastic quip surged to her lips, but Buffy fought it back. Travers had been deadly serious, so she would, for once, continue in that same tone.

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do.” Her voice was quiet, deadly, and dangerously soft. “But I think you already knew that.”

Travers nodded his head, confirming her suspicion. “Very well.” He glanced over her shoulder and posed the same question to Spike. “And you? What would you do?”

Ignoring the whole matter of how Travers knew he had anything to do with Buffy’s condition, Spike didn’t hesitate. “Whatever I had to do.”

“As I suspected.” He paused, eyes never leaving Spike’s. “And yet, according to all reports, you are hampered by the presence of a behavioral modification chip that was implanted by Initiative scientists that limits your violence against living things.”

“Doesn’t matter. ‘ll do whatever I have to.” Spike’s tone was resolute and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he wouldn’t live up to his vow.

Travers nodded thoughtfully, once again lapsing into silence. After a few long, tense moments, he raised his head. “I propose an agreement.”

Buffy waited a beat, glancing at Spike from under her lowered lashes. “For?”

“There are currently three issues of importance. The Initiative, Spike’s chip, and your child.” Travers rose to his feet, clasping his hands behind his back. “Am I correct in assuming that you contacted the Initiative in the hopes of gaining their assistance to remove Spike’s chip?”

Spike growled softly and Buffy wrapped a hand around his upper left arm. It was Giles who responded, though, before either of the others could think of a convincing lie. “Why is that your first assumption?”

With a glance over at his likely successor, Travers raised an eyebrow. “You surely don’t believe I am that naive to assume otherwise?” He turned his attention back to Buffy and Spike. “In order for you both to be effective fighters and protectors of your child, neither of you must be hampered by a disability. And the chip could be considered just that. Or am I mistaken?”

Startled by his statement, both blondes just goggled at the older man. “How? What? Huh?”

Buffy was eloquent in her confusion and she looked to Wesley and Giles to rescue the situation. When neither one of them could, Travers continued, “Logic, Miss Summers, leads one to that conclusion no matter what the external variables.”

Again she was stumped. “Huh?”

“There will always be some group or another seeking to gain control of your child. Whether it is a demonic faction or a human one bent on destruction, there are always evil forces seeking an edge.” He stepped closer, his gaze alternating between the two.

“What would you do to protect your child?”

The repetition of the question did not go unnoticed. Nor did the fact that Travers was leading them up to some devil’s bargain that they might not be able to refuse.

Spike, though, was the one to speak before any of the others. “An’ what is it you’re proposing?”

Travers looked positively happy at the prospect of laying out his proposal. “The Council would like updates and information on the child’s development and abilities.”

“That’s all?” Not one to look into a gift horse’s mouth, Spike was skeptical.

“Ah, no. The Council would require some other concessions from you.”

“So, you’re negotiating?” Spike looked to Giles who arched his eyebrow in response and then looked pointedly to his left, where Anya was tucked behind the counter, watching the proceedings avidly.

“The Council is willing to assist you with both the Initiative and the removal of your chip, in exchange for what I just mentioned and other considerations.” The excitement in Travers’ voice was hard to miss.

“Other considerations?” Anya caught the unspoken communication between Spike and Giles and she interrupted the conversation for the first time. “Exactly what do you mean by other considerations?”

She started to move out from behind the counter, but caught herself when everyone focused on her. “Or maybe I don’t want to know.” An odd look crossed her face and she ducked her head, bracing herself for an onslaught of comments.

When none was forthcoming, Anya picked her head up, her gaze darting from one encouraging expression to another. But it was Buffy’s smile that put her mind at ease and Anya stood her ground.

“We haven’t been introduced. I’m Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins. I run the Magic Box with Rupert.” Her smile was engaging and Travers could do nothing but respond and shake her extended hand. “So, what did you have in mind?”

Both Wesley and Giles hid smiles behind their hands and Buffy leaned into Spike’s back, trying desperately to hold back her laughter. Spike’s lips twitched and he leaned toward Anya, whispering something into her ear. Her returning grin was wide and bright, and everyone from Sunnydale knew Travers was about to engage in the negotiations of his life.







to be continued. . .

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