Okay...it's Sunday, so I thought I'd post. And, the formatting is exhausting, so...I'm going to stop the centering that I like. Sorry.

1. Here's some personal information that you might like to know...or not, but I'm giving it anyway. I usually work on Sundays, but I've had the last two-ish months of Sundays off...while I'm playing temporary SM (store manager) at work. It's been nice, but it's coming to an end...as the new SM is probably about trained to take over. Honestly, the only "nice" part has been the paycheck, but the 10+ hour days, and all the stress, NOT so nice or fun! I am, however, not sure when that new SM will be here. Next Sunday, whether he/she has arrived, I will be working, because our inventory is 9/21 (Tuesday) and, as temp SM, I MUST have the store ready. The next nine days are going to be HELL!

2. I will still make every attempt to get C9 up next Sunday, despite the busy. It's finished (I've just completed C20)! Yay me!

3. Also, I will be going out of town on 9/25 (Saturday), so I will TRY to get that Sunday's chapter...C10...up before I go (sometime Friday, I hope).

4. Further, the following Sunday (10/3), there will be no post, because I will still be in SPAIN! There is, of course, a chance of my trip being canceled...*crosses fingers that this does not happen*...in which case all the above is void and the chapters will come on my self-designated post day. Unless I'm too sad to post...due to lack of vacationage! Lol.

Anyway, read and enjoy!

Chapter Eight
A Walk in the City

"Where to now?" he asked, allowing her to lead him away.

"Oh. Hmm. Any graveyards nearby?"

The boy frowned. "Graveyards? How...delightful," he said with a roll of his eyes.

She gave a quiet laugh. "I was hunting, remember?"

"Hmm. So you said. How about we just...walk a bit," he suggested.

Buffy gave an awkward one shouldered shrug—because the arm that was attached to her other shoulder was still intertwined with Tom's—and said, "Okay. That's fine. I mean, I already took out one tonight, so...quota's filled."

Tom frowned. "You did?"

"Uh-huh," she said with a nod. "I mean, sometimes I dust more than one a night, but not always. Sometimes I don't find one at all. I wasn't sure I would here."

"Dust?"

"Yeah, they go all dusty when they're staked. Poof! Gone. It's very clean. Leaves no evidence of their existence," she explained. "Except maybe a little pile or a dust cloud, which usually just blows away."

"Convenient."

She nodded. "Very. It would be awfully messy if they exploded blood all over me. Not to mention expensive if I had to keep replacing my clothes. Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of material?"

"I can imagine," he said. Still frowning, he looked down at her as they strolled. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh. I couldn't patrol in that 1940s get-up," she said with a shake of her head and a dismissive wave of her hand. "The nonsense girls had to wear back then was the freaking pits. Um. I guess now." She laughed a little. "Anyway, so I fashioned this ensemble out of the piles and piles of clothing that Vin and Sophie had lying around collecting dust. Do you like?" She flung her free arm out so he could see her outfit better.

Tom chuckled. "Not particularly, no," he blurted. "It's rather awful, actually."

"Hey! You can't even really see me!" she complained. "Besides, it's practical. Not attractive, but definitely super comfy."

"I can see you perfectly. You're wearing boy's clothes," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. "Obvious much? And thanks, ever so," she said—then sighed. "Vin hated it too."

"I didn't say I hated it," he said, knowing the clothing he'd thrown on before sneaking outside was old and in poor condition. He didn't really have room to talk about her chosen outfit.

"You said it's rather awful," she quoted, pulling her arm out of his to make air quotes. "Sounds like a whole lotta hate to me."

He smirked. "It's just... odd...to see a pretty girl dressed like a boy. But I'd wager that you can make anything look pretty...even those trousers," he grumbled, looking away, embarrassed again by his apparent inability to keep his mouth shut. This was not like him! At all. What was wrong with him?!

Buffy blushed at his words—not that Tom could really see it, because he was still turned slight away from her. "Is that a compliment, Tom?" Buffy asked.

He shrugged. "Maybe," he grumbled. His housemates at Hogwarts would, a the very least, fall down laughing at his expense if they found out about this girl—or torment him unmercifully for finding a soft side of himself.

"Kind words. Be still, my heart," she quipped—causing him to hiss something under his breath. She almost heard him.

For a moment Buffy watched him. He looked utterly displeased at the thought of handing out compliments. What a tortured soul, she thought—remembering the other guy she had feelings for. Also tall, dark, and handsome—and brooding! What is it with me and these mopers?! she thought.

Her mind now on Angel, she frowned. Stop it! I'm here in 1942! Angel is, who knows where!

Sighing, she forced herself to focus on where she was now—with Tom Riddle...in London...in NINETEEN FORTY-TWO!

Smiling, amused by the insanity of it all, she looked at Tom's profile—his features were sharp...even severe with the look he had on his face. Reaching out, she poked him to get his attention.

