Things That Go Bump in the Night

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Chapter Nine
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Buffy silently made her way through the dark Sunnydale streets. She had already completed one route, and although Giles had told her to only do a short patrol, she wasn't quite ready to go home. More than one thing tonight had thrown her a curve--Angel being in town only one of them. Of course, that *always* did. It didn't matter that she'd found someone new. She'd never really been in love with Riley--something she'd realized far too late. It wasn't even that she wanted Angel back, not anymore, not really. It was more that she wanted what they used to have. That was what she missed--really missed.

Usually it was something that was only in the back of her mind, but whenever Angel showed up out of the blue, it made the wanting come back full force. She wanted to be in love, really in love -- so in love that no obstacles seemed too great to overcome.

However, if it had just been that, she could have dealt. She had before. This thing with Adam and Spike, though, that was just way weirding her out. It wasn't as though she'd never figured out the whole guy/guy thing. After all, there'd been Larry in high school. And now there was Willow, who had the whole girl/girl thing going. No, that wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her was how *not* repulsive she found it.

Buffy was almost thankful for the sounds of fighting that broke her out of her circular thoughts. Darting forward, she ducked under and around tree limbs, skidding to a full stop as the combatants suddenly came into view. What she saw, certainly wasn't what she'd expected. Two men were squared off against each other . . . with swords. Her eyes widened in surprise as she inched forward. As far as she could tell they weren't vampires, certainly, neither showed a vampire face.

She bided her time, trying to figure a way to break into the fight without getting herself or either one of the killed. As she watched, she realized neither one of the men *seemed* at all demonic, but she'd been wrong about that before. Unlike with vampires, if they didn't look obviously demonic in origin, it was difficult to tell. But fighting with swords -- in what sure-as-hell looked to be deadly earnest? That didn't seem like a very 'human' pastime.

Continuing to ease her way forward, trying not to gain the attention of either man, she had to admire the fluid grace with which both men moved. They were quite obviously both expert swordsmen. She just hoped one of them was on the side of good. She'd love to learn more about sword work. Giles was good enough at it, she supposed, but he wasn't in the same league with either of these men.

She barely prevented a gasp as the redhead's sword skewered the other man through the chest, and the defeated man fell to his knees.

There can be only one.

As the redhead spoke, his sword raised as if to slice through the fallen man's neck, Buffy leapt forward, letting fly with a powerful kick to his jaw that sent the young man flying. She winced as he landed about 12 feet away. If he *was* human, she thought, she'd probably just broken his jaw.

Quickly setting aside her commiseration, she hurried toward the first man, stopping at his side long enough to to determine that Red's sword had slipped through a rib, stabbing him through the heart, before sweeping up his sword. Then, she hurried toward the man she'd ed 'ed 'Red'.

By the time she neared Red, he was already stirring. It took him only a second to jump to his feet and drop into an impressive fighting stance, gaining his balance about the same moment she picked up his dropped sword.

Who are you? he demanded, wincing as he spoke.

**So much for breaking his jaw, Buffy laughed incredulously. You're the one who just killed a man, and *I'm* the one holding the swords, she retorted. I think you just asked my line.

Richard Ryan, he replied, pulling himself up to his full height. And *you* have got one helluva kick!

She grinned, nodding in acknowledgement--though why she was grinning at a killer she didn't know. Buffy Summers. Who started that fight? she asked, then rolled her eyes. **That was a really stupid question, Summers.**

He did.

Buffy nodded. **Right on que.** Of course that was what he'd say. There was no one to refute his assertion. And I'm just supposed to believe that?

Richard shrugged. You asked.

Point, Buffy conceded with dry amusement, but continued to eye the redhead warily. Closer now, she still detected no hint he was any kind of demon, but she wasn't sure she should trust that. She'd kicked him hard enough to have practically shattered a human's jaw, but he was talking with only the barest hint of discomfort.

Listen, Richard said suddenly, casting a wary glance at his fallen opponent, we really should get out of here. He paused, and his eyes narrowed speculatively. I wouldn't happen to be able to talk you into giving me back my sword . . . would I?

Buffy's eyebrow shot up and she snorted indelicately.

I thought as much, he replied, shrugging in defeat. Well, nice to meet you, but I'm outta here.

Buffy's jaw dropped as Red turned and began walking away. Not so fast, *Mr.* Ryan.

