Richard Castle, Watcher (Castle/Buffy) (Complete)

[Starfox5]

London, June 1989

Gazing at the drizzling rain in London, Richard Alexander Rodgers reconsidered his choice to continue his studies in England. He should have headed to Hawaii instead of to the Old Country. Or stayed in New York. At least they had real seasons there.

Though if he were honest with himself, then he'd have to admit that the source of his depression wasn't the English weather, but Kyra Blaine's refusal to speak with him. When his girlfriend of three years had told him she was going to England because "she needed some space", he had thought it was because of her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Blaine had opposed her relationship with him since the beginning. She had always stood by him, though.. So after that unfortunate over-reaction of the dean of his last college in the USA to a harmless drunken prank of his, moving to England for both his studies and his girlfriend had seemed a perfect move.

Richard had planned it all out, at least in his mind. He'd surprise her at her flat with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers in hand and his best suave smile on his face, showing her that not even the Atlantic Ocean, much less her parents could keep them apart! It would be the kind of romantic gesture she loved, and they'd celebrate all night.

He had shown up at her flat as planned, only to find out that she needed some space from him. Which she had told him in no uncertain terms. One word followed the other, tempers rose, and by the time he left her apartment, they definitely were no longer a couple. Richard had handed over the flowers to the cab driver that had taken him home - the man's wife would appreciate them better than his ex-girlfriend - and drank the bottle by himself. Which explained his current slight headache.

Though another pint of ale in this pub he was sitting in would deal with that headache. It wouldn't do anything for his heartache though. And he couldn't head home. He'd not give his mother, who had claimed he'd not last half a year, the satisfaction of being right. That, and the tuition was paid already. The Rodgers couldn't afford to write off that kind of money, or the costs for moving here, the deposit for his flat… he was stuck in England, so he might as well stick it out. Show Kyra that he didn't come for her, and his mother that he could cut it in the land of Shakespeare.

He ordered another ale. At least England had a decent drinking age, even if the weather left a lot to be desire.

After three ales he was feeling… not better, but less depressed. Not angry, but … defiant. Yes, defiant. He was Richard Rodgers. Up and coming author, as soon as he finished his first book and found a publisher. He was a handsome and charming American student in England. He didn't need Kyra. There were other girls. Prettier girls. Girls who'd tell him if they wanted to break up, instead of moving away. Girls who'd tell him before he followed them to Europe!

He tore his gaze away from the window - night had fallen, not that the view had been great before - and started to look for a girl to forget Kyra with. Sadly, the selection in this particular pub seemed to be lacking. The waitress was cute, but fawning over another guest. Judging by the liberties that man was taking, they were a couple. Or close enough that the burly man would take offense to anyone else hitting on the girl.

But there was a pretty girl sitting at a table, alone. She had red hair, a pale complexion with a few freckles and probably green eyes behind her glasses. She was dressed rather conservatively - was that tweed? - too. As he studied her, she sent another patron who had hit on her away with a glare so scathing, Richard winced in sympathy. She might be a school teacher, she had that vibe.

In short, she was a challenge. Just the thing he needed - if he struck out it wouldn't hurt since it was to be expected, but if he won her over… that would earn the admiration of the entire pub. Take that, Kyra!

Just as Richard was about to get up and take his shot at the redhead, another girl walked in and he forgot all about the girl with glasses. The new girl was a dream come true. Milky-white skin, platin blonde hair, a figure fit for a lingerie model, curves in all the right places covered - no, emphasized - by a black leather cat suit straight out of "The Avengers". She walked in with the grace of a panther despite wearing high-heeled boots a stripper would not turn away.

Richard had left his table and was leaning at the bar next to her as quickly as he could without running. "Hi! I am Richard. I recently moved to London to finish my studies here." He flashed his best smile at her.

The girl raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling when she looked him over. Judging by her expression, she liked what she was seeing.

"Lynn." The girl nodded at him. "Your accent… are you American?"

"Yes. From New York, actually."

"It's cute. I love Americans." She licked her blood-red lips, and Richard knew, that this would be a night he'd never forget. Unlike Kyra.

*****​

"Are you sure this is a shortcut, Lynn?" Richard had to step around a pile of… he didn't want to know what it was, the smell alone was sobering.

"It's right around the corner." Lynn turned her head and smiled at him, once again licking her lips, and he forgot the smell.

'Around the corner' turned out to be a dead end. A brick wall, with a few trash cans in front. No door in sight. Women had no sense of direction. Richard smiled indulgently as he addressed Lynn. "I think you got us lost. No harm done though, we'll just have to backtr… Ack!"

She grabbed him and pushed him against the wall. "Oof! Ouch! I am impatient too, but…" She was surprisingly strong for a girl. Then her face changed to something else, and he forgot what he had wanted to say when she bit him in the throat!

He tried to scream, but she had one hand pressed on his mouth, preventing him from making a sound, and kept him pressed against the wall with the other. He tried to push her away, but it was like trying to push a truck; she didn't budge an inch. Richard started to hit her, but she didn't even react to his blows. She was just making those horrible, slurping sounds as she sucked at his throat. He could feel himself growing weaker. Colder.

Then suddenly she was gone and he was covered in ash. Panting and pressing his hand on his bleeding throat - was he going to die? Would he be found dead in a dark and dirty alley, an end straight out of a crime novel? - he saw someone else standing there. The pretty girl from the pub. She was holding a knife, no… a stake?

And suddenly, it clicked. "I've been bitten by a vampire!"

The girl muttered: "Now he realizes it." Scowling, she pulled his hand away from his throat.

"Ouch! Hey, are you Van Helsing? His Great-great-great-granddaughter?" He was babbling, but he was still bleeding, and he had been bitten by a vampire! A real vampire, who had been staked and turned to ash!

"Hold still!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" She had a commanding voice. The kind of authority he would like to worship. And she had saved his life. Provided he didn't bleed to death now. She pulled out a small pack from her coat - a bandage - and applied it to his wound. He'd not die. Probably not.

"What's your name? I am Richard. You saved my life. From a vampire." He was still babbling, but it was better than crying. And he was shaking now. He had almost been killed!

"You are lucky I came by. That crazy skank who bit you ran away when I arrived. She must have been on drugs." She was staring at him. Glaring. Daring him to disagree with her.

He could never resist that. "No, she did not! You staked her and she turned to ash!" He knew what he had seen. And felt. He started to shake his head, but the pain in his throat that caused made him stop.

The girl sighed. "If you tell that to anyone you'll end up in an institution. You don't want that." With that she turned and started to walk away.

"Wait! Who are you?" He started after her, but stumbled, the abrupt movement of his head causing him more pain. "Ouch!"

She glared at him over her shoulder. "Get to a hospital before you tear the bandage off and bleed to death, Mister! And stop following leather-clad skanks into dark alleys!"

With those parting words, she briskly walked away. In his condition, he couldn't keep up, and by the time he had reached the street she was gone. She had saved his life, and he didn't even know her name.

He'd find her, though. After a visit to the hospital.

 

[Starfox5]

London, August 1989

She was not wearing tweed the day he finally found her sitting at a table in one of the libraries in the University of London. The blouse and skirt she was wearing were still far more conservative than the attire of the other female students. Richard didn't mind that, much, right then - he'd rather not be distracted by a sexier outfit.

