A.N - XXX XXX XXX XXX XXX XXX XXX equals scene change.

Chapter 3

Old Connections

(Ethan and Buffy)

London - 2 days later.

Ethan flicked his finger out of habit, and for a non-existent audience, as he summoned a small ball of white light, to hover beside him, allowing him to see what he was trying to do. Which was, fit his key into the latch without the usual fumbling which generally came with getting back home at three in the morning, while suffering from an almost chronic case of jet lag.

Sighing, mainly in relief, he slipped the key back into his pocket, flicked the light-switch and dragged his suitcase into the foyer. Once all this was done, he started the tour of duty to check that everything was still in place.

Stereo - yes.

Good china - yes.

Shrine for Janus - yes

And then he spotted the light on the answering machine, which was blinking franticly at him. If it were possible for a machine to show emotion, he would have said that it looked peeved with him for his prolonged absence. Not that that would have made much of a difference. There was usually someone, or something around which was pissed off with him, for any number of reasons. For a few moments, he was tempted to ignore it until morning, because he truly was worn out.

But he was curious about what would drive someone to fill up the tape. And besides, it wasn't as though he'd warned anyone that he was going to Cairo for two weeks. It could be, that something important had happened, or someone wanted to get it touch with him in order to give him some back pay.

Well, he could always dream. No one had put a price on that, yet.

Frowning he hit the playback button, and froze at the familiar voice, which he hadn't heard for over five years. So, now it's you come to me, Rupert, old mate.

"Damn it, Rayne. Where the hell are you? I'm in Sunnydale, and something's come up. I need a hand, and you're the only one that I trust with it."

Only one? This could be interesting.

He went through the backlog of messages, all from Ripper, and all in the same vein. The only difference was, the first few were actually polite.

Cursing himself for a fool, he put a fresh tape into the answering machine, and then rang for a taxi to the airport. Afterwards, he lugged his suitcase back outside, turned off the lights which he had so recently turned on, and locked the place up again. It had been so long without any word from his old friend, and yet here he was, worn out, tired, and hungry, and yet, at his beck and call. He'd been home less then half and hour, and here he was, prepared to jump straight back onto a plane for him.

He was ready for any and all of this, even after so long. Why?

You know well enough why, old fool, he thought to himself as he momentarily closed his eyes, remembering a brief moment in the seventies. Or had it been the late sixties? The long days and nights had tended to run together back then, courtesy of the mixture of drugs, alcohol, and magick, which they had all heavily indulged in back then.

Giles' thumb, tracing down his cheek, over the outline of his jawbone. Gentle fingers brushing over his lips, as he lent in to steal a kiss. Looking deep into those green eyes, which were hard and gentle, and cold and impassioned, all in the same moment, as he lay back on the single old, almost flat pillow that they'd shared between the two of them.

Recalled, even more vividly, the other boy's warm breath, rapid against him, before he moved even closer, no matter how impossible such a task may have looked to be, and, even more importantly, the whispered words which even today he was still prepared to live by.

"I'd do anything for you, Ripper. Say the word, and I'll be there, no matter what."

He used to be a fool, and in love. On the other hand, now...Well, not that much had changed, really.

As the taxi pulled up, once again, Ethan drew out a cell phone, and rung a number that he'd been made to memorize a couple of years ago. An ocean away a new friend answered.

"Don't bother coming back to the house, love. I'm heading out to Southern California, Sunnydale. An old friend of mine needs a hand, and I can't say no to him. I guess if I don't see you there we'll catch up when I get back."

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Buffy knew that turning tail and bolting from the library probably hadn't been the best reaction that she could have had. And spending the last couple of days holed up, in Angels' mansion, by herself, probably hadn't been the most productive of ways to spend he time either. But, on the other hand, getting away from everything had been exactly what she'd needed to do.

She also knew that her friends had probably been out looking for her, even though it wasn't as though they had to concern themselves with her safety. It just wasn't fair.

Why can't life be fair to me for once?

At least other Slayers' before her had been able to count on death to release them from their duties. Not that she really wanted to be dead right at the moment, but that didn't mean she wanted to spend the next ten or twenty decades killing monsters, either.

Certainly not for the first time that night, Buffy felt a wave of lethargy and sorrow wash over her. In moments like this it felt like she'd been cursed since she first drew breath.

Oh god... I can't even die...

She was pacing, and filled with a nervous, restless energy, which she didn't seem to be able to focus on any one thing in particular. She knew what she should do.

Which was let everyone know that she was still okay (what a joke) and then got out on patrol. At least it would give her something to do, and while she couldn't be killed by the beasties of Sunnydale any longer, unless one of them actually bit her head off, that didn't actually apply to the rest of the town.

What a nice way to be rendered unnecessary, Have everyone in town wake up one morning, Immortal.

She just didn't want to deal with the looks of sympathy from the others, over something that they would never be able to properly understand.

As tempting as it was, she couldn't really stay curled up in here forever. She was bound to get hungry soon, and Angel wasn't exactly a world-renowned conusor. And it wasn't fair, to keep her friends wondering. So it wasn't all that practical.

She felt better, as she came to a decision, and grabbed her bag from where she had dumped it in the middle of the entrance hall, and headed towards the door.

She was going to head home and have a nice refreshing shower, and then she would maybe do a little patrolling. After that...then she would concern herself with the new problem she was facing. Or, maybe she wouldn't.

Maybe she could just ignore it until she lost her head...