December 1984—London, England

It was early morning, and Rupert Giles nestled his nose at the base of Olivia Williams' neck. He loved the smell of jasmine and lavender that emanated from her skin.

Olivia slowly awakened by his touch. "Is this how you'll be waking me up in the morning?"

"Only the gentlest of wake up calls for my lady," said Giles, as he kissed Olivia on the cheek.

"I'm famished from last night," said Olivia playfully.

"Then, I shall make us some tea. Would you like me to warm up some toast as well?"

"That sounds lovely, Rupert. Please tell me you still have some of that lemon curd."

"Of course. I always make sure to have some handy for a special occasion."

Giles loved how the morning light danced over Olivia's ebony skin. Her dreadlocks spilled over his burgundy pillows.

She smiled as she raised the blankets to cover her bosom. Giles fetched his boxers and robe from the floor, and put them on. He needed to keep warm, as a wintry draft seemed to be spilling in from outside.

"I shall be back with sustenance," said Giles, as he walked to the kitchen.

Giles admired Olivia's charcoal drawings, which were draped throughout his apartment. He was astonished at the detail in her artwork, particularly of the new species of demons that were discovered in New Zealand. Since the Council Library was damaged by a recent storm, they needed an artist to reproduce the lost manuscripts. Olivia was hired to do the job, and Giles couldn't help but pursue her.

He checked out his reflection in the oval mirror that hung above his fireplace. Giles' hair was cropped short in the back, though he had a wavy strand that swept over his forehead. He looked at how the robe fit tightly around his torso, and resolved to spend more hours playing racquetball. It seems that the long hours spent studying at Council Headquarters, and having the occasional pint, were showing around his midsection.

For the past eight years, Giles had been trying to repair his reputation. He almost ruined the legacy built by his grandmother Edna, his grandfather and father, and the other members of his family. On the cusp of thirty, Giles looked forward to burying his Ripper days for eternity. He hoped that Olivia could be a part of that future.

Giles opened his refrigerator. He checked the side compartment for the lemon curd. Bloody hell, thought Giles, as he checked every nook and cranny. Then, he remembered. There's an unopened bottle in the cabinet.

As Giles turned, he jumped back at the figure that loomed in his peripheral vision. He instinctively reached for a butcher knife.

"Put the bloody knife down, Giles, it's me, Holden." Holden had his arms outstretched in surrender. Giles examined Holden. He looked sallow, and as terror-stricken as a terrier. Nothing at all like the suave character that Giles recalled from prior years. There was what looked like burnt flesh on his neck and scars on his face.

"Holden. How the hell did you get into my apartment?" asked Giles.

"You still leave the key underneath the flower pot," responded Holden. "I'm sorry about being here. I didn't mean to alarm you."

"I should call the authorities on you," said Giles.

"Please reconsider, Rupert. How long have we known each other? Please give me the chance to explain what happened first," said Holden.

"Albert explained everything to us. He said that you kidnapped that poor girl, and disappeared into thin air," said Giles. "He told us about your proclivities."

"Proclivities? Albert is slandering my character to cover up what he did," said Holden.

"You're not helping your case. You've been gone for over a year," said Giles. "What did you do to her?"

"Has another Slayer been called?" asked Holden concernedly.

"You'd know the answer to that. No," said Giles adamantly.

"Then, she's still alive," said Holden to himself.

"Rupert, do you need help with the tea?" called Olivia from the bedroom.

Giles shot a wary glance at his old friend. He kept the knife pointed at Holden. "I'm fine, dear. It took me a while to find the teabags. I'm a bit famished, so I'm going to make some frittatas for us. Doesn't that sound splendid?"

"I don't know. That's pretty fancy for a Tuesday morning, Rupert."

"We're both off this morning, so we might as well feast like royalty. Why don't you draw yourself a nice bath while I prepare everything?"

"All right…is everything fine, Rupert?"

"Yes, Livia, everything's fine." Giles hoped that Olivia wouldn't hear the inflection in his voice. She seemed to not suspect anything, as Giles heard the bath water turn on.

As Giles looked at Holden again, he wondered what happened to put Holden in his current state.