"Good afternoon, Miss Van Helsing!" He sat down across from her with a smile.

She didn't jerk, or twitch. He hadn't expected a vampire hunter to, anyway. But he was satisfied to see her eyes widening for just a second, before she glared at him. "I am afraid you must have confused me with someone else, Mister."

He shook his head. "I'd never forget the woman who saved my life, Miss Wilkinson. Or mistake her for someone else." That made her twitch, and he couldn't help but smirk in response.

She didn't answer, but made a point of focusing on the book she was reading. His smirk grew. "Ignoring me is not going to work. You can ask just about all of my friends and they'll tell you that I am a pretty un-ignorable kind of man."

His reward was an annoyed look, but she put the book down again. "What do you want?"

"Straight and to the point. I like that in a woman." He smiled at the girl and didn't falter when she glared at him. "In short, I want in."

"No." She obviously didn't have to ask what he meant.

"You think I do not want in? I think I'd know better than you what I want." He grinned at her. Women loved a witty man who could make them laugh. He loved to banter.

"I think you do have no idea what you are asking for."

"I think I do. Hunting vampires. Risking my life so others can live in safety and ignorance." He gave her his best honest boy scout smile. In truth, the revelation that vampires were real had been almost as much of a shock to him as almost dying to one. And if vampires existed, what about werewolves? Ghosts? Demons? He couldn't live in ignorance, he had to know. And he had to know how to kill them.

"You know nothing about them. Nothing about hunting. You wouldn't even serve as bait, not with the scar warning them off." She scoffed at him. Well, he never had been a boy scout.

His hand rubbed over the scar on his neck. It should fade a bit on its own, the doctor had said. And there was always plastic surgery. Richard hadn't decided yet if he wanted it to be less obvious - he kind of liked the idea of telling girls that a vampire had bit him, and then laugh about it, turning it into a joke. Deceiving the truth by stating it appealed to his writer self. "That's where you are wrong. Aren't you wondering how I found you?"

"Dumb luck? Emphasis on 'dumb'."

"If that was the case, that would be a reason to let me join you. As the saying goes: 'Never trade luck for skill'. Skill can be trained, experience comes with age." He smiled at her, and barely resisted the impulse to wink and claim that he had plenty of experience. "But I actually found you by good old-fashioned detective work."

"You do not look very old-fashioned to me." No matter her words, he had her attention now. Exposition time!

"The pub's staff and guests remembered you, you know? A few days before we met you had started to come by every evening. And after the night you saved me, you have not returned at all. They also told me that 'Lynn had a taste' for foreigners and tourists, apparently going home each evening with another man. Quite an unfortunate choice of words, in hindsight." He looked at her, but she didn't smile at his joke. "So, based on the assumption that the vampire had used the pub as a hunting ground, I deduced that you haven't been there by coincidence. Which meant you must have heard about missing people. There wasn't that much in the newspapers, so you had a connection to the cops."

"You're wrong." She cut in, a bit too quickly.

"I went to the police myself and passed myself off as a private eye, looking for a missing American. Most there tried to reassure me that falling off the grid wasn't unusual for a young man away from his home country for the first time. One man though was trying to get me to drop the case. The coroner, as it happens." He smiled at her, and noted a slight tensing of her jaw muscles. "That got me thinking. You're not alone. You're part of something bigger. A group that's been hunting for a while, and has people in the right places to find their prey."

"I really do not understand why you think I am connected to such a 'conspiracy', as you describe it."

"Couldn't you have said: 'You've got no proof'? I always wanted to hear someone say that." Richard briefly pouted. So few people had a flair for the classics. "Anyway, I worked out that in order to place people in the right spots, they had to have the right skills, which meant university for a bright young woman like yourself. Medicine, or something related to vampires." He pointed at the "Anatomy" signs of the library section they were in.

"You decided to personally search every University in Greater London?" She sounded incredulous.

"In a manner of speaking." He grinned at her and showed her the portrait he had had commissioned. The artist had been ready to strangle him, but it had turned out well enough to be recognizable. "Students are remarkably cooperative if you tell them a romantic story of a lost portrait you want to return to the pretty owner you don't know, but have fallen in love with."

Mary Wilkinson closed her eyes.

Before she could say anything, Richard continued. "Another thing occurred to me, you know. Movies aside, I didn't think an organisation hunting vampires would send a young woman out by herself after such a monster. You were not supposed to be there, weren't you?"

That made her jerk and stare at him.

He leaned forward. "This can be our little secret, if you take me to your boss as a promising recruit. As you can see, I am rather good at finding out secrets."

Mary sighed. "I'll take you to my 'boss', as you put it. If he decides to have you killed instead of recruited, it's your own fault." She grinned evilly at him.

Richard laughed at her joke. Vampire hunters wouldn't kill people wanting to help, would they?

*****​

Three days later, Richard wasn't so sure anymore that Mary - she had allowed him to call her Mary, or rather, had stopped telling him to call her Miss Wilkinson, after a few hours - had been joking. Her 'boss', Mister Travers, had been quite impressive. Richard considered himself a good judge of character, and Travers had struck him as the type of man who would have people killed if he deemed it necessary. Not the kind of man one wanted to cross.

Naturally, Richard had been his usual charming self. He still got recruited as a 'Watcher', as the vampire hunters called themselves. He'd have to change his studies to Ancient Languages, though. A mastery of the English language was, apparently, not as important as the ability to read prophecies in ancient tomes.

On the other hand, his mentor, the Watcher showing him the ropes, so to speak, was Mary Wilkinson. The two of them were walking towards the next tube station, and she was still scowling as if someone had killed her dog. Or cat. She looked more like a cat person to him.

"You know, in some cultures, saving someone's life means you are now responsible for him." He smiled at her, but didn't try to put his arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture. He could learn, no matter what his mother said. And Mary could pinch,

"If I had known that, I'd have arrived too late to save you!" the girl all but growled at him.

"You wound me!"

"Not until fencing practise."

The way the girl was now suddenly grinning at him made Richard question the decision to hunt vampires.

 

[Starfox5]

London, August 1989

"You know, I expected something more than simply swearing an oath in Travers's office." Richard Rodgers smiled at Mary Wilkinson while the two were walking towards the Watcher's library. "An initiation ceremony, like the Stonemasons have. Or a vampire chained up, ready to be staked, to prove one's dedication. Maybe a secret tattoo. For an organisation as old as yours, I mean ours, this is quite… " He didn't want to say 'boring', but it seemed lacking somehow.

"Capturing a vampire for every recruit? We'd lose more Watchers than we gained." She sorted at him, but without any humor in her voice. "But maybe it's you who are not taking this seriously enough. You swore an oath."

"I know. And I will keep it. It's just…"

"It's just that reality doesn't conform to your expectations. A quite normal situation for those raised on cheap television shows." She sniffed slightly, wrinkling her nose.

He glared at her. It wasn't as if British TV was any better … well, it was, actually. There was a reason the BBC was a legend in the business, the standards other broadcasting companies strove to reach. He'd do better avoiding that topic. "I'll have you know that I grew up with the classics of British theatre!" His mother had used him to learn her lines, after all.

"Really? You're a better actor than I thought then. I couldn't tell you from the stereotype American at all." If she stared at him with more disapproval, she'd openly sneer.

"Why, thank you! Coming from an expert on Americans, that's a compliment indeed! You're not doing too bad on imitating a stereotypical British snob either!"

