FEAR THE RIPPER

By The Scarlett Rose

“Hiya! You wanna party?” she cooed as she leaned into the open car window. The streetlights where bright enough for her to get a good look at him: handsome, youngish, well dressed, meticulously hair combed. He quickly glanced at her then stared into the street before him. Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair. Nice eyes, she thought, they gotta be blue contacts: no way could they like that naturally. He looked normal, more normal than her other dates. Where those cuff links real gold? And that was a weird looking pen in his suit breast pocket, probably one of those fashionable designer pens.

He said nothing as he clicked the door-lock control at his side. She carefully got into the car. This guy was going to pay well, she thought. Thank God for that! Eddie didn’t like it when she came home empty-handed. She came home empty last night and Eddie showed her how much he didn’t like that all. It wasn't her fault. She was only twenty-four years old, but the years in the business took its toll and the younger girls got more dates. And she owed Eddie a lot: he helped her when she first came to Chicago from her little town in Indiana. She couldn’t let him down again.

“Hmmm…the shy type are we? No need to be shy around me honey” she purred, then continued “Okay, first there’s a hotel a block north of here. And there’s a few things I won’t do, not a lot but just a few. Like I won’t….”

“My dear lady” he said cutting her off, “We shall forgo the local lodgings and patronise a more respectable establishment. As for the particulars, I can assure you that you will find the arrangements suitable to your tastes and mine.”

“Ya know something, you're one classy guy.” She smiled back.

**********

“Hey, Giles! I-I bet you’re really excited Prince William’s coming to Sunnydale. I-I mean because you’re English and he’s English and he’s going to be King one day. And he’s coming to Sunnydale! Here!” Willow excitedly rambled.

“Yeah, Giles won’t be the only English guy in town” added Xander “finally, someone else will be ordering take-out priddy oggie!”

“Priddy who-ggie?” asked Oz.

“With scrumpy sauce!” dead-panned Xander. Oz and Willow looked puzzled.

Annoyed with the banter, Giles cleared his throat “Yes, it is rather exciting His Highness will be stopping here during his tour of the States…Why he would be interested in attending university in Sunnydale is unfathomable, considering all the fine schools in England….” Suddenly realizing what he said, Giles looked around to see three very cynical faces staring at him. Quickly changing the subject “Has anyone seen Buffy this morning?”

“Ooooo, Hellmouth business!” exclaimed Willow.

“Funny, isn’t it? How we’ve become conditioned that whenever Giles asks ‘where’s Buffy’ we think of a Hellmouth problem. Like Pavlov’s dogs: bell rings, salivate. ‘Where's Buffy?’: Hellmouth” mused Oz. Xander looked puzzled.

“Maybe, and this is just a thought, maybe it’s because we’re on top of the Hellmouth and Buffy’s the Slayer?” Xander dryly quipped.

“So what’s up, Giles? What Hellmouth-ish things are afoot?” pressed Willow.

“Well, I would rather wait until Buffy arrives and tell you all at once.”

“Tell us all what at once,” asked Buffy, as she entered the room. Shaking her head in disgust, she continued “You know, it’s really getting hard to walk around campus. They’re, like, cordoning off some of my short cuts, because Prince Whatever’s coming. Like, he’s going to be on campus for 2 hours at most and I have to deal with getting to my classes on time, but I can’t because they’ve put up these big barriers….” Buffy noticed a very worried Giles “What’s wrong, Giles?”

“It may be nothing. I may be over-reacting. In fact, I might possibly be completely wrong” rambled Giles as he looked away to avoid eye contact.

“Okay!” Buffy shrugged. She knew Giles wasn’t over-reacting or wrong about something. Mischievously, she asked the gang, “So are you all going to the Bronze tonight?”

“Actually, I’m sure there’s something wrong. Here.” Giles said as he took several newspapers from his briefcase and put them on the table. “From Boston, ‘Bodies Found Behind Dumpster: Cambridge Trash Collector Makes Horrific Find.’ This from Providence, Rhode Island: ‘Mutilated Bodies in Alley: Coroner, Police Stumped.’ Same here in New Haven, Connecticut and Princeton, New Jersey and most recently in Chicago. In every one of those cities, bodies of women were found in alleyways or behind dumpsters or even …Well, I’m sure you all understand. All the women had their throats slashed. Some were horribly mutilated.”

“Those places are miles away from Sunnydale.” Buffy interjected, glancing at the newspaper headlines. “And it doesn’t sound like the work of a vamp! So what’s it got to do with us….here?”

“Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Jersey, Illinois…they are all cities on His Highness’ itinerary. In fact, His Highness spent two days in Massachusetts; there were two murders. He spent three days in Connecticut and there were three murders. Today is the last of the three days he will be in Chicago. Two murders have already occurred. We can be sure of another tonight” gravely continued Giles.

