Remixed and Reimagined... and Retitled! Formally known as "Winterwood", I hope you will enjoy "One Fine Day"!

Peace, Love, and Keep Reading!

Janis70


2008: 4 Months Imprisonment

Brazilian Jungle: Undisclosed Location

Face flat in the suffocating gushy surface of mud, Graham squeezed his eyes closed as he regained consciousness. Clenching his jaw from the pain his body had been beaten into, Graham tried to move by a zap of agonising pain from his side bellowed across his chest.

Slowly, he laid his hands flat on the ground. He hardly noticed his hands sinking into the wet mud as he tried to lift himself up.

Sucking in a breath, Graham clenched his teeth to pick himself up but failed, falling flat on his chest again with a wince of pain.

Heavy footsteps sent a quake through the ground.

After a minute, the footsteps stopped. Graham opened his left eye, since his right eye had been swollen completely shut sometime before.

A claw-like hand grabbed the back of Graham's Army camouflage jacket and lifted him up from the ground. The pain shooting through Graham's entire body reminded him that he was alive. His bruised and battered face reddened as he tried to desperately keep his cries of agony in his mouth.

The Moscow demon holding Graham by the collar of his Army jacket looked at the group of Moscow demons standing behind him.

Graham's beaten body stiffened. He could feel a dampness of what he presumed was blood on his side.

The Moscow demons communicated with one another. It was the longest three minutes of Graham's life as the demons went back and forth on what they should do with him and the remainder of his platoon.

Soon, the Moscow demon tossed Graham aside.

He landed on the muddy ground with a thud. Graham coughed unable to handle the pain his body was in. He felt like vomiting from torturous pain.

Graham fought himself from passing out again from the pain. He felt two hands move under his arms and pulled him backwards through the mud to relative safety.

A Moscow demon whirled around and glared at the remaining men still left alive.

With three large stomps, the Moscow demon hoisted one of the men that had helped Graham up and pushed him along to run into the openness of the jungle. It was a piece of two hundred acres of treeless land where eight of the sixteen men in the platoon laid dead. Some were shredded into unrecognizable pieces. Many more had died when they fought the demons four months ago and were forced to surrender.

Graham opened his eye, holding an arm around his broken ribs and watched as the demon pushed the soldier along towards the open land.

After having seen this ten times before, Graham knew that the demon would split from its outer shell into its true gruesome face and charge after the running man. Chasing them was a sport to these demons and all that these poor men could do was run as fast as they could, never looking back. Not one of the soldiers selected survived.

Resting his head back, all that Graham could do was wait to be chosen next. With these broken ribs, he was a gonier for sure.

Unable to look at another one of his men killed, Graham turned his head away when he noticed a Beretta M9 pistol in the muddy grass.

Reaching out to the gun, Graham clenched his jaw, ignoring the pain. He felt determined.

Grabbing a hold of the pistol, Graham pursed his lips as he checked the magazine for bullets. There were only ten rounds left as well as the full magazine in his pants pocket.

Graham slowly stood from the muddy ground, using the rock boulder behind him to help himself back onto his feet. His men looked at him in wonderment as Graham cocked the hammer back and aimed it at a Moscow demons head.

"Hey! Hey!" shouted Graham wanting the demon's attention.

The demon snapped its head to Graham and snarled.

"Fuck you," said Graham, then fired the pistol.

Pop! Pop!

The demon went down to the ground dead.

The gang of Moscow demons turned to Graham and growled with a roar.

Graham sneered at the dead demon and lifted his icy blue eyes to the rest of the gang that easily outnumbered him. "Who's next?" He cocked the hammer back.

The demon steering the soldier joined into the snarling group of demons.

They charged the lone soldier.

Graham steadily aimed the sidearm at each approaching demon, firing straight between their red and black eyes until all of the bullets ran out.

The rest of the gang of demons moved to attack Graham when a roar made them pause mid-step.

Standing in a western standoff with the Moscow demon that had been leading the poor soldier to the open land growled at Graham.

Defenseless, Graham spat the blood in his mouth and scowled at the demon, refusing to go down without a fight.

The demon began to move towards Graham when the chopping sounds of helicopters up above surrounded the area.

One by one a sniper took out each demon until finally the demon that was to challenge Graham to a fight.

Graham closes his eyes in relief and falls back against the boulder wall as soldiers from a different unit repel themselves from the helicopter to neutralise the area.

An officer walked over to Graham and wrapped an arm around his back to help him back onto his feet and get him out of the area.

Graham opened his left eye to see that it was Riley Finn, his best friend since bootcamp coming to his rescue.

"You're late," Graham said, jokingly moving through the pain that shattered his body with each step.

Riley smiled, "We hit a bit of traffic on the way."

"Typical Riley Finn," Graham's voice was gravelly with exhaustion and pain, "thinkin' that he knows directions better than a navigator."

Riley chuckled and helped walk his best friend towards the strung out ropes that led straight back up to the helicopter.

