13. The Sleeping Monster.

A cloud slipped over the moon and the shadows at the side of Stockwell Town Hall deepened ominously. Tom watched as the figures came towards him. This was no chance encounter, whoever these were, they had followed them and then lain-in-wait.

Tom's hand automatically went to his wand pocket and then stilled. He didn't have the wand with him and, even if he did, he wouldn't be able to use it without serious repercussions. He was not only an underage Wizard but these were Muggles. If he used magic against them the Trace would notify the Ministry, he'd be accused of breaking the International Statute of Secrecy and face expulsion from Hogwarts. These days, with Grindelwald's ever-looming threat, the Ministry was twitchy and unlikely to show leniency to an orphan boy with no Pureblood connections to speak up for him.

Tom's nostrils flared. There was only one way to deal with this situation and the outcome would be messy. He thought back to previous fist-fights and the savage joy he'd felt as his fists pounded into another's flesh and made them cry with pain. His lips twitched upwards with a sly smile. Maybe, a Muggle fight wouldn't be so repulsive after all? A surge of anticipation ran through him. It had been a long time since he'd fought like a Muggle boy, but as long as he kept his head, he felt sure that he'd win.

The ringleader stepped closer and Tom recognised the burly shoulders and large, protruding ears of his old nemesis.

"Billy Stubbs," Tom said flatly, and Billy grinned back at him.

Billy was two years older than Tom and he'd left the orphanage to take a job at the nearby docks. He knew the boy well – too well. The two of them had a long history and none of it pleasant. Billy had always been big for his age and as a youngster, Tom's love of books and quiet demeanour made him a target for boys like Billy. The bullying, both physical and mental, had persisted for years until Tom had learned how to use his magic and teach the bullies lessons they wouldn't forget. It seemed that Billy was dreaming of revenge.

The moon came out from behind the cloud enabling Tom to identify the rest of Billy's gang. "Albert Jenkins, Eric Wilde, and..."

Tom's gaze drifted behind them to the boy holding Buffy. He had one arm around her waist, holding her close to him, while his other hand pressed a glinting blade to her pale throat. Tom scowled when he saw that. Buffy was with him and therefore should be classed as his until he chose to discard her. These ex-orphanage boys knew better than to touch something that belonged to Tom Riddle. He glared at the youth holding her. Who was he? He had his head down, and the over-large flat cap he wore cast a shadow over his face. Tom was sure he knew him. Then the boy raised his head and the moonlight caught the sharp curve of a hooked nose.

"...Percy Long."

It was no surprise to Tom that Percy had grabbed Buffy and put a blade to her throat. Percy had a fascination with blades and torturing girls was his speciality. In the orphanage he pinched and bullied the youngest while the older ones fell victim to his perverse sexual nature. Tom's eyes flicked down to Buffy's face. Her face was curiously calm considering a blade was at her throat and only her eyes - darting from one boy to the other - betrayed interest in their attackers.

Once again she was showing signs of being different. Her behaviour was odd. Did she not realise their danger? Or was she one of the very few who could keep her head under pressure? Tom filed away her reaction to contemplate later, his focus now on Billy Stubbs who was grinning gleefully at him.

"Fancy finding you 'ere, Tom the Marvellous Freak Riddle," Billy jeered. "Wonder what that fancy school of yours would say if they knew they were harbourin' a common little thief." He laughed, a high-pitched noise that sounded like a hyena.

"I haven't stolen anything that isn't mine and I doubt any of my professors would care," Tom replied easily.

He continued focussing mainly on Billy and the gangly boy called Eric as they were the most dangerous. The smallest member of the gang, Albert, was a coward and Tom knew that he'd run at the slightest sign the fight wasn't going their way. He glanced at Percy. The boy had pulled Buffy in closer to him and was whispering into her ear. Buffy's face was blank, but her body was stiff with revulsion. A hot rage boiled in Tom. The anger he always experienced when he'd found another orphan touching his belongings, but magnified tenfold.

Billy glanced back at Buffy and then to Tom. "Yer got a girlfriend now, Freaky? One who likes dressin' as a boy." He laughed derisively and his gang members sycophantically followed suit.

Buffy muttered in protest, "I might be dressed as a boy, but I still look way cooler than any of you."

The point of the blade bit deeper into her neck, on the verge of drawing blood, and the idiot holding her breathed heavily into her ear. She shuddered, stopping herself from throwing him off and stomping on him. He was human, she knew she had to be careful not to hurt humans or, at least, not kill them.

She realised that she was more upset with herself than him. Why hadn't she investigated those shadows and noises she'd seen and heard in the alley earlier? That was a total rookie mistake. The least she should have done was hang around to see if the shadowy shapes followed them. If they had, it would have been easy enough to make a detour and lose them. Instead, she'd ignored them because her Slayer senses told her that they weren't 'demons' and that had been a bad mistake. People were capable of violence and evil deeds, just like demons were.

Buffy went back to assessing their attackers. From where she stood, she could see that Billy Stubbs (he must be the rabbit guy Martha had told her about) held a short, wooden club down by his side. The weapon was hidden from Tom's view but not hers. The other boys appeared to be weaponless, although they still might have blades or something worse, like a gun, in their pockets.

