The Higher Ground

[madimpossibledreamer]

fixing canon and current world events at the same time. or trying anyway

Main Points:
Buffy/Dresden Files Crossover
Chapter Summary: Sometimes following the law does more harm than good.
Word Count: 745
Rating: Teen

        “Did you read the latest missive from Warden Wesley?” Willow calls out as soon as I open the door, and my shoulders slump, because that’s 100% not how I wanted to start my morning after chasing Swamp Rats in Undertown for someone’s family heirloom.  Technically, the morning had already started, but I hadn’t eaten breakfast, which always made me cranky and confused my sense of the day’s proceedings.
        “What does our friendly neighborhood executioner want now?” I groan.
        See, he’s been trying to catch us in some sort of trap to prove we don’t deserve our heads anymore for ages.  This is probably just another one of those times.  The only one to get him to back off is Giles, and even that’s temporary.
        “Oh, just sending mail to remind us that we need to turn in anyone involved with the Fellowship of Saint Giles.”
        All right, for those not in the know, let me back up and explain.
        It has nothing to do with our own personal Giles, for one thing.  They’re a group that help people affected by the supernatural.  You’d think that would be a good thing, but the High Council doesn’t see it that way.  It endangers the whole Masquerade thing we have going on here.  They claim that it helps protect mortals, despite us seeing a whole lot of evidence to the contrary.  Sure, there are instances where the world can get Lovecraftian and even knowing about things is dangerous, but the basics of thresholds and the like should be common knowledge.  They also claim that it was a part of the Accords and they couldn’t budge it and whoops, they had to take that clause; their hands were tied.  That statement directly contradicts the first one, but we’re not supposed to notice that.  Me, I’m pretty sure it’s about what it’s always about.  Power.  Being mortal has a power all of itself, and mortal forces could demand and get a place in the Accords if they wanted to and knew it was a thing. 
        To the High Council, even if you’re a half-turned supernatural creature, like a vampire or werewolf, the only proper response is to drop them off in their abode and promptly disappear.  Helping them after the fact is taboo.  If, to you, this sounds like a recipe for ensuring the transformation takes place eventually as well as cruel and inhumane, well, you’d be right.
        The group is old.  Really old.  And since various religions and small practitioners kind of fly under the radar, it’s usually them that help support it.  Most wizards don’t bother to pay attention to so-called small talents, but if you get a bunch of them together they can pull off things wizards can’t, mostly because wizards usually have egos that prevent small things like working together.  Most commonly they use mystic tattoos, but lately they’ve been branching out, which is what really got the Council on edge.
        They’d discovered new tools to help: meditation and incense for the werewolf during the full moon, special sex toys for the half-White Court, blood packs for the Red.  All with accompanying spells, of course.  Herbs and a taste of their craving without hurting anyone.
        From what I heard—and this is really cool, but you didn’t hear that from me—it’s symbolism again.  They take expired blood packs, which aren’t any good to anyone else, and they’re freely given.  Being a vampire is all about taking from the unwilling—sure, a vampire can have a willing partner, but the very base of their transformation into a full-fledged vamp is all about killing.  Same thing with the sex toys—made by hand, I hear.  They’d even managed to save some Black Court, though I have no clue how they’re managing that, but hey, all the more power to them.  Friendly undead should become the norm.
        Not that I’d test the products out—there are others more in need, and anyway, the High Council promptly declared all of it contraband, which is one of the best arguments I’ve ever seen for a black market in my life.
        I sigh.  “We can’t just toss this, can we?”  He’s probably put a spell on it so he’ll know.
        “Nope, but Giles opened it and promptly refuses to acknowledge its existence, so we can just leave it there to rot,” Willow responds, poking her face out with an impish grin.
        I knew there was a reason I liked the guy.