Buffy sat on the end of Willow's bed in her dormitory. Opposite her, on her bed, sat her boyfriend Riley. The beams moonlight shone through the window and lit up his face, which was trying to avoid hers. They both sat in silence.
She didn't know how she felt. Bewildered? Confused? Could she ever find a remotely normal boyfriend? The silence was becoming increasingly uncmftable to her now. With a sigh, she broke it.
"So this is what you mean when you say you're working late, huh," she stated simply. "Cause normally that means a few extra hours at the office, not hunting demons for some secret organisation thingy."
Riley turned to face her for the first time since pulling her from the ground earlier. His face riddled with guilt. "Buffy I…"
"Don't," she interrupted. She didn't want lies or excuses; she'd had enough of them in her time. She wanted the truth. "Riley, who are you?"
He paused for a moment then spoke. "Buffy you know who I am. I'm Riley. The rest…what I do…I can't tell you."
"Then let me," She snapped back. "You're part of some military monster squad that captures demons, vampires…but you probably have some official sounding euphemisms for them. Like unfriendlies…or non-sapiens."
"Hostile sub Terrestrials," corrected Riley.
"Whatever," continued Buffy. "So, you deliver these HST's to a bunch of lab coats who perform experiments on them…and on occasions turn them into harmless little bunnies. How am I doing so far?" Rage had got the better of her and now she found herself standing.
"A little to well," he replied, taken aback by Buffy's knowledge.
"Meanwhile, you pretend to be Riley Finn, the darn attractive teaching assistant." She paused. "God, is Riley even your real name?"
"Stop it!" Riley shouted. Buffy obeyed. "My name is Riley. Never been anything different. And Newsflash, I don't think I'm think I'm the only one that's being a little less than honest here…Buffy, how do you know all this?…about demons, my organisation, everything? You were at the cemetery with a knife, and I'm pretty sure you weren't planning to cut cheese out there…I think the question here is who are you."
Buffy sat back down on the bed. He was right. Here she was going on at him for keeping secrets, when she had a huge one of her very own. She was suddenly feeling very guilty. She'd have to tell him the truth. How could she explain her self otherwise? She made her decision.
"Riley," she began, "you ever heard of a vampire slayer?"
He stared blankly.
Boy, this was gonna take some explaining.
LONDON, ENGLAND
Giles straightened up and readjusted his glaces onto his face. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to think, which was proving increasing difficult. All sorts of questions riddled his mind: Is it true? Could it really be him? Who else knows? And most importantly, What do I do now? Searching his brain thoroughly for an answer to the final question, he found one.
Moving slowly, he again approached the table where the books and documents lay. He knew he'd never get a chance to read it all in there. But then again, he'd never make it out of the building with about fifty books unseen. But maybe he could make it out with one of them. Taking the book he felt would contain the most useful information, he slipped it under his jacket, made for the door and exited the secretive room.
Luckily the coast was clear. Although the book was tucked away safely under his jacket, it was quite thick. He wondered what passers by would think of the strange bulge underneath his jacket. He was also glad the coast was clear because despite the limited modern technology inside the council, Giles had no doubt that the room he had just stumbled into was being watched. Quentin Travers would not what something like that being broadcast to the world. He'd probably pay any price to stop it getting out. Giles swallowed hard. He needed to get out of the building alive. He knew a door that could maybe give him safe passage out. It was a risk, but he was certain there was no other way.
Moving quietly through the deserted hallways round the back of the Watchers' council, he made his way to the kitchens. He knew that there was a back entrance to the kitchens, where the kitchen staff took food deliveries. The council didn't believe in modern technology, and Giles was certain that one of the few security cameras that the council owned would not be placed on the back entrance to the kitchen.
Checking the coast was clear again before proceeding, he made his way through the empty council kitchen. Tea was always served too early for Giles' liking inside the council, but right now Giles was thankful for it.
Eventually he reached the back of the kitchen. Opening the rusty, metal door, he stepped out into the night. He hoped the darkness would hide his presence. He didn't stop walking though, there was something he needed to do. If he didn't make it back to Buffy with the information alive, he needed to make sure she could get it somehow.
About a mile away from the Watcher's council HQ, a man sat cross-legged on his faded couch. Perched on his lap was a copy of 'The Times'. He gave a sigh and put down the blue biro he was holding. Today's crossword was proving tricky. Why hadn't he bought 'The Sun', page 3 was far more his cup of tea.
Turning his head from the paper, he looked around him. It was a pathetic excuse for a home. Bed sheets were riddled with numerous cigarette holes, the walls were cracked and the bathroom, which had surprisingly once been white, was covered in mould, but unfortunately it was all he could afford.
Money hadn't been a problem for him till roughly two years ago. He'd once owned a shop. That had been fun. Well, maybe not for the customers, he chuckled to himself. The shop hadn't lasted long though and soon he was forced to leave. The year following that had been one of the worst of his life. Money was nowhere. He'd even spent some time on the street, but then one day someone came along and made him an offer he couldn't refuse. The man who made the offer (if you could call him a man) had heard of his knowledge of dark magic. In return for a small favour, the man would pay him a great sum of money… but somehow that had gone pear-shaped too. So here he was now, sitting on the battered couch of a room in the filthiest B&B in London. He figured he wasn't the luckiest man alive, but there again, he was no saint.
His thoughts were interrupted by a load knock on the outside of his rotting door. Visitors? he thought. No one knows I'm here. Never the less, he uncrossed his legs and went to open the door.
What great him was most unexpected
"Ripper?"
To be continued...
AN: a few bits of the Riley/Buffy diologe at the beginning are taken from the Riley/Buffy diologe at the beginning of doomed. Lots of it is mine...but don't give me all the credit!
p.s review please! You'll make my day!
