Disclaimers: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Television, Kuzui Enterprises, Twentieth Century Fox Productions, and UPN. Any copyright infringements were not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Spoilers and Timing: Spoilers are for "The Dark Age". This story takes place in early season two sometime before "Halloween".

Rupert Giles was a man safely hidden away in the Sunnydale High library. He was the Watcher assigned to the current Slayer, well respected and very "bookish." No one in town would have suspected that the stuttering librarian had ever been anything dangerous, least of all Buffy and her friends. Giles had thought he'd escaped his past for good, and that Buffy would never have to find out about the man he once was.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Everything changes when a former colleague comes out of the woodwork with enough blackmail to make Giles do anything, even commit murder.

*****

"Ripper."

It's amazing what one, simple word can do to a person's entire mood, especially when that very word contained so much of my history that I'd rather forget.

A chill went up my spine the second I picked up the phone and heard the strong, English-accented voice speak. It was an eerily familiar voice; I knew that with certainty. I just couldn't remember where I'd heard it last.

"Who is this?" I demanded. Five seconds ago, I'd been deeply engrossed in my library duties at Sunnydale High School. Now, however, I had no doubt that my entire manner had changed. My voice came out in a low, dangerous tone, one that the children have never heard me use and would hopefully never hear me use. It was a voice that spoke of anger and promised pain, a voice of a rebel and a dangerous man. Ethan had called it my 'Ripper' voice.

Not many people knew that nickname who were still alive, and the old anger I had thought was buried deeply within my psyche came too quickly back to the surface.

"Take a guess," the voice told me. His answer only provoked me more. I felt the rage rising within me and I had to fight to keep myself calm, or as calm as I was ever going to get in this state.

"I have something of yours," the voice continued after a short pause. "I believe it might be of some interest to you, Ripper."

"Just what might this something be?" I asked around ground teeth.

The person on the other end 'tsked' very audibly. "Now, now, Ripper. Surely you haven't forgotten? Perhaps you need a reminder. I should warn you: this might be a tad painful."

No sooner had he spoken those words that I gasped at the sudden pain. It felt like a knife was slicing through the skin of my right thigh. I hissed sharply and slapped a hand over my trouser leg. I was more surprised than anything, really, because the pain wasn't that great.

A moment later, the slicing feeling ended, leaving behind a sharp pain. I felt something sticky on my palm and brought my hand back up before my eyes. There was a small amount of blood on my fingers; not much, but enough.

I glanced down at my trousers and saw a small stain of blood forming over the wound.

Fury ran through me, overriding the panic that was threatening to overwhelm me. The panic was there because my brain had finally put two and two together. There was only one possible way that whoever it was could have cut my leg without being in the same room as I was. If I was right, it wasn't good. Part of me was furious at myself for forgetting about the one thing that made me the most vulnerable.

"Bastard," I muttered into the phone.

He actually had the nerve to chuckle. It was an effort not to crush the phone in my hand; adrenaline was coursing through me, and I had no doubt that I could have easily broken the plastic telephone into little bits.

The logically part of my brain knew that he could afford to chuckle. There was nothing stopping him from doing more physical damage to me, none at all.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

I could hear his smirk. "Meet me in Los Angeles in two days at Heartfield Park. I'll expect to find you alone, and believe me, I will know if you aren't."

He hung up.

*****

My name is Rupert Giles, and I am a Watcher. Buffy Summers, the Slayer I am assigned to guide and teach, and her friends know me as the stuttering, bookish Brit librarian of Sunnydale High.

That is a part of my personality, the one most accepted by society. However, it is not all of my personality.

I have a darker side, a much darker side. It has existed since I was a teenager, when I decided that I wouldn’t become a Watcher despite my father's wishes. That little rebellion led to my associations with Ethan Rayne and a group of other notorious pranksters. At first, all we did was harmless fun - we stayed out of doors until three in the morning, we got into bar fights and pub brawls. All of us lost our virginity very quickly. It wasn't long, however, until Ethan's penchant for the supernatural came into the fore. He convinced me to help him practice the dark arts, and before long, we'd gotten our whole circle of friends to join in. We raised demons. We worshipped chaos. We performed black magic that left us on magic highs for days on end, only to end with us coming back for more.

