Chapter 8 Do You Want Me To Lie?

A/N: Eight chapter of the series.

Disclaimer: Property of Joss Whedon and all parties responsible for airing the shows. Other original characters are mine, and some others will be explained as the story goes on.

Feedback: Sure, if you wish.

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London, England

The Watcher's Council

December 2017

Twenty three days had gone by since the incident recorded on Cleveland, USA.

Agent Parker, his men and the slayers involved in said event had been relocated and reinstated to their duties within the Council. Said agent found himself standing in front of Rupert Giles' desk inside his office.

"We need to talk, Richard." Giles said, as he motioned for the agent to take a seat.

"What about, sir?" Agent Parker replied, sitting down. Giles sighed as he took off his glasses.

"No need to use protocol." Giles said. "Let's talk like friends."

"Is that what we are?" Richard Parker asked.

"We once were." Giles almost whispered. Parker crossed his arms.

"You want an explanation." Parker continued. "I told you before. It was a strange accident."

"There's no such thing as an accident." Giles replied. "You know that as well as I do."

"Can't find another way to explain what happened." Parker said. "Already filed a report. You read it. Your kid read it. Everything that happened is there."

"Don't lie to me, Richard." Giles said. "Forget the fact I'm your current employer, I know you don't actually need this job. Talk to me. Out of respect of a past friendship."

"Then believe me." Parker said as he stood up. "I can't explain what happened. I won't find excuses, as well. I'm well aware of the fact there are no accidents. We were together in Watcher's Academy."

"That's why you know you can tell me what happened." Giles said as he stood up as well. "I won't judge you. I still owe you."

"You don't owe me anything." Parker replied. "What happened when you became Ripper is long forgotten. If you value that past friendship as much as you claim to, then believe me."

Parker leaned on the desk and stared deep into Giles' eyes.

"Something happened that night, I'm aware." Parker practically hissed. "Can't tell you what it was, but it fucked us."

Giles answered nothing.

"It seriously fucked us." Parker repeated. "It's almost as if someone wanted that info to go public."

Parker kept staring and after a few moments he turned around and left Giles' office. The head watcher looked at his once friend walk away and looked at the file in his desk. He read it again and frowned when something didn't match with the report on his computer. He narrowed his eyes and took of his glasses, cleaning them with his handkerchief. He put them back on and checked both reports again.

He cursed out loud.

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Buffy had been locked inside her office all morning, staring at the papers scattered in her desk.

She read them over and over again and she still couldn't seem to focus on them enough to work. She knew she didn't have to actually read them all, just had to sign them and send them via intern mail, but she couldn't bring herself to work.

Three black words in a paper stood out from all the other papers.

Notification of Divorce

In the past days, she had come to realize her marriage with Angel had been on the rocks for far too long. They'd drifted apart long before she even turned twenty one, still not pregnant with Annie, still in Sunnydale. She allowed herself some self-pity when accepting her marriage had ended months ago, if not years.

She had some good memories out of it, though. Her wedding had been beautiful, that much she remembered. Angel had tried so hard to make her happy, but that had been part of the problem in their whole marriage. He tried too hard, as if the intent itself wasn't real and he had to remind himself to try.

However, he'd given her the best gift in her whole life, and she would always love him because of that. She remembered how happy she'd been when Annie was born. The best moment of all her life, and she owed it all to Angel.

Buffy sighed again and leaned back on her chair. Staring at the tiles up, she thought about how she had tried to save her marriage; how she'd struggled and tried so hard to stop such a fateful ending, but it had all gone to hell.

She knew about Angel's previous stint as a human; he'd been a womanizer and an alcoholic who had no ambition in life. History repeating, it seemed, because Angel had not shown interest in anything after he'd taken down Wolfram & Hart. All the fire inside of him was gone, and she began to grow tired of his brooding.

That had been thirteen years ago, and he still couldn't get over it.

Buffy shook her head and decided it was time to get back to work. She placed the divorce papers away in a drawer and began to read the more pressing documents in her desk.

Her intercom suddenly buzzed and she picked the phone up.

"Buffy here."

"Buffy. My office. Now."

Giles' tone meant he was dead serious.

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"What is it, grandpa?" Buffy asked as she slowly walked inside Giles' office.

"Close the door and lock it, please." Giles said. Buffy frowned but did as instructed and shuffling her feet she heavily sat in one of the chairs in front of Giles' desk.

"What is it?" She asked. Giles handed her the file Agent Parker had turned in and he turned his PC's monitor so she could take a look at it.

"What?" Buffy asked as she looked at the file in her hands and at the screen. She quickly compared the data and found no discrepancies.

"There's a name missing." Giles said. Buffy looked closer.

"Dammit." She said after a few moments.

"Kennedy." Giles said.

"Kennedy." Buffy repeated, almost growling the name.

"Been trying to track her down." Giles said, as he signaled at the Locator Screen. "She's still in Cleveland and not answering our calls."

"That stupid bint is going to ruin everything." Buffy smacked her hand on the desk.

"The FBI is still trying to connect us to the Cleveland incident." Giles continued. "Seems they weren't all that satisfied after their visit two weeks ago."

"Yeah, as if feds could find anything at all." Buffy smirked.