Richard frowned as he turned back to face her. What?

Buffy blinked. She couldn't believe this guy. He'd just killed someone in front of her, and he expected her to simply let him walk away. **Not in *this* lifetime,** she thought, then saw a flicker of . . . something flash across his face. **He doesn't like the situation he's in,** she thought, then her eyes narrowed. **Well, tough.**

You really think I'm just going to let you go? she asked him incredulously. I just watched you kill a man.

It was a fair fight, Richard protested, while once again an indecipherable expression crossed his face, one that *he* started.

So you say, Buffy replied skeptically. So, I suppose, in that case, you shouldn't have any problem with the police? No warrants out for your arrest, that kind of thing? Buffy continued, darting a significant glance at the sword she held out -- his sword. I'll bet you've even got a license to carry this thing.

Richard visibly hesitated.

I thought as much, Buffy replied drily. You're coming with me, she continued, using his sword to motion him back the way she'd come.

And if I refuse?

Buffy grinned ferally. Oh, please, she asked, as if she were hoping he would. It wouldn't be the first time I used a sword. Of course, I freely admit that I'm not as good as you, but then . . . I'm not the one without a sword . . . am I?

Buffy watched as several emotions played across Richard Ryan's face, mainly frustration with a touch of fear, before his shoulders slumped and he admitted defeat.

Alright, he replied reluctantly, slowly stepping forward.

Unable to completely keep the grin of triumph off her face, Buffy backed up slightly, allowing Richard to pass her at a safe distance. She wasn't taking any chances, however, that he'd make a try for his sword. After having seen only the tail end of the fight, extra strength or no extra strength, she was under no delusions that she'd be the sure winner if he got hold of one of the swords and decided to fight her decisions.

As he passed her, Richard picked up his pace, moving quickly away from the scene of the fight. She frowned. It was as if he were suddenly very eager to be gone, regardless of whether it was with her. **Why?** she thou Sh She really didn't like it when she felt she was missing a piece of the puzzle, and that was exactly how she felt now.

An unexpected gasp be her her, had her spinning around. She froze for one precious moment as the dead man came hurtling toward her. At the last second, however, she dove to the side, rolling quickly to her feet. Unfortunately she had to drop one of the swords in order to complete the maneuver.

She cursed inwardly as the not-so-dead man grabbed the sword she'd dropped as he, too, rolled to his feet, once again lunging toward her -- expertly wielding his recovered sword.

Buffy jumped in startlement as Richard shouted behind her.

Leave her out of it, Renfield!

**How had he gotten behind her?**

She dodged Renfield's sword swipe, barely, bringing up her borrowed weapon just in time to block his blow.

Your challenge was to me, Richard called again. She's not part of this.

**Part of what?! Buffy thought frantically. **What is this, the Middle Ages? Ritual combat?**

She interfered, Renfield shouted as he again brought his sword into play. She made herself a part of it.

**Oh, yeah, like I could let a fight to the death continue.**

She blocked once more, and using her preternatural strength she managed to trap his sword beneath hers. Unfortunately, using a move she'd never seen before, he extracted it far more quickly than she was comfortable with. Suddenly, she darted toward Richard, tossing him his sword before diving out of harm's way. She just hoped she was right in trusting her heart -- that said a man that tried to keep her out of the fight could be trusted.

She shook her head as she righted herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken the sidelines in any kind of fight. It certainly didn't feel right. It made her skin crawl and her feet itch. She watched, hoping she'd made the right decision, and hoping that having beat Renfield once, Red could beat him again.

She wanted to find out what the hell was going on--how a dead man was up and fighting again, and why he'd been ed ied in the first place -- and was with that 'There can be only one' crap? Only one what? acquaint

Richard swung the sword several times, as if re-acquainting himself with it, or perhaps re-loosening his wrist as he stalked forward. I beat you once, Renfield, he said softly, almost kindly. You've got this one last chance to walk away.

**Walk away? No way, Buffy thought. **The SOB tried to kill me. He's not going anywhere.**

You got lucky the first time, Kid.

Buffy watched as Richard shrugged, and the two men faced each other squarely. Her body moved in time with Richard's movements as she tried to follow his steps. She ducked minutely when Renfield came close to scoring, and nearly cheered when Richard grazed Renfield across the chest.

