Buffy Channels O-Ren Ishii

with apologies to Quentin Tarentino

(If you haven't seen Kill Bill, you probably won't appreciate this.)

Disclaimer: I'm trespassing here, don't mind me, I'm not making any money off this.

The conference room at the London headquarters of the Council of Watchers was in full party mode. Well, as full party mode as a bunch of stuffy old Englishmen could be. Buffy Summers had just been appointed the head of the CoW. The eight full council members toast their new leader, with muted chuckles and sips of fine brandy, all except one, Quentin Travers.


And just in case you're wondering how could an untrained, California Slayer become the boss Watcher of all Watchers worldwide, I'll tell you. The subject of Buffy's blood and her Slayerness came up before the council only once. The evening she assumed power over the council.

Quentin Travers was the picture of angered ambiance among the alcohol-fueled frivolity.


The man who seemed bound and determined to break the mood was Quentin Travers. And what Quentin Travers thought was:

Travers brought his fist down on the table, smashed the plate in front of him into itty bitty pieces. The party came to a halt as all eyes went to Buffy's watcher, Rupert Giles.

Giles said, "Quentin? What is the meaning of this outburst? This is a time for celebration."

Quentin replied, "And what exactly should I be celebrating? The perversion of our illustrious council?"

The council members all reacted with shock and outrage, but Buffy remained cool. She raised her voice for the first word, but lowers it for the rest of the sentence.

"Gentlemen, Quentin obviously has something on his mind. Allow him to express it."

Quentin looked at each full watcher in turn and said, "My father, along with yours and, yours, and yours, and yours, have passed down the traditions of this council. Traditions that were passed to them from the mists of time. And while you drink like fish and laugh like donkeys, they weep in the afterlife over the perversion committed today."

The council reacted again. Buffy said, "Silence!" Then composed, asked, "Of what perversion do you speak, Quentin?"

Travers looks at the female American Slayer and says, "I speak, Mistress Summers, of the perversion done to this council, which I love more than my own children, by making an untrained, undisciplined, American Slayer its leader! Slayers should be seen and not heard! And a woman for a leader, well, words fail me!"

Then, faster than you can say Jimminy Cricket, Buffy leaped to the table and unsheathed her samurai sword. She takes quick steps down the table and, faster than a striking snake, her blade swooshes through the air, faster than any can see. The blade tip stops its arc and Quentin's head is liberated from its body. The head hits the table and from the spot between its shoulder blades, a geyser of blood shoots up in the air. It's quite a large gusher that doesn't sputter to a stop until many, many seconds later. Who would have thought that old Travers could have had that much blood in him? Or maybe it was a sign of high blood pressure.

The Council, who were shocked at Quentin's words are even more flabbergasted at Buffy's response. She stood on the table with her sword held horizontally over her head, blood dripped off the indescribably sharp edge. After a few moments of staring at everyone, she lowered the blade, wiped it clean, and sheathed it with sharp snicking sound.

She spoke in American English, "I'm going to say this in American so you know how serious I am. As your leader, I encourage you to – from time to time and always in a respectful manner, and with the complete knowledge that my decision is final – to question my logic. If you're not convinced a particular plan of action I've decided is the wisest, tell me so. But allow me to convince you. And I will promise you, right here and now, no subject will be taboo; except the subject that was just under discussion."

She picked up Quentin's head by the hair and held it up as she spoke. "The price you pay for bringing up either my Slayerness or my American heritage as a negative is, I collect your fuckin head! Just like this fucker here! Now if any of you sonsabitches got anything else to say, NOW'S THE FUCKIN TIME!"

Nobody says anything.

"I didn't think so. Meeting adjourned."

The End