5 Months Later

Washington, D.C.: Fort McNair Army Base

"... And because of Major Miller's bravery and resilience that eleven men of his platoon survived the imprisonment." General McNamara spoke to the men sitting in the audience as he presented Graham with the Distinguished Service Cross. "Twenty-five enemy targets were killed. A true testament of heroism."

Graham stood on the small stage feeling very uncomfortable with the recognition. He turned his eyes to the audience to see Riley sitting beside his wife Sam, grinning at his best friend's accomplishment.

Unable to refuse the honour, Graham accepted it and stared straight ahead at the General pinned the Army medal onto his service uniform jacket.

Graham, Riley, and Sam were a part of a top secret Army Special Forces also known as the Ghosts that hunted demons across the world. For the last five years, Graham had been on tour of Brazil fighting demons and the jungle was crawling with the beasts.

Tomorrow morning everyone in this room was ready to board a C-5 Galaxy airplane and go back out to the ruthless jungles of Brazil.

Except for Graham, six weeks ago, he had handed in his discharge papers to the board and found out yesterday that his honourable discharge had been granted. After the four months imprisonment and the daily torturous beatings, and watching too many of his men die, Graham had seen and done enough. It was time to leave the Army once and for all.

Applause erupted in the audience, Graham saluted the General and faced his comrades. He stood awkwardly, waiting the applause to seize. In that moment, all that Graham wanted to do was retreat into his crappy hotel room and perhaps try to sleep.

For months, Graham couldn't sleep. When he closed his eyes all that he saw were the gruesome faces of the demons grinning as they ripped apart his men in front of him. Their curling screams were enough to keep him up at night. Some screamed for their mothers as they laid dead in the open achred land waiting minutes for death to take them.

Night

Base Hotel: #7E

Entering the darkened hotel room from the celebration party, Graham laid his hand flat against the wall to swift on the dim yellow light.

He walked over to the small round table where his duffle bag laid on top of it and tossed the black velvet box down. He unpinned the medal from his service jacket and placed it back into the box.

Looking at the medal for a minute, Graham clenched his jaw and tossed the box into the duffle bag. He took out two other boxes and unpinned the other medals on his jacket; a Purple Heart and the Soldier's Medal.

Medals were a great sentiment but they don't erase the nightmarish memories of imprisonment.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Graham closed the box and placed it back into the duffle bag and turned to the hotel room door.

Crossing the short distance to the door, Graham wrapped his hand around the doorknob and opened it to find Riley standing on the other side of the doorway.

"I thought we'd celebrate." His old friend held up a six pack of beer and stepped into the hotel room.

Graham was not particularly in the mood for visitors, but now that Riley was here and alone, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to tell him that he was leaving.


Walking back towards Riley, he grabbed the beer presented to him and tapped the glass bottle against his.

"Wow, Distinguished Service Cross," Riley sat on the edge of the bed sipping the beer in his hand as Graham leaned back on the edge of a dresser. "Ready to take that heroism back out to the jungle?" asked Riley with a smile.

Graham frowned and looked down at the beer bottle in his hand.

Riley pinched his brows together with uncertainty. "What's up?"

"I'm leavin' the Army, Ry." Graham finally said, finding his voice.

"What?" Riley looked at his best friend with disbelief. "N-no you're not."

Graham lifted his gaze to Riley, proving that he was serious about leaving. "My exit was approved by the board a few weeks ago. I'm leavin' with honorary discharge."

"You're serious," Riley frowned, surprised by the sudden turn of events. "Wasn't it you that said, 'We belonged in the military' and that 'we have a mission'?"

"I didn't make this decision lightly. But it's time."

Riley frowned with disbelief, "I can't believe this. I know that last tour messed you up—"

"—It did more than 'mess me up', Riley... I haven't slept in months. Everytime I close my eyes all I see are those men—my men bein' slaughtered. You have no idea what it was like—and I never want you to know what I'm feelin'. But I need this."

Riley placed the beer bottle on the nightstand and stood up from the bed to confront his oldest friend. "Graham, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that those bastards tortured all of you for months. I'm sorry that you had been beaten almost to death but…" he paused for a moment then said, "... the military—the Army is what you are, Graham. You have a mission."

Graham's jaw tightened as he looked at Riley, "I dunno, man. I think I've lost my mission back in the jungle."

"Please, before you make any decisions, just… think about it. Okay? Don't throw away your career over this."

To appease his friend, though his mind had been already set, Graham nodded and said all of the things Riley certainly wanted to hear.

Next Morning

Bolling Air Force Base: Runway: C-5 Galaxy

The mouth of the massive military transport aircraft was parked proudly on the asphalt runway.

The Special Forces unit walked up the ramp dressed in their combat uniform and their duffle bags in hand.

Following behind the group, Graham walks with Riley and Sam half listening to the couple playfully bicker about who was really in command in their relationship. It was the usual playful argument between the pair. Typically the Finns waited for a new audience to use the cheeky back and forth retort in order to get a few laughs, which always seemed to work. After hearing the joke a hundred times, it was beginning to lose its luster and Graham politely smiled to stroke their comical egos.

Graham watched as the line of rejuvenated Army troops boarded the C-5 Galaxy aircraft and took their seats along the wall.

