Buffy fanfic

Buffy fanfic

I used to be a big fan of this show and I even got round to writing a couple of fics about Rupert Giles.

No explicit sex but some violence, horror and (in The Red Dress) lots of death including main characters.

These stories are on the dark side and should probably be rated around a 15 as far as I can tell.

The two stories are entirely separate and unrelated except for the presence of Rupert Giles

Hubris

approximately 7350 words

The dark, waxed floor reflected very little light, although there was a large window let into the west wall of the rectangular room. The high ceiling was decorated with plasterwork and a heavy dark wood door stood slightly open. Light streamed from the vestibule outside illuminating a path across the floor. From the ceiling hung long flexes on the ends of which dangled steel lamps. Their industrial style, so at odds with the genteel period décor, made it appear there had been an ill-advised and superficial attempt at a post-modernist makeover.

The man’s shiny shoes sounded on the polished boards as he walked across the room from the door to the window, past a steel trolley and a large pine desk. He was wearing a crisp, striped shirt with a tie and jacket. His wavy hair had grown over his collar and, as usual, he had on his outmoded oversized spectacles. His thin lips were pulled a little tight, and the expression on his craggy face was one of worry. The steel trolley with its accoutrements suggested that what he had been told was indeed true.

He looked out of the window into the landscaped gardens. The house lay in a secluded corner on the northern margins of the Lake District, well away from the tourist trails. It was tranquil and quiet here. Despite this, he was restless.

He really didn’t have time for this. He should be in Sunnydale. But he had had a message from someone in the organisation – someone who wanted to remain anonymous. Today was the day of professor Linley’s annual lecture on the nature of vampires, part of an important week-end study retreat for student watchers. Montague Willis was in the upstairs office with his sherry decanter, waiting to shake hands with each watcher, ask them some desultory question and present them with a memento. Giles remembered the old fellow. He would be ending his tenure as academic supervisor soon. And professor Linley would take his place. Linley would have the department to do with as he wished.

Giles’ steps echoed again as he made his way to the room’s second, smaller door and, opening it, retired into a store room full of cardboard boxes. From within he heard the approach of pairs of feet, men grunting a little with the effort of moving something and the dull sound as that something hit the trolley. The trolley rattled on its wheels and muffled voices spoke words that he could not make out. He heard metal snapping into place and the fainter noises made by the swift tightening of canvas straps. A minute or two passed and they left, the slight squeak of the door betraying their passing. It had been quiet for a few moments when a slow deliberate tread began to move across the floor. Once Giles heard the heavy old-fashioned briefcase slam down onto the wood desk he was in no doubt that it was Linley. Soon the students would arrive and he would slip out of here and join them.

*

The vampire could not see too well. His eyes watered, and the water ran down his cheeks as though he wept.

Blurred white light sources blazed behind the several indistinct figures looking down at him. He could make out dark clothes and pale faces, and that the figures were men. He felt cold hard metal under his bare arms, flexed the arms experimentally and confirmed they were pinioned at his sides. He became aware of a collar holding his neck to the table, straps crossing his legs at thigh and ankle. He relaxed. They would do whatever they wanted to and then they would finish him. He was dead already. There was just the pain to go through. He gulped at the air, his body weakened by pure physical fear. Then he closed his eyes and waited. One of the men was talking. It was an old man’s voice.

‘As you can see, the vampire resembles a living man in many ways. It has the gift of intelligence to a greater or lesser extent, can hold a conversation, dream a dream, take pleasure in women and in drink…’ the speaker raised his hand, and the others saw that he held a knife, which he plunged into the vampire’s forearm. The creature cried out, just as a man would have. ‘…and feel pain. It also knows fear and anger.’ The vampire’s chest heaved and real tears flowed from under its eyelids.

‘I have a question, if you don’t mind’, interrupted a voice. ‘How can you know that it doesn’t merely mimic the reaction. How do you know it really feels?’ The student had obviously been bursting to ask this question ever since he had heard there would be such a demonstration. He had made sure to be standing at the front.

‘Come closer, Lawrence’.

The inquirer was on the young side, mid twenties perhaps. Like the others he wore the peculiar dress expected by the Watcher’s Council that made each man look as though he had travelled from that other country, the past.

The professor grasped the hilt of the knife and removed it, then plunged it in again. In an instant the creature’s face formed ugly folds and ridges, and its eyes snapped open. They were like nothing so much as yellow stained glass when it took its brightness from the noon sun. At the same time its cry of pain became more guttural. The others had moved back a little in fear. But Lawrence was caught by the yellow gaze, and could not help himself. He looked closely, met the brightness of the thing’s own look. It seemed to him that there was an undeniable emotional connection between them. It was suffering as a man would suffer, and its eyes accused him. At the same time he recognised that it had an unbridled desire to kill. The creature’s teeth had become animal-like fangs and it strained against the neck restraint. At that moment he could not help but feel pity for it, yet he was profoundly grateful for the power they had to subdue it.

‘It seems to me at first sight to be a thing that feels and thinks’, he pronounced cautiously, not letting the others see how its look had affected him. ‘But there is nothing to prove that this is so.’

‘I applaud your conclusion, as far as it goes. Please return to your place.’

‘Will it speak?’ asked another of the watching men. The vampire’s sight was clear now, the chemical stuff they had used to blind him had dissipated. He saw them all for the first time. Between ten and a score of men varying in mien and physicality, some as young as himself, others as much as 10 years older. The one that had looked into his eyes had worn an expression, he noted with a morsel of satisfaction, of discomfiture. Not like the professor, who looked at him with a terrifying coldness.

A new voice was heard from the back of the room, loud and clear answering the question. ‘I should imagine it will, yes. Especially if you keep sticking it with that knife. It will tell you something you didn’t want to know about your mother.’ The vampire started in recognition of the voice. The pain from the first stab wound was diminishing now, and he could almost draw the demon lips into a kind of smile. He was going to be have the privilege of dying in the presence of the most famous Watcher there was. The notorious Rupert Giles.

‘Mr Giles, I’m very glad you could be here today.’ He beckoned, and Giles made his way to the professor’s side. ‘This, gentlemen is our most experienced senior operative. He may have things to add from time to time’, he shot an arch look at the lowering Giles, ‘and that will be whether I wish it or no. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Mr Giles, may I continue?’

‘I meant no disrespect, professor, please believe me.’ replied the younger man, with something approaching sincerity. He glanced at the vampire on the table, then looked away.

The professor resumed his lecture.

‘The creature’s behaviour is determined by the same drives as is a man’s. The difference is that it is a carnivorous, or, if you prefer, ah haemavorous animal and its natural inclination is to hunt and kill us for our blood. It cannot reproduce except by contagion; yet the usual ‘urges’ are there – Mr Giles? I sense you have more to contribute. ’

The Watchers looked at Giles disdainfully. Meeting him casually you would find him the picture of meek conformity. But no-one who knew him for any length of time failed to become acquainted with his other side – the strong streak of rebellion and, some would say, anarchy at his core. He made the instinctively conservative watchers and their servants uneasy at a deep level, but his unique field experience was invaluable and his exploits were always the talk of the organisation. He was a sort of hero to them – but the kind that never gets a medal.

‘No-one must have any illusions’, he said grimly.’ The vampire has no inhibitions. It has no conscience. But it is not an animal. It has desires as well as appetites. It has plans, conspiracies, ambitions’ he pushed forward to the table, leaned against it and looked down into the vampire’s face. By now the first wound on its arm was just beginning to heal and the monster face had reverted to that of a young man about 20 years of age.

The professor was irritated but not surprised by being contradicted. He simply moved on to the next part of his demonstration.

‘It was long thought that the vampire was a spirit in possession of a corpse – in other words, a zombie, ah, with knobs on (he awaited their polite tittering at this inappropriate usage.) The fact that holy water and the cross could deter and harm it seemed to back up the idea that the phenomenon was a simple matter of pure evil spirit possessing deteriorating flesh and needing exorcism. However, in the 18th century a few of those untrammelled by the church’s rather simplistic view began to question this. Notable among them was the American Dr Aelfric Clare, author of ‘An Investigation into and Diatribe upon the Nature of the Reanimating Spirits’. Unfortunately, in the fashion of the day it was widely concluded that belief in the undead was a backward and lowly superstition, unfitting for anyone with any pretence to learning or intellect. Dr Clare had urged more scientific study of the vampire’s anatomy and mentality. He ended, very sadly, in an asylum, because he insisted on telling the truth about what he had observed to those who didn’t want to hear it.