The outraged look on her face made him chuckle loudly.

 

[Starfox5]

London, September 1989

"You've fenced before."

Richard grinned at Mary, who was rubbing her arm where he had struck her and was looking at him with obvious disapproval. "Well, I wasn't lying when I told you that all my knowledge of fencing came from movies and theatre. It's just that my mother is an actress, and her male actor friends pretty much came from an age when fencing was mandatory for the career. As a child, I wanted to be a knight or pirate or musketeer, and I persuaded them to show me some tricks."

"You were a stalker and blackmailer even at that young an age?" She raised her blade again. And probably her eyebrows behind her mask.

"I prefer to call it 'persuasive'." Richard reached out with his blade - a heavier saber than he was used to, but he had adapted quickly to it - but Mary parried his thrust, and her counter-attack hit his thigh, hard. He didn't yelp, and his wincing was hidden by his mask. "But I assure you that I was a rather mature child." He'd had to be, with his mother.

"And what happened to that child to regress so?" His mentor came at him with a series of furious attacks, driving him back step by step while he frantically tried to parry them. She wasn't underestimating him anymore.

There, an opening! He sought the point, stepping forward, only to find his thrust deflected, his exposed leg struck again, hard, and then swept out from under him. Unbalanced, he fell on his back and found the tip of her blade at his throat.

"We're not learning fencing for tournaments, or the stage. We're learning how to fight with a blade against monsters that are stronger and faster than any human." She withdrew the saber, then raised it in a slightly mocking salute.

"Indiana Jones had the right idea about that." He muttered, getting up.

"He wasn't facing a vampire." Mary commented. "Guns don't hurt them."

"Not at all?" That sounded a bit odd. "What about silver bullets?"

"Those are for werewolves. Bullets, silver or lead, do not do much to vampires. Stakes, blessed blades and crossbows are more effective. Even if that's hard to understand for a gun-crazy yankee."

He huffed indignantly. "The rednecks down south are the gun-crazy ones. We yankees are rather sensible." About guns, at least.

"I'd not call a man volunteering to fight vampires 'sensible'." She shook her head slightly as she positioned herself for an attack again.

"That's ok. You can call me 'handsome', 'brave', 'dashing' instead." He bowed to her, in an imitation of a courtier's bow. In response, he received a blow to the head. "Ow! I am looking forward to using crossbows. At least you can't hurt me with them."

"Don't underestimate me, Mister Rodgers." She had to be smirking at him, he just knew it.

"Call me Richard, or Rick." He struck at her again, driving her back a few steps, before she turned the tables on him again. Painfully.

It'd be a long lesson, he could tell that already.

 

[Starfox5]

London, October 1989

If he had known how much he had to study, Richard Rodgers would never have become a Watcher. Probably not, in any case. They really could do with a primer, "Vampire hunting for dummies", or something like it. On the other hand, the material the Watcher library had was fascinating for anyone who was interested in books - like any good author would be. If only most of it wasn't written in the most boring, dry manner…

Sighing, he turned another page on the account of a fight against a Master Vampire in 1816 in Romania, then glanced over at Mary. She was watching him. It was to be expected - an organisation such as the Watcher's Council wouldn't trust a "bloody colonial" like him that quickly. If only she'd not treat the task as if it was a punishment detail. It wasn't as if it was a chore to spend time with a handsome, charming man such as himself. For a woman, at least.

He flashed a quick grin at her. "I now completely understand why you set out to hunt a vampire by yourself."

He could see she didn't want to ask, but she couldn't help it. "What do you mean?"

"It beats reading dozens of books written by people who couldn't write."

"I would think that having written actual, published books demonstrates that they could, in fact, write." She flashed her teeth at him in an overly friendly smile. He shouldn't have told her he was an aspiring author in an attempt to impress her.

"If by write you mean 'using grammar and spelling correctly', you'd be right. But most of those books are not written well. It's a chore to read them, and even more to find anything of relevance inside them." He almost stabbed his finger at a particularly offending paragraph, but he wouldn't risk a repeat of what had happened last time Mary had thought he didn't show proper care of books. She didn't respect his safeword either.

"The great author has spoken his judgement. I suppose you will rewrite them then? The library could always do with more help."

"On second thought, they are not that bad." He weakly smiled at the girl, and focused on his reading again. Or tried to. He didn't last longer than a few minutes. "So, when will I meet the Slayer?" That had been a revelation: The vampire's scythe - or should that be stake? - was a teenage girl, chosen by destiny, and gifted with superhuman powers.

"If you're lucky, never."

"What? Why would I be lucky if I never met her? The one girl with the power to fight the forces of darkness. The chosen one. Immortal - in a twisted sense of the word. A tragic hero in the best sense of the word. The books an author could write about her…" he trailed off, with a faint smile on his face.

"Mister Rodgers."

"I've told you, call me Richard. Or Rick." He beamed at her.

She glared at him. "There have been books written about her. The Watcher Journals. As you'd know, if you'd read them, a Slayer's life is short and violent. As the only girl in the world strong enough to deal with the worst threats to humanity, a Slayer and her Watcher are always where they are needed the most. And where they are the greatest risk. If you'd meet the Slayer, it would mean she needed help from other Watchers. Which generally implies a mission too dangerous for a Slayer by herself. I do not think I have to explain to you the odds of surviving such a mission."

"Oh." That made a frightening amount of sense. although, now that he thought of it… "You know, I half-expected Mister Travers to send me on my first mission as fast as possible. He didn't seem too impressed by me."

"I am your mentor. You'll get on a mission when I deem you ready, not before." The way she frowned made him think...

"Oh I didn't know you cared!" Smiling widely at the scowling girl, he winked. She looked away. Adorable.

He continued studying in a much better mood. The Rodgers charm was having an effect!

 

[Starfox5]

London, December 1989

"For a 'fledgling', this vampire is quite the overachiever," Richard Rodgers managed to say while running for his life up a flight of stairs, his shoes making squelching noises on the steps wet with rain. Slick too, he almost slipped twice already.

Next to him, Mary Wilkinson shot him a glare. "That's no fledgling, but an experienced vampire." She flinched a bit when they heard the sounds of superhuman strength tearing a sturdy door into pieces behind them. "That won't hold him for long."

"And we cannot outrun them," Richard added. Not without the sun up to offer them protection in the open. Or what passed for the sun in the fog and rain of London in winter. What had possessed him to think stalking a vampire in an abandoned factory at night was a good idea? Or to believe Mary, the girl who went to hunt a vampire by herself, at night, when she claimed that they could handle it? Granted, she had saved his life, and she was pretty, but she might just have killed them both.

"We need a plan." Mary was panting now, huffing between words.

"Apart from splitting up, and hoping he'll get confused, I don't see…" he trailed off when he spotted a particular piece of abandoned machinery. "I've got a plan!" Rushing forward, he started to work on the valves. Hopefully it had not… the liquid flowing out and spreading on the ground looked good enough to him.

"I am not sure I like your plan," Mary stated, standing next to him. When he fished out a zippo from his jacket, she added: "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't. I got a lighter in case I meet a pretty woman who smokes."

"Why am I not surprised, Mister Rodgers?"

"Call me Rick. And I'd say it's because you're a know-it-all."