Riley placed his hand on Sam's lower back, guiding her onto the aircraft when he suddenly noticed Graham was not with them.

The airplane's cargo door began to close, Riley frowned with shock to see Graham still standing on the asphalt with his duffle bag at his feet seeing off the troops.

His decision was final.

Late Afternoon

18400 Massachusetts Avenue NW Washington D.C.: Liberty Bar

The bar curved into the room, dark in the barely lit room. Through the windows, small streams of light from the street-lamps illuminated the bar.

The smell was of cigarette smoke, stale beer, and strange orders from demons conversing in the establishment. A jangle of voices of the demons behind him fell on deaf ears as Graham stared blankly at the whiskey drink set in front of him.

Graham was officially out of the Army and he had nowhere to go. He didn't have any prospects of what to do next. All that Graham knew was that he wasn't going to go back to Chicago. His overbearing parents would never understand his decision to leave the Army—despite his father being a veteran of the Vietnam War, Retired Staff Sergeant Nicholas Miller believed that any form of battle fatigue was a sign of weakness. 'Mind over matter' was something that had been said constantly during his upbringing.

"Hi there," a loose-skinned demon with floppy ears stood at the bar getting the bartender's attention. "Can I have a glass of chocolate milk and your…" the demon squinted its red eyes at the menu, "... Feline special, please? Oh! This is to-go!"

"Sure thing," said the bartender as he moved into the kitchen.

The demon took a seat at the bar on a stool beside Graham. Tapping its claw-like fingers over the wooden counter, the demon's eyes turned to Graham, vaguely recognising him. "Do I know you?"

Graham did not look at the demon as he broke the whiskey glass to his lips and said, "Uh, no, I don't think so."

"Gee, I know I do." The demon tapped its sharp finger on his chin. "I-I never forget a face." He announced then thought for a moment before slapping its hand on the counter. "Oh! Yeah! You're one of those commando fellas!"

Graham frowned and turned his gaze to the demon.

"Yeah, that's it! You were a part of that horrible government Initiative thing. You guys used to capture demons and do experiments on them. A friend of mine was captured by you and one of you guys put a chip in his head."

"Who are you?"

The demon smiled, "I'm Clement. Clem." He gestured to himself then held out his claw-like hand.

Unsure what to expect from this demon, Graham had rarely ever met a seemingly friendly demon before.

Apprehensively, Graham took Clem's hand into a firm handshake. "Graham Miller."

"Have you been in D.C. long?"

"Only for a few days."

"Oh, well… Are you still with that commando group?"

Graham frowned, "The Initiative." Clem nodded. "No," said Graham, shaking his head. "Disbanded."

Slowly nodding his head, Clem looked at Graham, noticing the sad look on his face. "You look like you can use a spirit guide?"

"Do you know of any?"

"Well…" Clem began to smile, "... no." He frowned. "But maybe I can help."

Graham watched as the demon reached into his shirt pocket and took out a business card and slid it across the wooden counter to Graham.

Picking up the business card, Graham examined it with a curious frown. "The Council?"

"It's the new and improved Watcher's Council. The old one was destroyed but the Slayer and her pals revived it. That's why I'm here. I'm on business on behalf of the Council. I find newly called Slayer's and bring them to subbases."

"How many bases are there?"

"Oh, thousands!" Clem said brightly holding his arms out wide. "All across the world. See there was this amazing thing that the witch did right before Sunnydale went kablooey." Clem created an explosion with his hands. "She awakened all of the potential Slayers all across the world. The Council nurtures them and trains them. But it's not just Slayers. Witches… Warlocks… friendly demons…" he gestured to himself. "And the real smarty pants people all have a place at the Council. After the Hellmouth was destroyed, the First retaliated and ignited hundreds of Hellmouths across the world, but Cleveland is the biggest and the most active—Hence why HQ is there."

"And you work for the Slayer?"

Clem smiled, flashing his fang-like teeth. "Oh, she's an angel. A total doll."

"Here's your chocolate milk and feline special." The bartender placed the drink and a basket of meowing kittens on the counter.

Clem smiled at the bartender then looked at Graham. He leaned in closer and whispered, "I think there could be a place for you. The Slayer is always looking for trainers with… your experience. Okay, bye!" Clem gathered the basket and milk in hand before leaving the bar and Graham at the counter.

Graham stared at the business card, turning it around between his fingers. There was a pensive look on his face.

Next Morning: 3.48 Hours Later

Cleveland, Ohio

Cleveland Hopkins International Airport

Following the herd of passengers exiting the passenger boarding bridge and into the main airport, Graham carried the duffle bag in his hand over his shoulder and looked down at the cellphone in his hand.

Raising his gaze, he read the signs hanging above his head and walked towards the airport exit.

As he walked through the crowded airport, Graham stepped around a loud family of thirteen sprint across the airport, racing to their flight only minutes before take off.

Graham adjusted the worn out and distressed blue and red Cubs baseball hat on his head and looked up at the signage above him.


Finally stepping out of the airport, Graham waved down a yellow taxi cab that was pulling up to the curb of the airport.

Sliding into the backseat of the cab, Graham put the duffle bag on the backseat bench beside him.