Meanwhile, in Catholic Europe and in the puritan heartlands the hardline religious continued their work, for which I suppose we must be grateful.’

It was obvious the professor had no time for the church.

‘However, there was one enlightened man in England who was ready to make a full scientific study of the vampire phenomenon, without exposing himself to public disapproval – our second founder, Erasmus Giles.’ All eyes turned to look at the founder’s namesake and presumed descendant. Giles was expressionless and Linley hurried on. ‘No doubt Dr Pugh has told you something about the original medieval foundation, so I won’t return to that here. There was very little continuity from the first to the second, owing in part to the burning of many records in the Great Fire, and the main legacy that has come down to us today is the cruciamentum.’ They knew the professor would not refer further to the despised ritual, content to let the regret in his tone convey his thoughts. Giles, however, could not restrain himself

‘The so-called cruciamentum - a murderous game for fools.’

The professor knew it was necessary to forestall and digression onto this topic. ‘Whatever you may think, Mr Giles, and whatever I may think, we are not here to debate reform of the council constitution. Now let us move on, after all, you will appreciate that there is a great deal to cover.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We will break in another half hour. I have time to make a start on the main part of the demonstration. Mr Giles, Rupert, would you speak with the vampire for a few moments. You should get a response to the name ‘Evan’.’ Giles looked resigned. He leaned over the still form.

‘Evan, wake up’ the boy’s eyelashes flickered.

‘Evan, look at me’

Despite his desperate situation, the vampire was amused. He opened his wide green eyes and looked innocently at the man.

‘What can I do for you, sir’ he said, like a polite shop assistant.

Giles’ expression was inscrutable.

‘Tell me when and where you were born’ he asked.

‘Ealing, 20th December 1935.’ The vampire closed his eyes again and let his head drop to the side. He was already sick of talking. Let them get on with it. Giles turned away, seemingly a little distracted.

‘Thank you’, said the professor to Giles. Then he spoke out to the rest of the room.

‘As you have all just heard, the vampire’s voice is identical to a human voice when in its human guise. There is no unearthly hissing or whispering, and it is as articulate as you or I. How do you think this occurs?’

They were staring. Giles would have been tempted to laugh at their naivety, but his lack of sympathy for the man lecturing killed the humour. It was a pity that, knowing so much in theory about the beast, they had never yet confronted any of their prejudices about it. He had known more than them about the vampire even before going to America.

Thomas, the fool, didn’t seem to be aware of what he was getting into.

‘I am most surprised at you gentlemen. Did you do no preparation?’

‘I believe we read the texts you advised, professor – Coombs, Laskey and Edmundus. I recall references to growling and roaring sounds, rather than articulate speech,’ said the same man who had spoken up earlier, Charles Lawrence.

‘Wider reading always has its rewards,’ he replied smugly. ‘Evidently no-one here aspires to distinction in their studies.’

Giles blew out some air. This was supposed to be preparation for men going into the field as well as for the administrators. It was too important to make into some sort of academic contest. Why didn’t they allow him to teach, when he was so much better able to give the students what they needed than Linley? He knew the answer. Not willing enough to toe the line. Too ready to not only question established procedure but to subvert it. He considered slipping out of the room and away, back to the battles he could fight freely.

And yet he owed his colleagues some loyalty, especially these young ones. The professor was doing something so imprudent, so dangerous….if there was a chance he could lessen the threat he had to stay.

The professor moved to the side of the room and picked up a leather case which he proceeded to unfasten. From it he produced several objects wrapped in cloth, which he laid out on a nearby table. There was a syringe, Giles noted, identical to the one he was expected to use when the time came for the wretched cruciamentum. There was a type of device shaped like a truncheon with two small projections on the tip, that he didn’t recognise, and a couple of small grenade-like items.

‘I like to think that you are all properly familiar with the best known traditional methods – the stake, the cross, holy water, sunlight. You know that they work, but not why they work. I am the one who can enlighten you. ’ Several of the students looked interested. Was he going to tell them something or…?

‘However, we’ll leave all that until a later stage. Let me show you one or two of our more modern, less conventional ways to go up against the foe.’ He held up the syringe.

‘Anaesthesia. Can be administered at a distance of course, by using a tranq gun. They respond to it as well, if not better than, normal men.’ He put it down again and picked up the truncheon-like thing. Holding this out he touched it to the creature’s leg and there was an electrical spark. The vampire twitched frighteningly on the table. ‘It’s called a taser. Better demonstrated on someone who’s not restrained’ said the professor. ‘Any volunteers? No?’ he smiled mockingly. ‘The manufacturers maintain that it is perfectly safe and there are no after-effects. However, speaking from personal experience, I would say it’s something to be avoided if possible. You won’t be standing up after it and neither will the vampire. Now, ask yourself why this is. After all, he’s dead. Why should it affect him?’ Not waiting for an answer, he picked up one grenade-like object in each finger and thumb. ‘In rare cases we have access to preserved potions encased as here.’ He indicated the one in his left hand. ‘It may be years until you next have sight of one of these. They are only for essential use.’ Bullshit, thought Giles. It’s a common enough potion. You, or rather his mightiness, just don’t want them getting too reliant on magic. He had to admit to himself, however, that that was not necessarily a bad thing.

‘This potion causes the vampire to become confused and disoriented. It will do the same thing to you if you are not careful.’ He put the first ‘grenade’ into a drawer. ‘You might as well forget that the magic one exists. I have to show it to you as a matter of routine, but you aren’t likely to use it. Now, as to the other little bomb I am holding here, the contents are pretty standard. Tear gas. Readily available to us through our mundane contacts just like the taser and the drugs in the syringe.

Professor Linley put down the tear grenade and took up the syringe again. Readying it, he approached the passive vampire.

‘It could go into a vein. Or not. Makes no difference.’ And he plunged it carelessly into Evan’s stomach, just as though he were stabbing him once again. The captive’s belly muscles contracted and he grunted. ‘The creature is going to be partially anaesthetised. It cannot run, attack or change form while in this state and is therefore vulnerable. You might like to consider the mystery of chemical substances intoxicating a dead body. Did I mention that they can get drunk? I believe I did. Our specimen is not going to demonstrate that particular ability however, as we are looking at combat situations here.’ Withdrawing the needle from the vampire’s flesh he placed the syringe carefully in a box.

He paused, relaxed.‘ I think it’s time for our break now’ he said in a more laid back tone, breaking the mood. The watchers, who had been standing all this time, headed for the door, ready to discuss what they had seen in more comfort over the teacups. Giles, however, made for the professor and steered him out of another door into a small store. He shut the door behind them.

‘By the time they get back it will have worn off.’

‘True. But why do you concern yourself with how I conduct my class?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘ I could ask what you are doing here in the first place?’

‘You covered it well. Thanks for that. I asked to sit in. And I tend to get what I ask for these days.’

‘Really?’ Professor Linley couldn’t hide that he was stung. No-one had bothered to inform him that his day’s work was going to be hindered and possibly even compromised by this man. The professor grimaced. To his mind Giles had ‘rogue’ written all over him. However much he might know, the man was not reliable and the organisation should have taken steps against him years ago. Not given him the slayer job. That should have gone to someone more suitable – he had several protégés who would have been far more satisfactory.

‘There’s really no other way to do this, as you must know.’

‘You could have administered the drugs after they got back.’

‘ I need to show them the whole truth.

The professor suddenly felt a chill in the air. He felt compelled to make eye contact with his troublesome former pupil, and instantly regretted being caught in that glare. Giles’ eyes evoked fear in him, unlike those of the helpless creature on the table. There was a depth of things seen and known there. Real, violent things. He forced himself to blink and backed away a few inches.