Her response was cut off by the vampire chasing them dropping down in front of them. When it stood up from its crouch, a wide grin exposing its fangs, Rick lit his zippo and dropped it in the spilled gasoline. The demon's yellow eyes widened in the second before the puddle he was standing turned into a bonfire.

"Yes! It worked!" Richard exclaimed, balling his fists as the vampire turned to ashes.

"You were lucky. What if the gas had evaporated since the factory had closed down?" Mary had, like himself, retreated to a safe distance.

"The important thing is, it didn't." He frowned at her. "And I told you, it's better to be lucky than skilled."

"Of course you'd think that, Mister Rodgers." She sniffed.

"I told you, call me…." he trailed off when he noticed that the fire was not dying out, but spreading.

"Did you close the valve down?" Mary asked, but his face must have given her his answer already, since she was slightly ahead of him when the two were running for their lives for the second time that night.

They made it out just before the factory went up behind them.

"I do not think that this will make for a good report for the Council." Richard stated. So much for the plan of impressing the old men with their initiative.

"No, it wouldn't." Mary shook her head.

"We probably shouldn't be here when the fire brigade and the police arrive." Richard looked around for any witnesses.

"No, we shouldn't." Mary agreed with him again.

As they started to run away for the third time that night, Richard vowed to take up jogging. It seemed far more useful for a vampire hunter than anything else. At least if judging by his experiences so far.

*****​

"Why are you so fixated on hunting vampires?" Richard asked as they were walking normally a good 15 minutes later. Less tiring, and less suspicious. He could still hear the sirens of the emergency services reacting to the fire behind them. And to their right side.

"They are a danger to humanity. A mass-murdering disease who needs to be contained at any cost." Mary stated without looking at him. She might have been searching a cab, or a working phone booth to call one.

"That's the party line. But the other Watchers are not as reckless as you. We almost died twice today because of your wish to kill a 'fledgling'. So, I don't really believe it's just duty that makes you go out alone." He tried to look as earnest as possible at her.

This time she met his eyes. "No one asked you to come with me. You insisted."

"And it was a good thing I did, or you'd be dead." He flatly stated.

"You don't know that." She glared at him, but she sounded a bit too defensive.

"Bullshit. Do you even carry a lighter?"

"Of course." She showed him a cheap plastic model. "You're not the only one who can think of setting things afire."

"Well, you didn't. Not today at least."

"I would have."

"Of course you'd have." His sarcasm was so thick one could have cut it with a knife. She grit her teeth and whirled away from him. "For God's sake, woman! I saved your life tonight!" It was a cheap shot, but he had not much else to say.

"Then that makes us even!" she spat over her shoulder and started to walk away at a brisk pace.

"That's not what I meant!" He ran after her, then grabbed her arm. Or tried to - she twisted away, and he found himself flying through the air, then landing on the pavement, hard. Pain shot through his leg. "Ow!" He had forgotten that she was very well trained in Aikido and Judo. And that she was quite ready to use her skills.

For a moment, Mary stared at him, mouth slightly open as if she was surprised by her own action. Then she huffed, and turned away. Richard started to stand up, but as soon as he put weight on his left leg, his ankle seemed to explode with pain, and he collapsed with a scream. Mary stopped and looked at him, hesitating.

"I think I've broken my ankle." He touched it, and winced at the pain.

"Let me check." Before he could protest, she had crouched down and grabbed his foot, poking it and twisting it around, ignoring his howls of pain. "No, it's just sprained."

"Since when are you a doctor? You act more like a torturer!" He clenched his teeth together, gripping his leg in a futile effort to deal with his pain.

"In any case, you cannot walk. There's a phone booth ahead, I'll call a cab." With that she left him on the cold, damp street. Not for the first time, Richard asked himself what he was doing here. Looking at her walk away, in thight pants, gave him one answer, at least.

Fortunately, Mary didn't take long. A few minutes later she was back with him. "We'll have to wait a bit."

He nodded at her, and scooted back until he could lean against the nearest wall. Mary remained standing for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, then sat down next to him. They remained like that for a bit. Richard couldn't tell how long, the pain in his ankle was too distracting.

Suddenly, the girl spoke up again. "My brother was killed by vampires. He was a Watcher too. Since then, my parents have done what they could to keep me safe, or as safe as a Watcher can get. Research duty, secretary jobs, that kind of work. They would lock me up in a cell if they could get away with it."

"And you hate it." He stated. It was obvious.

"I'd go mad in such a life. To see the others go out, fighting, risking their lives, losing their lives, while I sit back and stay safe…" She snorted. "I'd feel like a coward, like I was letting my brother down."

"So that's why you moonlight as Miss van Helsing." He didn't mention that he thought she was already at least a bit crazy. "There's something to be said for growing old though."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Coming from a man who all but blackmailed me into helping him to risk his life?"

"Touché," he acknowledged. "But I am not completely reckless. I plan to have a plan in advance next time." Frowning, he added: "That sounded much better in my head."

Mary laughed at it, at least. Both were slightly dirty from their frantic flight through one of the ruins of Britain's former industry, and he couldn't tell what were smudges and what were freckles on her face. Suddenly, he had a thought. "I just realized that Travers must really hate me!"

Blinking, she frowned. "Why do you think that?"

"He assigned me to a mentor with suicidal tendencies!" It all made sense now!

She hit his biceps for that remark, but half-heartedly. His flippant remark probably struck a bit too close to home, he realized.

He didn't apologize though, but continued. "Violent too."

Sighing, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, heedless of the dirt it left in her hair. "Do you ever shut up?"

"I've got a reputation to maintain. But I'll make you a deal. I'll tone it down if you'll tone down your efforts to get us both killed." He grinned at her.

"You won't try to stop me from going hunting?" She didn't sound as defiant as he expected. Almost vulnerable.

"Do you think you're the only who'd get mad stuck in a library?" He raised his eyebrows at her and grinned.

The arrival of a cab down the street prevented her from answering. She stood up and waved, then started to shout when the cab driver seemed to have missed her. Richard wasn't surprised the cab stopped, then turned towards them - Mary was hard to ignore.

Before the cab reached them, she bent down and held her hand out to him. He took it, then used the opportunity to slip his arm around her shoulders - just to be able to stand up, of course. She briefly rolled her eyes at him, but didn't slip away when the cab driver came to help him too.

Once inside the cab, he turned his head to look at her. "So, deal?"

She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded, with the hint of a smile. "Deal."

"My dear, I think this is the start of a wonderful relationship! I mean partnership! Partnership!" He held up his hands as Mary started to frown.

"I know exactly what you meant."

"Perfect! I love experienced women!" He grinned, until her elbow met his ribs. "Ow! Apple, Apple!"

 

[Starfox5]

London, January 1990

Richard Rodgers was a happy man. His career as an author was not making much progress, yet, and he was still a junior Watcher, or would be, if that was not a far too modern term for the Council. But as far as his love life was concerned, he couldn't complain. His accidental arson last month had broken the ice, so to speak. Had melted the heart of the Ice Princess. Well, it had started to melt Mary's heart.