"Where to, buddy?" The taxi driver asked, looking at Graham through the rearview mirror.

Graham took out the business card Clem had given him only twelve hours before. "17 Madison Avenue."

"Oh, the prep school, huh? That's a fine place around here. I see articles in the papers all the time about it. Apparently, it just got some big shot award for being so great." The driver began to chuckle, "I bet that place costs an arm and a leg to get into."

"Preps schools nowadays aren't cheap, I'd imagine," said Graham, turning his gaze out of the window.

The taxi driver looked at Graham through the rearview mirror again and asked, "Why are you going to a prep school? Aren't you a little old for that?" He smirked.

Graham wasn't so sure why he was going to this prep school either. Every bone in his body told him that this was a terrible idea that was only going to come back and bite him in the ass. It would be a shock if anyone—let along the Slayer herself, took the time out and spoke to him. He didn't exactly leave Sunnydale on the best of terms with the Vampire Slayer.

For the last three hours, Graham asked himself, just what in the hell was he doing. He was beginning to regret leaving the Army.

20 Minutes Later

The Council Headquarters

Twenty minutes had passed when the taxi finally arrived at the new Council which had been smartly disguised as an award winning prep school.

"Good luck," said the cab driver.

Graham looked at the driver, for the first time seeing his gruff face. He nodded silently and released a heavy sigh as he opened the door and looked up at the French Normandy-style castle. He was unable to get out nor was he able to stop the circling thoughts in his brain that screamed at him that this was a terrible idea.

Staring up at the beautiful mansion that had ivy and ferns growing through the crevices of the old winding stone walls. The mansion loomed proudly amongst the rows of trees.

Although, it was not as big as Graham thought it would be. This was the Council Headquarters, he thought it would be enormous.

"Just get this over with," Graham grumbled to himself.

Tightening his jaw, Graham forced himself to take the first few steps up the small staircase and enter into the grand lobby.

Inside: Grand Lobby

Moving his gaze around the grand lobby, Graham removed the baseball cap from his head. And looked around the magnificent building. It felt monumental like the White House or the Reichstag building. This place felt very important.

Medieval weaponry was mounted onto the stone walls. Large crests were also mounted onto the walls all around the grand lobby, representing the sectors of the Council, as well as the Watcher's Councils' original crest and a tribute to Sunnydale.

But the crest that had gotten Graham's keen attention hung over the blazing fireplace.

Walking over to it, Graham studied its intricate design of stakes, crosses, the ancient Scythe weapon joined into a Wiccan pentagram.

"The Council, how may I help you?—Please hold."

Graham turned to the bouncy feminine voice echoed from a different part of the grand lobby.

Following the voice, Graham rounded a corner to find a woman with long flowing blonde hair. She wore a tight stylish dress and sat behind a desk holding a telephone to her ear and typed information onto a computer.

"The Council, how may I help you?—Please hold." The woman said into the telephone and pressed a button. Graham lowered his gaze to his shoes suddenly feeling absurdly nervous. "How may I help you?"

Graham fiddled with the file in his hands, not paying attention to the woman sitting behind the desk.

"Ahem?"

Graham blinked, lifting his eyes to the secretary, startled by her sudden attention.

"How can I help you?" The woman asked him again.

Clicking back into reality, Graham took a step forward to the desk and said, "I'm, uh, lookin' for Buffy Summers."

"Sure! Great!" The woman said brightly and typed a few keys into the computer to track down the appointment information. "What's your name?"

"Graham Miller."

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked, scrolling through the long daybook of all of Buffy's appointments.

Graham frowned, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "Uh, no. I don't." He mentally kicked himself for the oversight.

"Oh," the blonde secretary frowned as her blue eyes shifted from the computer screen to Graham. "Well, that's going to be a problem because she doesn't have an opening until the year…" the woman looked at the computer screen, "... two thousand and ten."

"That's two years from now." Graham rubbed the back of his neck and stepped closer to the secretary's desk. His eyes dropped to the nameplate on the desk. "Harmony, is it?"

Harmony flirtatiously smiled.

"Harmony, it wouldn't take long. I wouldn't take much of her time. All I'm askin' for is five minutes."

Harmony looked at Graham for a moment and smiled sweetly. She slowly stood from the chair and leaned in closer to Graham over the desk and said, "Sorry, Mr Miller, Buffy Summers' calendar is completely booked. She doesn't have five minutes but I do." She flirtatiously smiled.

Graham looked at the blonde haired secretary with surprise when someone said his name from down the hallway.

"Graham Miller."

Graham turned to look down the long hallway to see a shaggy dark haired man wearing a partially buttoned shirt with a t-shirt underneath, a pair of jeans, and an eyepatch over his left eye.

Facing the man coming towards them, Graham couldn't for the life of him place this man, which told him they had never met before.

The shagged haired man came closer. He wore a friendly lopsided smile across his face when an abrupt look of panic crossed his dark features. "Did something happen to Riley?"

"Wha—N-no," said Graham, easily easing Xander's fears.

"Thank God. Is he back?"