Giles’ tone was as dark as he could make it ‘I’m telling you to stop the demonstration now. ’

‘I refuse to be intimidated by you Giles!’ said Linley, finally breaking free of the gaze.

After a moment he had recovered himself sufficiently to push past Giles to the door and back into the lecture hall. Professor Linley was a little ruffled and irritated with himself for allowing the exchange, for almost letting Giles frighten him. The man was hardly going to do anything physical, was he? That would have been the end of his career with the council, and he knew it. He was already under observation. Rogue.

Giles, still in the storeroom, dropped his head to his arm. Was there any way to get through to this man?

The professor busied himself laying out more items for the continuation of his lecture. The vampire was silent, semi-comatose on the table and no longer caring that he could not move. Giles strode into Linley’s light. His expression was milder now.

‘Thomas, I’m simply asking you not to go through with this today. You can call a halt now and cut our losses.’

‘It won’t do. No, it won’t do. Take it up with Willis if you aren’t happy.’

‘You never used a live specimen before, did you? Every other time it’s been a simulacrum. Modified human corpse I’m guessing.’ The professor’s expression told Giles he was right. ‘You don’t have some newborn vamp here. He’s going to have associates, friends even – maybe a lover.’

‘I think we’re safe enough. I wanted a mature specimen for obvious reasons. And you aren’t going to take the chance of doing this away from me, of that I‘m determined.’

‘Does Willis know what you’re doing? Does he?’ The professor didn’t answer.

He’s simply abusing his position, thought Giles. Why did nobody see it? This has to stop! He drew out a stake and made to end Evan’s existence.

‘No!’ shouted the professor, launching himself at Giles with surprising litheness for a man in his 60s. Giles shoved him off, but the stake clattered to the floor and was instantly trapped by Linley’s foot. The man’s speed was unnatural. He had the stake in his hand and had broken it in the store room door jamb before Giles could make a move.

Of course, he had cast something on himself at the beginning of the day.

‘You used a Scroll of Dera.’

‘Despite what you think, Giles, I am not foolhardy.’ He indicated a panic button attached to the underside of his desk.

It being time, the watchers drifted back into the room and congregated near to the table, some of them touching the vampire’s skin or prodding at its flesh. Giles noticed that the questioner, Lawrence, had not returned as yet. Disappointing. At least he had tried to engage with the lecturer, rather than simply absorbing the professor’s words as though they came from on high. Giles remembered his own temptation to slip away. Perhaps the lad was bored. Or revolted, having realised what was to come. Maybe he was overly compassionate and found this procedure too stark – even cowardly. After all, it wasn’t like fighting the beings in anger. He sympathised with the boy, whatever his reason for dropping out. Anyone who realised the inadequacies of Council policy was a kindred spirit. Giles moved into the missing student’s place and leaned back against the wall, folding his arms.

Professor Linley started up his rotary saw – like a large powered pastry or pizza cutter, Giles noted – and incised from just below the vampire’s chin to his groin. A frisson of horror swept through the room. Except for Giles and Linley the whole company shuddered and an appalled gasp came from their lips, while the unsedated vampire screamed incoherent curses. For a moment he assumed his vampire face, then lost consciousness. Quantities of blood pooled on the floor, steadily flowing out of his body from the obscenely large wound. The professor carried on without a word. He sawed deftly through the sternum and parted the ribs.

‘I would invite you all to take a look into the chest cavity. Note the heart, fleshy and pink though not beating. Note the atrophied kidneys’ – he indicated two black, shrivelled beanshaped objects. ‘Vampires do not excrete urine, although they can sweat. There is not much in the way of a liver or spleen or pancreas. But you will note the intestines.’ He lifted a strand of gut to help them see. The gut was thin and stringy, stained red by the blood that sustained the creature. ‘It is stronger than any known fibre or polymer. What’s more, like all the rest of the vampire’s body it is self-regenerating. So even if you do manage to wound it this has little effect.’ He took up a small vial and carefully dripped a tiny quantity of liquid onto the strand. ‘Bear in mind that this vampire is not anaesthetised.’ He reminded them. A small cloud of steam rose from the vampire gut, and the body twitched. Holy water.

‘With sufficient threat of damage, it will regain consciousness quite quickly.’

He looked out of the window at the afternoon sun, and the students followed his gaze.

‘We do not act foolishly or imprudently. This ‘gentleman’ will be disposed of long before the sun sets. Meanwhile, I hope you are taking adequate notes.’

The watchers looked even paler than usual, and some were struggling to maintain an outward calm. A few had left the hall, he noted. Made sure to check their names – they didn’t know they had just given up any chance of working in the field, whatever their previous designation may have been. Excellent. And all the time, Giles glared silently at him, and he was aware of the maverick’s disapproval, and he didn’t care. Hadn’t he been here a full 10 years before Giles’ arrival? Wasn’t he Willis’ chosen successor? He took a sharp blade and slashed the vampire’s wrists so that more blood flowed out of the creature and pooled on the floor. No need to tempt fate.

‘I ask you to further observe the contents of the abdominal and chest cavities. The heart governs all – it looks vulnerable yet is impervious to anything but wood. Why? Well that and all the mysteries of vampire physiology I have mentioned so far today go back to the creation of the very first of these beings.’ The group was subdued now, there was more tension and they wondered where Professer Linley was taking them. This would be more than an anatomy lesson.

‘Professor…’ said Lawrence, his voice subdued, ‘do you have no qualms about inciting this one’s sire to revenge?’

‘I’m glad you have noted his age and appearance, Lawrence. Not a fledgling by any means, and having survived for a good number of years, possibly highly valued by his sire or dam. Whilst it would be most prudent to ensure that the creator of such a one no longer exists before snaring him, I cannot absolutely prove that this has been done.’ His expression faltered, leaving Giles in no doubt of the truth.

‘”Cannot absolutely prove”…You mean?’ Giles’ expression was incredulous.

‘Really…there is nothing to be alarmed about. Firstly, all watchers should be ready for vampire attack at all times…

‘That doesn’t mean we create situations Linley. This is total insanity’

‘…and the tiny edge of uncertainty adds a little excitement, wouldn’t you say? No-one will ever accuse me of being a dull pedagogue.’ He let his eyes rove over the students’ white faces.

‘They won’t say anything about you if they become vampire food. Oh possibly they might want to eat you if any has the misfortune to be turned. Now, if you are prepared to take these risks that’s your concern. But if you find it appropriate to put everyone else in the organisation in danger, that is very much my concern. I cannot believe Willis would sanction such a fiasco.’

Ignoring the outburst, the professor went on:

‘But most importantly’,(he glared back at Giles in a way that would have intimidated most others), ‘Our students need to know the truth at first hand, both the truth about the inside of the creature and the truth about its face. Here is the adversary.’ He indicated Evan with a sweep of his hand. ‘ ‘He’ can bleed and suffer but he isn’t like us. He can shed tears or call you by name but remember what you have seen today and take care you do not succumb to unwarranted pity. This is not a person. And so’ he looked at Charles Lawrence, ‘It does not matter whether or not it really feels. As far as you are concerned, it does not.’

‘Giles! Giles!’ The vampire had awakened and was calling the name of the only one he knew here. ‘Help me…help’ and his face contorted with the pain. He was too weak to change, and to all appearances was a dying and horribly mutilated human.

Giles pushed the vampire’s tormentor out of his way and began to search for something to relieve the suffering of what was, after all, a sentient being. He loaded the syringe with what little morphine was left and quickly slipped it into the boy’s arm. He looked into the glassy eyes, which showed all the signs of real human terror, and this time there was a glimmer of compassion in his own eyes. Their warmth calmed the sinking vampire so that he lay still and quiet again.

‘Evan, who made you?’

‘God made me’ murmured the creature, fast returning to semi-consciousness and for a moment remembering what he had been taught so long ago.

‘No Evan’ Giles’ voice was patient. ‘Who made you? Who sired you?’

