Part Five

After he finished cleaning up the store, Rupert ignored Anya's sweet attempt at seduction and threw himself into research instead. What he found was fascinating. It turned out that vampires were quite, quite real. So were zombies, werewolves, incubi, succubi, and everything else he'd ever dreaded was under his bed, but told himself couldn't be by the light of day. They were all real. And for whatever reason, he had collected books upon all of them. As the trip to the hospital had suggested, his non-amnesiac self was much more than a simple shopkeeper.

A small bell over the door tinkled, and Rupert jerked himself out of the book that he was currently reading. The reinforcements were here. Rupert decided that he would continue to investigate vampires and supernatural creatures, while setting Xander and the five girls to researching memory spells. After he got the others settled, he went back to his own volume.

This book seemed to suggest that vampires had a natural foe, someone named a Slayer. Oddly enough, Slayers were always short-lived girls, usually in their teens, who were preternaturally strong. Although Buffy was clearly older than the average Slayer, the superhuman strength that she had claimed to use against the "strange men with bumpy faces and yellow eyes" (a description that fit perfectly with the pictures in his books) could only belong to a Slayer.

Slayer. The word reverberated through him, touching something deep and primal. He was so distracted by this feeling that he nearly forgot that this was not the first time he had heard the word since he awakened. Now that he replayed the conversation in his head, Rupert realized that de Sangre had mentioned the word "Slayer" several times. More specifically, the missing man had used a second-person possessive, referring to Rupert's Slayer. His Slayer; what did that mean? And de Sangre had had a name for him as well, had called him--

"Ah," Rupert exclaimed around the pencil in his mouth. He removed it and called louder, "Ah! Buffy! Come here! I have figured out who you are."

This shout was enough to gather the attention of everyone. They grouped around him eagerly, with Buffy standing directly behind him. In her excitement, she blew a gust of air on to the back of his neck and it went straight to his groin. Anya evidently noticed, for she rudely shoved Buffy out of her way and began massaging Rupert's shoulders. He wished that she'd stop, but didn't have the heart to say so.

"So Giles," came Buffy's bright voice, as she plopped down in the seat next to him. "Whatcha got?"

"You were correct; the men who attacked you last night were vampires." Rupert waited for the murmurs of disbelief and amazement that met this statement to die down before continuing. "Furthermore, you are correct in saying that you are a superhero'." Buffy's eyebrow quirked in surprise at this. "You are apparently The Slayer and it is your sacred duty to rid the world of vampires and other creatures of the night. Furthermore, if I understood de Sangre correctly, I am your Watcher. This means that I assist you in your battles against evil, by training and guiding you." He looked her directly in the eyes, ignoring the presence of the others. "You and I are partners."

"That's kind of nice," Buffy murmured quietly.

"Yeah, it's nice and all," Anya said loudly, "but it's not helping us with our memory problem at all. Now that you know that vampires are real, Rupie, why don't you help the rest of us with something important."

Rupert sighed unhappily, but he had to agree. He collected all the books concerning vampires and quickly reshelved them. He then grabbed a magic book and sat at the other end of the table from his fiancée. The fact that that chair was next to Buffy was quite, quite coincidental.

~*~*~

Several hours later, everyone agreed to call it a night. Anya wanted Rupert to come home with her right away, but he was oddly reluctant to do so. He had intended to just stay at the shop and do more research after the others left, but Anya's stringent protests soon made him the focus of everyone's attention. Blushing furiously, Rupert tried to think of a legitimate excuse to avoid spending time with his fiancée. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he had such an excuse, and that it had the merit of being true. "I can't go home right now, Anya. I must go to the cemetery with Buffy."

Anya was confused. "Why do you need to go with Buffy? What about me? I wanted to go home and have sex with you. Why wouldn't you want that too? Unless—"

"NO," Rupert interrupted emphatically. "Don't finish that sentence." Rupert felt six pairs of curious eyes on him, and he flushed even deeper than before. He ran his hands through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts again. "Based upon the books I read earlier, it is clear that Buffy is the Vampire Slayer and that I am her Watcher. It, uh, seems to me that Buffy's responsibility to protect the world continues whether she has her memory or not. By the same logic, my responsibility to watch her continues. Buffy and I should go to the graveyard and see if we can find any evil fiends to, um, Slay."

"And how do we do that?" Despite the words, Buffy's tone was light and happy; clearly she was anxious to put her powers to use.

Deciding to ignore his curious audience, Rupert turned towards the Slayer (his Slayer) and focused only on her. "Apparently, decapitation and a stake through the heart both kill a vampire instantly. Earlier I noticed that there many weapons in the shop... including a large number of wooden stakes. I would guess that the stakes are your weapon of choice." Rupert paused self-consciously before continuing, "I pi- picked up a sword, and it felt, uh, right to me." Actually, he had been playing with the sword, but they didn't need to know that. "I am reasonably certain that I have some degree of proficiency with swordcraft, and that I would be an asset to you."

