Thank you for the reviews! Your reward: chapter one. Still short, but at least it's double the last, thanks very much.
Enjoy,
~W
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Her enigmatic friend came to her once more that week, this time just polishing off one of two vamps for her. The circumstances weren't nearly as chaotic as they were the first time they'd met, so when it was done Buffy knew he couldn't simply slip away. She kept her eye on him the whole time, making it impossible altogether. She went right up to him, and to his credit he didn't take an unconscious step back. Most people did when the Slayer approached them like she was right now.
'Thanks. Again.'
He nodded, wiping his blades clean of dust before sliding them deftly in their respective sheaths. Then he put his hands behind his back and regarded her quietly.
'Do you have a name?' Asked Buffy, approaching. He neither backed off nor answered, just tilted his head slowly at her.
'Okay, I can take the mute hint. But I'll introduce myself anyway.' Thrusting out a hand and bouncing a little on her feet, she smiled. 'I'm the Slayer. Nice to meet you.'
There were three possibilities here. First, he could tell her his name. Second, he could back off in surprise at learning who she was and run away. Second, he could do nothing at all, like he'd been doing. The third one was most likely. The fourth one was what he went for.
Taking her hand lightly in his large black-gloved one, he bent his head down and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Or at least she assumed he did; it was hard to tell exactly where his lips were, because the cloth mask covered his lower face completely.
'Oh.' She said. 'Um, hi.'
He looked up at her, still kissing her hand, and she saw that his eyes were blue. Not a bright blue, but a deep blue, intelligent and sort of x-ray-like. Almost like he could see straight through her.
His eyes were laughing.
'Can you... um, can you tell me your name?'
At this he straightened and seemed to consider. Then, from beneath his leather tunic – which, by the by, fit very well and flattered his broad chest and slim hips – he drew a silver pendent. Tugging it to break the black thong that kept it hanging around his neck, he held it out to her.
She took and examined it. It was a symbol set crudely into what looked like sterling silver, with no words or other clues.
'Um, this doesn't have a name on –'
He'd gone.
'It,' Buffy completed, surprised. All right, the first night she could understand. That time he could have crept off while she was still fighting. But this time? She had a perfect view of her surroundings for at least a mile, except for the headstones, and she somehow doubted that he was crouching behind one waiting for her to leave. And he wasn't a vampire; she'd have felt it. So how did he do that?
She wandered toward her things and packed up for the night, still pondering.
The next day she brought the pendent to school to show to Giles.
'What's this?' He asked, putting on his glasses and examining it.
'No idea. You?'
'Certainly, but where on Earth did you get it?'
'Guy gave it to me. What is it?'
'Well, this symbol, that's Ancient Gorgon. And judging by the crude engraving technique, I would guess that this is an actual relic of that era. Extraordinary – there are only three remaining scrolls from the Gorgon civilization.'
'Yeah, that would explain my utter not knowing what Gorgon is.'
'It's a race, Buffy,' Giles said absently, turning the charm over and over so it caught the light at different angles. 'I would expect you to remember at least the name, considering you studied the history just last week.'
'Oh, that Gorgon!' Buffy said, hitting her forehead with the butt of her palm and rolling her eyes. 'How could I possibly forget! Now are you going to tell me what it means?'
'Well, it's a glyph.'
'So it means something? It's not just pretty?'
Giles's lip quirked. 'Rasgon, it's called. It means 'to rip,' or 'to shred.' He handed the pendent back to her.
'Nice. Fits him, too.'
'I would be fascinated to learn who gave that to you.'
'Just this guy. He sort of saved my butt. Like twice.'
'On patrol?' Giles's tone changed to concern. 'Why didn't you tell me?'
'Well, it wasn't a biggie. It never really occurred to me to bring it up.'
Giles gave her the look, and she sighed.
'Okay, okay, getting it. Next time I tell you.'