Evan spoke a name to Giles as he bent closer. ‘Beau Price was my sire, and my sister’s’. Giles stood up. ‘Beau Price’, he said aloud. He was looking at Linley with shock and disgust on his face. ‘Linley, Price has killed half a dozen watchers in my time alone. I barely escaped death at his hands myself. ’

Linley turned to the uneasy group, which was growing restless. Many of the watchers looked back and forth at their colleagues, deeply worried.

‘Gentlemen, please put your minds at rest. We have another hour and a half of daylight and we will be finished and out of here in 45 minutes. Mr Giles, you may dispose of the vampire personally at that point if you so wish. And there will be nothing linking its demise with any of us.’

‘You don’t know Price’s MO, do you? You were so arrogant as to neglect the most basic research.’

As Giles was still speaking, the students became aware of scraping sounds from outside. As their eyes turned from the two men and the bloody, unconscious vampire to the window suddenly it became dark in the room. The large window had been covered with a solid panel that was being nailed into place. It would be impossible to open the window or smash the toughened glazing. Then someone burst through the doorway. The professor’s fingers reached for his panic button.

The watchers, who had begun to rush for the exit door, leapt back in shock as the interloper entered the room. After a second or two they realised that the man’s hand movements meant he was about to cast a spell. Several raised their own hands to counter – but the professor was looking about in panic. There were no sorcerors of any real power here. Giles was the most proficient in the room, and he hardly practised. Besides, he had no spontaneous magic. For the first time, Linley began to feel threatened. Help will come, he told himself. I pressed the button, help will come.

At the back of the room a short watcher flicked the light switch on, off, on, off. The room remained in darkness. No power. Finally abandoning this fruitless activity, he tried to bolt through the still-open door. He was thrown to the floor as it slammed shut against him. And now it was a blank wood panel, handle and hinges gone from sight. Giles groaned. They were all trapped, immobile with – what?

The intruder had begun to glow, easing through the small barriers raised by his opponents and moving slowly across the room. A couple of non-magicians rushed at him, foolhardy though it might be, in the hope of knocking him off his feet and breaking his concentration. The magician had prepared carefully for the encounter, and remained protected within his glowing aura, whilst his assailants were repelled and thrown to the floor. The figure of the sorcerer now stood over the supine vampire. As he sang a low chant, a cloudy spot formed and further deepened the gloom; then a centre of black appeared in the cloud and began to grow.

Giles was a ritual magician. He could not work well without artefacts, books or scrolls. He searched his memory frantically but could not recall anything useful to try against the intruder.

The sorcerer issued a command that his captives move together. The watchers found themselves unable to resist. Once they were all cheek by jowl, he began to weave what Giles knew would be a restraining ring. Giles was on the edge of the group, with, he calculated, the other strongest ones who had moved to the wizard’s command with least alacrity. He expected to see Linley in the outer circle – after all, the man did have some power, if no commonsense, he sniffed. Suddenly he realised the professor was nowhere in sight.

Sounds came from the vampire’s lips, sounds of recognition as the cloud formed a tall female figure. ‘Deborah’.

But the figure was not solid. The apparition wavered and smoked. In his semi-conscious state doubtless Evan believed she was before him.

‘Come, Evan’ she spoke indistinctly but he heard her and his eyes opened wider. The mage looked at the bunch of helpless watcher students and …selected. Two were released from the bond and came to him.

‘I know your names. And I command you’ These two, perhaps the youngest and certainly the most callow looking showed no sign of resisting. Taking a blanket from the store room, on command they released Evan from his bonds.

‘Relquace’ cried the magician, and the vampire’s ribs were forced back into place, the skin and flesh laid over like lifted peel being put back onto an orange.

The two mesmerised watchers covered him from head to foot with the blanket while he tried to focus his eyes on Deborah for another second. They lifted him to their shoulders like pallbearers, but he sagged into unconsciousness again. The movement set off more bleeding, and the blanket darkened with the stain.

‘I see you all!’ screamed the figure of Deborah, eyes widening as she flailed her arms – ‘I will see you all die!’. And she vanished back into smoke, and the smoke was gone.

There was an impact as the body of Professor Linley crashed to the floor. He struggled to get up but was obviously injured. Giles looked up at the high ceiling and winced.

The sorcerer rapped on the covered window, and the makeshift shuttering was removed. For the first time, Giles got a clear look at him. He was a balding man of about 50, with a beatific countenance. Turning to look at the professor, he gestured, and the man was impelled towards him across the floor. The mage brought his hands together and the professor’s body was pulled into an upright position.

‘Follow!’

Linley was as helpless as the other two, and waited to do his master’s bidding.

Casting a small enchantment, the sorceror shattered the glass and the four of them, two carrying the vampire, exited into the green gardens beyond. The sun was beginning to get low in the sky.

The outermost circle of watchers threw out their arms and broke the holding spell on Giles’ instruction. Rushing to the window they could see the departing mage and vampire being joined by two more figures – the ones who had covered the window and cut the power. Lawrence recognised them as domestics.

‘Aren’t we going to do anything? Try to save him? ’ said another student.

Giles was passive, his head in his hands. ‘Take a message upstairs. No doubt Willis will want to send a few men after him. Frankly, having put himself and us in such danger I would not risk any more for his sake. An alliance of magician and vampire is a powerful one and any attempt to best them will take preparation - it will be too late I’m afraid.’

‘But he’s a very important man.’

Giles shrugged ‘Go then’. The tall student got up and went on his errand. The heavy door had returned to its normal state and he swung it open to exit.

‘But what about Kim and Bailey. They need us. What about the domestics?’

‘I’m sorry, it’s hopeless. We wouldn’t get near them. Think of them as a sacrifice to Linley’s hubris. Blood for blood.’

The students made their way to the canteen space where they sat dejectedly sipping at hot tea. ‘I am very sorry that this has happened. You are all now vulnerable to reveng attacks by Evan and Deborah, and possibly also Beau Price himself. I will be seeing Mr Willis to discuss our response to this situation as soon as possible. I’m afraid we are not likely to see professor Linley again. Beau’s revenge on him will be…creative.’

They were silent for a while.

Charles Lawrence spoke again.

‘Mr Giles, given that there’s nothing practical we can do…I want to learn…I was just wondering….could you tell us about the vampire’s physiology. How does it work?’

‘Ah, that. Yes, I suppose I can fill in the details.’ Giles sighed wearily. It had been such a long day. This boy had accepted the loss of his colleagues and the innocent domestics, humans all, without a qualm. He had shown more concern for the vampire. It was sad, because he was a bright lad, and not a follower. But his sympathy for the foe went too deep. Unlike Giles, who simply objected to all unnecessary suffering, Lawrence would be vulnerable to corruption and turning. He would never serve as an active watcher but would be funnelled into the bureaucracy at the London HQ.

He shook off his regret and began: ‘The demon who created the first vampire was more than a monster. He was a scientist, a researcher, a magician. He had a secret we no longer have. He gave the vampire the ability to convert matter to energy and vice versa with near-perfect efficiency. Our society is still a very long way from doing the same. The vampire consumes blood and uses it to regenerate the body. There is absolutely no waste involved.'

‘That’s why they’re cold,’ observed Lawrence.

‘As the consumed blood circulates it repairs and animates. The seat of this process is the heart, protected by an inherent magic from anything but wood. Wood’ he looked at them very seriously, ‘as some of you will be aware, is holy. Both in that it makes up the cross, and in that it is sacred to the pagans. Oak, ash and thorn’ he said by way of explanation. At least one pair of eyes looked at him knowingly. Wicca. ‘At the time of their creation there was no alcohol and there were no pharmaceuticals', continued Giles. 'The demon had not made them able to process those substances with full efficiency. Hence the side effects.’ Giles stirred his tea, pausing in his explanations.

‘It’s disappointing that at the last we fall back on ‘inherent magic’’ said a tall thin watcher. ‘I expect professor Linley would have been able to satisfy us with a more scientific explanation.’

‘Professor Linley, despite what you may have thought, isn’t a surgeon or pathologist. He isn’t any kind of scientist. He’s a council historian with a special interest in ethics. He’s also a very foolish and arrogant man who is now paying the price for his mistakes. You might like to ponder the certainty he had of his own rectitude. That lesson is more important than the reduction of the vampire to physiology alone.' he broke off from his bluster and continued in a lower tone ‘And besides, we don’t know exactly what protects and sustains the heart. If we did there would be fewer vampires in the world.’

