Chapter 2

Face to Face

(Overview)

When Buffy woke the next morning sunlight was streaming in through the window. Groaning she rolled over to look at he alarm clock and sat up, cursing. It said that the time was five in the morning. Only problem was, the numbers were flashing.

Some time last night there had been a power cut.

She shot to her feet, and in her hurry to check the clock on the wall, in the lounge, kicked the door frame hard enough to bring tears to her eyes, and leave a reasonable dent in the woodwork. Making a mental note to avoid the door frame when she got back, she dodged around the corner.

Oh yes, she was definitely late. The clock said it was ten thirty.

Buffy pulled a face. Allowing five minutes for breakfast, which was on the verge of becoming lunch, ten to get dressed and another further fifteen to shove her stuff into her bag and get to the school she should be there by no later than eleven.

Then when that was put into action she cut down on breakfast by all of four minutes, grabbing an apple to eat on the way. She was out the door by ten fifty.

Around three steps into the walk, which was just about a run Buffy paused and raised her hand to her head. She was so going to ask Giles for the address of the migraine demon, so that she could run a stake through his big, ugly heart. She'd been getting them so frequently lately, that it wasn't funny.

The moment Buffy hit the corner two guys came at her from opposite directions. One, a male that looked to be in his late teens, with red hair that looked kind of cute came over a wall. The other, an older male with long black hair simply came around the corner. Her first thought on seeing him was drool-worthy.

The men both said the exact same thing at the exact same time, "I need to talk to you."

Then their eyes met.

The face of tall, dark and handsome drew into a nervous, confused smile, "Richie. I knew I saw you last night. I know that I can never make up for what happened."

Richie, however, seemed to want nothing to do with it. His face twisted into a mask of hatred and fear and pain. He slowly circled around in front of the older man, coming to a pause between him and Buffy. His eyes didn't once leave the older man's face.

The older man extended one hand in front of him, like a person might to a frightened animal, and began to advance, caution in his every movement.

Buffy could see the pain that she'd momentarily glimpsed on Richie's face in the other man's eyes.

Shaking his head Richie drew a sword from under the lose jacket that he was wearing and lifted it into a guard, with the blade coming up to just above his head, "You aren't getting her man, and you sure as hell aren't getting another shot at me."

MacLeod froze in his tracks, not wanting Richie to do anything drastic, "Please Richie, put the sword away. I'm not going to hurt her, and there is no way that I would consider harming you.

"Tell that to the scar on my neck, Mac," Richie spat, and as he began advancing towards Mac the jacket he was wearing shifted.

Duncan winced. There was, true to word, a shallow scar across the front of the young man's neck.

"I wasn't myself the last time we met..." Duncan started.

"Save it," Richie snarled, narrowing his eyes, "You wouldn't be the first one that's tried to fool me with lies,"

He drew back his hand to strike, and it was in that moment that a foot shot out from the direction that he least expected it, and made solid contact with his hand, loosening the sword enough that Buffy could twist it free with minimal effort.

Buffy cleared her throat, "Right," she said, and raising the sword she automatically shifted it around in her grasp in order to find the weight and balance of it. Duncan felt a hint of admiration as he watched the ease with which she adopted a fighting stance that looked like second nature.

"I'd like the simplified version of what's going on here, 'cause I'm already running late enough for school as it is."

"There is no five minute description," Duncan said softly, as he returned his gave to Richie. The younger Immortal turned his head away, determined not to met Duncan's eye, "Even on the best of days it can take an age, and today is definitely not the best of days."

"Well in that case, you can give me the sword I caught a glimpse of, Mr Mac, and don't bother denying it."

For Duncan had just opened his mouth to rebuke the claim, "And I'll expect to be meeting the both of you at the high school, lets say five o'clock this afternoon. If you don't show I might just turn those two nice pieces of metal into an axe, and share them between the two of you, blade-first."

Richie freed his swords scabbed from his side, and shoved it into Buffy's hands with a look of absolute rage on his face.

The he spun, and literally stormed of in the direction, which was opposite to the way he had come from. Duncan's hand drifted to his katana and he hesitated.

"You know, I could always just take it. I'm not a very patient person on the best of days. And, as you were nice enough to point out, today doesn't count amongst them."

In spite of the situation, a tiny smirk tugged at the corners of Duncan's' lips.

I'd like to see you try that, he thought, but didn't voice it. After a few seconds he freed his katana and handed it over. He didn't at all like it, but he could tell it would give the woman some form of security, and that was something that my make her easier to deal with when it came to later on that day.

My name is Duncan MacLeod. I'll be looking forward to seeing you this afternoon."

"And so will I, 'cause weapons in a school equals big no-no. Buffy Summers, by the way,"

All of this was said in one breath, and then she took off running, as though Death himself was riding at her heels. He may not have been, but detention was still a reasonable substitute for it.