Next time Rasgon showed, this time completely saving her ass from a dozen warrior-type demons, he didn't seem inclined to stick around after the fight. He turned, cloak billowing, to go. But Buffy was determined.
'Rasgon!' Buffy called after him, and he paused.
'That's your name, isn't it?'
Rasgon turned around and approached her, loping, almost, like a black panther. He said nothing, but stared directly into her. He really was tall; she virtually had to crane her neck.
'Is it your real one?' His eyes seemed to smile. He shook his head.
'Yeah, I thought not.' Oddly, that was okay. A guy like this, who actually did the whole mask and cloak thing, obviously wasn't going to go around handing out his real name. 'Here.'
She pulled his pendent from around her own neck. 'I put it on a chain for you.'
He nodded in thanks and held out a hand, into which she dropped the silver. He started to draw his hand back, but she caught it suddenly, frowning at his side. Raising his arm had nudged the cape a little, revealing a long gash beneath one rib.
He knew what had caught her attention, and without saying anything, firmly took his hand back and pressed it over the wound.
'How bad is it?' The tear was no longer visible, but still Buffy found that she couldn't look away. Over the weeks she'd built up this image of him in her mind: invulnerable. Untouchable. But he bled, and the blood was red. Did that make him human?
Rasgon shook his head dismissively.
'Liar.' Buffy snorted, and the perception and force of this rebuke seemed to surprise Rasgon. He didn't do anything to stop her when she knelt in front of him and pushed his fist away.
The flesh around the lesion was pale as a vampire's and looked just as hard. And he had indeed lied; the wound looked deep, and was bleeding profusely.
'You have to let me do something about this.'
Rasgon raised a straight eyebrow in something that could have been disdain.
'I don't care if you can do it yourself.' Buffy snapped. 'Come on.'
She turned on her heel and stalked away. She didn't know if he was following her. He didn't make any noise at all, nothing even her Slayer hearing could pick up. Not even breathing. Again she wondered what he could be, if not a vampire. He couldn't be human; a wound that bad would have any normal guy on his knees, and Rasgon wasn't even breathing hard.
When she got to the destination crypt she pushed open the heavy door and stood next to it, waiting. She discovered that Rasgon had indeed followed her. He hesitated.
'Cloak and shirt off.' Buffy ordered. Rasgon cocked his head, looking almost amused. Buffy eyeballed him.
The cloak fell to the ground around his feet with a quick flick of his thumb – he seemed to have touched an old-style broach that held the two ends of the cape together at his throat. The shirt, apparently, required more work. Turning his back on her, he removed the cowl that hid his face. His hair was dark and slightly damp with the sweat of exertion. Next he pulled the black tunic up over his head. Buffy watched, riveted, as his muscles rippled beneath several light scars, and then the shirt was off. He replaced the cowl before turning back to her.
Buffy made no attempt to hide her appreciation. With his shirt off and the cowl on, he looked like some sort of romance novel executioner. But the wound looked bad, even though it had stopped bleeding. Blood was smeared all the way from his seventh rib to his hip.
'Okay. Sit.' She pointed into the sepulchre.
Rasgon gestured with his head in a way that somehow said, 'I could leave now, and be gone before you could blink.'
'Yeah, I'm sure you can, Mr Dissapeary Not-Vampire Guy. Now sit.'
Apparently titillated, he peacocked on over and ducked in the door to settle on the tomb itself.
'Good.' Buffy said, kneeling beside him with her bag of goods. She rummaged for antiseptic.
'Okay, well, crap.' She said after a good minute. A tiny bottle glinted suddenly in front of her eyes, waggled by a big gloved hand as though to taunt her. Buffy looked up; Rasgon's blue eyes, very close now, were laughing.
'Shut up.' She grumbled and pulled the stopper. As vengeance, she didn't warn him when she poured the antibacterial onto his wound. He grunted then, the first sound he'd ever made, and every agreeably visible muscle tensed.