The short, sandy haired student who had stood by the door spoke.

‘They even breathe like humans. I could see its chest move, see it panting.’

‘Breathe, but not respire. They need air to speak and to …emote. After all’ and he allowed himself a wry smile, ‘how could there be love without, uh, heaving bosoms, gasps and sighs?’

‘But why do they have desire for one another?’ said Lawrence.

Giles continued to smile ‘the creator had a sense of humour. He found human sexual relationships amusing so he enabled his creatures to fall in love. In fact, that is one of their great weaknesses. Although some are immune, when they do love, they love prodigiously.’

They could see from his look that he was remembering, that his knowledge of this came from experience and not book learning.

‘And electricity? And holy symbols, sunlight?’

‘You were paying attention, weren’t you? Good. The same goes for electricity as for drugs and drink. It didn’t exist, except in the rare form of a lightning strike. As for holy symbols, when humans learned to die for one another they created symbols of goodness that have their own power. Unlike the practitioners of religion, the symbols themselves are pure. And as for the sunlight, the world was dark in the days when the creating demon was active here. The demon believed it would always be so. He was a clever, but a limited being. In time there was true night and day, and the vampire was forced to hide from the light.

‘I’ve heard they can drown’, said the sandy haired one, going back to his pet subject.

For a moment Giles was in his element ‘Important point.' He waved a finger. 'Important misunderstanding. They cannot be killed in that way. But they can be disabled and hurt by both drowning and choking, under the right conditions.’ The questioner was now satisfied. He had gained one more particle of knowledge that the mundane people would never have.

‘Why did you care about the monster’s pain?’ asked Lawrence. Giles came back to himself in a moment.

‘Why did you?' he asked seriously. 'I saw you leave the room. It seemed to me you felt more for him than I did.’

The student looked down, his eyes searching.

‘Will I make a watcher?’

‘That depends,' Giles lied.

He looked through the shattered window at the empty garden and the sliver of late afternoon sky showing above the hills. Then he stood. 'Shall we form a delegation? I really would like to make Willis listen, and I think today we have a good chance of getting his full attention. ’

The End

The Red Dress 6540 words

I try to comprehend the overwhelming sensations buzzing in and out of and around my body. But there aren’t words. I see as clearly as I did when a boy, I hear acutely, my mind is as sharp as a tack. And at the same time I am practically tripping on murder, seeing the colours I made, tasting the life of my enemies, feeling their anguish melt through my torso like desire. To kill without remorse does, as Angel once said, make one feel like a god.

I have to sit down. My head’s exploding again.

‘Hell of a kick, huh, Giles?’

I could imagine Angelus’ voice, see him sitting there by me on the street bench, lolling back his head, splaying out to fill as much space as possible. The big, rude, kid hoodlum. Like any of the rest of them, he could have been my own grown child. But Angelus was a special boy, a bad boy. I frown. He was the one that stole my Jenny from me. She’d be with me right now, right next to me if he hadn’t wasted her life. He had had to be made to remember that. I spit into the darkness, and the image is gone. A minute passes. A woman and her man walk by, thick coats keeping them from the damp night.

‘Excuse me’, I say, politely, looking ruffled in that endearing way that I can, ‘Do you have the time?’ I’m still sitting on the bench, pointing to my wrist and looking up at them, very open and earnest. They hear my respectable accent and they relax. ‘Sure, it’s …and in a second, the man is flipped over my head crashing into the thick bushes behind, and the woman’s mouth is covered by my hand. In the shrub cover I knee him, quickly drink from her then snap his neck. Taking their cash money I straighten myself out, brush myself down and set off for the nearest tube station. It’s 9 pm. I need a scotch. I need to get the buzz out of my head. Because I’ve had enough of it now, time to come down. Time to lay aside those sights and sounds until I ‘m ready to savour them again.

***

‘It happens just once in a thousand years, for a longer or shorter time – depending’, Giles explained. ‘It can’t be predicted when exactly until the New Year of the year in question.’ He walked up and down, the friends’ eyes following him. The bright light from the chandelier emphasised the toll time and worry had taken on his countenance. ‘I’ve been doing the divining spell every New Year’s Day for thirty years. And –‘

Xander’s face lit up ‘You mean we get a vacation? A genuine evil-free week-end? Well when, baby, when?’

‘Actually it’ll be an entire week’, he smiled shyly, looking embarrassed at their enthusiasm. ‘In the summer. And do calm down, Xander there’s a good chap.’

‘Hey, we can do cool stuff and no guilt’, enthused Willow. Buffy still looked serious, but she was melting a little, a smile creeping onto her lips and a twinkle into her eye.

‘So you’re saying I’m free for a week?’ I was kinda getting used to the no-time-off vocation slavery thing. I hope I manage to come back afterwards, you know, back to captivity?’ she looked a little bitter.

‘There’s no danger there, Buffy.’ Giles chuckled and then smiled broadly.

‘You’re all invited to a retreat –cum-holiday in England as my guests.’ Giles looked hard at them all. ‘You will come?’

‘No watcher council involvement Giles. Those guys are bad news.’ Buffy sought his reassurance.

‘No Watcher’s council. You will be my personal guests. And I’ll make sure you all end up back where you belong afterwards.

‘Wow, thanks Giles’ said Willow. Xander looked a little less taken with the idea. Bless the boy, thought Giles, he had simple tastes and narrow horizons. To him ‘England’ meant guardsmen, museums and castles. It meant a tourist trip for the old folks, bad weather and boredom.

‘Xander, my neighbour Juliet will be joining us for dinner on Sunday – she’s bringing her niece – lovely girl’. Giles drew out a photo of a small middle-aged woman and a rangy long-haired brunette. The girl was about 18, and she looked like someone who knew how to have fun. Xander took the picture for a closer look.

‘I think I’m going to find England very educational’ Xander said perkily. Buffy had left her seat, and went to look over Xander’s shoulder. She clocked the picture. ‘Uh-huh.’

Willow was already enjoying a pleasant daydream about her coming pilgrimages to Stonehenge, Glastonbury Tor and the British Museum.

Giles was on the phone back at his apartment.

‘Hello, Angel – it’s Giles here. Forgive me interrupting your busy schedule, but I wondered if you might be interested in coming over to England later in the year? No, I’m not there now, I’m in Sunnydale. I’m taking everyone with me for a houseparty. Courtesy of the council, but no strings. Did you realise it’s millennium week from 14^th July this year? Fantastic luck for us. Did Cordy not see it? I’ve done the divination and I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. All will be well while you are away, and the mundane forces of law and order can be left to take over. Oh, Angel, do ask Wesley please…. Of course Cordy can come. It’ll be a great reunion, really, won’t it? Like the old days. Only safer.’

Giles smiled. Angel hadn’t given him any of the bull he knew he had given Buffy about not being able to fly. There was no reason vampires couldn’t get on a plane, as long as someone provided a passport. Angel would be here days before the flight, and if he didn’t bring his own phoney passport, something could be arranged. There were old Watcher contacts he could go to if necessary, distasteful as that might be.

***

It had taken me a fair bit of time to get everything organised, but we had a lovely party the first night in Bath. The girls looked chic, the boys looked handsome. I’d never seen everybody so relaxed. Buffy had that healthy glow you can see when she’s not looking weighed down by her cares; Xander too looked more his age. Despite his interest in my photo he’d brought Anya. She had been in town all day enjoying a shopping spree, financed by yours truly. The boy was too pleased and grateful to question the source of my generosity. But I volunteered it nevertheless.

‘I’ve had a bit of a windfall. Quite a large inheritance in fact. And I wanted you all to help me celebrate my good fortune.’

‘Yay Giles’ interpolated Xander, raising his champagne glass. Buffy looked a little uncomfortable, and Willow downright squirmed.

‘But we can’t let you spend all your money on us. I mean, it’s your money and who can tell you what you should do with your money, but there must be other things… I mean, what about your old age?’

