The vampire let out an odd squeak as he slammed head first through plaster.

"You're lucky that wasn't a load bearing wall," I said, "or we might be in real trouble."

The vampire only glared at me through swollen eyes. Two hours as my own personal punching bag and he still was playing the mime. I guess my people skills had gotten rusty, what with the being dead and all.

"Ok, let's talk turkey." I kicked him to his knees. "I want to know some things. You know the things that I want to know. So if you tell me the things that you know then I'll know them, and I won't use your fangs to sharpen my knife, you know?"

He turned his yellow eyes on me, opened his mouth, and spat in my face.

"I'm not telling you anything, worthless excuse for a vampire," he grinned. "Kill me if you like, but my Master's secrets are safe with me."

Suddenly this game wasn't so much fun anymore. Carefully, oh so deliberately, I raised my arm and wiped the spittle off my face.

I wasn't just a wise-cracking vamp. I was a Slayer. A pissed off Slayer with a bunch of sharp objects and nothing better to do.

A slow smile spread across my face.

"Who said anything about killing?"


Scarcely an hour passed before I had the information I needed. I cleaned up my mess, wiped the dust from my clothes, and strode out into the night.

Almost ready.

One piece to my hellish puzzle was yet needed. One piece and one conversation. Then I could rest.

Then I could sleep.

Luckily, both things would be found in the same place.


Day was breaking, teasing the horizon with fingers of gold, as I reached Rupert's house. Slipping inside I quietly made my way to the couch.

I put my bag of supplies on the table and stretched out on the couch.

"Torture is hard," I thought as I slipped off to sleep.

I was awakened by a gasp and a round of good old-fashioned British swearing.

"Morning Rupert," I yawned.

"Dear Lord!" Rupert was wearing blue plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. His hair was rumpled and his glasses askew.

God, I loved him.

"Tessa," he said, "what are you doing here? I mean - I waited for you last night. I didn't think you were - I thought you - " He sat on the arm of the couch and ran his hands through his hair. "Dear Lord."

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to meet his eyes, trying to read his mood. "I had to get some information. The - process took longer than anticipated."

"Ah." He looked at me for a long moment, then shook his head. "I need tea."

Not the reaction I was looking for.

"What?"

"Tea. It's early, you're in my house, I didn't sleep much last night, and before we talk I need some tea." Rupert made to stand up, but I laid my hand on his arm. We both jumped as if burned.

"Let me," I said. "You don't know how I like mine." Turning, I walked towards the kitchen.

"Three sugars and a lemon," Rupert said softly. I froze.

It's silly, really, the things that can break me. I was a Slayer. My entire existence had been focused on killing things most people don't believe in. I was trained in combat, I watched my friends and family die around me. My first blood as a vampire came from the neck of my best friend. After dying a horrible death, I spent twenty seven years in the ground before clawing my way out of my grave. Three hours of my undead life had just been spent torturing a fellow vampire for information that will lead to my third death.

Yet I stood in the doorway of Rupert's kitchen fighting back tears over tea.

"How could you think - how could you imagine I would forget?" Rupert was standing behind me now, his voice a rough whisper.

"I was gone for a very long time, Rupert," I said quietly. "I'm surprised you can remember my name."

He was silent for a moment, and I took that opportunity to restore some distance. Note to self: Air and a heartbeat aren't necessary for stomach butterflies.

"Tessa..." he started. I held up my hand to cut him off.

"Tea first." I avoided his eyes. "You shower and such, I'll brew a pot of tea, and then..."

Then we would proceed to rip the scars off.

Rupert studied me, eyes begging for something I didn't understand, then he gave a quick nod and moved towards the stairs.

With a sigh of relief I walked into the kitchen and began the tea making process. A quick glance towards the steps revealed Rupert standing there with a half-smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

"What?" I waved the teapot in the air. "Afraid I'm going to make tea like an American?"

"No," he smiled, ducking his head. "I was just wondering...do you still remember..."

"Cream, no sugar." I turned quickly away. "Now go on, you stuffy Brit. Or I'll make coffee instead."

Rupert's laugh echoed in my head. If I could bottle that sound, keep it hidden in my heart for eternity, then I think I could endure anything.

"Right," I said to myself as I wiped away a stray tear, "tea it is."


Sometimes life gives us something. Sometimes, often when we aren't expecting it, we get a taste of perfection. A touch of the divine.