It was not the most pleasant chapter of my life, and I have never been able to fully escape it. Not even after being a Watcher for so many years, if this mysterious phone call was any indication.

If only I hadn't let things get so out of hand with my little rebellion all those years ago. If only I'd put up more of a resistance against Ethan's techniques of persuasion. If only I hadn't rebelled in the first place, then this whole situation never would have come into being.

One of the demons we raised offered us something we couldn't refuse at that time: as much magic highs as we wanted, for as long as we wanted them. There was a catch, of course. At the time, we hadn't thought much of that catch. Now I know how foolish our carelessness was.

The demon required each of us to bind our souls to him through an inanimate object. We would become tied to these objects, body and soul. The demon could do whatever he wished to us when he held the objects. Whatever spells he cast on the objects would be cast on us, and whatever injuries he inflicted on the objects would be reflected on us. He could even control us through simple commands, as long as he held the objects at the time.

We didn't care that we were giving a demon so much control over us, as long as the demon came through with his end of the bargain. The demon never did. The Slayer at the time killed the demon for other misdeeds; I doubt that the Council knew about our dealings with him, and even if they did, they wouldn't have bothered sending the Slayer to rectify our situation.

After we learned that the demon was dead, we moved on to the next possible demon. If memory serves, that was when we decided to summon Egyhon. But that is a story for another time.

We forgot about the spirit objects completely. We didn't know where the demon had hidden them, and we didn't give much thought to someone else finding them.

That was our first mistake. Now, it would seem, someone has found the objects, or at least found mine. I had no choice but to get to LA as quickly as possible, and make sure he never had a chance to do more damage to it, and consequently to me.

I drove to my flat and packed an overnight bag quickly. I packed another bag with a few spell books, materials, three crosses, two stakes, a knife, and a small axe. I would have liked to bring the crossbow, but there was no way that could have fit.

Last but not least, I changed my clothes. After all, it wouldn’t do to get blood on tweed, and I was looking forward to ripping out that man's throat if I had to. I changed into a simple white T-shirt, a pair of very old jeans, and a jacket. Before I put on my shirt and jacket, I grabbed my (back holster?) and slipped it on, then I took the gun out of my chest of drawers, loaded it, and slipped it into the holster.

There was one more thing that needed to be done. I'd already called the school and told them I was going to be out of town for a few days, but now I needed to make another call.

I took deep breaths to calm myself down. It wouldn't do to sound too tense over the phone. When I was certain that I was as calmed down as I was going to get, I picked up the phone and dialed Buffy's number.

*****

"Hello?"

"Buffy, it's Giles."

"Hey, Giles. What's up? Any apocalypses, prophecies, general badness on the horizon?"

"N-no, nothing like that. I'm calling to tell you that I need to go out of town for a few days. In the meantime, I want you to practice that kata I showed you yesterday."

"Going on a road trip, Giles? Where to?"

"Los Angeles. It's for personal reasons, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask for what."

"Okay, Giles, no need to get snippy. See ya - when? Thursday? Friday?"

"Friday sounds about right. I'll call again if I'm going to be late. See you in a few days, Buffy."

"See you later, Giles."

*****

A few hours later and I was in Los Angeles. I wouldn't need to meet him until the next day. Until then, I would stay in my hotel room and make a few calls to my sources. Hopefully, I'd be able to find out who this person was before our meeting. I would have given anything to have some sort of advantage, however small it might be.

After I made the calls, I opened the first of the books I'd brought with me and started looking for-something. Some spell to end the soul binding, or some way to bring the spirit stick to me.

The object I'd bound my soul to was a shaft of wood crudely carved into the shape of a man. One of the requirements had been that the objects were destructible in some way, and we all chose woodcarvings, each one self-carved and unique in some way in order to tell them apart.

