Mr Tomas leant on one elbow studying Mrs. Deeds’ profile. She was a handsome woman of indeterminate age. Her auburn hair was shot though with silver at her temples and she had an unruly curl at her “widows peak.” She had one knee bent and was reading the Giles’ diaries. Every now and then, he would reach out and stroke down her torso with an owls feather, smiling when her lips curled up sensuously.

"Mmm, you really want me to ravish you again, Mr Tomas?" She smiled into his silver eyes and decided he was a beautiful man. He had a long face, with a square jaw and aquiline nose. His hair was too long to be regulation, but then the Watcher’s in power never saw him. His height was a little over six feet, his body, which bore no scars, was not over muscular, but sleek like a swimmers.

He chuckled and pressed a moist kiss following the path of the feather. "That depends madam, do we have time before we’re discovered?"

Mrs. Deeds glanced at the hourglass; it had been overturned twice since her arrival. She sighed and the feather swept like a phantom down her thigh to her knee.

"Well, now. To business." Tomas sat up and handed his partner a coffee cup. "Mr. Giles will soon become a liability. He cannot function the way he is." He sipped his coffee and leaned back against the silk cushions.

"No, if he doesn’t improve he’ll be terminated. Planning? Mr. Tomas…" She glanced up at him and watched his Adams apple move as he swallowed. His gun glinted on the nightstand. Even whilst making love his weapon was always to hand.

"Indeed, Mrs. Deeds." He drained his cup and moved swiftly to the small kitchen. He returned partially dressed; she had strewn his clothing all over his abode. He hesitated as she left his bed and walked slowly over to him; her hips swaying seductively.

"And who will do the deed? If the deed needs doing?" she asked throatily.

He swallowed and allowed his burning gaze to travel over her wanton body. "Your turn I think, dear Mrs.Deeds…" He replied huskily.

She smiled as she kissed him lightly then swept off to find her clothes.

Rupert Giles was perplexed. He had been given a message that his diaries were in error. How could something like an objective account be in error? He hurried to the Archive section, in fact he ran there. His hair in disarray and his teeth unbrushed. He didn’t care. Nothing that Buffy did was ever in error; she had been the best Slayer for a century! How dare they!

He marched toward the hole in the wall, his anger flaring deep within his body, arousing every sinew and nerve impulse. Giles was impressive when angered.

He hammered on the wall with both fists. "You!" He yelled. "You in there!"

Mr. Tomas steadied himself as he glanced through the narrow opening. Mrs. Deeds would like this one! "Enter freely, Mr. Giles. Welcome to the Archives." Mr Tomas announced in an assertive voice which subdued Giles immediately.

Giles entered the room via a narrow hallway, which expanded dramatically to a hall of biblical proportions. Marble pillars supported vaulted stone, crammed with oak bookcases. Rare vellum bound volumes lay stacked neatly, ready for shelving, against medieval benches. Dark leather tomes glistened, lovingly polished on the lower shelves; thick candles perched on wrought iron candelabra and tapestries adorned the walls.

The foot worn stone flag floor invited his eager step. His host beckoned him in and Giles followed in wonder and awe.

"My name is Mr. Tomas. I’ve been the Council’s Archivist since 1945. Mr. Giles?"

Rupert had stopped to stroke a chained volume that resided on a lectern. He opened its fragile pages and was rewarded by bright illustrations of the lewdest Pagan rituals.

"This way Mr. Giles. The modern section is through here…"

Giles didn’t want to see the modern section. He needed to feel leather in his hands and parchment at his fingertips, it was almost a like a need for a fix. "Yes? Yes, of course. Mr. Tomas, you are a fortunate man! I would have given my soul to work here!"

Mr Tomas give Giles a sidelong glance. "And I would have given everything to have a Slayer."

They walked side by side into a small sitting room and Giles sat in one of the leather chairs whilst Tomas made some tea.

"Now," Tomas handed Giles his cup, "about your diaries, they are not in error. You are. Why have you decided that clothes are an optional extra?" Tomas studied the man opposite him as he tried to understand what had been said to him. "I can see your Etruscan tattoo, and various other scars. You are without clothing Mr. Giles."

Giles’ teacup rattled as he set it down on the table. His face was flushed. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m dressed! I may not look at my best right now, but I am dressed!" His voice had an edge of panic to it. He stood quickly and began to pace, he waved an accusing finger at Tomas…

"This is one of the Council’s bloody mind games isn’t it? Like a debriefing?" His voice rose at the end of the sentence and his pacing became more frantic. His fingers scratched along his forearms as if trying to locate a phantom itch. "Buffy didn’t die, did she? I got her back. Only Watcher in history to do that trick." He wiped the sweat from his lip with a trembling finger. "She–she outgrew me. I watched them all outgrow me. I came home, duty done." He stopped, mid pace. "I did my duty, didn’t I?"

Mr. Tomas watched as Giles muttered the same plaintive question.

"It’s alright Giles, I’ll take you to Mrs. Deeds. She can fix everything." Tomas soothed.

Giles looked at Tomas through bloodshot eyes. "Really?"

Mr. Tomas nodded and guided Rupert Giles into an anteroom.

End of part two.

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