"Ouch!" he growled, glaring down at her and rubbing his chest.

Buffy snorted. "Oh stop. Don't be so dramatic. That didn't hurt," she said.

He continued to glare at her.

"Okay. So. Show me something," she said to change the subject. "I haven't seen the river yet."

"It's dark."

"It's not that dark," she argued, "...with the moon nearly full. Unless you'd prefer we hit a graveyard."

"Hmm. All right, I have an idea," he said. "It's not a graveyard though."

She shrugged. "I'm good with that."

~oOo~

A few minutes later found them walking down some steps and at a short wall on the bank of the Thames.

"I like it here at night," he said, as they stopped at the wall. "Especially when it's late enough that no one's about. Like tonight." He looked out over the river. "I like the sound of the water...which you can't really hear during the hustle of the day, with boats traveling up and down the river."

Buffy smiled. "It's nice. Peaceful."

"I'm sorry the Palace of Westminster isn't lit up for you," Tom said. "Or the clock face in the tower." He looked up at the moon, shining brightly above them. "Moonlight will have to do."

Still smiling, Buffy looked across the river to the Parliament buildings. "It doesn't matter. It's gorgeous."

Tom turned his head to watch her staring in wonderment. "Yes, it is," he said quietly—but he only had eyes for the beautiful blonde girl standing next to him. He kept gazing at her until the clock started to chime.

watch?v=3dIv8hpiQIg

"Oh!" she gasped, not expecting it, because she could see the clock.

They were silent while the clock's dulcet tones rang out.

"It's midnight?!"

Tom chuckled. "It is."

"I didn't realize it was so late," she said as she leaned over the wall and looked down at the river, hearing the water lapping at the bank.

"Should you get back to Vin and Sophie's?" he asked. He should probably go back to Wools, but he really didn't want to. "I could take you there," he offered.

Buffy shook her head. "Naw. There's plenty of night left. I expect them to be out at least half the night and...well, they're not my mother." She chortled a bit and looked at him. "Mom would have a complete meltdown if she caught me out this late. Mind you, caught is the operative word here. I have to sneak out a lot!"

Tom leaned back on the wall, his head turned toward Buffy. "To slay vampires?"

"Mostly, yeah," she said with a nod. "I do have friends though. Willow and Xander are the best. I met them the first day I started at Sunnydale High. It hasn't even been a year yet, but it feels like I've known them since forever."

Frowning, Buffy looked down and Tom gave her a moment to compose herself. Clearly she was struggling—and who wouldn't be if they'd been thrown through time.

"And there's this place called The Bronze," she continued after she'd gathered her thoughts. "That we hang at. Live music, dancing, pool table...the whole nine yards. Tasty food and drinks too."

"Sounds...enjoyable."

Buffy nodded. "It is," she said, grinning again.

"Do you...like to dance?" he asked. Without thinking, he reached out and pushed a strand of blonde hair off Buffy's face. He didn't even realize he'd done it until Buffy looked right into his eyes.

Shrugging, she said, "Sometimes. But mostly we just just sit around and talk. And people watch. Everyone who's anyone hits The Bronze. Even older people hang there."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "And that older guy you spoke of? The British one. Does he go there?"

"Giles? Oh no!" said Buffy. "Well, not regularly, but...he's been there. When I first started going there, he was there."

"Is he your...ahh..."

Buffy cocked her head and eyed him. "My what?"

Tom frowned. "Your...um...you know." He couldn't bring himself to continue.

Buffy's eyes widened with sudden realization. "You can stop right there, buddy!" she said. "Giles is just...well, he's my Watcher. And old! So...eww."

Tom felt relieved for the briefest of moments—but then he couldn't stop himself from pushing. "Is there...someone else?" He watched her and knew when she'd figured out what he was asking.

"Oh. Well, there's Angel," she admitted, glancing away. "I'm not sure I'd call him my boyfriend though."

Tom turned toward the river and looked down. "I see."

"Things with Angel are... super complicated," she told him. "As much as I'm...attracted to him, it can never work. Like... never!"

Tom glanced at her, confused. "Why not?"

Buffy sighed. "Because I'm the Slayer and he's...well...a vampire. And old too. He was sired at twenty-six...in 1753."

Tom's dark eyes widened. "I see. So he's well over two hundreds years old."

Buffy nodded. "Technically, yes. Two hundred and seventy, to be exact," she said. "Angel is...dark and mysterious and gorgeous."

Tom grimaced as Buffy described the vampire—but she didn't seem to notice.

"But he's also undead and blunt and annoying!" she said sadly.

"Is he not a blood-sucking monster?" Tom asked her. He was so confused. He wanted to know more about Buffy and this vampire—and he hated himself for asking.

"Yes, he is. Well, he was. He did terribly horrible things in his past, but then he hurt the wrong person and her people cursed him...with a soul," Buffy explained. "A vampire with a soul, who knew?"