After several hours of searching and several more phone calls to and from my sources, I was beginning to feel frustrated. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that could help me.

There was a knock on my door. I pulled my gun from the small of my back, went over to the door, and opened it.

Ethan Rayne stood in the hallway.

He smiled. "Hello, Ripper."

*****

What was it about being called 'Ripper' that caused me to feel so much rage? Whatever it was, it worked.

I let out a growl before pulling Ethan into the room, slamming the door closed, and shoving Ethan up against it. I pressed the barrel of the gun under his chin. "Ethan," I said.

"Not quite the welcome I was hoping for," Ethan commented, gasping as the barrel impended his speech.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"Your help taking that son of a bitch out for good. You know the one."

I stared at him for a minute before pulling the gun away and letting go of him. I stepped back a pace while he straightened.

"Right, then," Ethan said. "He contacted me a few days ago, told me to come here for a meeting. As far as I can tell, he hasn't contacted anyone else about their sticks, so my guess would be that it's just ours that he has."

"Why should I believe you?" I asked. For all I knew, Ethan could have made a deal with him to lure me into a trap. Either that or the unknown man was controlling Ethan.

"You'd better, or you're not going to stand a chance, mate."

Before I even knew it myself, I'd pressed Ethan back against the wall. "I am not your mate!" I told him, rage coursing through my veins.

Ethan held his hands up in a peace offering. "That's perfectly fine with me, ma-er, Giles."

*****

My meeting with the unknown man was supposed to go first. Our plan was simple: Ethan would watch from the sidelines and offer help if needed, and I would go meet the man at the park. It was not a plan I particularly liked; I doubted very much that Ethan would help me if he saw that I was in danger.

Apparently, Ethan had hoped that I'd found a way around all of this, and hadn't come with a back-up plan in case I hadn't. We were both making it up as we went. It was not a situation I would have preferred.

We separated before we even reached the entrance to the park. Supposedly, Ethan would work his way around until he was carefully hidden in a clump of bushes across from the bench where I was supposed to meet the other man. All I'd have to do was give him the signal if I needed any help and he'd come running. If I didn't give the signal, we'd meet back at my hotel room instead.

It was a perfectly sunny day. It was a typical day for California, certainly, but it ill-suited my mood. A flash of lightning against a dark sky would have better suited me at that moment - and now I'm making a note to myself to never go see another horror movie with Xander, Buffy and Willow ever again if I'm going to think of imagery like that.

The park was semi-crowded with picnickers and children playing on the swing sets and jungle gyms. Still, the bench that was selected for the meeting was appropriately isolated, probably because of its close proximity to a garbage bin located some twenty feet from a group of picnic tables.

I was a little early, and the bench was empty. I made my way over to the bench and sat down. Thankfully, the smell wasn't so bad. I watched a group of teenagers playing football and scanned the bushes for hints of a certain English chaos-worshipper. If Ethan was there, he was taking care not to be noticed.

I first became aware of someone walking toward me when he emerged from the path leading through a clump of trees. As with his voice, the man's features were also eerily familiar, although I still couldn't remember from where.

It wasn't until he was ten feet away from me that I got a good look at his face. My eyes widened immediately as I connected his face with a face from my past. Good God, but he'd changed. I felt the rage rise within me again and fought to keep it in check. It wouldn't do to strangle him just yet, not in such a public place and not I was still unaware of the location of the sticks.

I stood as he approached. For a moment, we stood head to toe. Then he nodded at me. "Hello, Ripper." I noticed, both to my surprise and my satisfaction, that he didn't sound as sure of himself in person as he had over the phone.

"Mathew," I answered coolly, although with a hint of anger.

Mathew Peterson smirked. His confidence seemed to flare up as he stood straighter. "I see you took my advice to come alone. Good man."

I actually took a step forward before I managed to cool myself down. Fear showed in his eyes for a moment. The smirk returned when he realized I wasn't going to do anything.