“A-a-and he’ll be here for three days” gasped Willow, “that means….”

“We can look forward to three more deaths in Sunnydale” finished Oz.

“So, who’s doing the jobs?” asked Buffy as she looked at the newspapers more carefully, “can't possibly be the Prince.”

Giles nervously took off his glasses, wiped them with his handkerchief, and shakily put them back.

“Giles…Giles! Tell me it is NOT the Prince!” Buffy looked squarely into Giles’ eyes.

“It’s not implausible. The murders are very similar to those that took place in London years ago. All the victims were women. All the women were prostitutes. All the women had their throats slashed. The papers dubbed the killer ‘Jack the Ripper’. The murders ended as suddenly as they began all within a ten-week period, from August 1888 to September 1888. The murderer was never found, despite the intense investigation by the authorities. However, there were things the police discovered. From the way the victim’s throats were slashed and the positioning of their bodies, the police determined he was left-handed. What few witnesses there were claimed the Ripper was a ‘gentleman’, young and tall. It was generally agreed that he had medical knowledge, considering the way he disemboweled his victims, and considering the incisions were made with a fine cutting instrument like a scalpel. Naturally, physicians and surgeons were suspected. However, within the last twenty years, there have been theories that Jack the Ripper was the Duke of Clarence and Avondale. The Duke was said to be insane and was secretly committed to an asylum by the Royal Physician. The murders ended shortly thereafter. He died suddenly in 1892, further adding fuel to the fire. You see, the case was officially closed in 1892 “ calmly explained Giles.

“Okay…so you’re saying this Clarence Avondale guy has come back to life some how,” stated Xander “Cool, we’ve done dead guys before; we can do them again!” Xander looked relieved.

“Actually, Xander, I don’t think we are dealing with a dead guy as you so eloquently put it. We’re dealing with someone very real. There are theories that certain types of mental illnesses run families. Some people even believe that criminal behavior runs in families. The Duke of Clarence and Avondale was Prince Albert Victor, eldest son of the then-Prince of Wales, Prince Albert. The Duke was the great, great, grand uncle of His Highness, Prince William, who is the eldest son of the current Prince of Wales. Furthermore, His Highness is left-handed, as was the Duke of Clarence as was Jack the Ripper as is our killer. The Boston police came to the same conclusion that Scotland Yard and the City of London police made over a hundred years ago. The murders are following the Prince from city to city. It is more than coincidence” asserted Giles.

“Giles, talk like that could get you thrown in the Tower. Remember you don’t even have a green card yet. One slip up and back to England you go.” quipped Xander.

“Xander!” Buffy growled “This is really serious. We have some serial killer with a past-life issue. And he’s on his way to Sunnydale.” Xander looked at Buffy like a hurt puppy.

“Fortunately,” Giles interrupted “His Highness’ Private Secretary is a old school mate of mine. He has invited me to have tea tomorrow afternoon. Until that time, I suggest we begin researching the murders in these cities.”

“Oooo, computer work! I can deal” Willow chirped.

“Right,” Buffy added “and we should also check out the places he could find any victims here.”

“There haven’t been any ho’s here since Cordy left town” sniped Xander. Realizing no one found his remark funny, he said “Hey, someone has to provide the comic relief around here! Okay, Willow and Oz can do the research. Giles will have the tea and scones. I’ll look around town for…”

“No, you can stay here and help Will and Oz. I’ll check around town” said Buffy rolling her eyes.

“Oh, Giles, you said the Private Secretary was an old school mate of yours. I was wondering what was his school nickname, since that’s what you English guys do in school give each other nicknames. I mean, we know yours is Ripper" prodded Willow.

Reminiscently Giles said, “I haven’t thought of that in years. Let’s see, Alstair Gwynn-Shand…What did we call him? Oh, yes…’Squishy’! “ Giles worried face broke into the barest little smirk.

“Squishy?”

“Ummm, Will, I don’t think we want to know” reassured Buffy as she nodded her head as a warning.

**********

Giles hadn’t thought of Alstair Gwynn-Shand for years. Willow’s question brought with it a flood of memories, good and bad. Alstair was never really a friend. He was a bitter rival. Throughout school, it was always Alstair who took first in everything. It all seemed so effortless for him. Rugby, cricket, tennis, swimming…no one surpassed Alstair. All the other boys vied to be his friend. All the teachers and the Head Master favored him above all. Giles always chalked it up to Alstair's family, the Barons of Wildefell, peerage titles always impressed the others. Giles knew it, as did Alstair. Alstair manipulated and pushed his way through school using his family reputation. Blast that arrogant pratt! He even faired better at University. All the girls flocked over his Cary Grant-Lawrence Olivier looks.