Graham averted his eyes to the ground and shook his head, "No, he isn't. He and Sam left for Brazil yesterday mornin'."

"Oh," Xander slowly nodded his head. "We haven't met before but I'm Xander. I'm a friend of Riley's back in Sunnydale." Xander held out his hand for Graham to shake.

Taking the outstretched hand, Graham firmly shook it and nodded, "I've heard a lot about you. Riley liked you a lot."

Xander bashfully smiled and said, "We liked him a lot too. So, uh, what'd you doing here?"

"I, uh, wanted to talk to Buffy. But I didn't make an appointment and Harmony," he looked at the blonde with a smirk. Harmony released a sigh, entranced by Graham's handsome features. "Said that Buffy is very busy."

"Busy is an understatement. She just got back from the UN meeting in New York."

"The UN?—like the United Nations, UN?"

Xander snapped his fingers with a smirk, "That's the one."

Graham looked surprised.

Xander folded his arms across his chest and sat back on the heels of his boots. "I don't know if Buffy will have time today to talk to you. Maybe if you come back tomorrow. Or better yet, she goes to Kaffeehaus a lot in the morning. You can probably catch her there—if you leave early enough."

Slowly nodding his head, Graham was thinking more and more that all of this was just one huge mistake.

"Okay," was that Graham could say. "I'll try that place tomorrow mornin'. Thank you, Xander."

Xander smirked with a nod, feeling sympathetic to the man.

Graham put back on his Cubs baseball cap and politely nodded to Xander then to Harmony before picking up his duffle bag and leaving the Council.

Next Morning: 5:05 A.M.

Kaffeehaus

It's early. The machines aren't warm yet, but the cafe still smelled of freshly roasted coffee. It was a comforting scent. After four years in the jungle, coffee was one of the many things that was hard to come by. Frequently on missions, Graham never arrived back to the small base fast enough to get his hands on the cargo box of shipments from the States.

Unsure when Buffy would make an appearance, Graham decided to go to the cafe as soon as it opened.

He sat at a small table with two wooden chairs near the cafe door and a large window looking out onto the street.

His hand wrapped around the coffee in front of him and waited patiently for the Vampire Slayer's arrival.

8:40 A.M.

The jazz music poured out of the open doors, welcoming the last day of the work week.

Looking down at the watch around his wrist, Graham watched the cafe gradually fill up with more and more people as the morning sun broke through the clouds, lighting up the blue sky.

Turning his icy blue eyes back up to the customers standing in a line waiting to be helped at the counter, Graham caught a glance of a woman starting from her feet up. Her feet adorned a pair of tall platform high heel sandals. Her legs were covered with a pair of black leather pants. Graham's gaze continued upwards. She wore a green blouse top with a long black coat over it. Long golden waves of hair fell down her back and over her shoulders in loose ringlet curls.

His eyes were latched onto the woman just knowing that she was Buffy.

She stood at the register and ordered her drink. The exchange was polite. The barista seemed to have recognised her.

Graham waited until Buffy had finished paying for the drink and walk back towards the door where she would have to pass him again.

In her peripheral vision, Buffy saw a man stand from the chair in a pronounced way that told her that he wasn't just getting up to throw something into the garbage but to get her attention.

Buffy paused and looked to her right to see a face she hadn't seen in seven years. She stared at Graham with large green eyes, not at all expecting to see him again.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her heart racing in her chest. The last time she had seen Graham was when Riley was sick again and the government doctors needed to help him.

Awkwardly, Graham stepped around the small table and faced her, suddenly terrified with nerves. "Uh… hi, Buffy," he feebly replied, not knowing what to say, despite having practiced it for hours.

She had yet to blink, still struggling to wrap her mind around Graham's sudden return. "Is Riley here too?" she asked, looking around the cafe for her ex-boyfriend.

Graham lowered his gaze to his shoes and shook his head, "No, he isn't. He and Sam left two days ago for another tour in Brazil."

Buffy slowly nodded her head, still very uncertain why Graham was here. They weren't friends—even when she and Riley were still together they hardly said two words to one another. The last thing she had said to him was a threat to kick his ass.

Everything in Graham's body told him to run. To tell her that this was just a huge mistake and head for the hills—maybe even rejoin the Army.

"You still haven't said why you were here? I would say tourism but something tells me that you're not here to explore the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame."

Graham smirked, finding her quick quipps still humorous. Although he and Buffy were never really friends and most of their interactions were strained at best. But he had always respected the hell out of her. He'd known Buffy wasn't a bad person. Whether or not she had truly loved Riley, and he believed that she had, what had happened between them wasn't her fault. Riley was in a terrible place at the time. He lost sight of his goals and was inches from losing everything he had worked so hard for. He put Buffy at the center of his universe and it almost destroyed him.

"No, I'm not here on vacation. I, uh, came to see you."

Buffy looked at him with surprise.

She then gestured for them to sit down at the small table to talk.

Once seated, Graham continued, "I went to the Council yesterday but your secretary told me that you were completely booked until two thousand and ten." He watched Buffy roll her eyes. "And then, uh, Xander came by and also said that you were, uh, busy and then said that I'd have a better shot findin' you here than waitin' around for two years, so… here I am." Graham pinched his brows together in a frown. "And now I suddenly feel like a stalker."