But the work he had been assigned… the longer he had to sift through dusty journals written in ancient English, the less crazy Mary's decision to hunt on her own was looking. The author he knew was in him was all but screaming at the way those old Watchers had managed to turn exciting, desperate battles against demons into entries so dry, they'd bore an accountant to death. All that inspiration, going to waste! If only they had had a little bit of flair, of writing talent. If only… he blinked. He had more than a bit of talent, if he did say so himself. As an author too. It would even be legal - copyright hadn't even been invented when most of those stories had been penned. And hadn't Shakespeare himself taken his inspiration from older stories? What was good enough for the most famous author of the world would certainly be good enough for Richard Rodgers. Oh, yes, he'd write stories to do justice to those tales he could feel more than see behind those dry entries!

"What have you done now?" Mary's question, laced with suspicion, interrupted his thoughts. Apparently the young British Watcher hadn't been that engrossed in her own book.

"Nothing!" He quickly answered. And almost as quickly he realized that he had made a mistake.

Her green eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "You had that look you have when you're about to do something stupid."

"You've been studying my looks? Why, my dear, I am flattered!" He flashed her a smile and winked.

She didn't get flustered though. "Don't try to change the subject. What were you thinking of?"

"A romantic evening involving you, me, and a good bottle of French wine?" He smiled at her hopefully.

"I do not believe you." Mary had stood up and was walking around the table separating them.

"A hot tub?" He scooted a bit back, just in case.

Her eye twitched slightly, and he added quickly "With bathing suits, of course. Or bikinis. Or parts of them."

She put a hand on the backrest of his chair and bent down until their noses were almost touching each other. "The last time you were that evasive, we almost burned to death in a crypt."

"I admit that the water balloons filled with gasoline need a bit more work, but the principle is sound. Even the official Watcher Manual lists "fire" as one of the most effective ways to deal with demons." He just had to lean a bit forward to kiss her. She'd probably kill him, but it would be worth it.

"We do not have an "official Watcher Manual." Mary was speaking slowly now, a sign that she was losing her patience. Not that she had much of that to begin with.

"Well we should have one! I keep telling you, those journals are awfully written. If those books were weapons, they'd be blunt and rusty and easily broken!"

"Richard…" her lips parted, showing her teeth. Damn, she was hot like this!

"I was thinking I should rewrite some of those books. Sort of." He didn't know why he blurted that out. She wouldn't kill him. Not even hurt him, really.

She blinked in surprise, and her mouth opened. For a moment, she looked very vulnerable, and very cute. "What?"

"I was thinking that those histories deserve better than be told in an accountant's prose. I intend to do better." He kept eye contact. Getting caught trying to sneak a peek down her blouse would not end well.

"That's…" She still looked slightly confused.

"Brilliant? Innovative? Revolutionary?" He flashed her his best seductive smile. Women loved confident men.

"I don't know what it is, but it's none of that! Why do you think the Council would even want such rewrites? We're not a public library!"

"Well, I wouldn't do this for the Council…" His smile wavered a bit when she glared at him.

"What? You… you want to use your sacred history to write stories?" Mary took a deep breath.

Richard hastened to interrupt her before she could really get going. "Think of the potential! The good it could do, to show - although in a form that wouldn't expose the Council's work, of course - the truth about vampires. None of that romantic drivel so common in movies and novels lately. Stories that show the horror of those creatures, and at the same time, expose their weaknesses. If only one life would be saved by reading such a story, wouldn't the time be well-spent?"

He could see she was considering it. Her outrage dwindling, faltering. "Tell you what - I'll write it, and you'll be the first to read it. You can decide then if it's stupid or not."

"Alright. At least if you're writing a novel you won't do anything more dangerous."

It wasn't the most rousing endorsement, but he'd take what he could get from her.

And she was calling him Richard now.

 

[Starfox5]

London, March 1990

Two months, three vampires and one near-death experience (which was all Mary's fault, honest) later, Richard Rodgers was done with his first novel. He wasn't counting his other attempts. Those had lacked real inspiration. And his first and most important reader was currently perusing his opus. She wasn't looking disgusted, but she wasn't looking enraptured either. maybe it was just the angle? He leaned to the side until he was almost falling from his chair. No, still no rapture nor disgust.

"If you try to look up my skirt I'll kick you. In the face." She didn't look up from the manuscript.

A second later Richard was sitting up straight and proper. "I wasn't trying to look up your skirt." Not that it would have worked, anyway - it was a proper skirt, not a miniskirt. Proper for the season, and proper for a Watcher.

"Mh." She still wasn't looking at him. Was that a good sign? For him, or his book?

He started to tap his fingers, then stopped. Patience. Even his mother had said he needed more patience. He was patient. Like a rock. Or something. A cat. Cats were patient. They could lie in wait for a mouse to show up for hours, couldn't they? On the other hand, they were easily distracted by anything moving and shiny. Jesus, he was a cat person! He always thought of himself as a dog - loyal, brave, dependable. Sort of. Slightly goofy, maybe. Women liked that.

"You do realize that I will take at least a few hours to finish this, do you?" Mary's amused voice interrupted his attempt at introspection. "Are you planning to watch me read for hours?"

"I could watch you for hours every day." He blinked. That had just slipped out. For the first time in this conversation, Mary looked at him. "I'll go over the catalogue of the 14th Century Journals again." As he turned to leave their table, he saw she was smiling.

He still didn't know what she thought of his book, but he didn't mind waiting a bit longer to find out.

*****​

"So, what do you think?" Richard asked as soon as Mary entered the part of the Council library they had taken over. He wasn't impatient. Mary had had a whole day, and evening, to read his book. More than enough time to finish it.

"About what?" Mary asked while she started to lay out her notes on the table.

"You know. The book." He was tapping his foot on the floor now.

"Which book?" Mary looked at him, as if she was confused.

"You know which one I mean! The book." He was clenching his fingers. The woman was teasing him, he knew it. And she was enjoying it.

"Ah, that one." She looked at the ceiling, as if collecting her thoughts. "Hm."

"Hm?"

She smiled. "I hate to admit it, but you do have some talent as a writer. Of course, the events you used as inspiration were almost completely mangled."

He beamed at her. "Great! That means we don't run the danger of anyone from the old guard recognizing the story." And any competent editor would mangle the story further anyway. He knew that much about the business, his mother counted a number of authors among her friends.

"You intend to use a nom de plume then?" Mary asked while handing the manuscript back to him. Of course she'd know the term.

"Yes. Richard Edgar Castle." No one would connect that to him.

Mary nodded and sat down. She was wearing a shorter skirt today. It ended just above the knee. If one squinted a bit.

"Aren't you going to ask about the significance of the name?".

"I am certain you'll tell me all about it soon enough without encouragement."

He pouted. Oh, she knew him well. Just not in the way he wanted her to know him most. "So, you did like it."

"Yes."

Yes! He balled his hands into fists.

"Of course, finding an editor will be difficult. Fantasy novels are not exactly bestsellers."

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I'll set a new trend."

"Buy a lot of chocolate. I hear it helps dealing with rejection."

Neither glaring nor pouting seemed to affect her in any way.

 

[Starfox5]

London, July 1990

"Another rejection?" Mary asked, looking up from the book on Polgara Demons' life cycles. Richard Rodgers knew she had been taking her work home for quite some time. That was nothing unusual if the work consisted in researching information found in books. But she had started to take her work to his home too. That was a good sign. It showed she had grown comfortable around him. Enough to ignore him for the evening in favor of working. In his home. They might skip the wedding part of their relationship and go straight to estranged couple. maybe it wasn't that good a sign as he had thought.