All the sarcasm and innuendo Alstair greeted him with upon Giles’[ return to University after those rebellious years in London infected his mind. It now all came to this. How could Giles proudly say that after all those years of study, he was for a few years the librarian at an American High School? The ripple of hesitancy Giles felt when the guards ushered him through the hotel to the Private Secretary’s suite grew to wave of nausea wholly engulfing him as the suite door of ‘The Honourable, Alstair Gwynn-Shand, Private Secretary to His Royal Highness, Prince William of Wales’ opened.

“Ripper!” a familiar arrogant voice proclaimed “Come in, come in!” Handel’s “Water Music” blared triumphantly from the cd player.

“Squishy! How nice to see you after all these years!” Giles lied. Alstair still oozed the air of self-importance as he had done all those years ago. Furthermore, he hadn’t changed one bit: the dark blond hair meticulously combed, the picture perfect Windsor knot at his throat, and athletic physique. Alstair’s appearance was tediously neat: no wrinkles on his suit or the hand-tailored white linen shirt. It looked as though it had just been ironed. Giles felt more insecure. His off-the-rack, slightly rumpled, non-tweed suit and slightly disheveled hair would have been more than acceptable elsewhere. But here with Alstair, it was a case of a prince and a pauper. And Giles knew full well, who was who.

“Do sit down.” Alstair pointed to a cushioned chair set before a coffee table laden with tea accoutrements, “I’m afraid they don’t know how to make a decent cup of tea in the States and the sandwiches look like a forest of cucumbers between two mountains of bread. We shall make do, I'm sure. California! Who would have ever reckoned you would be living in California?” Alstair incredulously remarked. “Say, I saw Bunty Wilmot at the Club before I left and he was spreading a vicious rumor that you are a librarian at what the Americans call a ‘high school’. I do say, I suppose it is better than being a librarian at a low school!” Pouring a cup of tea Alstair hospitably asked, “Do you take sugar?”

“Was a librarian” half-smiled Giles “No, thank you.” Giles took the cup and saucer from Alstair. Humph! Royal Doulton with hand-painted roses. Trying to impress me? Still the arrogant, self-important toe-rag you always were, Giles thought, if you only knew how important my true job is. “And how have you been? Private Secretary to Prince William! My, I could only hope for a life half as exciting as dealing with day-to-day bureaucratic red-tape.”

Alstair sipped his tea “Service to the Royal Family has been a family tradition of sorts: great-grandfather on mummy’s side was the Royal Physician to Queen Victoria, I’m sure you recall. However, I’m quite positive being a librarian was more enlightening. Please, do try the Queen Alexandra Sandwiches: they are rather nice” Alstair waved his hand towards a small dish stacked with tiny, tea sandwiches.

“I say, Squishy, bit of bad luck for all of you here in the States” gibed Giles, taking a tea sandwich.

“Whatever do you mean? Scone?”

“No thank you. I was referring to the murders that have been following the Royal entourage in the States. Simply, unnerving. It is a wonder the tabloids haven’t run with the story” Giles replied, innocently and took another sip of tea.

There was a gentle knock on the door to the adjoining room.

“Excuse me, Ripper. Yes, who is it?” called Alstair as rose from his chair.

“It is I. His Highness would like to go out tonight” replied a muffled voice from behind the door. Alstair rose from his chair and walked to the door.

Opening the door he said, “Do come in my Lord.” A tall, fair-haired, young man stepped into the room. “My Lord, this is Mr. Rupert Giles, an old schoolmate of mine. Rupert, this is The Viscount Keighley.”

“My Lord” Giles quickly stood and bowed his head.

“Mr. Giles” acknowledged Viscount Keighley. Turning to Alstair, he continued “His Highness wishes to explore Sunnydale tonight. Perhaps even go to a local club where he could meet local people.”

“Yes, my Lord, I shall make the arrangements” returned Alstair. Viscount Keighley turned around and went out the door he had entered the room by.

Alstair returned to his chair, sat, picked up his teacup and took a sip. “His family dates back to the time of the Norman Conquest. His Highness finds him to be agreeable company. They’re so damn alike. And His Lordship is devoted to His Highness. In fact, in Chicago, I caught his Lordship sneaking back into the hotel one night carrying a deep-dish pizza: His Highness sent him out to get one, since His Highness would be easily recognized. Also, His Highness knows it’s futile to steal away. We keep an extra watch for him.”

“ I think….. I shall have a scone” replied Giles.

**********

“I can’t believe it! They won’t let us in the Bronze! Us! What’s wrong with us? I feel so, so unwanted!” ranted Xander as he sat the street curb across the Bronze entrance. Glaring at the guards who were standing at the doorway, Xander continued “I mean you’d think they would have let you in, Will! Boyfriend’s band is playing. That should have been your ticket in!” Xander shook his head in disbelief.

