After all was said and done, I decided on the flat in Long Beach. It's quite comfortable, really, but the permanent nature of my new lodgings still daunts me. I have been mobile for so long that I cannot help but feel guilty that in settling here I am shirking my duties elsewhere. But then I remind myself that as of six months ago, there *is* no elsewhere. And I can fight evil much more efficiently in my new capacity than I ever could pursuing one creature at a time from one city to the next.

The great irony is, my battle against the most insidious evil has been fought and won, and yet I feel no sense of accomplishment. There was no fanfare, no last stand with crosses, flame-throwers, and bombs, such as that which prevented the Mayor's demonic reign. I daresay the beneficiaries of my victory will never know that it was I that was responsible. How could they, when they were oblivious to their peril in the first place? But recognition matters little to me. I did what was necessary because I have come to realize that I owe each of them a hundred apologies. My actions to date do not bolster any sense of self-importance, they merely allow me to sleep at night, with the knowledge that the four of them are safe - from one particular threat, at least.

I spoke to Rupert several weeks after my return. I think he has at least an inkling of the current situation within the Council, but he did not ask me about it. I offered only enough information to make it quite clear that the Council will take no further action until such time as another Slayer is activated. I was loathe to tell him more, but he had to be made aware that this activation would in no way be 'facilitated' by the loss of a slayer who was already incapacitated. I am a coward, I admit. I couldn't even say her name over the phone. I failed her so miserably, it was the least I could do to ensure that her life henceforth would take its own course. The doctors tell me there is a possibility that she will regain consciousness, but when they look at me, their eyes whisper a much different prognosis. I must take what little comfort I can in the fact that the only whims she need be subject to now are those of the fates, and not those of tired old men in dusty rooms. I visit her on occasion. I sit by the bed and just watch her breathe, wondering if she knows I'm here, wondering if she's aware. The nurses encourage me to speak to her, but I fear that the sound of my voice would encourage her to fall deeper into the abyss.

I came to Sunnydale with such divine aspirations. Full of grandiose ideas, and absolutely certain I was going to be immortalized in the journals as one of the finest Watchers of the last century. Watcher and Slayer, an inseparable team, as it had been through the ages. My bloated sense of self-worth was short-lived, however, as I soon discovered that my 'qualifications' had more to do with my family's connections in the House of Commons than they did with any particular aptitude of mine. Not that the Slayer's life would be entrusted to just anyone. I had an impressive resume, and was eminently qualified to deal with any situation which my calling may require. But the Council, for all its infinite wisdom, failed to realize that what the girl needed most wasn't a Watcher, it was a friend, a mentor. The relationship between Giles and Buffy is extraordinary, primarily because it is based on a trust so deep that it borders on the instinctual. Buffy's successor was beginning to develop such a bond with her own Watcher when Kokistos, and then that infernal Post woman, taught her a brutal lesson about how fragile, and how rare, such attachments really are.

Enter Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, great-grandson of Jacob Wyndham, one of the most esteemed Watchers in the history of the Chronicles. I had been schooled at Cambridge, and trained in the finer art of occult lore by several notable authorities in the field, including Quentin Travers himself. It was ironic, then, that the thirty years of my life spent in constant education could not prepare me for the simple yet Herculean task of getting along with those entrusted to my care. I suppose I knew, even that very first day when she so casually strolled in and sat beside him, that Buffy was forever lost to me. I must admit, in the beginning, I bitterly resented Rupert's continued presence. I can tell myself that it was because of his interference in Council matters, but in my heart I know it was because every time the two of them were in a room together, I became only slightly more relevant than the furniture. The teamwork, the camaraderie, that divine Watcher-Slayer *connection* that I had had such lofty aspirations about was right in front of me, yet I had no part in it. She had given her heart and her trust to a man with little more ties to the Slayer's ancient protectorship than the average person on the street, and it was quite obvious he had done the same in return. The fact that this partnership *worked*, and that it had saved both their lives on many occasions, did little to assuage my bitter disappointment.

In hindsight, I suppose the events which followed my arrival could be traced to one simple, unobtrusive fact: I was not the only one who felt this way. She would never admit such sentiments, of course, but beneath her careful facade of cynicism and militant self-reliance were deep reservoirs of loneliness and insecurity. She longed for the extended 'family' with which Buffy had surrounded herself: Xander, Oz, Angel, Willow, and most especially Giles. She wanted the safety and security of those connections, and the unwavering support that went with them as well. It was fairly obvious, however, that she had been taken in as Buffy's sister-in-arms, rather than on her own merits. The bitterness weighed heavily, and I could see it fester, but my own situation left me with little recourse.

My own position was not one of authority, in spite of the Council dictates. Though I refused to admit it, Giles proved well-worthy of his Watcher appointment, and it was him they both turned to whenever there was a problem. Early on in my tenure, I had entertained the foolish notion that Giles' close relationship with Buffy, and its effects on my other charge, would somehow facilitate her acceptance of me. I was her Watcher. It was my sacred duty to protect her, to fight for her in all things. Yet she would have none of it. She sought the acceptance she needed in the corruption of Buffy, the manipulation of Giles, and the disensoulment of Angel. And in the end, she found emotional strength, not from me, but from the kind words of a demon.

I should have let Giles deal with the situation, before she was lost, before I destroyed what little faith she still had in me. But the Council is quite strict in such matters, and my training was too ingrained not to believe that she wouldn't be treated fairly. He knew better, and has since told me as much. It was shocking, nevertheless, to read accounts of rogue slayers never documented in the 'officially' sanctioned Chronicles. What they would have done to her... and I would have been responsible.