She looked over at Tom and met his eye. She'd spotted a flash of anger in his face before, but now the implacable, handsome mask was fixed firmly back in place. Would he be able to talk his way out of this? She'd no way of knowing if he was capable of holding his own in a fight or not.

"She isn't my girlfriend." Tom replied, his tone bored. He doubted his denial would mean they'd release her and focus on him. It had been the same at the orphanage, anyone in his company had made them a target for them.

"What's she doin' gaddin' round London wiv a freak like you, then?" Billy tugged at one of his large ears thoughtfully. "Wearin' boy's stuff an' breakin' into buildings, she must be a freak an' all."

Affronted, Buffy yelled, "Hey! You're the one who look like they come from a circus, Dumbo!"

To her chagrin, no one except Percy - who pressed the knife harder into her throat and panted - paid her any attention.

Tom made a point of looking down his aristocratic nose at Billy. "Since we're speaking of misdeeds. I heard you were going to enjoy his Majesty's hospitality after pilfering from one of the dock warehouses. Why aren't you enjoying the comforts of a prison cell?"

"Couldn't prove nothin'." Billy grin came to him less readily now. He was irritated Tom knew his private business. He tapped the club against his leg, reminding himself that these days Tom the Freak was still a schoolboy and he was a grown man who answered to nobody. He inched forward, seeking an opening, a moment of distraction, so he could get in the first hit.

At the same time, Tom took several side-steps away from the building. Eric mirrored his movements, Albert by his side. Believing that Tom was attempting to edge away, Billy's smirk became wider and more confident. The freak was surrounded, there was nowhere for him to run to, and the girl couldn't help him.

"It's not what yer know, but who yer know." He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. "I've friends in 'igh places."

Tom sneered, "Rather like your rabbit."

Billy yelled, "FREAK!" and lunged at Tom. The wooden club swung. Tom ducked to avoid it and he felt the hairs on the top of his head stir as the weapon swiped over him. Billy, having over-reached and now off-balance, staggered. Tom rose up, reached for the older boy's wrist, yanked the weapon free from out of his grasp, and kicked out. Billy fell, clumsily.

But Tom's decision to grab the club left his side open and vulnerable. Eric was instantly on him, driving a series of hard punches into Tom's back and stomach that had him doubling and gasping for air. More blows rained down. Tom bit back on the pain, sucked in a great lungful of air, and swung the club. It arced upward and slammed Eric in the jaw.

Whack! The boy fell, hitting the cellar door before sliding down it – knocked out cold.

"You little freak!" yelled Billy, on his feet, his face screwed up with rage. He lunged once more for Tom, sending a hard driver that skimmed the side of Tom's cheek.

Meanwhile, Percy was watching the fight with mounting excitement. Taking advantage of his distraction, Buffy stepped back, ramming the heel of her boot down Percy's shin. With a loud yelp of surprise, he took an involuntary step back and then stabbed the blade at Buffy's throat.

Her sharp Slayer reflexes saved her. She grabbed the arm, her Slayer strength crushing flesh, sinew, and muscle beneath her fingers. Percy's scream echoed around the passageway, the knife fell with a clatter to the cobbles, and Buffy released him.

"Sod this!" Percy said, tears of pain in his eyes, snot running from his nose, and clutching his arm to his chest. He took off, half-stumbling down the passageway in his eagerness to get away.

Buffy snatched up the knife and flung it high onto the roof of the building. She heard it rattle on the tiles as it rolled to the gutter. She hoped it would stay up there for a long time.

Footsteps running towards her had her twisting and dropping into a low fighting crouch, only to see a wide-eye Albert run past her, blood pouring from his nose.

The others had moved out of sight, but Buffy could still hear them fighting. With Percy and Albert gone there were two attackers left. Worried Tom was out of sight and taking a beating, Buffy ran towards the fighting. In her haste, she almost tripped over a body lying in the deep shadows by the cellar door. It was the blonde boy that Tom had called Eric. She jumped over him, hearing him moaning softly as she landed.

Rounding the corner, she found herself in a cobbled yard. On the far side, unidentifiable in the darkness, someone lay on the ground while his assailant struck him with a club.

"Tom!" Buffy shrieked out. Each time the club struck there was a sickening splat. She darted across the yard. If this didn't stop, someone was going to become seriously injured or die.

The club rose up to swing again. This time someone stopped it. It was Buffy, holding on to it in grim determination. Tom glared down at her, his face stark white with temper, eyes seeming to gleam red for a moment before the illusion disappeared.

"It's over," Buffy said quietly, her hands still holding onto the club.

Rage, violence, and something else, prickled in the air around them. Buffy watched Tom fight to suppress his anger and regain control of himself. The Buffy she had been before, the one who'd lived before the building collapsed would have been terrified by what she'd just seen Tom do. But the new Buffy, the one who'd dug her way from a fallen building, was battle-hardened. She'd dreamed the dreams of Slayers and seen how the mildest-mannered people become violent when forced them to fight for their lives.