“Well, at least we’re all together, like the three Musketeers” consoled Willow as she sat beside to Xander “Hear that! That’s my Oz playing for Royalty. Good song to open with!”

“Too bad, Giles couldn’t get us in there tonight” sighed Buffy “ he won’t say what happened this afternoon with Squishy, but whatever it was…. At least Oz can keep an eye on the Prince.”

The crowd in front of the Bronze dissipated as more people were being turned away by the guards at the door. Only the paparazzi were left. One anxious looking man with a camera stared at Willow, a little too intently at Willow for Xander’s comfort.

“Good thing your boyfriend is inside and not out here, Will!” Xander announced. “Geez! He’s coming over here!” he quickly whispered as the man made his way to them.

This tall, handsome man appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He seemed more disheveled than the other paparazzi. “Hello all. The name’s Ripley. I’m a free-lance photojournalist. Just wondering if I could take a photo of you three eagerly waiting to get into the Bronze. It would make great copy back home.”

“Ooooo! Look everyone, car chasing paparazzi sleaze! Too bad we don’t have any tunnels!” Xander shot back

“I take that as a qualified ‘no’”replied Ripley as he turned and disappeared into the crowd of other camera wielding photojournalists.

“That was mean Xander” Willow scolded.

“He seemed harmless, in a nice paparazzi sort of way”, added Buffy.

“No way! That guy is trouble” countered Xander, “Wanting pictures…yeah, I can bet what kind of pictures!” Buffy and Willow rolled their eyes. Deep in their hearts they were relieved that Xander was looking out for them in his own way.

“You know, when I was researching the stuff” started Willow to change the subject “I found out that Viscount Keighley is, like, from an old, stuffy family, the Beringars. They were the Earls of Dibley. A-and there was like this big scandal! His grandfather ran off and married this American woman. Anyhow, the grandfather got disinherited and left to live in South Africa. Then his brother died and the Earl title went back to him. Oh! I found out more about the Ripper too. Seems that he would strangle his victims first, then slash their throats, let the blood drip out, then cut open their stomachs and take a piece of an organ for a souvenir!”

“Uh…Will…a little too gross there” grimaced Buffy.

“Yeah, that part about the grandfather was way over the top” snipped Xander.

But they were all too on edge to relax the muffled music from within the Bronze heightened their anxiety. They hated these kinds of murders the most. Vampires and demons killing were different: they weren’t human. But a human killing another human and liking it was sick. Just like Faith. They could not understand what infected people with the need to hurt and destroy. They tried to pass the time talking about one thing or the other, but it was useless. Finally, they gave up and just sat quietly.

“As long as he’s in there, we know he won’t try anything. Oz is keeping an eye on him and knows to signal us if he tries to sneak out.” Buffy stood up and agitatedly paced around Xander and Willow. She could feel that weird vibration-like feeling in her bones that something was happening. She became more agitated.

“Look, you two stay here. I’ll patrol around the Bronze again.”

“Yeah, the set’s almost over anyway. It would be a good chance for him to slip out. Be careful Buffy”, added Willow.

Dark alleys. Who knows what you could find there? Rats. Vamps. Buffy was used to it. Darkness was all encompassing, almost suffocating. The darkness had the ability to stir imagination. Shadows could be shadows or more. Darkened hulks of dumpsters and boxes were the landscape of this world. They were at once menacing and reassuring, but also unmercifully deceiving. However, boxes don’t move. Boxes don’t stand upright and face you. Boxes don’t lunge at you. Boxes don’t kick at you. Boxes don’t punch you. Boxes don’t yelp with pain when you hit them. Boxes don’t stumble over debris in the alley. Boxes don’t limp as they run away nor do they agilely scramble over walls. Boxes don’t leave a life-less young woman in an alley. Her neck neatly sliced open from ear to ear, bathed in warm, crimson fluid. Damn him! Whoever he was.

**********

“Are you positive Oz? Are you positive the Prince was not in the Bronze at the time Buffy found the body?” demanded Giles.

“Yeah, we just finished our set. He and that Viscount guy were in the back. I turned to put my guitar down and when I looked they weren’t there.”

“A-and he came out and told me and Xander. When we went around to the back, we heard Buffy running after it” added Willow, rushing to defend Oz.

Giles pushed his glasses onto his forehead and rubbed his eyes. “Are you sure that he didn’t leave before? Are you 100% certain that he didn’t leave at anytime?”

“Giles, I play a guitar. I mean, I can’t be looking at him all the time and expect to play good. I’m sorry. But every time I looked he was there, except right before I put down my guitar” said Oz.

