Quentin Travers strolled up to the Archives. He read the neatly penned copper print script. The Archives were closed for shelving. His eyebrows shot up in astonishment, the last time the Archive section closed was when the old King died. What could have caused Tomas so much anxiety that he closed the Archives?

"Nearly there, Giles." Tomas glanced in his rear view mirror.

Giles was stretched out along the back seat of his car with a blanket draped over his body. Giles’ haunted eyes stared back.

The road ahead narrowed to a single carriageway; then a country track; it was as if they were going to the ends of the Earth. Tomas stopped the car at the junction of two spreading oaks and hopped from the drivers seat. He opened the back door and Giles unfolded himself from the vehicle.

"Mrs. Deeds doesn’t like the noise and pollution of motor cars, so this is as close as we dare get. It’s not far to walk." Tomas steadied Giles as his feet touched the hot tarmac of the road. As soon as they passed under the canopy of the trees, the ground became soft and mossy underfoot.

Giles walked straighter as soon as he felt the breeze on his face. The blankets fell from his body, and he smiled up at the sun–gilded leaves.

Mr. Tomas looked over at the Watcher. He seemed to glow, but that would pass. It always did. Mrs. Deeds’ garden was filled with men who had “glowed” before Rupert Giles.

Buffy hit the punching bag with such ferocity that it left its moorings. She had had an email from the Watcher’s Council informing her that a new Watcher had been assigned to her. Rupert Giles was in retreat and this new man; Mr. Tomas; was his replacement.

The gang gathered in The Magic Shop, not daring to cross her. It was unwise to annoy a Slayer in a snit.

The shop bell sounded and Anya pounced on the male customer. Xander spared the man a passing glance. He was tall with olive skin. His unruly, shoulder-length hair was tied back.

Anya’s reaction to the man alarmed him. He felt for and found his crucifix in his pocket. He ambled over to the counter and stood by his lover. "May I help you?" The mystery man’s silver–eyed gaze rested on Xander and he immediately understood Anya’s disquiet.

"I am the new Watcher. Where is the Slayer?"

"Does the new Watcher have a name?" Xander bristled with hostility.

The man smiled and produced a crisp white business card from his inside pocket, revealing his weapon holster to Xander’s shocked gaze. "Forgive me, Mr. Harris. My name is …"

"Tomas… Ben Tomas." Buffy’s harsh voice echoed through the quiet room.

"Buffy Summers" Tomas smiled. "You are everything and more than I expected on reading Rupert’s diaries." He exuded charm from every pore, negating all the hostile feelings he had generated with his arrival.

"I suppose you want tea?" Buffy questioned. She was already moving toward the office and Rupert’s kettle.

He followed close behind her. "Do you have Jasmine tea?"

Giles’ footsteps followed the well-worn path to the front door of the cottage in the woods. The door was open but a magical barrier forbade him entry.

"Hello?"

He turned at the sound of a woman’s voice and found himself looking into eyes both wistful and wise. "Hello…I …" Giles halted as the woman approached; the foliage and flowers she passed framed her naked form.

She smiled up at him. "I’ve been expecting you, welcome Rupert Giles. Forsake your duty and enter freely." She took his hand in hers and wound a ribbon round his wrist.

He glanced down and then took a step through the doorway of the cottage. The barrier rippled round him and snapped back as his body slipped through. Rupert looked around, the cottage had expanded, and it now resembled the interior of the Council’s Archives. He looked for the woman and she approached carrying a tray laden for tea.

"Please sit down Rupert, my name is Mrs. Deeds. My friend Mr. Tomas has told me all about you. He’s looking after your Slayer until you return to active duty." She poured tea and offered him a plate of sandwiches.

Giles shook his head as if to clear it after a dream. "Thank you." He sipped his tea and settled back into the couch. "I thought that my de–briefing would be more formal and that it would be conducted by Travers." He spat out the name as if it left a nasty taste in his mouth.

"Oh, Mr. Travers knows nothing of this Rupert. We, Mr. Tomas and I, work covertly, weeding through the burnt–out Watchers. If you don’t perform certain tasks to my satisfaction, you and your Slayer will be removed." She smiled sweetly, "do have a slice of cake… I baked it myself."

End of part 3

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