That morning, sitting across the table from Rupert, laughing at his jokes, talking about nothing important, was like a dream. An unblemished moment. Something so wonderful, so utterly normal, it makes you a little sad - because you know, even while you're relishing it, that it can't last. That the next breath, the next second, it will disappear like a whisper in a snowstorm.

And the crushing reality of your real life, of your fate, will take you over.

But for that instant, that heartbeat, you are happy. You have everything.

I don't know why I was given that moment. I didn't deserve it. I didn't anticipate it. But I treasured it. All the grief, the pain, the strife, the dying - if it all was for this, then maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.

The tea was drunk, the cups washed, the sun was moving ever higher in the sky and our time was running out. By some unspoken agreement, we had taken the precious few hours given to us - no talk of monsters or destinies or battle plans. Just us.

Now it was time for another talk.

We moved into the living room. The bag of supplies I had left on the table served a stark reminder of my plan, of what I must do now.

An awkward silence fell as we settled in. Neither one of us wanted to start this. Finally Rupert spoke up.

"The information - did you get what you needed?"

"Yes," I said. "It wasn't easy, but yes. I know when Laalym is planning on performing the ceremony."

He blanched. "When?" His hands were shaking.

"Tomorrow night. There's a warehouse outside of town," I spoke quickly, imparting my hard-won knowledge in a rush of words. "He and his followers will be there tomorrow, after sundown."

"Do - do you know? What you're going to do, what you need?"

I nodded. "There's something you can help me with, in fact."

"Anything."

"I need a weapon." Before the sentence was even complete, Rupert had leapt to his feet and was rummaging in an old trunk.

"What do you need?" He stood up, holding an armful of battleaxes, crossbows, and stakes. "I have quite a wide selection." A rueful laugh escaped his lips. "After all, what's a Watcher without weapons?"

I crossed over to him, gently taking the assorted weapons out of his arms and returning them to the trunk.

"Do you have a sword?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I have several."

Moving that close to him had been a mistake. "Good," I said absently, "that's good."

His hand found my face, his eyes searched mine in wonderment. "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you?"

I took in a sharp breath. "Rupert, I - "

"After - the night - " he faltered.

"I died."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I failed you."

Really, I don't know what I had expected him to say when we finally got around to talking about this. He had already expressed his pain and disappointment. But guilt?

For the second time, I moved away from his touch. "What are you talking about? We've done this, Rupert. I was the Slayer. It was my job, my calling. If anyone failed, it was me."

"Tessa, listen - "

"No," I turned away. I couldn't do this. All my mental preparation, all my planning, and when the moment came, I froze. It was too much, and, in the end, I wasn't brave enough. So I changed the subject. "About that sword."

The Watcher spun me around, forcing my chin up so our gazes clashed. "Do you think you're the only one who feels? The only one who is grieving over something lost that night? Can you honestly stand there thinking you're the only one who was affected by Laalym?"

"I died!"

"I lost everything!"

We stood there, glaring. Then Rupert sighed, throwing up his hands in frustration.

"I lost you," he whispered. "I couldn't do anything. I just watched you die. Then I had to wake up the next morning. And the next. And the next. I had to breathe in and out, had to go about my life knowing you were gone."

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "You have no idea what I've done to try to forget you."

Choking back tears, I moved towards him. This time it was he who moved away from my touch.

"Tell me," I begged.

"I ran away." He was pacing now, gesturing with the hand that still held his glasses. "From my family, my education, my calling. I left it all behind. After all, what was the point? We researched, we trained, we fought - and still, you died. Still, the Slayers died. What was the bloody good of it all?"

Rupert stood in front of me, not letting me run away, not letting me hide. "It took another person I cared about dying because of my stupidity, my rank arrogance, for me to realize that the fight was all we had. The research, the training - they were the only weapons we had been given. The evil - the evil is always so great."

He moved closer to me. I could feel his heart beating, taste his scent, hear his breath against my cheek.

"I tried running away from you. From your memory. Now, for the past four years, I've embraced everything you stood for. And still you die."

"I don't understand."

"Every night, in my dreams," he said. "I relive that moment."

"Oh, Rupert." I reached out, my hand found his cheek.

"Every night I watch you die again. And Laalym laughs at me over your body. Because I failed you."

"How?" I forced him to meet my eyes. "How in the world did you fail me?"