“News!” Buffy pointed to the newspaper “Mystery’s solved! Score one for the Sunnydale Police Department. It says here that a murder was committed and that they ‘caught the perpetrator, identified as Albert Ripley a freelance photographer following the U.S. tour of Prince William. A search of his room revealed articles and books on London’s White Chapel Murders, which were committed over a hundred years ago by a serial killer known as Jack the Ripper. Ripley confessed to the Sunnydale murder. He turned over to authorities the surgical scalpel he claimed to have used in the murder. The British Consulate in Sunnydale had no comment on the case.’ Yadda yadda yadda. Something about Ripley being a British national and something about possible extradition and something about Ripley being treated for some mental problem. Oh…”she paused “Get a load of this. ‘At a press conference held early this morning, The Honorable Alstair Gwynn-Shand, Private Secretary to the Prince, expressed the Prince’s ‘relief and gratitude’ to the Sunnydale Police Department. He further stated the Prince was concerned at the proximity of the murder site to the hotel’ Okay, now we can go back to concentrating on vamps!”

“Hotel?” Giles inquired “the Bronze is no where near the hotel! Are you sure, it says ‘hotel’? What time was it when you chased him?”

“It was a little after 10:30. The paper doesn’t mention a time for the hotel girl. Will, see what you can find in the police data bank about the Bronze!” Buffy worried, “Either he’s got a twin, or he’s a time-freezing demon!”

"Yeah, he's a ‘wow’ kind of guy" Oz mumbled.

“I’m on it”, exclaimed Willow as she sat down at the computer. She made it look so easy. Just a series of taps on the keyboard and she usually found whatever she wanted. So effortless, so easy, so natural. Truly Willow was a master. “Well, I was reading yesterday that Jack the Ripper did a double murder too. September 30, 1888 and the victims were Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes. …Got it. Let’s see. Yup, the police have stuff on both murders. Seems to be the same MO. Both were women. Both were slashed at the neck. Both…..Wait a sec….The one behind the hotel…..” The blood drained from Willow’s face. Pausing for a moment, she turned away from the computer.

Buffy looked at the screen. Silently reading the words, she paused and sighed. Slowly, she read “ ‘Victim’s abdomen was sliced open from the base of the breastbone to the top of the pubic bone. The intestines were pulled out of the body cavity; and appeared to be arranged in a fan-shape around the opening. The liver and spleen were removed and found in the alley, two yards away from the body’.”

She looked at the gang and said, “The one behind the Bronze only had her throat slashed. Time of death for the hotel girl is between 10 and 10:30 PM.”

“T-then, there’s no way he could have done both murders.” Willow whispered.

“Right! He had to have just killed her when I got there and it takes a good fifteen to twenty minutes to get from the hotel to the Bronze.”

“Our set began at 10 and we didn’t finish until 10:30. The Prince was there the whole time. So someone else did the hotel chick” added Oz.

“This is really wiggy…Some Ripperologists are skeptical that Elizabeth Stride was a Ripper victim”, added Willow “What I don’t get is that the real Jack the Ripper only killed prostitutes. The women in the other cities were prostitutes. But these women, here, weren’t. The hotel girl was a student nurse a-and the Bronze girl was a grocery store clerk. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Like Xander said, since Cordy left town” Oz dead-panned. “I guess if it did make sense, he would be logical therefore not totally insane.”

“Yes, Oz is correct.” Giles said, “The criminal mind is complex. What may appear to be ‘abnormal’ to us is completely ‘normal’ to the criminal.”

“Hey!” Xander breathlessly gasped as he ran in the room “Hey! …hotel……Police lines….everywhere…..Able to see….doorway….wrote….down.” He removed a crumbled jelly stained paper napkin from his pocket and handed it to Giles. He then slumped over, panting to catch his breath.

“It’s hard to read….raspberry jelly stains everywhere… ‘London was nothing. I make him proud. All shall fear us. All shall fear me. Fear the Ripper’”, Giles stepped backwards and took off his glasses. “He’s re-creating everything, but at a grander scale.”

**********

“Ripper! What an unexpected surprise!” Alstair exclaimed as he opened the door to his hotel suite. “Do come in. Sorry, if I seem abrupt. I’m in the middle of bureaucratic red tape. Do sit.” Alstair limped slightly to the desk in his room. Schumann’s Op. 15, No.1 softly played in the background eerily accentuating his limp.

Giles uneasily entered the room. Alstair knows something, Giles thought, he knows something about all of this. Alstair could deceive other people, but not him.

“I say, Ripper. I shall order some tea." He glanced at his wrist watched "My, I didn’t realize how late it is. I shall order us some supper then. It has been terribly hectic day and I haven’t yet started on these letters” He nodded toward a stack of letters on the desk. Despite the ravages of a hectic day, he looked as neat and calm as he had the day before.

“No, thank you. I-I’m sorry for coming here abruptly. But it is rather important that I speak to you. Are you all right? You’re limping” said Giles as Alstair picked up a letter from the stack on the desk and lifted the letter opener with his left hand.