'Oh, no.' She said, sorry, and put the empty bottle up to her nose. The smell alone made her eyes water, and she coughed. 'Oh, my God, you use strong stuff.'
'Holy water and distilled alcohol.'
Buffy was taken aback. His voice was very low and very gravelly, almost husky, and a little breathy from sudden pain. She looked at his eyes, looking at her, and saw fatigue there.
'Are you human?'
He nodded.
'How is that possible?'
Rasgon shook his head. Apparently he'd done all the talking he was going to do.
'Are you afraid I'll recognize your voice?' Buffy pressed, her pent up curiosity getting the best of her. 'Do I know you?'
Again, though, he just shook his head, which meant she didn't even know which question he was answering. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, clearly ending the quiz.
Buffy's gaze lingered a bit longer, and then she began to clean away the blood around Rasgon's wound. She found herself periodically glancing back up at what she could see of his face, wondering what surrounded those closed blue eyes.
When the injury was thoroughly clean Buffy dressed it neatly. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, but he was tense, as though he had ambiguous feelings about her touching him.
'Do you not like me touching you?' Se asked outright. Rasgon's eyes opened again and locked with hers, but the emotion there was too complex to read at all. Yet she thought she saw...
Her hand, of its own accord, reached up and touched his mask. He caught her wrist with inhuman speed. Those eyes were hard now, dangerous. But he didn't push her hand away; he held it in his own, against his hidden cheek. The two of them stayed that way for a very long time, hand against hand against mask, neither set of eyes moving from the other. And then –
'Buffy.'
She stood and whirled around in one fluid motion, stake hefted and fist up before she'd even registered who it was.
'Angel.' She said, surprised, and looked behind her again, already knowing that Rasgon would be gone. He was. She let out a frustrated noise and rounded on Angel. 'You've got scarily-super-vampire-vision. Did you see him go?'
'Nope.' Angel shrugged, approaching her. 'I don't think he's a vampire – we can't move that fast.'
'He said he was human.'
Angel raised an eyebrow.
'Yeah. That's what I said.'
Tilting his head, Angel inhaled. He let it out again hurriedly, making a face. 'Holy water and alcohol. Nice combination. I can't even smell his blood over that.'
Buffy let out a very teenage-girl-esque noise of vexation. 'I'll never figure him out.'
'Who was he? And how did he get wounded?'
'He saved my butt in a brawl. He called himself Rasgon.'
Angel's face registered surprise. A lot of surprise. 'Rasgon's human?'
'You know him?'
'Know of him. His name started circulating in the underworld about two, maybe three months ago.'
'That's not a long time.'
'Yeah, well, he's done a hell of a lot of damage in that time. Took out three major demon bosses in less than a week. I think he was around before that, though; I think it's only recently that he's started to make himself known.'
'Why would he do that?'
'Got bored, maybe. Got sick of seeking out the big bads and decided to let them come to him.'
'How good is he?'
'Very. Like I said, three upper-levels in one week.'
'And before that?'
'Couldn't count them, especially if he's been around longer, like I think. As for the name – do you know what it means?'
'Yeah, I had Giles translate. "To rip," right?'
'That's what the word means, yeah. A few centuries ago, though, there was a demon named Rasgon who turned on the rest of the underworld and pretty much committed genocide. No one could touch him; he only stopped when he vanished. Nobody ever got a glimpse again.'
Buffy whistled. She'd been consorting with a genocidal super-demon? Oh, um.
'But he said he was human.' Angel mused. 'Could be a different guy. Also, this one bleeds.'
'The other one didn't?'
'Well, I don't know. No one could ever get a blow in. Stands to reason that he didn't, though. Ancient and all.'
'But he might have.'
'Well, yeah.'
The two of them stood there for a while, looking at each other.
'This could be bad.'
'Yeah.'
There you are. As I say, still short, but getting better.
Reviews fule my muse - any takers?