The boy on the ground groaned, his hand rising to the mess that was his face. Buffy let go of the club and stepped away from Tom. In the distance, she could hear someone whistling, and she frowned, looking over in that direction.

Billy Stubbs moaned and rolled onto his side. Tom scowled, and the prickling sensation in the air grew stronger again.

"Tom," she asked, drawing his attention from the boy struggling on the ground. "Are you alright?" There was blood splattered across his face and she thought his jaw might be swollen.

He jerked his head at her question and Buffy searched those dark eyes. The anger had gone, replaced by confusion. Tom looked like a man who'd woken from a nightmare and wasn't quite sure what was real and what wasn't. She thought he might not have heard what she asked, but he gave a brief nod.

"Good. Then we need to dispose of the evidence," Buffy pointed at the blood-covered piece of wood he was still gripping. "In case the police get involved."

Tom didn't reply. He continued watching her, weaving slightly on his feet. The way he rocked from one foot to the other reminded Buffy of a snake, one of those that emerged from a basket and couldn't decide whether to bite the snake charmer or be charmed by them. Was he in shock? Buffy felt relieved this wasn't a vampire attack. Finding out vampires existed would have definitely given him something to be shocked about

The whistle came again - a long note and definitely closer. Billy Stubbs rolled onto his front with a loud groan and slowly began to rise to his knees. Over at the corner of the Town Hall, the blonde who'd been slumped in front of the cellar was on his feet and leaning against the wall. Buffy thought he and Billy were too beat-up to restart the fight, but they needed to get-.

"We need to go," Tom said, as though he'd read her mind. He swung the club, throwing it over the roof of the stables, and into the abandoned factory yard behind. Then touched the back of his bloodied hand to touch the front of his jacket. Buffy heard the crackle of paper and knew he was checking to see if he still had his mother's file.

The next moment, he surprised her by taking her hand, pulling her along as he strode past the blonde boy and saying, "How fast can you run?"

"Fast," said Buffy confidently.

"Good," replied Tom, "because that whistling is a policeman calling for reinforcements and they're coming in this direction."

They stopped only once, to check the street was clear, before running for the alley they'd walked down earlier. Tom dropped her hand as they entered the narrow ginnel that wound its way through the densely packed buildings and took the lead. He set a fast pace and they didn't stop running until they were back at the orphanage.

They managed to slip back inside and up to their rooms without incident. Buffy going straight to her room while Tom used the bathroom to wash away the blood coating his hands and splattered on his face. Then hurried back to his room, tearing off his clothes to replace the with his pyjamas, stowing the file out of sight, and spreading books over his bed. If Mrs Cole had heard them and came upstairs to check, he would say that he couldn't sleep and doing late-night revision.

Sure enough, there came a tap on his bedroom door. Tom raked a hand through his hair, tousling it, before answering it.

"What's going on Tom?" Mrs Cole asked. The thin woman was dressed in a thick, padded dressing-gown and red circles in her cheeks made her look a little tipsy. It made Tom wonder if the earlier caller had brought her a bottle of sherry or gin as a deal sweetener.

"Mrs Cole?" Tom opened the door as wide as he could, letting her see that no one else was in there with him.

"What are you doing awake? I heard noises up here and find you awake at this time." She looked suspicious, peering around him to scan his room before casting a glance in the direction of Buffy's room.

"I'm very sorry that I disturbed you. As you know, I'll be taking my exams when I go back to Hogwarts and I decided to do a little studying as I couldn't sleep. I dropped my books when I took them out the wardrobe. That was the noise you heard." He gave her an apologetic smile, letting the dimples in his cheeks show, and faking bashful embarrassment. Mrs Cole didn't like or trust him, but she enjoyed the instances of his obsequiousness as much as any one else.

Mrs Cole's eyes were on his unmade bed. "You were in bed, studying?"

He nodded. "I know it is rather late. These exams worry me. If I don't pass, I won't be allowed to continue my education there and Professor Dumbledore will be very disappointed." In actual fact, Dumbledore would be glad to see him gone. Mainly because the old coot in front of him had told Dumbledore about his misuse of childish magic and put the professor on edge around him. However, Mrs Cole didn't know that Dumbledore didn't like him and Tom had no intention of telling her.

Mrs Cole gathered her thick, frumpy dressing-gown about her. "This won't do. You're making too much noise and others are trying to sleep. Buffy is such a frail girl, she's not used to late nights or any excitement."

"Yes, she is quite frail," Tom agreed dryly. "No late nights or excitement for her."

"And I don't want you botherin' her with too much noise."

"No, that wouldn't do," smiled Tom politely, "Well, since I don't want to upset Buffy, I'll bid you a goodnight." He closed the door and leaned his back against it, listening to the woman's footsteps as they died away and thinking not about his schoolbooks, but Buffy and the file that he'd found on his mother.

…...

A/N;

Who better to attack Tom than Billy Stubbs? I always wondered what the story was behind that rabbit killing episode and why Tom did what he did.

So do you think he is beginning to accept Buffy more? Or is she just confusing him?

thanks to all those who have taken the time to review this story. Your input is appreciated (it makes me write faster).

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