“Ah, what was that? My limp? Oh clumsy of me actually, I tripped over my bedroom slippers last night” he said as he nonchalantly slipped the letter opener into the envelope fold and began tearing it open. “Is something wrong?…Ripper?”

“Not entirely”, replied Giles realizing Alstair noticed him staring “Actually, it’s about the murders last night” Alstair began reading the letter, seemingly preoccupied with it.

“Murders?” said Alstair as he continued reading the letter, “there was only one murder last night and that guttersnipe, Ripley, confessed.” Looking up, Alstair quipped “Oh….I see, you were sacked from your librarian job and now you’ve set up as a private detective. Don’t extend yourself too much, Ripper. The police have it under control.”

A gentle knock on the adjoining suite door was followed by a muffled “Are you in?” The door opened immediately to reveal Lord Keighley.

“Please come in, my Lord” Alstair said graciously. Looking at Giles he quickly added, “Mr. Giles was just leaving.”

“No need. I wanted to know if you had the spare keys to his trunks. We can’t seem to find them anywhere.”

“Yes” said Alstair rummaged his pocket “Here, my Lord” Alstair began to walk from behind the desk.

“No, no” said Lord Keighley “Throw it….need to practice for rugby” Alstair did as he was ordered. It effortlessly sailed across the room curving slightly to the right to land squarely in Lord Keighley’s waiting hand. Grinning, he closed the door.

“Now, Ripper. I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“No I think it’s time for you to leave…..” Giles said as he hit Alstair on the back of his head with a paperweight. Alstair fell onto the desk. “…Squishy. Always wanted to do that!”

*********

“I still don’t get why we have to stake out the Bronze again tonight. The police have their murderer. Giles has Squishy tied up. And we still can’t get in the Bronze! Hey! Isn’t that Tom Fielding, the quarter-back?” Xander pointed at an athletic, handsome young man and his equally pretty date.

“Yeah”, said Willow “A-and look! There’s Bobby Oppenheimer. H-he’s the Linus Pauling Scholarship student and president of the Chess Club and UC-Sunnydale’s chapter of the Tyco Brahe Society!” Xander stared at the nerdy-looking guy wearing nerdy glasses being greeted at the door. Glancing at Xander, Bobby smiled and waved before he was ushered into the Bronze.

“Okay, now I’m really mad!” angrily replied Xander “If they start playing ‘We are the Champions’, I’m leaving!”

“Guys, guys…Will, ask Oz if he can hear you. As long as we keep tabs on WOW, and if there’s no murders, then WOW’s clear” Buffy ordered. Willow pulled out a little box and a pencil-like object from her jacket pocket and inserted a little receiver in her ear. There would be no mishaps tonight.

“Oz locate WOW ” Willow spoke into the pencil object and paused “ He’s by the pool table talking to Bobby Oppenheimer…Now he’s laughing at something Bobby said…Now they’re both laughing…Now Tom Fielding is talking to Bobby…and now, WOW and Tom are laughing…really hard…and now Bobby….”

“We get the pic, Will! Bobby is Mr. Congeniality,” mocked Xander, grabbing the pencil from Willow “Over and out Oz!”

Meanwhile, Giles was worried. Maybe he hit Alstair a little too hard. He still was unconscious though several hours had passed. Egads!, Giles thought, I knew Squishy had a dark-side, but this? Murder? What could have drove him to it? Alstair groaned and opened his eyes.

“I say, Ripper” Alstair groggily croaked “you keep grudges a long while…Can’t seem to forget that I took first in the…”

“Why, Squishy? Why are you doing this? What happened to you? What happened to you that you would commit these horrid acts?” asked Giles “I never imagined you could…”.

“What the devil are you talking about?” demanded Alstair realizing his current state, “And why the devil am I tied up? Have you gone mad?!? Untie me at once!” Allstair began squirming like a maggot.

“Untie a serial killer? Not very likely”

“What????!!!”

“You know about those other murders. You know Ripley didn’t kill that poor woman behind the hotel! Thought you were clever, but you weren’t. You’re going to jail, or worse. The murders you committed here and in the other states will get you the death penalty. I doubt any extradition would be granted.”

Alstair began to laugh. “I killed no one! My crime, if any, has been loyalty to the Crown.”

“An accomplice…” whispered Giles. It was so clear now. “My God! You let Keighley procure those women for…”

“You don’t make much money as a detective do you Giles? More suited as a librarian! His Highness is no killer….Wait where are you going? Come back here and untie me! Come back!…”

Giles slammed the door behind him as he ran to his car. What a fool he had been! He had to get to the Bronze.