"There are vampires in my world too," he told her.

Her eyes widened. "Are there?"

Tom nodded. "They're not the same as yours, I think," he continued. "I've only read about them. Vampires are part of my studies. I'm not sure if they have souls though. That doesn't seem to be a part of our studies."

"Hmm. Interesting."

"Do you want to walk?"

Buffy blinked at his quick shift. "Um. Okay."

"I was thinking we could cross the bridge and maybe see...whatever we can see by moonlight?"

"Works for me," she agreed with a shrug.

~oOo~

They'd crossed Westminster Bridge and walked. And walked and walked and walked—seeing no one else out—taking in the moonlit sights.

They stopped at Elizabeth Tower briefly. There wasn't much to see in the dark. Though, with the full moon overhead, it was still breathtaking.

Tom brought her over to Westminster Abbey next. Another awe-inspiring construction—if one could see it—despite the war damage it had sustained.

"We should come back in the daytime," he suggested—then reworded, not wanting to be presumptuous. "Or you should."

"Hmm. Sure. I'd like that," she agreed—then looked at him. "To come back with you. Just tell me when."

"There's a park...just there," he said, gesturing ahead of them. "Not a graveyard, but...interested?"

Buffy nodded. "Park...graveyard...same diff," she responded—then explained when her nighttime London tour guide just stared at her. "Graveyards give me the fresh ones. I go there to put an end to them before they can wreak havoc. Parks though, as good a place as any."

"Hmm. All right. Well, loads of parks in London," he said.

"Of course, back alleys work too," she quipped as she looked down a shadowed and narrow cobbled street—which he led her away from.

They started walking again, Buffy peering up at him from time to time. "So, do you have friends, Tom?" she asked, interested in who this standoffish boy was. "I've told you about some of mine, but you haven't really told me anything."

He looked at her, unsure what to say. He didn't know what he could tell her and what he shouldn't. He felt like he'd already given away too much—and yet, every time he opened his mouth, he gave away more.

"I have...acquaintances...at school," he offered.

Buffy frowned. "No friends?"

He shrugged. "Not really. There's a lot going on at Hogwarts. That's the name of my school," he said, glowering at each new bit of information he gave her, but continued on anyway. "The House I'm in...there are four of them...isn't filled with the most friendly of people. A lot of them are related and they tend to keep others out of their circle."

Buffy snorted. "I know people like that," she said.

"There are a few I spend time with though," he said—but didn't elaborate. Somehow he got the feeling Buffy wouldn't approve of them or the fact that they hated Muggles.

"What about kids at Wools?"

Tom grimaced. "I do not have friends at the orphanage," he all but snapped, suddenly incensed by her casual question.

"That bad, huh?" she said, ignoring his fire. "That Billy character. He gave me the wiggins." She made a show of shuddering.

Tom smirked. Her wording was odd, but her meaning clear—and he could tell she was trying to lighten his mood. "And I don't? Give you the wiggins?" he asked.

Buffy looked up at Tom and let her features match his. "Well, you are a bit creepy, Tom," she said teasingly. "Sort of peculiar and also a bit cagey. But I understand. After all, we're strangers."

Tom huffed. She said should understood, but she really didn't. "They don't like me," Tom admitted. "The children at Wools. I've given them reason not to."

Buffy shook her head. "I can't imagine what you could have done to make them not like you. You've been... somewhat friendly...to me." She grinned.

He chuckled. Oh, how she amused him. Never had he felt so captivated by a girl—by anyone.

"You have a nice laugh, Tom," she continued. "And you're quite easy on the eyes. Two plusses, in my book."

Tom immediately curtailed his mirth. "You don't know me, Buffy. I'm not nice at all."

"Please. I spend my nights hunting demons. You're just a boy."

Frowning, Tom wasn't sure if he should be insulted or relieved that Buffy Summers thought him just a boy. Was that any different than being just a Muggle? He felt like he should be infuriated by her comment—but he simply couldn't seem to find the rage within himself. How had she charmed him so?! It was like magic!

~oOo~

It as nearing dawn when they finally decided they should part. Buffy wanted to walk him back to Wools and Tom wished to do the same for her. In the end they decided they'd part ways and head back to their own residences on their own.

He did insist on putting her on the correct train before starting his walk to the orphanage. She didn't have to know that he planned to walk back. He figured he had just enough time to get there, sneak in and up to his room, and put on his pajamas. He might just have to pretend he was ill, so that he could stay in bed and get some sleep. Mrs Cole wouldn't like it, but she'd be hard-pressed to do anything about it. She'd been treating him a little bit differently since Vin and Sophie had brought him back to the orphanage the week before—as if she thought him more human. It was strange—and felt oddly pleasing.

~oOo~

Okay now...show me the love! Lol.

This goes double for you JACKass...call it a "demand" if you wish...because I know you're lurking and basking in the enjoyment of making the world a more narcissistic place. Lol.