The corners of Buffy's mouth tugged into a half smile. "That's a lot of work just to say hi." Her gaze narrowed over him, wondering what his true intentions were.

Graham nervously cleared his throat. "I'm not here to just to say, hi. In D.C. I ran into one of your employees—Clem," he watched her expression softened and freeze into a neutral expression that was impossible to read. "He, uh, gave me this," he pulled out the business card from his pocket and showed it to her. "He said that maybe, you had a job openin'."

"You want a job?" Buffy raised her brows up her forehead. "What happened to the Army?"

Graham uncomfortably shifted in the chair and looked at her, "I'm out."

"Out?"

Graham nodded, "Honourably discharged. It was time." He looked away, not wanting to relive the worst months of his life again in his head.

"So, you came here looking for a job at the Council?" Buffy said, piecing together Graham's story.

"Yes,"

Buffy slid the business card back towards Graham across the table and sat back in the chair as she released a breath.

Graham took it as a good sign that she did not laugh in his face but the pensive expression on her face kept him unsettled. He could see that there was a 'but' somewhere floating in her mind.

She released a breath. Graham could see she was looking for the words to let him down easy.

"Graham, we've been down this road before—us teaming up. It wasn't exactly sympatico."

"I know. I'm not a part of the Initiative anymore. And the Ghosts I was a part of did nothin' but neutralise the bad guys," he explained to her.

He could see that Buffy wasn't convinced of his true intentions just yet.

Becoming bold and desperate, Graham leaned over the table and said in a low voice, "Buffy, I can be an asset to you. You know that I have the trainin' and the combat experience to be wherever you need me to be—Whether it's here or across the globe. I have connections in D.C." She patiently waited for him to finish. "I'm a hard worker. I'm loyal. And I am very good at what I do. Buffy, all I am askin' for is a chance."

Buffy inhaled a deep breath and she narrowly looked at him with thought. "You left the army to join another army?" She looked at him bemused.

"I needed a change." Graham smirked.

Sitting back in the chair, Buffy pursed her lips together as the wheels turned in her mind.

"I already have connections in D.C," she said.

Graham swallowed and mentally kicked himself, of course she does.

"And the positions across the globe are already filled."

This was looking worse and worse, Graham just knew this rejection was coming—of course it was. Discouraged, Graham lowered his gaze, trying to hide his disappointment.

Tilting her head slightly to the side, Buffy squinted her eyes at him then said, "I… may have an opening for a trainer for the Slayers. Hundreds are awakening everyday and so I can always use the help."

Graham stared at the Vampire Slayer, thinking that he had heard her incorrectly. She was giving him a job.

"You're serious?"

Buffy frowned, "You asked for a job. Isn't this what you were anticipating—a job?"

"No," Graham said, almost too quickly which made her smile.

Buffy shrugged and teased him, "I can take it back."

Graham suddenly reached a hand out across the table and wrapped it around her hand. "No. Don't. I'm sorry. I'm just surprised." He withdrew his hand, realising that he was touching her. "I thought I'd have to convince you more. I wrote somethin' out on the airplane and for the last 48-hours I've been practicin' it."

"Practicing?"

Graham slowly relaxed as a small smile tugged at his lips, "Well, yeah, you can be kind of intimidatin'."

A smile lit up her entire face. In that moment, Graham felt struck by her beauty.

He wasn't a blind man. Graham had always known that Buffy was beautiful—like the top tier—way outta his league beautiful but she was Riley's girl. It went against the 'guy code' to drool over your best friend's girl.

But the way the morning yellow sunlight hit her face and created a halo around her golden blonde hair or the bright sparkle of her green eyes as she smiled at him. Graham couldn't pretend to be oblivious to her beauty anymore.

He was certain it was because of her generosity that made him feel something different towards her. But it couldn't last. No matter how many years went by or how far Buffy and Riley had moved on with their lives, she was still his best friend's girl. Besides, there was no way that she would ever be interested in him.

"Are you still there?" Buffy's voice shook him from his wandering mind.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. What?"

"I asked if you wanted to go to the Council. I can give you the grand tour and set you up with a security card and other employment documents."

Graham nodded, "Sure."

"Do you have a car or—"

"—I don't. I stayed in the INN around the corner."

Buffy slowly nodded her head, "Okay, then you can ride with me."

"Are you sure?"

Buffy frowned, uncertain why he was so apprehensive. "Why wouldn't I be sure? Are you a backseat driver?"

"No,"

"Then we'll be fine. I won't have to stake you for dictating my speed."

Graham pinched his brows together, now very uncertain if getting into the car with her was a very good idea. It sounded dangerous.

Lower Level #5: The Pit

The elevator doors opened to the underground level, which now revealed the massive structure of the new Watcher's Council. They were now four floors underneath the main building. The first floor was a massive library and research rooms—as well as a large conference room dubbed 'the War Room'. The next two floors were created for the Witches and Warlocks. The fourth floor was weaponry training and the fifth floor, where they currently were touring was the Slayer's main training department.