**What the hell am I thinking?** she thought. **I'm cheering a fricken blood sport!**

She winced when Renfield managed to sink his sword into Richard's side, ready to leap forward should he win the second contest. Something inside her said that she'd be *far* better off if Richard won -- slayer or no slayer.

She also kept a wary eye out for other predators -- as soon as she thought of it. The blood already shed by the two men fighting in front of her was bound to attract the unwanted attention of any vampires close by, and she had no intention of getting caught unawares.

A sound to her immediate left snapped her head around, and she instinctively dropped into her own fighting stance, stake in hand before she even had time to think about it. The cat that leapt out startled her into a tiny yelp, but she managed *not* to stake the poor thing as it ran past.

A pain filled, disbelieving cry yanked her attention back to the sword fight just in time to see Richard pull his sword from Renfield's belly. She shuddered, then blinked in shock as Richard brought his sword up and swung again, cleanly severing his opponent's head from his shoulders.

The small part of her that remained separate from the nausea that suddenly rose within her, abstractly noted the suspicious lack of blood from that last, obviously fatal, cut. She took one step forward, but froze as a white mist rose from the decapitated body. It swirled across the ground as if it were alive--as if searching.

She hastily backed away from the creeping, creepy mist, not knowing what it was, and definitely not wanting it to touch her. Suddenly it swept toward Richard. Her heart in her throat as she ducked, then dove behind a tree as the first lightening bolt struck the red headed man squarely in the chest.

**Ouch!**

Barely daring to peek around the tree she'd hid behind, Buffy waited out the light display, torn between hoping Richard would still be alive when the freaky storm passed, and hoping he wouldn't. That much electricity driven through one body was bound to scramble what brains a person had. It certainly couldn't be considered healthy.

She shook her head as the storm quieted, and the night returned to darkness. They had to be demons, Buffy reasoned. Nothing else could even come close to explaining this!

Which meant, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't trust Richard. He was obviously dangerous. She'd figured *that* out without the lightening show. The question she was unsure of the answer to was . . . who was he dangerous to?

She quickly stepped out of her hiding spot as soon as the very last bolt died away, darting forward to grab Renfield's sword from the ground. Shaking, she half raised it against Richard, who was down on all fours, still recovering.

Richard rose on shaky legs, slowly retrieving his sword from where he'd dropped it.

Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you the same way you killed Mr. Renfield there, Buffy challenged. I mean it. If there's a reason to spare you, I really want to hear it.

Richard stared at her tiredly. You admitted it yourself, you're not as good as me, he said, besides, I *did* try to keep you out of it.

Buffy shook her head. Sorry, not good enough. You could have any number of reasons for not wanting me to kill him, or him me. As for the other, you can barely stand up. Something tells me you're not up to your usual fighting standards.

Because I can explain what happened here, Richard offered, trying again.

As much as that idea appeals to me, Buffy replied carefully, that just isn't enough for me to risk other people's lives. Besides, how can I be certain you won't simply kill me when you get your strength back?

Richard shook his head, his frustration clearly visible. He looked down at the sword he held half-mast, his frown deepening. Suddenly he looked back up at Buffy. Meeting her gaze squarely, he tossed the blade half way between them, and took a large, still wobbly step backward. Because I'm unarmed? he asked.

Buffy laughed. If I admit absolutely nothing else tonight, she said with a wry grin, I definitely have to admit you've got style. Gesturing with her stolen sword, she continued. Take another step backward. I'll collect that sword of yours, and then we can go to Giles'. Buffy cringed, casting a quick glance at her watch. She just hoped Giles' other 'guests' had retired for the evening. Something about Richard troubled here, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Giles? Richard asked, obviously puzzled, not the police?

Buffy shook her head. **Not in this lifetime,** she thought vehemently. That was one of the only things she was absolutely sure about; she didn't want to leave him in the hands of Sunnydale's most incompetent -- though she couldn't explain to herself why.

Richard warily did as she asked -- much to her relief -- and as she picked up his blooded blade she added, I warn you now, however, if I find out you're some evil demon, I *will* kill you.

Richard nodded, obviously stifling a grin. I can assure you I'm definitely not a demon, and the last time I checked, I wasn't evil. He looked down at himself, grimacing in distaste. Dirty yes, evil no.