This is the first in a series of short stories regarding...well...that's what the story is about. Hope everyone reading is having a good day, month and year!

The standard disclaimer applies. Be smart--I don't own these characters. If I did, I wouldn't be frantically looking for a job right now, would I?
~~~


“You’re a hypocrite, slayer,” Whistler announced, striding into Buffy’s bedroom. The clock on the desk read 8:34 She spun around, prepared in case she needed to attack. It shouldn’t have been possible after Wills had cast the “evil begone” spell from the compound, but, hey, even Willow’s spells went wonky still.

“Whistler,” she shook her head in amazement. “What brings you around for such a delightful visit?”

“It’s been three weeks since Sunnydale. Plenty of time to deactivate the new slayers. Why haven’t you?” He asked, “you’re really screwing around with the balance, slayer.”

“Deactivate the slayers? Why? We’re finally capable of winning fucking war. Finally, Whistler. I thought you, of all demons, would appreciate that.”

Whistler shook his head, exasperated. “What am I slayer?”

“A really big, ugly hat? Well, at least your ribcage is.”

“A balance demon, slayer. Balance. You threw the entire universe off kilter with that spell of Red’s. The Powers have been patient, giving you time to reverse it before stepping in, but its been three weeks, and well, they’re getting antsy.”

“But The First threw off the balance. The slayers straightened it out.” Buffy defended her actions.

“And with The First gone, well, at least incapacitated, the balance is now off because of the slayers. So fix it.” He turned around to leave, but Buffy stopped him, angrily.

“What, you want me to give these girls a taste of true power, of true independence and humility, and then what, take it away? Just like that, say ‘thanks for helping us fight, but now we don’t need you, so well, bye’? Na-uh.”

“You need to. It isn’t a matter of choice or destiny--they weren’t called. If you leave this spell in place, no one will be called again. The slayer line will die out when the last of these girls die out. And don’t kid yourself--it’ll be soon. With the balance off, the Powers will have to send some nasty evil thingies your way to try and straighten this situation out before the world ends.”

“So what, it’s back down to me and Faith? We didn’t get a choice in this, what if we wanted one? With the new slayers, we at least have the choice to step down and let the younger generation step up for once.” Buffy paced the room angrily, stopping every few seconds to glare at Whistler.

“But you didn’t give them a choice either. You just took it, took all the power, and shoved it into some unprepared girls and expect them to do what you’ve been doing. You expect them to fight without giving them a choice--who gave you that right? You aren’t The Powers, you aren’t even an ascended being. You’re a champion, and well, champions don’t make decisions like that.”

“So what if we offer them a choice? Each one? Wills can deactivate the girls that don’t want the power, the destiny, and the ones that do will fight. With enough girls choosing to step down, that should restore the balance, right?” Buffy demanded.

“And what will the left over slayers do? The ones that chose to keep the power? You and Faith were enough for the Hellmouth and the past 7 apocalypses.”

“Me, Faith, and the Scoobies. And we could have used more help. There will always be a need for more help, be it with research or whatnot.”

“But you don’t need super strength to turn pages, or to translate. So really, you don’t need the new slayers, you need a decent Watcher’s Council.” Whistler explained. He didn’t like where the conversation was leading, but The Powers had their own ideas regarding the fate of this particular champion, and well, he wasn’t one to step on their toes.

“So the ones that don’t want to be slayers can become part of the new council. Fine. But at least give the girls a choice about their destinies.” Buffy sat on the edge of her bed, finally realizing what Whistler was up to. “That’s what you want, isn’t it. You want the girls to choose, and with each one that does choose to fight, well, you probably have a fight already lined up for them. Your own personal army, ready to whore out for whatever battle you want.”

“Slayer, it’s not like that.” Whistler tried to defend himself. “It’s about balance. Because of the slayers being activated, the big bads are going to get stronger. Not just your big bads, either, but other ones.”

“Other ones? What other battles are being fought on a daily basis? There’s only one First Evil, and hey, whaddya know, we kind of kicked its ass a few weeks ago. To my way of thinking, most of the battles should have died out after that.”

“What, you think you and yours were the only group trying to prevent the end of the world? Not even close. But most of those groups could do with a bit of help now that their enemies got that extra bit of power.”

“So we offer the girls a choice--old life or new. Potential or Slayer. And the ones that chose to remain strong, what, they get shipped off to whatever battle currently needs them? No-can-do. These girls are practically baby slayers. They haven’t had any training, they don’t have their own scoobies yet, I’m not sending them off to die.”

“Send one of your scoobies with them. There are only three major battles being fought right now that need your help. Send a couple slayers together with an original scooby, to act as a watcher. The rest that choose to remain will train, and the others will be sent home. You’ll build up the council and save the world. Win-Win.”

“I’ll have to talk with Giles, and the others. Find out who wants to take on another fight after the last one. Organize things.”

“Okay. We’ll give you time to sort everything out.”

“Money wouldn’t hurt, either. I’m sure Angel wants us out of his hotel as soon as possible--his water bill alone is insane.”

“We’ll work on that. Willow should be able to access the council funds easily enough. After all, you are the new council.”

At that moment, Buffy was grateful that she was already sitting down. They were the new council. They could finally fix the system, and the girls would finally have the choice.

“What about the new ones, the slayers that haven’t been called yet. How will that work?” Buffy asked.

“Each of the remaining slayers, who choose it, will be the start of a new line. When one slayer dies, the new one is called to join that fight (after training with the council, of course). She’ll be offered a choice as well, but be warned, sooner or later the lines will start to die out and all that will be left will be the original two. The choice is gone then, because there must always be a champion.”

“No deal. There always has to be a choice. Make it a dream, so you can ask people and they can answer straight away. That way it will always be a choice, even when its back down to one person. But I think you’re wrong. I think people will choose this fight again and again, because they understand, deep down, what it means.”

“Yeah, well. Not all slayers are like you. You are becoming one of the greats.”

“I can still wear your ribcage as a hat, just say the word.” Buffy threatened, but there was no anger in her voice. Instead, there was resignation and slight happiness. Finally, finally, it would be a choice. Finally.

“Oh Slayer, did I mention that you have a new fight, too?” Whistler asked as he strode towards the door. “Look to the stars for your new battle. You have a bit of time--couple of months, before you need to find the fight, but its out there, waiting. And um...the whole anger at the military thing? You might want to calm down just a bit. Consider it a friendly tip.” Whistler disappeared, leaving the petite slayer gesturing with her middle fingers.

She sighed and picked up the phone. “Giles? We need to talk. I just had a very interesting visit.” She murmured for a few seconds, finally shaking her head. “Just get here. Bring the scoobies. It’s important,” and with a click the phone hung up. She glanced at the clock quickly. 8:56 -- she still had time to get in a quick patrol before the meeting started. And she was feeling the urge to slay a few vamps. She’d of preferred Whistler...