Graham followed Buffy as she stepped out onto the floor first.

"We call this 'the Pit'," said Buffy leading the way through the main hallway and peeked into one of the large training gyms where the Slayers-in-training stood waiting for the demonstration of their instructor and a volunteer.

He turned his head to the gym across the hall to see another group of Slayers practicing Tai Chi.

"Once the Slayers are finished with their training here then we'll deploy them where needed."

"How long do they train for?" asked Graham, holding his hands into his pockets.

Buffy folded her arms across her chest and said, "The initial training is 20-weeks and then there's an additional 17 months pre-deployment training."

Graham raised his brows. "That's long."

"Yeah, but now that we have the numbers so we can afford to take the time and train these girls properly before sending them out into the field." She explained. "Our Witches and Warlocks train for additional two months and they have to go to England and join one of the Covens for 6 weeks before our department head, Willow Rosenberg gives the 'OK' to send 'em out."

"What about the, uh… um…" he blanked on the name of the job the other man that always was around Riley, Buffy, and their friends did.

"Watchers?" She asked, and watched him nod. "Many of them have already spent 5 to 9 years of their lives achieving their doctorate degrees. That's a prerequisite—but there are a few exceptions. Here, they will also train for 20-weeks before being assigned a Slayer." She turned to face him. "This is where you will be. I need someone to train them—hard. I know with your military experience, you're accustomed to discipline and order. Being a Slayer isn't a solo gig anymore. These girls need to be able to work together as a team. I can't let their egos get in the way, that's how people die."

He nodded, "I agree."

Buffy took a breath, "That's why I need you. The Slayers that I do have instructing the classes now are good but they're not military good."

Graham had no idea if this was Buffy yanking his chain. It felt odd that she was stroking his ego.

"That's quite the compliment."

Buffy silently smirked at him and entered the gym.

Immediately, the girls stopped what they were doing and stood at attention. Graham smirked at the girls feeble attempt of 'standing at attention'. If this were the military, their posture would be much better and correct.

He couldn't help but be captivated by Buffy's effortless sense of authority. As soon as she entered the room, the Slayers stopped what they were doing and showed her respect. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think about that clumsy girl breaking the yogurt machine and dropping the lunch tray back at the UC Sunnydale cafeteria.

"Good morning," she said, still holding her arms across her chest. "We have a new instructor joining us. Please, welcome, Graham Miller." She gestured for him to step into the gym and greet the girls.

Graham awkwardly entered the room, feeling the weight of the girls eyeballs watching his every move as he entered and stood beside Buffy.

"Graham has great experience in the field fighting demons all across the globe. He was trained by the best and we're very excited to have the Special Forces secret weapon here with us now." She turned her eyes to Graham and saw him look away with embarrassment. "Are there any questions?"

A dark haired Slayer standing in the back, raised her hand.

"Yes, Kennedy," Buffy said with strained patience.

Staring at Graham with skeptical eyes, Kennedy was distrusting with anyone other than the core people of the Scooby Gang. "What are his qualifications?"

Buffy eyed the young Slayer, "Are you questioning my judgement?"

"N-no," Kennedy lied, feeling herself backed into the corner by Buffy's scowl. "I was just wondering…"

"Why don't you tell them a little about yourself," she looked at Graham.

Graham clenched his jaw, pushing aside his nerves and said, "At, uh, eighteen years old I joined up with the Army. I was then picked out from my squadron for a special operation for a dead program they were revivin' called the Initiative. I was sent to Sunnydale, California. After the Initiative was disbanded, I was recruited to the United States most secretive and elite Special Forces unit called Ghosts. I've been trackin' and neutralisin' demons in the jungles of Brazil for the last seven years until I was discharged out and came here."

Kennedy frowned, recognising the term 'the Initiative'. When Kennedy was still with Willow, her ex-girlfriend had told her about the secret government organisation. "You're one of them." Kennedy looked at Buffy, "This guy tried to kill you and you hire him for a job?"

"Once again, Kennedy, I ask, are you questioning my judgement?"

Stiffly, Kennedy bit her tongue, "No."

"Good," Buffy said, and turned her gaze back to the girls in training. "Thank you for your attention, please continue on. Graham," she ushered him with her hand to follow him out of the training gym and follow her back to the elevator. "Let's get you set up and we can talk a little more."

Quietly, Graham nodded.

Lower Level #1: Library

On the way to Buffy's office, she decided to stop at the library wanting Graham to meet the Scooby Gang.

Buffy pushed open the heavy swing door and went into the a room with a tiled chessboard and about a hundred shelves fanning out from a central reception area and along the walls. The rows and rows of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward seemed endless.

Sitting at one of the long research tables was a group of five people talking with one another.

The redhead head was the first to notice Buffy as she entered the library. "Hey, Buffy! We were just gonna call you—" she paused when her blue eyes landed on Graham. "Oh, you're not alone."

"Who's Captain America?" asked Faith, sitting in a wooden chair with her feet propped up on the table.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy turned her gaze to Giles, "This is Graham Miller. One of Riley's friends."

