"Look out!"
Eduardo shoved Kylie roughly against the ground behind a desk in the newsroom, as a beam of energy struck the wall behind them, passing just inches over their heads. He then proceeded to stand up and fire the full force of his proton gun on the "class 3 ectoplasmic manifestation", holding it in place as Roland threw a ghost-trap under it. In moments, the ghost was sucked into the device, which then closed around it, locking it safely inside.
"You did it again!" Kylie was giving him that look, her hands on her hips in a posture that suggested tightly-reigned aggravation. "I had him, Eduardo!"
He held a hand out to cup her cheek. "Ky, I --"
She slapped his hand away, and stalked off, throwing him angry words over her shoulder. "I can take care of myself! I used to pull your ass outta the fire quite a bit before, if you remember."
He glowered at her departing backside. "Thank-you, Eduardo, for keeping me from being fried by that energy bolt!" he said, in a mockingly sing-song voice. "You're welcome, lady!"
She slammed the door behind her, and he struck a file cabinet nearby with his fist in reply.
Roland glanced at the inch-deep dent left by his friend's hand in the metal, shaking his head. He was going to have to have a talk with Egon about this ...
"I told you to get out of there!!"
Angel scowled at the drain at his feet, then grew self-conscious as he realised people were staring at him. He redirected his scowl at the smattering of passersby. "Hey! This is LA! Haven't you seen a crazy man talk to a gutter before?"
The late-night strollers hurried on their way, leaving Spike free to pop his ghostly head through the bars of the drain. Except it wasn't his face on that head. It was that of Tim Curry, in clown make-up.
"We all float down here!" the clown informed Angel in a raspy voice.
The brooding vamp had made the mistake of confiding to his disincarnate associate that he had refused to take a shower for a week after seeing the movie adaptation of Stephen King's It. Having recently learned to alter his reality, Spike spent hours practicing by trying to change his features into those of the film's villain, just to torment "the great poof".
Angel threw his hands up into the air in disgust and turned away. "God, that's the last time I tell you anything when I've been drinking!"
"Well, at least he didn't pop in on you in the shower this time ..." Wesley mused as he stepped out of a nearby alley.
"You got that right!" Spike agreed, making a face of utter disgust while still wearing Curry's features. "Never making that mistake again!"
Angel glared again at the phantom vampire. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that if you made a face like that for too long, it would freeze that way? On second thought, never mind -- it would be an improvement!"
Angel ignored the slew of insults his comment prompted. He turned to Wes. "Find anything?"
Wes shook his head.
"How about you, Gunn?" Angel called up to the roof of one of the buildings bordering the alley.
Gunn poked his head over the edge. "Nada."
Fred came into view on the opposite roof. "Nothing here, either!"
Angel looked down at the bleach-blonde head poking through the ground. "Can I safely assume that if you'd found something, you'd tell me?"
Spike smirked. "You know what they say about assuming, mate ..."
"You don't need my help to make you an ass, Spike," Angel growled at him through gritted teeth.
Spike rolled his eyes. "Yes, I would tell you, and no, I didn't see anything." He floated up out of the ground, miffed. "Like it or not, I am on the side of the angels now -- I wish you'd stop questioning that!" Angel gave a short laugh of derision.
Spike mused, "Well, okay, I may not exactly on the side of the Angel --"
A scream rang through the darkness, cutting him short.
They looked up just in time to see Fred falling from her rooftop.
"How can you be bored?!" Giles asked for what was probably the tenth time. And, just as was the case the previous times he'd asked, the only answer any of his young protégés could give was a shrug and a shuffling of the feet. He wished Willow were there; she could certainly appreciate the history of the old world, and might have been able to get her compatriots into it as well. But she was off doing a circle with her Wiccan friends, and Giles was left in the company of her girlfriend Kennedy, Xander, Andrew, Dawn, Faith, and Buffy -- none of whom were exactly stunning conversationalists.
He hated to admit it, but he missed having other Watchers to talk to.
But of course more than half of them were gone, killed by minions of The First a couple of months before. Giles had taken it upon himself to visit the site of the former Watchers' Headquarters, and see what could be salvaged. There were a few other Watchers there already; as soon as they saw Giles, they voted unanimously to name him the new Head of Council. He already had two Slayers to watch, and was the most experienced of anyone left, they'd argued when he'd declined. They needed to seek out the other Slayers, get them organized and trained -- including the ones that had been a part of Buffy's team, who had mostly gone back to their families when the fight ended. And it all made a certain sense to Giles to restart the council; girls who suddenly found themselves with super-powers would need some sort of guidance. But he resolved to make certain the new Watchers Council would only be an aid to the new Slayers, and not seek to control them. They would avoid the fatal mistake the old Council had made.
Willow was adamant that witches be brought back into the Slayer support system, pointing out that they were similar to Watchers but better, more nurturing. It was through their legacy that they had found the key to destroying The First, in the form of the Scythe. The Watchers had created the Slayer, "raping" one girl by forcibly filling her with demonic power. They wanted only wanted the one girl, whom they could control, so they prevented her from sharing the power with others. The witches had tried to save the Slayer and her line, to grant them all control over their destiny by awakening the divine feminine power within them, using the Scythe as a focal point -- but it wasn't until the battle with The First that the circumstances were actually right for bringing such a thing to pass. So now Willow, having been the witch that finally unlocked the power of the Scythe, and having spent so long with a Slayer, was the one to gather other witches to her cause. Together with Giles, they would combine the best of both groups.
So that meant he basically had to set up a new Headquarters, in a large manor house in Sussex (thank god Willow was able to hack into the Watcher's back-up files and get the passwords for the Council's sizable bank accounts), all by himself. Oh, Buffy and her friends helped with the gathering of artifacts in the ruins, as well as reorganizing them in the new location, but none of them really knew what being a Watcher was like. They were young and restless, not entirely unlike what he'd been like in his days as "Ripper". Though they were already in "training" to become Watchers themselves, he had a hard time picturing them in their future roles.
Well, except for Dawn. Giles had managed to talk Buffy into letting him tutor the child, instead of sending her off to school, so she could begin her mystical studies in earnest. With her penchant for research, he had a feeling she would make a fine Head Librarian for the Council someday. Andrew would no doubt be involved with Magical Artifacts. Xander, with his military expertise and battle experience, would be in charge of the field operatives, with Robin as his second in command. Willow would be the High Priestess of the Watcher's Coven. And Buffy and Faith would run the Slayers division.
Well, if they could stop fighting over the remote long enough.
The phone rang, and Giles answered it. His young friends all watched him, listening to his side of the conversation, wondering what the heck was going on. "You're kidding! I'm really quite surprised he's even still alive ... Oh, no, don't do anything. We don't want to force the girl. A werewolf? Really? No, no, I really think I'd better come handle this one myself ... Well, Chancey's near enough, I'll send for her to take care of things here while I'm away. No, no, I think they'll appreciate the trip back. Yes, right, we'll see you in a few days."
Giles looked at his young friends, who all eyed him eagerly, like a dog wanting to go out for walkies. "We're, ah, needed in, eh, New York." He braced himself for the cheer, which they didn't fail to give.