"Let's sit down," he suggested.

He sat and waited. I took several deep breaths before re-taking my seat.

"How did you find it?" I asked him.

Peterson smirked again. "I have my ways. The important thing is that I have it now, and unless you do what I tell you, I will destroy it. I believe I am correct that destroying the figurine will kill you?"

"Why not just give me commands? If you do have the figurine, surely you know that whatever commands you give it, I will be forced to carry out."

"True, but I don't think that's completely necessary. I have issued a few commands, and to make it easier on you, I'll tell you what those commands are. You are not to find a way to get around doing what I will instruct you to do; no matter what, you will carry it out. Also, if you try to get help from that Slayer of yours and her friends, I will know about it. If you do try to get help from them, you will become as stiff as wood…until I release you." (did not mention Council - Giles can't go admitting his past deeds to them, so he can't get help; doesn't say that Giles can't tell Slayer and friends about what he's doing, or that he can't get help from anyone who isn't the Slayer or her friends)

"And exactly what do you want me to do?" I asked, teeth grinding. Heaven forbid I lose my temper…anymore than I already have, anyway.

Peterson reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope. "The details are all in there."

I held out a hand, but before I could take it, he said, "I issued another command while holding onto your little figurine, Ripper. The second you take this envelope, you are to get up from this bench and go back to your hotel room. Only then may you look at the contents of the envelope."

And with that, he handed it to me. I'd grasped it before I could think of pulling my hand away and before I knew what I was doing, I was standing and walking toward the park entrance.

I walked all the way back to my hotel. Several times, I tried to stop myself, to turn around, go back to that park and find out where the hell Peterson was hiding my figurine, but I was no longer in control of my movements; not for the moment, anyway.

It was somewhat terrifying, I'll admit. God, how could we have been so foolish all those years ago to not see this happening, ever?

Ethan was waiting for me in the room. "So what's in the envelope, Rupe?" he asked me. I guess he'd been at the park after all.

In answer, I opened the envelope and dumped the contents onto the table.

Both of us sucked in our breaths. Laid out on the tabletop was a piece of paper with an incantation on it. Lying on top of it was a medallion that both of us recognized.

There was a note written in the very fine script that I remembered was Peterson's that told me who the target was. The second I read the name, my blood went cold.

"Who is it?" Ethan asked me.

I handed the note to him. I watched his face as he read the note; I saw his cheeks pale.

"By Janus," Ethan whispered. Despite the fact that I wouldn't have been caught dead worshiping the lord of chaos - not since my adolescence, anyway - I couldn't help agreeing with the sentiment.

"This is meant to find him, I assume," I said, picking up the amulet. The Amulet of ___ had many purposes; one of its primary ones was to search and locate something lost across the boundaries separating our reality from all others. In other worlds, the amulet could find anything, no matter what reality it was in.

The incantation was a location spell, presumably one that was compatible with the amulet. I read the rest of the note, which gave me more specific details about how I was to go about finding Peterson's target and then killing him.

My face was grim as I read the rest of the instructions. Damn him. I'd need to use the Hellmouth's power as an anchor in order for the incantation to work properly. I still couldn't tell Buffy and the others about any of this, however, so I'd have to hide it all from them, somehow. The reason why I still couldn't tell them? Not only because they'd learn about some of my darkest secrets, but they'd also know that the target wasn't a demon. He was human, and Peterson wanted me to kill him. With the commands he's issued to my figurine, he hasn't given me much of a loophole to get around doing it, either. Damnit!

My apologies. It seems I am keeping a lot of details out of this little explanation of mine. The most important details I am neglecting would be who the target is, why Peterson wants him dead, and why this target is hiding out in an alternate dimension. That doesn't even cover how Ethan and I know him. I’m afraid that the story behind all of this is a long one, and will take a long time for me to explain it before I can continue with this narrative. Therefore, without further ado, I will endeavor to explain, beginning with my first meeting with Ethan Rayne…

Part Two

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