He didn't answer her, just crumpled up the letter and threw it in the wastepaper bin. Well, towards it - it fell short a bit, denying him even that success. Richard had kept his first rejection letter, planning to keep it as a motivation. And a future conversation starter for when he was rich and famous. But that letter had just been the first of a series, a wave of such rejections. There was only one explanation for that: Those publishing houses needed employes with a better eye for literary quality!

"How many rejections does that make?" Mary asked, in that tone that made it impossible to tell if she was being sympathetic, or teasing, or both.

"I don't keep count." It was the twenty-first.

"Mh." She went back to reading her book.

"The next one will accept my manuscript and prove everyone else wrong." He raised his chin slightly. Not that she'd pay attention. Impossible woman.

"Of course." She was humoring him in order to mock him. If someone else, say one of the fossils on the Council, would have been the target, he'd have loved it.

"What did you find out about the disappearances in Birmingham?" He wasn't abandoning the discussion. He was just delaying it a bit. Say, until he got an offer from a publisher.

"It's not vampires. One victim disappeared at noon, and from a spot unreachable without being exposed to sunlight." Mary answered.

"Or what you English try to pass off as sunlight." Richard grumbled.

"At least our winters do not include blizzards, and we don't die in the streets from heat stroke in summer," Mary shot back.

"I'll have you know that you can live a year in New York without suffering un-airconditioned air." He sniffed indignantly.

"So you say. Am I supposed to take this on faith value, like your claims about the viability of paintball guns for vampire hunting?" Mary smirked at him.

"It would work, if we could get a decent reloading setup." He had it all worked out. Theoretically.

"Or a priest willing to bless paint?" She chuckled, just a bit. It had been a decent idea. Once he was rich from his books, he'd hire someone to put it all together. No, to teach him how to do it without wrecking the thing.

"One day you'll see my genius at work." He sighed.

"And one day you'll show me the paradise you call home?" Her hints had become a bit stronger lately. He'd love to show her New York, if not for a little complication.

"Yes, I'll show you New York, the best, brightest city of the world, and all it's wonders. But we couldn't leave while people disappear in Birmingham, could we?"

The doorbell interrupted her answer. Who would arrive at such a late hour? For a moment he imagined one publisher being so excited after reading his story that they sent a courier with a contract offer to make sure no one else beat them to the punch. Then he discarded that fantasy like all the others he'd have over the years about the start of his career as a bestselling author. Fantasy author now.

"Are we expecting someone?" Mary stashed the book in her bag and moved toward the chest where Richards crossbow was stashed.

"No, we aren't." He caught the stake she threw to him then walked to the door, waiting until she had the crossbow ready. The doorbell kept ringing. Whoever was waiting was impatient. If it was a mormon... did they get mormons in England? Richard peered through the spyhole and paled. The stake almost slipped from his grasp. When he turned to Mary she tensed up as soon as she saw his desperate face.

"It's my mother!"

*****​

"Really, Richard, what did you expect? You never write, you rarely call, you don't tell me anything about this new job of yours… any mother would come to check up on her only child in this situation!" Martha Rodgers declared with all the drama an actress with decades of experience was capable of while she deftly avoided spilling any of the wine in her glass. Wine he had bought for himself and Mary. But telling his mother to get herself a drink from the kitchen had been the only way to get her out of the living room so Mary could move the crossbow from where she had dropped it behind the couch to the chest.

"Most would stick to using the phone themselves instead of making the trip across the Atlantic for a surprise visit!" Richard was doing his best to match his mother glass for glass. That bottle had been rather expensive, and he wanted his share.

"Pish posh!" His mother finished her glass, then grabbed the bottle for a refill. "You'd never have told me about your new girlfriend over the phone. That would have meant admitting that I was right about Kyra." She turned to Mary, who was watching her with a mixture of amusement - at Richard's expense! - and the kind of slight shock Martha often caused to people who met her for the first time. "I told him she was breaking up with him, but was too cowardly to say so. 'Going to London to get some space' - what woman would say that and mean it?" Martha didn't give Mary any chance to answer before she continued. "He didn't believe me when I told him she would not stick with him against the wishes of her parents. A mother knows."

"You told me that a week after you had met her. That was over three years ago!" He would have prefered to tell Mary himself of one - one! - of the reasons he had moved to London. At a moment of his own choice too. Say, a few months or years after their wedding. But Hurricane Martha had never cared much about his wishes, and wouldn't start caring now.

"And I was right." Martha smiled at him with that impossibly smug expression he was so familiar with, then looked at Mary. "He never listened to me as a child, and never grew out of that phase."

"I'd say he still has yet to grow up." Mary was smiling while his mother agreed with her! The traitor! Richard glared at both of them, but that just made them chuckle and giggle together. He decided to save the shreds of his dignity and not descend to their level, and instead filled his own glass again.

"So, tell me about yourself, Mary. How did you two meet?" Martha asked with a predatory air her innocent tone couldn't really hide.

Both of them froze for a second. "We met in a bar," Mary answered, glancing at him.

"Yes. She saved me from a very pushy woman." He smiled at her while her glance turned into a glare. Didn't she know that one had to stick as close to the truth as possible when lying?

"What possessed you to do such a thing, dear?" Martha Rodgers asked Mary, making a show out of staring at the woman's rather conservative clothes. "I cannot imagine you frequenting the kind of bars my son would visit in New York."

"To tell the truth, I had developed a strong dislike of the woman he was with when I met him. I would have interceded for just about every man caught in her clutches." Mary said conspiratorially.

Richard gaped at her behind his mother's back while Martha laughed.

His girlfriend smiled sweetly. "He later tracked me down at the university to thank me, and we ended up as co-workers by chance."

"That must have been a real shrew of a girl for him to thank anyone of driving her off. He wasn't drunk, was he?" His mother proceeded in her attempts to assassinate his character in front of his girlfriend.

"I'll have you know, I was not drunk at all, mother!" A beer or two didn't count.

"I'm sure you weren't, dear." Martha Rodgers dismissed him with a wave of her hand and that patronizing attitude he was so familiar with. He really hoped Mary wasn't taking notes.

"Speaking of work… what is it exactly that you do? My son was quite proud of having found, finally, gainful employment. Of course he had to leave the country to achieve that. But he was rather unwilling to provide details about his work during his very rare phone calls. I had feared the worst, to be honest, given his past exploits." The actress sighed theatrically.

"We're working at a private library, mother. A very private, very distinguished, very British library." Richard managed to get out between grinding his teeth.

"Indeed, Mrs. Rodgers." Mary nodded.

"Miss Rodgers." Martha corrected her.

"The library belongs to a private society involved in archeology and history, with a long tradition of financing private expeditions. Their archives go back centuries, and require quite a lot of work to be maintained." Mary went on in that prim, proper English upper class accent of hers.

Martha looked duly impressed, and surprised. "I am glad to see my son is finally making something out of his life. Did you know he was planning to become an author for most of his teenage years? That was one of the reasons Kyra's parents were so opposed to their relationship, you know."

"Oh, I am very aware of his literary ambitions, Miss Rodgers," Mary smiled.

"Oh, dear! Did he force you to read his manuscripts? It was cute when he was twelve, and they weren't that long, but later…" His mother shuddered dramatically.

"When did you say your flight back was scheduled for again, mother?"