I tried not to laugh too loud or long at that.

‘I’m amply provided for, I assure you Willow. No need to worry.’

I had hired a couple of women to do the catering, and one of them walked in just then.

‘Your other guest has arrived, Mr Giles’ she said. And in walked Olivia. She really had outdone herself and looked absolutely stunning in her full-skirted red gown. I heard the children gasp. I was satisfied at the impression she was making.

‘Ladies and gentlemen’ I announced, taking her hand, ‘may I introduce my fiancée, Miss Olivia Obianuju.’

For a moment you could hear a pin drop. Then they started to applaud. Olivia basked in the attention for a minute, then looked shyly at me. I brought her a chair and a place was laid for her next to Buffy.

Buffy put out her hand to the formally dressed beauty. Her blonde prettiness and baby pink dress suffered from the comparison in my opinion. Pity it was too late now for her to develop more womanly tastes.

‘Congratulations. Remember the last time we met?’ she asked matter-of-factly. As Olivia took Buffy’s hand to shake it, she remembered the scene Buffy was referring to and her other hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes twinkled.

‘I was wearing his shirt’

‘And nothing else as I recall’. Buffy grinned indulgently.

Olivia grinned back and raised her glass to Buffy, then left her chair to greet one after another of the gang. They all felt underdressed and somewhat in awe. Anya even looked a little miffed that she hadn’t been given a chance to put on her own show. But I wanted Olivia to have her moment of glory. She showed off her ring, an unique ruby and diamond creation I had had made to order, and at long last the boys and girls got to know her a little.

The candles burned down, the excellent food was eaten and the young people engaged each other in restrained conversation. Even Xander was quiet, and Anya almost discreet. Civilization indeed. The caterers, a good job well done, left at around 11. About fifteen minutes later, Willow fell from her chair with a crash. Xander looked goofily concerned for a second or two then joined her on the floor. The others’ heads were slumped on the table. Anya was even snoring, bless her. I lifted Olivia, feeling the fine material of her dress flow across my arms, and laid her on a chaise longue. Angel was not quite down.

‘You – when?’ His confused look slackened as he lost consciousness. I had found a way to disguise myself from his senses and he had been outfoxed.

It took me some time to bind my guests securely. Leaving them alone temporarily, I lifted Olivia from the chaise-longue and carried her upstairs. I laid her on the antique bed, the soft green shine of the coverlet setting off the bright newness of her gown. I watched her for a minute – her profile, the lovely African lips, the dark smooth skin. Her chest rose gently against the tight bodice of the gown with each peaceful breath that sustained the body I knew so well. There was regret in my heart that this sleeping beauty would never awake to the life I now partook of. But beside that there was joy that today I would possess her completely. I slipped the ring from her finger, and unhooked the back of her dress, pulling it down to reveal her large-nippled breasts. This was the moment. I paused, watching her a little longer. Life welled in her, warming her. Her eyelids flickered as I zeroed in on the pulse beneath the skin of her neck. Time slowed down and I saw nothing but that. Nearer, nearer – the demon emerged, mouth wide – suddenly her eyes opened. ‘Rupertttt’ she moaned and then, seeing me, she was ready to scream and scream. But no sound came from her except a kind of hoarse whisper. She stiffened at the painful entry of my fangs, quick though I had made it. After that, came the natural struggle, the threshing of her arms and shuddering of her body – it really is no use me trying to explain this; unless you have the senses and the mind given to you by this blessed demon, you cannot know what it means to drink a life – much less that of someone you have loved. It’s the most intense kind of intimacy the gods ever invented. Utterly sated, I slept for a minute or two on her cooling breast. Then, rising from the bed, I shook my head to clear it. I looked at her. Now, she was just a corpse. Something that would soon become ugly and distasteful, and needed to be hidden. Cover her up. Go back to the others.

I inspect them closely. They are carefully placed well away from one another, secured to heavy pieces of furniture. Buffy is glaring fiercely over her gag. She is enraged. She should be the one fighting, punching, kicking to save her friends. But she’s helpless. And I intend she should remain so. I raise a finger to my lips, and as she catches sight of a blood stain on my shirt cuff, I hear her scream into the gag. I change my features for a moment, just to let her know it’s really true. The others are panicking, grunting and wriggling, and sweating in their bonds. I reach behind me to where I know a razor edge glints on a long halberd. Without saying any more, I bring the weapon sweeping across two handed to sever Anya’s head. I look at Xander and I see, not the fury and horror of a bereaved lover but the undiluted fear of a man alone facing death.

‘You never loved her.’ I say, distaste in my voice, and next moment he too has his head struck from his shoulders. Willow, I realise, has it in her mind to try some sorcery. I can see that she is concentrating fiercely and so I leap at her, growling, and she begins to shake, tears running down her cheeks and despair in her eyes.

‘Don’t. Not a smart move.’ The halberd blade glitters at her throat in the golden candle light. She is terrified and, I am confident, will not do any more, though she knows I am likely to kill her in time anyway. I turn to my most important quarry and I say

‘You killed someone very important to me. The woman that should have been with me tonight. Olivia was very lovely.’ I looked at the blood stained cuff absently. ‘But when all’s said and done, she was no more to me than a rare book or a fine manuscript. A wonder to behold, special, precious, but finite in mystery. Ultimately, consumable. Jenny, on the other hand would have made me a companion, a worthy hunting partner, a wise comforter.’ I held up the ring. ‘This should have been on her finger, Angel. But you, in your moment of destructiveness, put an end to her existence.’ As I said this I swept the weapon above my head, preparing to take Buffy’s head off. Suddenly I was bowled over by Angel’s bulk as, still partially restrained, he used all his strength to throw himself at me. He had managed to get a hand free somehow and it gripped me, not by the neck, oh no, but by the balls. He managed to inflict sufficient pain to make me drop the halberd. I bit at him blindly, sinking my fangs into his face, tearing, dragging until he let me go. Picking up my weapon again I sliced off his free arm and he writhed on the floor.

Tossing away the halberd and substituting a carver from the table I pick Buffy up by the hair and hang her over him, ready to show him revenge. She twists and turns and breaks free – I can see him willing her on. If only I had had the chance to rescue Jenny. I am ruthless. I slash at her throat and blood is forced out spraying me, spraying him, drowning him as she coughs and chokes. I strike firmly with the large heavy knife and her head is off. I feel no pride in killing her, only satisfaction in taking her from him. I have no desire for her slayer blood. She was in a way my child.

Angel looks at me far differently from the way Xander did. There is so much in his eyes besides fear. I see the love there, the sorrow for her, the reproach mixed with burning hatred. There is also humiliation. I have mutilated him, and he could not save her. I am satisfied. I plunge the handle of the halberd into his chest and his ashes rain down on to the ground, sticking in the blood puddles. The end of a long, long story has come. And just Willow and I are left. Perhaps I should have killed her minutes ago. Her soft, wounded eyes stayed my hand somehow. Looking at her again, she seems so fragile and harmless. I can’t but unbind her and allow her to weep for a time.

‘Why am I still alive?’ I could see the question in her eyes when she looked up to regard me. I could feel the hate too, and sense the mystical energy gathering in her. She is a weak sorcerer as yet, but I know she has very great potential. ‘Depotestas’ I said calmly, pointing at her, and the mystical halo crackled out of existence. She was just a frightened girl whose face ran with the makeup she so rarely wore.

‘You truly are an innocent, Willow. The only one among them.’ I went to her and began wiping the mess from her face. She did not flinch. I sat on my haunches and drew close to her, studying her expression and scenting her skin. I have so much more ability to sense at my disposal now. The cocktail of sweat and hormones drifting from human skin tells me so much. My magic sense is sharp, where in life it was slight.

I knew what sort of vampiress this girl would make. With guidance, and teaching, she could be a formidable evil one. Shall I be a Watcher again, with her as my student? Dangerous. She would be so powerful and so wilful. I would have to dominate uncompromisingly from the first moment and never let up. Like training a lion.