"I never told you." Tears are streaming down his face now, running over my hand. "I didn't fight for the chance."

"What didn't you tell me?"

"I love you."

With a strangled sob, I pulled away, trying desperately to keep my wits about me.

"Tessa!"

"Stop it, Rupert," I said. "What do you think you're playing at?"

"What do you want from me?" His tears were gone now. He was angry. Good. Anger I could deal with.

"I want a sword. I want you to point me towards a priest who does night duty. And I want to get some sleep." I started ransacking the weapons trunk, looking for a likely candidate for a Blessed Sword of Destruction.

"So I'm just the supply man? Is that all I mean to you? All that I said, that was just an intermission in your pity-fest?"

"You don't see! You can never see. I am - something evil. Something dark. A monster."

"You're good - "

"No," I cut him off. "I appear good. My shiny outside wrappings fool you. It's not what's on the outside that matters. It's the core." I drew a shuddering breath. "My core is rotten."

"You have a soul."

"I have a leash. But someday my demon is going to break free."

"Tessa, that doesn't matter - it doesn't change...I love you."

I whirled around, holding a sword. I pointed it at his neck. One move, the slightest twitch of my hand, and his head would be severely lacking a body.

"The girl you loved is dead. I'm just using her body." I lowered the sword. "Don't ever forget that."

I walked over to the supply bag and set the sword down next to it. All I needed now was the sun to set.

"So, that's it then?" Rupert made as if to reach out to me again, then lowered his arm. "This is how it ends?"

"It has to be." I was begging him for understanding, praying that he could see the futility of our hopes. "This isn't something I can just...get over. And I can't do...what needs to be done if you don't understand that."

"Then why come back here tonight?" His voice broke.

I turned my face away. "Because I am selfish. I wanted to see you again."

"And now you've seen me, so you're just going to leave?"

Silent tears were coursing down my cheeks. I couldn't let him see this, couldn't admit this weakness. So I nodded, a quick jerk of my head.

"Like hell you are," Rupert said. "I lost you once because I didn't fight for you. Do you honestly think I'm going to let you walk away from me again?"

"What do you want from me, Rupert? A happy ending?" I gave a desperate laugh. "I'm going to die again."

He took a deep breath. "No."

Now I turned to him, now I let him see my anguish. If this is what it took, if this is another thing I must endure to make him see, to let him go - then so be it.

"Yes, Rupert. I will go, I will die. And...and I'm not strong enough..." I trailed off as I searched his face.

His hand grasped mine. "Then let me help you. Let me face Laalym."

"Laalym isn't what I fear," I said. "I'm not strong enough to lose you again. I'm not strong enough to watch you as I die, to love you hopelessly. I can't do this. I'm sorry, Rupert." I tore my hand away. "I'm so sorry."

He stood there for a moment, lost in his head. Then the boy, my sweet Daniel, disappeared into the Watcher. He replaced his glasses and gave me a swift nod.

"Yes. I see that." He gestured to the couch. "Feel free to sleep, if that is what you require. I have - business to attend to."

The coldness in his voice broke my heart. I had to remind myself that this was necessary to keep from throwing myself into his arms.

I moved towards the couch, taking an afghan from the chair. I would drown my grief in a dreamless sleep. Perhaps, for a few hours, the ache in my soul would diminish.

I could hear Rupert preparing to leave. And I couldn't let him go, not like this.

"Wait," I whispered. Turning, I saw his hand on the door, his jaw clenched. "Wait."

"What is it?" He sounded so lost, so frightened of my answer, that I couldn't stop myself from going to him. One last time I met his eyes, one final time I touched his face, brushed back his hair.

"You have to know...you have to understand," I whispered fiercely, "I love you, Rupert Giles. More than anything. I love you more than my life itself."

We stood there for an eternity, lost in each other's gaze. I memorized his face, crushing the picture to my heart.

Finally he broke the contact, turning towards the door. Then, before I could move, he turned back to me and pressed his lips tenderly to my forehead.

Then he left, walking out the door into the blazing sun.


Disclaimer: Rupert Giles and the Buffy-verse belong to Joss. Theresa belongs to my plot bunny, Hubert. He has poka-dots and a fondness for socks.

A/N: Thanks and huggles go to Mermaidrain for helping me with this chapter. Any mistakes are mine alone. I hope you enjoy it. And remember, gentle readers: Reviews make the world go round.