**********

“Okay, this is night has NOT been good for my ego!” exclaimed Xander, his arms folded across his chest “ First Bobby Oppenheimer gets in, then Bertha “Ms. President of the Math and Ping-pong clubs” Priestley, then Rufus “I’m the only male ballerina in Sunnydale” Duncan….”

“Don’t forget Ellsworth Percy, the president of the University Poodle Appreciation Society!” smirked Buffy “Well, while Xander gets majorly depressed over his un-coolness, I’ll take a walk around back.”

“B-but Oz hasn’t told us WOW is missing” Willow paused, listening intently “Actually, WOW is now dancing with Bertha”

“As much as I would like to stay here and enjoy the image of WOW dancing with Bertha, I think I’ll spare my sanity and take a look around” Buffy said as she left. The alley was’t much different from last night. It was still as peaceful and foreboding as a poorly lit alley could be. It still had shadows.

“Huhhh-uh” the girl gasped. The fingers at her throat tightened. She didn’t deserve this. He was nice. Why did she ever talk to him? Why did she ever agree to slip away with him? Why??? She felt her eyelids slowly close.

“Why don’t you get your own personality Ripper?" Buffy asked as she grabbed the figure by his shoulders “It’s been done before.” Surprized, he let go of the girl as he threw his elbow into Buffy’s face. Buffy staggered in shock. He grabbed a trash can lid and hit her in the face with it again and again. Using it like a shield, he pushed the lid against Buffy and pinned her to the wall. Then he slid his fingers around her neck, quickly and skillfully squeezing her throat. Buffy struggled fiercely and stopped, slumping slightly. He slowly released the pressure on her throat. Suddenly, Buffy punched him. He fell back. She grabbed him by the collar and threw him into a stack of boxes. He tried to get up. Buffy kicked him squarely in the face. He crashed into the boxes.

Willow and Xander arrived running frantically.

“Where’s the flashlight? I want to get a good look at this creep!” Buffy cried. The beam from Xander’s flashlight revealed a tall, young fair-haired man. His bloodied face was that of Lord Keighley.

“Buffy! I see I’m a bit late”, Giles said almost out of breath.

“The Viscount did it!” exclaimed Xander sarcastically.

“Okay, Will…you go call the police. Xander help me and Giles…” Buffy was suddenly aware of a series of clicks behind them. Turning around, she discerned four or five figures, not more than 5 feet away. Dancing over her heart was a red dot of light. She looked at the gang to find them similarly adorned.

“Stop where you are! Arms up in the air! NOW! NOW!” barked one of the figures in a decidedly Yorkshire accent.

“It would be in our best interest to stand perfectly still.” Giles softly said.

The beam of Xander’s flashlight briefly caught two masked, black-clad figures as they approached Lord Keighley and carried him into the shadows of the alley.

“Oh great,” whispered Xander in an attempt to break the tension choking the alley “Ninjas!”. A red dot immediately appeared on his forehead.

They could see the figures move carefully away, getting swallowed by the shadows. Finally, the red dots of light disappeared from their bodies.

“Hey!” shouted Buffy “Who are you? Where are you taking him?” Buffy started after them, but was stopped by Giles’ hand on her arm.

“It would be safe to assume that they are S.A.S…British commandos.” explained Giles. “I caught a glimpse of their weaponry as the one passed near.”

“You saw them too. Way, way cool!” exclaimed Xander in admiration “MP5, M16 with grenade launcher, Browning High Power 9mm handgun, CT kit! Yup! Special Air Service! The S.A.S.! The “Regiment”! ‘Who dares wins!’”

“Army-guy flash back” Willow added looking at Buffy and Giles.

“Er, yes, quite.” Giles continued “Obviously, this was more involved than we had originally assumed.”

“So, you just want us to stay here and do nothing?!?” cried Buffy.

“Demons, vampires, forces of darkness and evil are one thing, Buffy. Governments are another.” Giles coolly replied looking at the girl slumped by the wall “I’m sure an ambulance will be arriving soon for her. They are rather thorough.”

***********

“I just don’t get it” Buffy shook her head. The events of the night still puzzled her. The few hours of sleep did not ease her mind.

“No need to feel that way, Buffy” reassured Giles setting a styrofoam cup of coffee down on the table. “Some things are out of our control. Willow and I did some research on Lord Keighley after you left. It seems that the American woman his Lordships’ grandfather married was a Jeannette Thompkinson. Her family had changed their surname from “Tumblety” in the 1890’s to avoid further scandal. You see, her grandfather was a charlatan named Francis Tumblety: one of the prime suspects in the White Chapel murders. He fled here to America and was followed by detectives from Scotland Yard. But, as with other suspects there wasn’t enough evidence. Criminal behaviour can quite possibly run in families, for example Ma Barker and her mobster sons. Unfortunately, for Lord Keighley, he was as affected as his ancestor.”