"Richard!" Both his mother and his girlfriend were looking at him reproachfully. Dear Lord, they were bonding. Hell, he was starting to curse like a native even in his own head!

He went to the kitchen to get the next bottle. He wouldn't survive the evening without more alcohol.

 

[Starfox5]

London, August 1990

He had gone through hell. His pride, his self-esteem, his sanity had barely survived. But he had persevered. And after four weeks, his mother was finally returning to New York. Richard Rodgers had personally driven her to Heathrow, just to make sure she didn't miss her plane and had to spend another night at his flat. He couldn't wait to see her gone. Really.

"I am telling you, Richard, only you could find a conservative English girl who shared your fantasies." Martha Rodgers was stating while her baggage - which had mysteriously multiplied during her stay in London - was checked in.

"The way you say it, mother, you make it sound as if it's something dirty." He didn't quite check if anyone was listening in, but he glared at an older gentleman who was eyeing them just in case.

"Don't worry about me judging you if you like to play 'Vampire Hunter' in the bedroom using authentic props. It's obviously the fault of my acting genes finally making an appearance." His mother sighed. "I should have made more of an effort to raise you properly."

"You didn't make much of an effort to raise me at all." Nannies and boarding schools didn't count, in his opinion. If he ever had children, he'd make sure they'd be raised better. And saw their grandmother maybe once a year. Under supervision. No telling what they could be picking up from the impossible woman otherwise.

"Oh Richard!" she actually patted his cheek! "But at least you've found a woman who believes you, and in you. That's something to be proud of."

"Thank you, mother," he said while smiling toothily at her.

"A mother should be always supportive of her children's endeavours. Even if they do not work out." Martha nodded sagely.

"I am sure my manuscript will be accepted by the next publisher." Someone had to recognize a future bestseller if they saw it. Otherwise, how could any publisher stay in business?

"Of course, dear. Never give up, I always say. I wouldn't have gotten the lead in "As you like it" if I had let rejections worry me.

"You didn't get the lead role in that play, mother." He sighed when he saw her smile. "Please, be careful back home, mother. Wear the cross I bought you, and don't invite anyone in."

"I will certainly not hide this marvelous gift you must have spent half your paycheck on!" Martha smiled, but Richard knew she was just humouring him. Then she grew serious as well. "Look, Richard. Mary is a very nice girl. Charming, cultured, tolerant of your foibles.."

He held up his hand to interrupt her. "Mother, we went over that already."

"I am just saying. If you plan to marry her, then one of you needs to be the responsible one for the marriage to work out. And you are not very responsible."

"Mother." He didn't ask how she would know that, not having been married herself. Or being responsible at all.

"Promise me, Richard, that you'll not do anything rash. Please." She smiled at him, and he sighed.

"Of course not mother. As long as you take precautions." He looked at her with as much seriousness as he could muster. The thought of her falling prey to a vampire or other demon, just because he had not managed to convince her...

"Against vampires." She stared at him.

"Yes." Was it so hard to believe?

"Alright, dear. If only so you will not blame me for whatever mess you make while being distracted with worry about me." She hugged him, and he could feel her trembling slightly. As much as he claimed she had never been around when he was growing up, they had never been separated for as long as they had been since he had moved to London.

"Mother." He nodded at her as she turned away. And closed his eyes in embarrassment when she started to flirt with the older gentleman who had been watching them. He doubted she'd ever change. And he didn't really want her to. Most of the time.

*****​

"Did everything go well at Heathrow?" Mary asked as soon as he stepped through the door. She hadn't been around as much as usual while his mother had been in town. Understandably, really. Martha Rodgers was best met in small doses.

"Unless she missed the plane because she was having an affair with a fellow traveler she picked up at the transit lounge, yes." He closed the door, locking it carefully, and plopped down on the couch.

Mary laughed, then stopped when she realized he hadn't been joking. "You know, when you told me you were the responsible one in your family, I didn't believe you."

"No one does. Story of my life." He sighed.

Mary went to the kitchen. "Did you convince her to take precautions?"

"She said she'd wear the cross and stop inviting people to her apartment. I believe she'll do the first, but not the second." He sighed. "We should have gone with my plan."

"And how would we have managed to overpower a vampire and transport it with us to your flat? Without anyone calling the bobbies?" he heard Mary ask.

"A coffin wouldn't have been that suspicious." Less than a body-bag, at least.

"Perhaps not in a frat house in New York. But we're in London." She returned with a beer for him, and a soda for herself. "And you never came up with a plan to actually take a vampire captive with just the two of us."

Taking the beer, he went through his mail. Bill, bill, ad, rejection letter from a publisher… he froze and stared. He was actually holding his breath. 'Dear Mr. Rodgers… glad to offer… some changes...' He had dreamed of this moment, of what to say, exactly, when it happened, but now that it had come true, he simply handed the letter over to Mary with a silly smile on his face.

Mary's shriek warned him a second before she jumped on his lap. He still spilled part of his beer. Neither he nor she cared. "You'll be published! Oh, Richard! I am so happy for you!"

"Was there ever any doubt? Don't answer that!" he quickly added, holding her. His proposal would have to be edited, of course. Partially rewritten, probably. It would be a lot of work. But his dream was coming true. Finally. He would have commented on the fact that this letter arrived just after his mother had left, and not a day before, as proof that the universe liked to play games with him, but Mary was already pulling at his shirt.

The next day he had a terrible time trying to explain to his nosy neighbour that he hadn't loudly celebrated his mother's departure.

 

[Starfox5]

New York, December 1990

"Oh, Richard. I am so proud of you!" His mother hugged him, slightly tipsy from the champagne. She was, he realized - she was telling everyone around them that her son was now a published author. Richard suspected that his mother hadn't really believed him until she had held the advance copy in her hand. The timing of the letter had just been a bit too suspicious for her. But she was wearing the cross he had given her.

Richard and Mary had flown over to New York for the launch of his book. It wasn't a big affair for the publisher - just another paperback novel on the market. But for him, for Mary and his mother, it was a big event. He was a published author, earning money with his writing. If he still was with Kyra, her parents would have to eat their words now! Maybe he should send them a copy of his book.

Mary's parents didn't know "Richard Castle" was their daughter's boyfriend, of course. They might be less understanding than their daughter of Richard using Watcher journals as inspiration. Though truth to be told, after the editor had gone over it, the story wasn't that recognizable anymore. Although the details about the vampires and demons - he had insisted nothing there would be changed, no matter how "original" it was - were spot on, which would make them suspect the author had personal experience with demons.

Which he had. In spades. Not that the Council was aware of that. As far as the other Watchers were concerned, Mary and himself were mere researchers, providing important information to the Watchers in the field. Their personal "hunting expeditions" were a secret. Although he wasn't sure how much of a secret they really were - no one of their co-workers had ever questioned their claims of having fallen down the stairs when they arrived with bruises their clothes couldn't cover up. People couldn't be that blind. Mary claimed they were not the only ones doing some private hunting. Richard didn't know the other Watchers well enough to judge that - he still was "the Yankee" to them, even if only Mary ever called him that to his face, and from her, it was a term of endearment.

"Mary! Did I ever tell you about Richard's first 'book'? He was twelve, and adorable!"

Richard knew the story by heart. So did Mary, but she was far too polite to mention it. While his mother talked to his girlfriend, Richard looked out of the window next to their table. New York at night, a wonderful and familiar sight. But it felt different now. He knew that somewhere out there, vampires and other demons would be hunting. Could he really be happy about his success while people were dying that night, murdered by creatures they didn't even suspect existed?