"Cool," Buffy grinned. "Let's go then! The rest of you should go home and get a good night's sleep, so we can kick research butt tomorrow!"

Within minutes, Watcher and Slayer collected their weapons and left. Anya glared so fiercely at his retreating back that his shoulder blades continued to itch several blocks away.

~*~*~

Rupert and Buffy fought four vampires that night, each Slaying two. Buffy made the first kill of the night, much to her delight. As she watched the evil creature fall to dust, a huge smile slowly crept across her face, and she said, "That was COOL!" Rupert probably wouldn't have characterized his reaction in the same fashion, but he had to admit that he enjoyed watching her smile that way.

In between moments of mortal danger, they talked. Just as he had noticed that afternoon when they went to the police station together, he found it easy to talk to her. And he found his enjoyment of her company extending to a physical reaction. There was a lightness to her spirit that he found far more alluring than all of Anya's gentle touches.

Thinking of Anya brought forth an already familiar sense of guilt, and a deep sigh. Buffy looked at him quizzically. "What's that for, oh Watcher-of-mine?"

"You know," Rupert answered thoughtfully, "I'm not sure that I care for that title. It reminds me too much of Chance the gardener from Being There'."

Buffy scrunched up her face in confusion. "Chant the what of being where?"

Rupert shrugged. "A character from a Peter Sellers' movie. It doesn't matter much."

"Peter Sellers! Pink Panther' movies! I love those!" Buffy look of confusion returned. "How did I know that?"

"And how do I know that I loathe them," Rupert asked in return. "I'm very confused about the nature of the spell we're under. I've noticed before that we all seem to retain bits of cultural knowledge, including familiarity with famous people, but we are completely ignorant of everyone that we have actually met. Moreover, all of us still possess the skills to perform tasks that we were able to do before, such as drive a car, or read foreign languages, or handle a sword... but we don't know which skills we possess until we actually try to do them. This isn't simple amnesia; the spell is very select in the knowledge that it has taken from us, namely everything of a personal nature."

"Tabula rasa," Buffy murmured quietly. Rupert was astonished that she was thinking along the same lines as he, but she evidently misunderstood his expression, for she hastened to elaborate. "It means blank slate.' It's like, we're still books, exactly like we were before, but now all the pages are empty. We're just like we were before, but now we don't have any past experiences to influence or guide us."

"So which is more real," Rupert asked intently. Off of Buffy's look, Rupert tried to elaborate. "Do our experiences define us (which would mean that we are fabrications of this spell) or do we have core personalities that have been altered by our experiences (which would make our other selves the fabrications)?"

Buffy gave him a hard look. "You're talking about a nature versus nurture question, aren't you?" Rupert shrugged, and then inclined his head slightly. "Well... I'd say that right now we are the people that we should be. Maybe Xander is normally subdued, but clearly he should be a clown. Maybe Willow has learned to get along with people, but her natural instinct is to be a bit of a control freak. And maybe Dawn can normally pretend to be reasonable, but her natural state is to be a whiny brat." This last was said with a scowl on her face; clearly something had occurred between the sisters earlier in the evening that still rankled.

Thinking of his relationship with Anya, Rupert asked, "And what if we notice problems in our non-amnesiac lives? Are they still problems to people who have been molded by experiences that we know nothing about? And do we have the right to influence those other people just because we believe ourselves to be the essence of who we should be?"

Buffy turned to give him a searching look, but was distracted by the arrival of three vampires. She never did answer his question, something for which Rupert was profoundly grateful.

~*~*~

"I don't think we've figured things out the right way."

Startled, Rupert turned towards the young man sitting beside him and tried to decipher his meaning. It had been an exhausting three days, long hours spent at the shop in a blur of research and uncomfortable conversations, so he knew that he wasn't at his brightest... but still. Xander had been sitting silently for hours, ever since the women had all left to see if they could find acquaintances around town, and Rupert couldn't begin to fathom the thought processes that had initiated that random comment. "Um, figured out what, exactly?"

"You know," his companion responded, "everything. Anything."

"I don't believe that we have figured out anything," Rupert responded testily. "Hence the research."

"We've figured out the group dynamics," Xander responded, just as testily. "We've decided who belongs with who. I just don't think we've figured any of it out right."

Rupert's first instinct was to make a sarcastic comment (starting with a critique of the boy's grammar), but he restrained himself. Xander was articulating a topic that he had been struggling with himself ever since his night in the graveyard with Buffy. Anya was quite happy with him, but he was becoming more and more convinced everyday that he was not happy with her. He knew that he was an idiot for feeling this way: Anya was intelligent, beautiful, had a radiant smile, and a quirky sense of humor. He enjoyed her company, and the sex was terrific. Really, quite, quite exceptional. Only a fool wouldn't love her. A fool such as himself. So, Rupert swallowed his automatic snipe, and nodded at Xander to continue. "What, exactly, do you feel that we have misunderstood?"