I am too kind to tell her what I am going to do. But I see in her eyes that she knows. I leave the room for a couple of minutes then come back holding the shot glass full of my blood. Swiftly, I step up to her not leaving her time to think. I pinch her nose, and as she is forced to open her mouth to breathe, I pour the liquid down her throat. She chokes a little but swallows, her arms and legs thrashing hopelessly against my strength.

‘I bind you…ugh’. There was no time for any mischief to escape from her lips. Good. In a few seconds the coughing fit stops and she collapses. I catch her and lay her on a low table to await her rising.

If I were one of the old sort of vampires, from one of the orders, I would be kneeling, mouthing fiendish prayers for her, keeping a vigil beside her body. Instead I begin the letter I must write to Travers explaining that I need to meet with him privately. I know he will not come alone but I also know the watcher ways and I can predict everything they will do so easily – with Willow at my side they will have no chance to overcome me.

Dear Quentin

As you know I have the young people over here to stay and you were thinking, I believe, of paying a visit on Wednesday or Thursday next. Unfortunately all has not gone according to plan. We are missing our slayer. I need to see you quite urgently to discuss the problem and explain what she told me before she disappeared. Telephones are not to be trusted – I believe there is some MI5 interest in what we are doing. It seems the Council is not keeping everyone’s noses out of our business anymore. Meet me at my home in 24 hours sharp.

Yours sincerely

Rupert Giles

I sipped on brandy, and reminisced about the past. There were a few slights I meant to avenge soon. Dear Quentin. PS, don’t make any long term plans, old chap.

I folded the letter, without the imaginary post-script, and addressed it to the PO Box the watchers used to collect their mail. Then I turned to a volume I had laid aside the previous night – Landing’s philosophy of the occult. Even in the candle light the letters were sharp and crisp on the page to my naked eye. That was a small pleasure in itself. I had passed a quiet hour contemplating, with a new clarity, the problems for conventional philosophy created by the proven existence of the occult, when Willow began to stir on her homely bier. I was at her side in an instant, ready to help her come into her new world. But she was strong. She sat up, looked around and then into my eyes with a sweet expression.

‘Why Mr Giles, the things you do for a girl’ she teased. She stepped off the table assuredly, all awkwardness gone, and surveyed the remains of the rather bloody scene that had taken place shortly before.

‘Time to clean house’, she declared. Enunciating under her breath, she swept a hand before her and the mortal remains of her former friends dissolved into the air like sugar dissolving in water. Everything was pristine, even the ashes had been cleaned away. I heartily approved, and rewarded her with a short round of applause. She smiled and tried a curtsey. Then, looking down for the first time at what she was wearing, her expression changed and those round eyes grew rounder.

‘What am I wearing? Oh, dear’ She clutched at the fabric of her modest, rather dull gown, something in blue with a bow at the waist and a sweetheart neckline. Willow had thought that was how ladies in England would dress for dinner. Well, at least she had made an effort of sorts, unlike Buffy who had come as she was.

‘I want to wear the red dress’ exclaimed Willow, and before long she stood before me in the full ensemble, beautiful red dress, matching heeled shoes and, to finish, the ring which I placed on her finger with a flourish. Willow glowed, and added a lustre to the dress that made my heart sing. Poor ‘livia, dressed in the dull blue upstairs – or had Willow cleaned her away too?

‘You look an absolute picture. Shall we dance?’ The newly risen vampiress gave me her hand, and we took a turn round the room in the silence. I was about to break away to put on something suitable for our dance, when strains of beautiful subtle music began to drift, as it seemed, from the walls. She was a wonder.

‘You really are entrancing. Magical.’

‘Hm’, said Willow, looking at me with those googly eyes ‘I’m starving too. When’s dinner?’

‘Tell me what you did with Olivia.’

‘Same as all the others, Rupert. Poof! No more body.’

‘We can eat soon, dear. First you must put on an overcoat, so that you look like any other humans we meet. Then we will walk down into the village and visit some acquaintances of mine.’

‘What about that sweet girl from next door you showed Xander?’

‘That’s one of the Watchers’ daughters. She doesn’t live near here at all. Just a lure for the boy.’

We bought a bottle of wine in the off licence, then presented ourselves at the Lucas’ front door. I waved the bottle cheerfully

‘Hello Michael.’

He looked a little nonplussed, as well he might. I bluffed my way.

‘We were going to have a drink tonight, remember? I thought you might like to meet one of my American friends.’

The fact that there was a tourist in tow, and furthermore a young, attractive female tourist, and so spectacularly dressed, was enough to throw him into confusion and send any objections out of his head. He invited us in straight away.

Willow wasn’t in need of much tuition. Although she was hungry, she knew to wait until a few bottles had been broached, a good lot of snacks consumed and our hosts had talked themselves out. It was a little after eleven, time we were making our goodbyes and thanking them for a pleasant evening. Willow and I exchanged a glance. Michael was putting away his decanters in a lockable bureau and had his back to the room. Elizabeth had gone to the loo just down the hall. We rose as if to go. I put my hand on Michael’s shoulder.

‘Well, it’s been lovely’, I said. He turned to shake my hand, smiling politely. Then his look changed to one of horror as my face shifted into demonic form, I grasped his shirt collar each side and ripped it away as though it was paper. In a second I was fastened on his neck. Willow had met the lady of the house on her way back from the bathroom. When I looked round she was absorbed in her first feasting and had no eyes for me at all. We dropped the bodies almost in unison. Willow smiled, and her teeth were bloody. The effect was peculiarly affecting. I understood what Quentin had once told me, that the most innocent-looking are the loveliest in their second life. Or did he say ‘the ugliest?’ I do recall that he said they were often the most vicious.

She yawned and stretched, suddenly fatigued.

‘The first day is demanding. You should sleep’.

‘Yes…too tired to poof these two – they can wait till later’.

She picked up her red skirts and started for the stairs, pausing to look back at me and smile affectionately. In a few moments I heard the shower running. I half smiled in that indulgent way I always had in life – these things don’t desert us straight away.

The Lucases had a very comfortable leather suite, and I sat in one of the armchairs relaxing and warming my cold body by their victorian-style gas fire.

The doorbell sounded and I shot to my feet –overreacting still. I am not used to the preternatural reflexes and the loudness and clarity of sound takes me by surprise each time I awaken.

I composed myself. It was full daylight, so there was no answering the door. A card dropped through the letterbox giving details of where and when to collect the parcel the postman had been trying to deliver. That would be no problem in itself. However it prompted me in two directions. Firstly, I checked the kitchen for empty milk bottles. There were none. No milk delivery to cancel, hardly surprising in a village this size. Secondly, I thought that we should get out of this house as soon as we possibly could. I began a tidy search for small valuables and cash – including searching Michael and Elizabeth for any useful items they would no longer be requiring. I was very thorough. Took about £100 in cash notes, left the credit cards untouched. He had an expensive watch, which I took, and a gold id bracelet which I left. She was wearing emerald studs and these went in my pocket together with her flashy diamond engagement ring, her wedding band and her opal dress ring.

Willow came downstairs dressed in Mrs Lucases peignoir. She was wearing a gold necklet and bracelet and a pair of diamond earrings plus a ruby and diamond ring on one hand and a sapphire on the other.

She could see I was finished with the couple.

‘Consider them poofed’ were her first words. With a glittering wave of her hand and a whispered word, the remains of our repast dissolved into nothingness.

‘You know, Willow, it’s just… wonderful how you do that.’ I sighed, full of admiration. No stink of stale blood, no problem where to leave the remains. So simple.

‘They were well-off, but not rich. All the better. Good quality jewelry, but nothing unique. Now all we have to do is get out of here with it.’

Dammit, summer days were so long. But it did give us more time to think.

‘Their car, Giles. Or.. should I call you something else now?’

I smirked. ‘I think if you call me Ripper, people will stare. How about dad, or uncle. That should help us pass more easily’. I looked up into her eyes, expecting to exchange some merriment at the thought. But she looked a little disappointed.

‘And I had been thinking that now we were equals.’ Her voice hardened almost imperceptibly. ‘At least equals.’