“Heya!” called Willow as she, Xander and Oz came into the room “d-did you see the paper?” handing Buffy and Giles, each a copy of the newspaper.

“Oh, look at the front page, Buff” pointed Xander as he read from his copy “ ‘Sunnydale Ripper Dead. Peter Ripley, the British photojournalist and confessed serial killer, was found dead late last night in his jail cell, according to Sunnydale police officials.’ Yadda, yadda, yadda. ‘Ripley, hanging from the ceiling light fixture of the cell, was found by deputy sheriffs. He had fashioned the bedsheets into a noose. Attempts by sheriff’s deputies to resuscitate him were futile. He was pronounced dead at midnight.’”

“Look what’s buried on page 18”, said Oz hurriedly thumbing through his copy “ ‘Misfortune Marks Prince’s Sunnydale Visit. Bad luck stains Prince William’s first official visit to the United States reaching pinnacle in Sunnydale’…Ripper murders stuff…‘The Prince’s Private Secretary, the Honorable Alstair Gwynn-Shand was a victim of a robbery last night. Gwynn-Shand was assaulted in his room at the Sunnydale Ritz-Carleton Hotel, robbed of his wallet and hog-tied. ’”

“Way to go Giles!” joked Buffy “How much did he have?” Giles gave Buffy a tiny glare.

“ ‘Buckingham Palace confirmed today that the Prince’s traveling companion, the Viscount Keighley, will be returning today to England. According to the Palace press release, Lord Keighley is suffering from mental and physical exhaustion due to the tragic events that have plagued this tour.’” read Willow.

“Mental and physical exhaustion?” cried Buffy “More like homicidal, wacko-looney, serial killer without any concept of originality!”

“You’re partially correct, my dear young lady” interrupted an arrogant English voice. Giles gave a start “Do not be alarmed…Rupert. I have not come here to have you arrested. So, this is your group of ‘helpers’?” Alstair barely glanced at the gang. He didn’t look as though he was assaulted and hog-tied the night before as the newspaper documented. His hair was neatly combed, suit freshly pressed, Windsor knot perfectly tied. Even his limp was less noticeable.

“What do you want here, Alstair?” Giles growled defensively. The gang tensed their bodies, as if preparing for a fight.

Buffy stated defiantly, “We know about Lord Keighley. We know what he did. We know he was the Ripper. The question is what’s going to happen to him?”

“Whatever do you mean? Peter Ripley confessed to the murders. In fact, MI6 has informed me that Ripley is descended from one 'M.J. Druitt', one of the prime suspects in the White Chapel Murders. Criminal behaviour can run in families, like eye or hair colour. Unfortunately, Ripley was affected as was his ancestor.” Alstair calmly said.

“Listen, I saw Lord K. try to strangle that girl! He would have killed her if I didn’t pull him away and knock him out” countered Buffy. The gang could tell Buffy was losing her patience. And they could clearly tell Alstair was covering up.

“Really, in a dark alley, you saw Lord Keighley strangle a girl. How dark was the alley again? And you were able to push away and ‘knock out’ a two meter, 60 kilogram man?” mocked Alstair arrogantly, his deep blue eyes laughing at her.

“6 foot 200 pound” whispered Giles to the gang, who nodded back.

“And tell, me” Alstair condescendingly continued “what happened to him in the alley? Did you just leave him there? Or did these mysterious masked men appear from nowhere and carry him off?” He smirked, “you’ll have a hard time proving any of those allegations.”

“Surely, Alstair, his Lordship must be dealt with. He must pay for those lives he took. Banishing him to some mental institution on the continent or somewhere won't be…” asserted Giles.

“So now we’re locking him away in a mental institution, are we?” sneered Alstair. As he absently ran his fingers through his hair, something dropped at his feet. Willow picked it up.

“I don’t like who you are nor what you've become. Our headmaster and teachers taught us to be loyal to the truth. You’re only attempting to save yourself.” Giles accused.

“You’re mistaken, Rupert. My loyalty is to His Highness and to the Monarchy. We saw what scandal did to his mother and father. He will be King one day. And he will be protected until that time and after. So Rupert, I am not attempting to save myself.”

Alstair turned to walk to the door.

“You dropped this,” said Willow as she gave him back the dropped object, a solid gold cufflink. He took it and smiled.

Pausing in the doorway, in a clear pleasant voice Alstair said “Oh and Rupert. If I were you, I wouldn’t consider visiting home for quite some time. You may not find the climate agreeable.” The door closed behind him.

~Fin~

References:

This well organized website contains much of the Jack the Ripper facts included in the story. A must surf for anyone curious about one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in history.

Disclaimer: This is a purely fictious work and is not meant to cast any doubts on the character of His Royal Highness, Prince William of Wales.