"Let's start with Willow and me. There is something there, a lot of somethings in fact, and I'm pretty certain that I love her. But there is no way in hell that I'm in love with her, if you know what I mean. There's absolutely no chemistry there. Zip, zilch, nada." Xander frowned, obviously remembering something unpleasant. "I mean, have you taken a look at Willow? She's beautiful! A knockout even! And that body—"

"Yes, well, I don't believe you need to go into that," Rupert muttered uncomfortably.

"See, the thing is, I think I do. She's HOT, and yet, the sex was a big ole nothing." Xander obviously saw something in Rupert's face that he didn't care for, because he was quick to add, "Oh, I performed, don't get me wrong! Nothing wrong with me, that's for sure! It's just... there just wasn't any real attraction there. She's like my sister, or, or something. I don't think that we're supposed to be together. Or at least not like that."

Rupert stared at Xander, troubled by the similarities and differences. Xander loved Willow platonically, but didn't want to sleep with her. Rupert was highly attracted to Anya, but didn't love her. And yet... if he wasn't involved with Anya, what did his current involvement with her do to his non-amnesiac self? Had he destroyed a friendly business partnership by sleeping with Anya now? Or were his current actions even worse; perhaps he had truly believed himself to be in love with Anya, and was just now realizing his mistake as he saw her with new eyes. When he got his memory back, would the other him be grateful to him for making him see this, or would this knowledge destroy him? And he needed to stop thinking about himself in the third person; it was giving him a headache.

"And there's something else," Xander mumbled, not looking him in the eyes. "Willow and I had a long talk last night. She said, um, she thinks that she might be, uh, she said that she's kinda... gay." Xander gave him a hard stare. "And that doesn't surprise you at all, does it?"

"Well," Rupert admitted, "I did seem to me that Willow was more attracted to Tara than she was to you."

"You're kidding," exclaimed Xander. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It was hardly any of my concern, now was it?"

"Maybe not," Xander allowed grudgingly. "But maybe it was. We're all working in the dark here. Anything that sheds some light on our situation needs to be shared. You holding anything else out on us?"

Yes, a one-way plane ticket to London. "No, nothing." Xander gave him an odd look, clearly disbelieving him, but made no effort to call him on his lie. When Rupert lifted his eyebrow at him and nodded at a book, Xander shrugged and went back to work. The two men didn't talk again until the others returned.

~*~*~

Xander's fears were proven correct, as tensions among the small group continued to rise. Xander and Willow officially broke up the following day, and that didn't help matters at all. Oh, it was an amicable break-up, and neither seemed to have any hard feelings, but they were distinctly uncomfortable with each other now. Willow and Tara threw more and more longing looks at each other by the day, but they kept their distance. Rupert suspected that Willow now felt too guilty to pursue the person that she obviously wanted. He felt badly for the girls, but he was too caught up in his own triangle to offer them any comfort.

Technically, it was inaccurate to refer to his circumstances as a love triangle, but Rupert couldn't hide from the fact that that was what he was living. He was tied to one woman, but was drawn to another. This knowledge sickened him--he sickened him--but it was a truth that was becoming more and more difficult to hide from.

Anya was a wonderful woman--no doubt whatsoever about that--but Buffy was amazing to him. She hid a ferocious intelligence under light banter and a quirky personality, one that he found utterly charming. She was always late, but had an uncanny ability to organize others and suggest profitable avenues of exploration. She had an internal strength that astounded him, far more so than the supernatural physical strength that she apparently possessed. She was kind to Dawn and Tara, and always had a tactful remark to make when tensions arose among the others. And she had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. As much as he hated to admit it, he thought that he could fall head over heels in love with Buffy if he ever permitted himself to do so. If he didn't already have another woman who was in love with him...

And Buffy had feelings for him; he was certain of it. She sought out his company more than any of the others, and only seemed to relax when they were alone together. She teased him incessantly, with dancing eyes and a brilliant smile that made it clear that there was no malice behind her barbs. And she hated Anya. The easy camaraderie between Rupert and the small blonde might be indicative of nothing but friendship, and Buffy's distaste for Anya's company could easily be attributed to his fiancée's rather unique personality, but Rupert didn't think so. Sometimes, when they were together, there were flashes of something in Buffy's hazel eyes, some indefinable emotion that looked very much like passion. Each time this happened, they would both retreat in confusion. Buffy would start an argument with Anya, usually with the slightest of provocations, he would throw himself deeper into research, and his fiancée would pull him into a backroom for some mind-blowing sex. And he would tell himself once again that he was a bastard.

This couldn't go on. Rupert wasn't sure whether he was going to have a nervous breakdown from the guilt of his conflicted feelings, or a heart attack from one of Anya's more vigorous displays of possessiveness, but one of them was imminent if they didn't make a break-through soon. Rupert wondered which way would be a better one to go.