"Right. Problem is, they have video and pictures of the incident, and Kennedy running around Cleveland could very well be a threat to us." Giles continued.

"They're going to track her down with the images." Buffy deadpanned. Giles nodded.

"What should we do?" Buffy asked.

"She'll have to be brought back here." Giles replied. "But I can't have any other slayer connected to this. That leaves us with one logical solution."

"Illyria." Buffy replied.

"Correct." Giles said. "But with your husband's current mood, I don't know if he'll help us with her.

"Meaning...?"

"Yes." Giles answered, pinching his nose. "We'll have to send Wesley."

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London's weather provided safety for most kind of demons roaming the Earth.

Particularly, cloudy rainy days meant almost no sunlight most of the times, giving vampires a chance to move around during the day and presented them with the chance to make acquaintances.

Even with the present threat of the Council above their heads, they possessed yet another good ally. The London subway system gave them access to most of the city without ever needing to go upstairs, free to live without bother.

Curiously, Illyria had found London comfortable as well.

The cold weather reminded her of her long lost home, thousands of years ago. Even the lack of warmth in most of the British had helped her feel more at ease in such a strange place than in the ever sunny piece of land humans called California.

That, and the fact she had her guide back.

She still couldn't understand what had happened all those years ago. For an immortal god, thirteen years were nothing. Almost a heartbeat, yet she had come to feel things were not as wrong as how she felt when she'd been brought to such a plane of existence.

Some things still bothered her. Many things that were not supposed to occupy the mind of someone as old as she.

First, she thought of herself as a she, forcing herself to be defined because of the shell she inhabited.

Second, she was disturbed because of the lack of attention she received from humans.

Third, she was angered she even cared about the lack of attention.

Fourth, she believed the soul of the shell she inhabited hadn't been as burnt away as she first thought.

What had forced it to hang strong, to remain when her power and own soul burnt everything away?

Illyria had her ideas about it, and most of them dealt with Wesley, a simple human who had far more flaws than abilities. A man who killed even when human laws explicitly forbade it; a man who loved the shell she was caught inside more than his own life.

A man who'd died in her arms long ago, and today walked besides her.

"I find you unusually quiet." Illyria spoke, finding the action easier the longer she lived among humans. If she had possessed a sense of humor, she would have found it funny, because she really hated to talk, seeing how humans lost most of their time listening to their own voices instead of actually taking action.

However, Wesley rarely spoke, and she felt something tug her insides every time he did not answer her questions.

"You ask me the same thing everyday." Wesley answered, not looking at her and never slowing his pace. Illyria kept her eyes on him, having learnt the road years ago, as it was the same Wesley took every single day.

No more words left the former watcher's mouth.

The goddess sighed, finding the action oddly comforting, and kept walking besides her quiet companion.

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Wesley Wyndham Pryce hated life.

He'd hated it ever since he'd been six years old, the first time he remembered feeling pain. He'd grown up inside the halls of the old Council, looking up to his father, awed because of the power and respect the older man commanded. The watcher had been strong, a natural born leader, and everyone who looked at Wesley felt disappointed that the strength in the Wyndham family had obviously skipped a generation.

"He know his place." His father had said. "He won't be a complete disappointment."

The old man's enormous hand had fallen in his shoulder, strong and almost forceful, and his eyes spoke not of love or pride when they fell on Wesley's, but of resentment and shame.

'What did I do that was so wrong?' Wesley had thought. 'Why are you so ashamed of me? Why don't you love me like I love you?'

The answers never came. The only refuge Wesley found was in his mother, and even she fell under the old man's regime of maturity and manners. He never rose to his father's impossible standards, and was sent away that very spring to the Watcher's Academy.

Hidden under the guise of military school, the Academy proved to be a strong test, having his father's shadow and fame looming above him.

Needless to say, he tried harder to become someone his father could love, training earnestly, reading everything he could, becoming an outsider in a school full of outsiders.

He succeeded in becoming a watcher, but the approval and love never came.

Then came all his failures, all his regrets, all the pain and even his own death. Moments before dying he'd known he wouldn't go anywhere but hell. He would not see Fred ever again, knowing the goddess holding him wasn't the woman he loved.

He didn't want to remember what had happened between the moment he closed his eyes and the time he rose back from the grave.

He didn't want to think about that, and he specially didn't want to think about what had returned with him.

Something beeped and vibrated in his pocket. He sighed, rubbed his eyes and took out his cell phone. The caller ID displayed a number he knew already by heart. He turned around and noticed Illyria was staring at the cell in his hand.

"Stop that noise." She ordered. Wesley smirked, still not understanding why he felt the need to annoy the goddess walking next to him. Maybe if he insulted her often enough she'd get tired of him and kill him. The ringing continued and he was forced to answer.

"What." He said.

"Wesley." Giles spoke. "I know you don't want us to bother you, but we need to talk to you."

"Do you need me or do you need Illyria?" He asked. Giles sighed.

"You know I wouldn't bother you if I had any other choice." Giles replied.

"There's always Angel." Wesley offered.

"Can't find him" Giles answered. "I'm really sorry, but we need your assistance."

Wesley listened and ended the conversation without speaking another word. He placed the cell back on his pocket and stared at Illyria.

"Do you wish to do some violence?"