"You were one of the Initiative commandos," Giles removed the glasses from the bridge of his nose, eyeing Graham with fascination.

Clearing his throat, Graham stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, "Yes, sir, I was."

"What are you doing here?" The older man turned his eyes to Buffy, awaiting an explanation.

"I offered Graham a job," she said plainly. "He'll be the drill instructor for the girls."

Giles slowly nodded his head and asked, "Buffy, is that wise?" Buffy sternly looked at him, which made her surrogate father back down and nodded his head with approval, "Of course." Giles stepped forward, offering his hand to shake, "I'm Rupert Giles, head of the Watcher's Department and a co-founder of the Council. This is Willow Rosenberg, our head of the Magic Department."

"You already know me." Xander smiled. "I'm one of the Watcher's here."

"Hi," a dark haired young woman in the early twenties approached Graham holding out her hand. "I'm Dawn—"

"—Dawn is my sister." Buffy quickly added and received a glare from the young woman. "She's studying at Oxford University."

Graham looked at with surprise, "Wow, that's… uh, impressive..." he awkwardly shifted on his feet.

"I'm going to be a Watcher here one of these days." Dawn said. "I'm actually heading back there in a few hours."

"And that ray of sunshine is Faith," Buffy pointed at the attractive dark haired woman with sultry red lips and entracing brown eyes. "Faith is another Slayer." Buffy whispered to Graham.

Faith shifted in the chair to sit up then stand to her feet. "Yo, I'm famished. Who wants some grub?" she asked the room and rolled her eyes with a smile when Xander, Willow, and Dawn all raised their hands.

Buffy looked at Graham, "I guess it's lunchtime. I'd like to talk to you a little more before I show you the perhaps most… beloved room in this entire place."

Graham smirked and followed her out of the library.

Later

Upper Level #4: Buffy's Office

Entering into the large office, Graham paused taking in its grandeur. Black executive desk, leather upholstered chairs, and a leather couch placed by a large window looking out to the Cleveland skyline. Light brown wood wall cladding, golden accents and a crystal chandelier centering the meeting table all complement each other creating a luxurious and warm office interior.

"Take a seat," Buffy laid a hand on one of the two chairs placed in front of the desk.

Graham did as told and sat down in the chair. He followed Buffy as she moved around the large desk with his eyes to sit down.

Reaching across the desk to the phone, Buffy dialed a number and held it to her ear. "Andrew, can you get me the new employment documents? Thank you." She hung up the phone and sat back in the executive chair.

A minute later, the office door opened and Andrew entered holding a file of documents. He placed them on Buffy's desk and began to walk away when he turned back to Buffy and pointed at Graham and mouthed 'who's that?' to Buffy.

Buffy stared at him blankly until he got the idea and left the office, leaving Buffy and Graham alone again.

"Can I ask where you're staying?"

"For now, the INN by that coffee shop," answered Graham and noticed the look on Buffy's face. "What's with that face?" He asked carefully.

"You can't stay in an inn."

Shrugging at the thought, Graham sat back in the chair, "It's temporary until I find somethin' more, uh, permanent."

Thinking for a minute, Buffy sat forward, resting her arms on the desk and said, "I have a proposition for you. What if you move into my apartment? It's big, so we wouldn't be on top of each other and it's rent free."

"Rent free?" Graham rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head, "Buf, I'm not a charity case."

"I never said that you were."

"You don't need to say anythin' but you're actin' like I am. I can afford to find my own apartment. I'm not some bum off the street."

Buffy frowned, "The apartment is rent free for me too."

Graham paused. His frown sunk lower down his face with bewilderment. "Wait, what?"

"The Council pays for everything—Well, everything except for clothing and other nonessential purchases. But it pays for housing, academic tuitions, food…" she said. "Since Dawn's going back to school, this huge apartment I have is going to be empty again. Personally, I kinda really hate it when I'm by myself there."

"Why not get a smaller apartment?"

Buffy's face fell, "What?—Are you kidding? Walk-in closet. And there's another closet for just my shoes. I'm not giving that up."

Graham chuckled.

"You won't be spending a cent like you are with the INN and you can stay at my place until you figure out the apartment you would want to move into."

The offer was looking more and more enticing as Buffy kept pitching it. A free place to crash at until he finds another rent free apartment—provided by the Council.

He was spending a hundred and thirty-nine a night at the current place he had been staying.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Buf?"

"Why wouldn't it be a good idea?" She asked him with genuine bafflement, not at all seeing the negatives like Graham.

"I mean, with our past history and—"

"—Stop it right there." She held up her hand, easily piecing together his apprehension. "All I am offering you is a free place to stay until you get on your feet."

Graham sat back in the chair releasing a heavy sigh. He rubbed a hand over his chin for a minute and looked at her as he came to a decision. "Okay."

"Okay?" Buffy asked with some surprise, thinking that perhaps she had to convince him a little bit more.

Nodding his head, "Yeah. You're a decent saleswoman."

Buffy smiled triumphantly and held out her hand across the desk.

Graham reached out his hand, wrapping it around hers and shook on their new living arrangement.