‘Why of course we are. It’s just a disguise. Would you rather be my youthful but, obviously, discerning spouse?’ I twinkled at her. She looked at least a little amused, and I could not believe she wasn’t excited by the idea.

‘How about half-sister. That would explain the age thing. Daddy had a midlife crisis, ran off to the US and knocked up a local girl. He skedaddled before her family could do a thing about it, went back to England and disappeared. See, I can still do thinking as well as magic.’

I wasn’t really fooled by her attempt to cover.

‘I just remembered something. We don’t have to stay in here. There’s a door into the garage from the utility room. The garage door is opened by remote from inside the car.’

‘Fine, but – these people have blinds in their car?’

‘Strangely enough they do. You’d almost think they were vampires.’

We drove out, feeling pretty unprotected by the thin sun blinds. It was still very early and we took off for the back roads. I couldn’t go too far, because filling the tank would be a problem. We sat parked in the shade and discussed plans for the future. Mostly fancy and fantasy of course, but Willow’s too young to know that not everything works out as one hopes. By the time the sun was overhead she had convinced herself that we would soon be living like kings in California.

‘My dear’ I said ‘ you look like a princess in that dress, it’s true. But carving out a niche for ourselves will not be as simple a matter as, to quote someone, ‘want take have.’

She regarded me curiously.

‘And why is that Giles?’

When I didn’t reply she became positively flirtatious.

‘Miss Rosenberg,’ I began with exaggerated formality.

‘Rupert’, she murmured, too close to my ear, ‘we’re equals now, remember?’

I smiled, feeling a little, well, smug. The sweet thing. I reached around her and took her in an embrace. And kissed her. Soon she had fallen asleep on my shoulder, and I rested too, trying to gather my thoughts. My human mind had not yet got used to this life. It seemed unreal that I had slaughtered all those old friends of mine last night. And so easily. Did it really happen? I looked down at my hand and saw a flake of dried blood under the nail of my right index finger. It was real. They were dead. The fact was that trust and friendship had made them incredibly weak.

Gradually the sky lost its intense blueness and the light became less yellow. I woke Willow, and smoothed out the creases in the red dress. She looked at me differently than she had in the morning. We had crossed over a line. I stroked her hand. Her eyes gleamed.

‘Oz will wonder about us all, Rupert’

‘He’ll be missing you.’

‘He’ll be wondering, but he won’t say anything yet. I think he was looking at someone else when I left. A girl who sings in a band. It might take him a week to start worrying about me. He’s kind of slow – not stupid slow, just takes his time doing stuff. But we’d better get back over there before he does decide to investigate.’

I smiled at my new girl. . ‘We can beat them all. Just you and me.’ And I kissed the end of her nose.

I saw a roadside place I recognised on the way back, and realised it was accessibly shaded. Stupid really, I knew the coffee was drek when I was alive. And now I could feel and taste every stale dried out stewed grain that had flavoured the flat cup of hot water. Willow’s lay untouched before her on the plastic tabletop. But there were other attractions. A good dozen of them, wafting past us with their various scents.

‘Giles, some of these people didn’t shower today.’ She had already fallen back into the old way of calling me by my surname.

‘You’re in England, Willow – I mean ‘Miss Rosenberg’. Not everyone has a shower. And some of them believe too much washing is unhealthy. Not to mention a small minority who haven’t yet grasped the necessity of deodorants.’ Willow wrinkled her nose. I decided that I must say something to make her do that at least once every day.

She was being delicate. The people here smelt of sweat, perfume, soap powders, hairspray, mints, bubble gum, garlic, leather, shampoo, toothpaste, and some of them even smelt of what they had been doing, or wanted to do, with somebody else. And underneath all that we could sense the blood beneath the skin. One of the girls serving food at the counter nicked her finger and had to cover the scratch with a plaster. The scent of her blood flooded the air.

‘I want to go.’ Said Willow twitchily. ‘I can smell that girl. She’s sweet, and clean, and her blood … but I can’t eat her. Too many watching’

We got up to leave.

Back at the house we mede ourselves ready for the impending visit of Mr Travers. Willow was restless and it was a foregone conclusion that she would be dining on whoever came to our door. There was beer in the fridge, so she had some to calm her, while I enjoyed a little of the Lucases scotch. Presently she went back upstairs and continued trying on our hostess’ outfits. Slowly the summer day ended and the sky reddened. I rubbed my palms together, not that there was any sweat there to dry, and waited.

As anticipated, Quentin turned up with an escort. The council hadn’t trusted me in a long time, and now that I had severed my ties to them altogether and was doing they knew not what to make a living, their suspicion had deepened. Two youthful watchers flanked him, one male and one female. Bringing up the rear were a couple of more muscular looking people. Hired specially, not council minions I thought. Naturally, Willow and I had a plan. She was wearing something tasteful now. Perhaps a little old for her years? I’m no expert on these things but Mrs Lucas had been 35 or so. Quentin didn’t suspect anything. He looked at me down his nose and I remembered I was wearing my usual casuals. The hatred I felt towards him surged up in me, taking me by surprise with its intensity. I signalled to Willow and she, quick as a flash, stopped them all where they stood. Except Quentin. The others were totally immobile and unable to speak a word. I was really rather pleased he was resisting. I got him in a headlock and kicked at his knees. He pulled out a knife – evidently my being turned had never entered the council’s heads. Quentin was quite an old man, and I would easily have been a match for him as a human. He had less than no chance. It was satisfying to sit on his chest and stare down into his eyes. I loosened his shirt and felt for the amulet I knew I would find underneath. My hand closed over it tightly and I wrenched it from his neck. Suddenly I felt pain – the first pain I had known since my turning. It intensified, and a curl of white smoke rose from my hand. I cried out and dropped the shattered pendant on the floor. Quentin looked at me in terror. His amulet had contained holy water, and now he knew for certain what I was. He looked over at Willow, and saw her change in readiness to bite into the male bodyguard.

‘Merciful God’ he exclaimed. ‘The slayer is dead.’

‘Or undead.’ I tormented him. He expected to see vampire Buffy at any moment. Let him think that. The fact was, the scoobys would have made terrible henchmen. I couldn’t be worrying all the time what they were going to do next. Just me and sweet, magical Willow would do nicely. As a couple we could travel anywhere together in various guises. I liked the idea of her as my young wife. That had such lovely possibilities. But other times we could be Father and daughter, or boss and secretary, whatever. Taking a pack of same aged kids around would have been high profile. What could I say they were, a five a side team? And I have to be honest, a Vampire Buffy would have been too much competition. She would have wanted to rule the roost and push me to one side. She had to go.

Willow found a moment to still Quentin like the others. I knew that his blood would be thin and bitter stuff, there would be no savour in it of itself. But the evil in me longed to hurt him and to see the man helpless in the face of his worst fear. Yes, I remembered that Quentin’s greatest terror was of being turned himself. So that was what I was going to do. The demonic visage shaped my face into a mask of evil. I could see his fear increase, and the revenge was so sweet it more than made up for the bitter blood. When he was weak enough, a gory faced Willow passed me a shot glass and a sharp knife (I wasn’t chancing using Quentin’s knife. It could have poison or enchantments on its blade).

‘Take the spell off him Willow. He might have something to say.’

I was disappointed though. He said nothing, and to my disgust tears rolled down his old cheeks. It wasn’t that he was in a funk. No, he actually felt sorry for me. Really, there were no bounds to the old sod’s arrogance. I had to fight him to get the blood down his throat, but in the end it was done.

When the demon awoke him, I despatched it instantly. No more Quentin Travers, and no sign that he had ever been here. Willow cleaned house delightfully as usual. Then we set off for the airport. Willow, my sober half sister, had packed away the red ball gown for now and was dressed in Mrs Lucases blue suit.

Soon we would be telling Oz the sad news about his friends. We would be sure to do so well before the next full moon. And I would be most intrigued to discover whether my blood will convert the boy. It seems from my researches that a vampirised werecreature becomes a formidable and loyal defender of his sire. Oz will be a prize indeed.

Not so great a prize, of course, as my beloved girl. Every time I close my eyes I see her standing there in the red dress, my new and very promising protégé.