He fought hard to keep her in Sunnydale, knowing that if she set foot on British soil she would most likely never return. It is this tenacity that has set the Council's collective teeth on edge ever since he received the appointment four years ago. He is, and always has been, fiercely protective of Buffy, both as Watcher and in every other way a guardian can possibly be. His unwillingness to follow Council protocols which compromise her safety has irked many in the Traditionalist camp, and facilitated their desire to have him removed and a more conservative Watcher appointed in his place. The Cruciamentum was to have been the means by which this was accomplished. The Council was all too aware of his affection for his charge, and although they expected him to tell her the truth, they never expected his relationship with the Slayer to overcome such an extraordinary betrayal. His insistence on staying in Sunnydale even after his termination was not something even they would have predicted.

In the end, I must say that I am comforted by his decision. During Angel's illness, I made every attempt to negotiate with the Council on the vampire's behalf, but they would not see reason. I could not have, in good conscience, allowed Buffy to throw such resources away knowing that she would be alone in her fight. If there is anyone alive who should hold her life in his hands, it should be Giles. I tried to live up to that standard, but to her I wall always be The Council first, Watcher second, and an inept Watcher, at that. Another day, another slayer lost.

But I had come to Sunnydale, and done my duties to the best of my abilities. Things had not gone the way Quentin had anticipated, but things had turned out for the best. Or so I thought, until my subsequent return to Wyndwood Manor revealed just how far off course the Council had strayed from its righteous path.

It is a testament to the Council's arrogance that they never questioned my loyalty, even in light of everything that had happened in Sunnydale. I was invited to several strategy meetings, and, to my growing horror, asked for advice on several occasions. They didn't call it murder, they couched it in more palatable terms such as "euthanize" and "eliminate", all the while assuming that my loyalty to the Slayer bought them my loyalty to their plans as well.

It was terrifyingly simple. They refused to wait for the activation of another slayer, one which would lie under their 'protective' auspices, and had developed a plan to rectify the current situation. They had hopes that Buffy could be 'rehabilitated' if she were brought back to the Manor, but they also knew that this could not be accomplished with her current support structure in place. Thus, Giles, and Angel as well, were to be 'removed' as Quentin so eloquently put it. They were well aware that any move against Buffy would incur Angel's wrath, and the last thing they wanted was a vengeful Angelus in the mix. What horrified me the most, however, was that the activation of another slayer was so taken for granted that it was an unspoken addendum. They had no qualms about intentionally ending one slayer's life to bring forth another. It was a thing easily accomplished, and therefore beneath discussion.

All this I could not abide. I was there at the near-end of the world. I saw the good fight, and I was lucky enough to stand in arms with those who fought it. I would not betray such courage to a cause that had become so polluted with power struggles and blind ambition. My great grandfather had the honor of being the Watcher with the longest Slayer lifespan since the Chronicles began. You won't find it in any of his journals, but he told me once that he had 'damned the Council more than once' just to keep her safe. Buffy's will soon surpass even Diedre's lifespan, and only now do I believe it is because her own watcher did the same. But Rupert's stand against the Council has left him powerless, and as a testament to my calling, in heart if not in practice, I must assume that role if any of them are to survive.

We Watchers deal in strange, obscure arts, and I could have used my expertise in any one of them to secure my objective. But in the end, the most efficient way to secure the Council's cooperation was something far older than any of the ancient magicks and even more effective: pure and simple blackmail. The Council, for all its lofty purpose, relies heavily on private contributions and endowments to support its endeavors. Many of these contributions are made by members of Parliament with significant political clout. Because of my status within the Council, I had been privy to projects that were not quite as philanthropic in nature as their benefactors believed. Veritable troves of this information were still in my safe at the flat in London, as I had yet to go through them upon my return. My father was furious at my audacity, and was under tremendous pressure from the Council to bring me to my senses. But what was my relationship with the Council, and even my relationship with my father, really, compared to the lives of four people who would sacrifice their own in a second if it meant saving the lives of others?

I was not overly concerned with my own safety, although I did take measures to ensure it. One can never overestimate what the Council will do in desperate times. They really had no choice in the matter but to acquiesce. I made it abundantly clear that copies of selected meeting transcripts would be made available to certain parties if they pursued their proposed course of action. Buffy, Giles, Angel and Faith were to be left to themselves, without Council intervention. They sacked me on the spot, of course, and that would have been the end of it, had there not been a number of other Council initiates who were sympathetic to my cause. They will ensure that my wishes are carried out, in spite of my banishment from the Manor. My family has refused to speak to me since that day, but I left for the States soon after with a light heart, knowing that it was a small price to pay for the lives of those I had come to care about so dearly.

My life, my education, and my calling, if you will, have revolved around fighting evil in its many forms, and I could no more give up that notion than I could cut off a limb. I decided to fight Buffy's fight in my own way, and make my own small contribution, any way I could. My travels brought me to Los Angeles, where I was shocked to learn that not only was Angel residing here, he was demon-hunting as well. It immediately became obvious to me that Angel and Cordelia looked upon me as more of an annoyance than any sort of additional resource to their cause. Yet somehow, in the span of a few short weeks, everything seemed to change. Angel looks at me with eyes that no longer see the inept Watcher but a valued colleague, and Cordelia... well, last week she told me she trusts me with her life.

So we sit here, once again, at Angel's kitchen table while he prepares the ritual scrambled eggs after a night of demon vanquishing, and I must admit there is nowhere else I would rather be. I severed the strongest ties of my life in my attempts to thwart the Council, and only until I came to the States and began my own path did I realize what an incredibly lonely route it was that I had chosen. But friendship presents itself to us in many forms, and now I am beginning to realize that what is important is not the form it takes, but the fact that it comes to us at all. We are an unlikely trio, but this is how we survive, fighting the good fight as only true friends can. Perhaps, for me at least, that in itself is its own reward, indeed.