"And do you know what's the best thing about your book is, Richard?" His mother interrupted his thoughts before he could start to brood. He was about to answer with a witty remark when she continued. "Now you'll not be seen as crazy, but as eccentric when people discover you believe in vampires and keep props at your home!"

He glared at her, then realized that she was right, and beamed at her. "Mother, that's a great idea! We'll be able to keep all sorts of weapons at hand without anyone suspecting anything!" They might even be able to carry them around, claiming they were doing research.

Richard and Mary started discussing where best to display the stakes, crossbows and swords in their new flat while his mother, for once, looked flabbergasted. Richard enjoyed every second.

 

[Starfox5]

New York, March 1991

'The Vampire Hunter' was a surprise hit, according to the sales numbers he got from his Publisher. Royalties didn't surpass his paycheck from the Council yet, but it was getting close. And he was already working on his next book in the series. So to further boost the book's popularity and therefore sales, they had wanted 'Richard Castle' to make an appearance at a few conventions, such as the 33th Annual Convention of the New York Science Fiction Society - the Lunarians. Richard Rodgers hadn't thought twice about getting a paid trip back to New York for himself and Mary. Even if they wouldn't be able to avoid visiting his mother.

To meet fans of his work was a really great experience. Not that there were that many of them around, but those he met were enthusiastic. A number were odd - eccentric, he corrected himself, and that had to be expected from people who loved a rather bloody tale of vampire hunters - but most were nice people genuinely happy to meet him.

Needless to say his ego got a rather large boost out of it, even though no pretty girls wanted him to sign their chests. Which, given Mary was present, and could get a crossbow cocked and loaded in less than a minute, was probably a good thing. She wasn't wearing the reasonably close version of the leather outfit he had put his female lead in that he had found at a stall at the convention, alas. But if he had interpreted a few whispered remarks of her correctly, she'd be wearing it later tonight, in their bedroom. He was, of course, looking forward to it.

"Hello Mister Castle! Would you sign my copy of your book, please?"

Richard didn't quite stare, but he did blink at the pre-teen girl holding out a copy of 'Vampire Hunter' to him. She couldn't be older than 12, and she certainly wasn't among the target audience for his book. Hell, while it didn't contain actual adult material, the descriptions did get rather graphic. He managed to keep smiling, and gracefully accepted the book, but the girl's mother must have noticed his expressions.

"She's very advanced for her age. And she loves Fantasy novels, especially those with strong female characters." The woman smiled in a slightly embarrassed way. Richard suspected that the girl was rather stubborn to, enough to be allowed to attend the convention. Though a fan was a fan.

"You're a precocious child then. What's your name?" He smiled at her, and saw her blush while he wrote 'To my no. 1 fan...' on the first page of her copy.

"Kate. Kate Beckett. With two 't's at the end." She craned her neck to make sure that he wrote her name down correctly, prompting another embarrassed smile from her mother.

Richard was chuckling when he handed the book back to the beaming girl. Had his mother had the same expression, back at the science fair in 5th grade?

He shouldn't be doing this, but… he couldn't resist. "Say, Kate, have you ever seen a real crossbow? Like the one Alice used to kill the Master Vampire's first minion? My friend Mary over there can show it to you."

The girl was at Mary's side, pestering her with questions before her mother could react. He had a feeling she'd not rest until she could hold the crossbow too, and would be disappointed she couldn't fire it.

Hm. A range for a crossbow… maybe some demonstrations with swords and stakes… He and Mary had the training, and he knew how to put on a show. He had to speak with his publisher.

And maybe he'd get Mary to wear the leathers for the next con.

 

[Starfox5]

London, July 1993

"Have you seen the broadswords? And did you get the permits to bring them to the US? I've already packed the stakes and crossbows. If anyone asks, those are for camping and hunting. I'll not get into an argument with an overly religious customs officer about Fantasy novels spreading witchcraft again." Richard Rodgers, known to his many fans as Richard Castle, author of the very successful 'Vampire Hunter' series, yelled to his girlfriend Mary.

"I also packed your convention outfit as well already, I had some room left in my suitcase." She had 'forgotten' her outfit for the last con. This was the Gen Con, the biggest gathering for Fantasy fans in the world. Gina Cowell, the woman handling his series for his publisher, had insisted that they needed some 'eye-candy' to draw attention to their booth since many attendants there would be in costume. Mary didn't like Gina, and the feeling was mutual, but Richard's girlfriend did acknowledge that the woman knew her business. Richard still didn't know how his publisher had managed to persuade Mary to wear that outfit - his girlfriend had vetoed the booth babes Gina had wanted to hire, after all. Well, his was not to question why, his was just to stare and die.

"Did you return the Codex Polgari already to the library? I think Rupert asked for it, something with the incident in Wales." Richard didn't want to find out if the rumor that Rupert Giles, a polite, distinguished fellow watcher, would go berserk if he couldn't get a book he needed within three days, were true. He didn't think a man could get a nickname like "Ripper" for shredding books.

He suddenly realized that Mary hadn't answered any of his questions. She hadn't said anything, not even told him to shut up and stop bothering her while she packed. "Mary? Darling? Is something wrong?"

He found her in the bathroom, staring at a small slip of plastic. She turned her head and looked at him with a shocked expression. "I am pregnant."

He took a few seconds to understand what she had said. His girlfriend was pregnant. She was having a baby. He was going to be a father!

He moved to hug her, with a huge if also slightly shocked smile on his face, then froze, staring at her - still flat - stomach.

"I am pregnant, not brittle." She scowled, then smiled and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Richard. What will we do? When my parents hear of this…"

"We'll marry of course. As soon as possible." There was no way he'd follow in his unknown father's footsteps.

She looked at him, surprised again, but nodded. "Of course."

 

[Starfox5]

London, October 1993

The wedding preparations had gone through without a hitch, despite Richard's mother trying to help. The Wilkinsons were old money, and knew how to get things done quickly and smoothly, when the family honor was - sort of - at stake. Of course everyone suspected the reason why, after three years of living together in sin, as an old and almost deaf great-aunt had called it at a rehearsal dinner, Mary and 'that yankee' were suddenly tying the knot, but no one would say anything. At least not in their presence.

It turned out that Martha Rodgers knew a surprising number of British actors and actresses, and so the groom's side in the church wasn't just filled with 'more yankees', even though most of Richard's American friends were quite surprised to find out he had become a librarian. Oh, how he wished he could reveal his success as an author without running the risk of earning the ire of that evil old fossil, Travers!

At least the Wilkinsons had quietly spread the word that their new son-in-law was well-off to the point of being independently wealthy. Which sufficiently impressed their Watcher friends and acquaintances - being rich and risking one's life was quite more respectable than risking one's life for money. Though he had a feeling that he'd still be 'that yankee' for years to come.

He scoffed at the thought, drawing some glances from the guests, and a glare from his mother. Martha Rodgers had more than once mentioned that she had expected her son to wake up one day in Las Vegas with a hangover and a marriage certificate he didn't remember getting. To see him married at a British Upper Class wedding was a dream come true for her. The amount of rich elder gentlemen among the guests impressed by a middle-aged actress didn't hurt either, of course, no matter if they were terrible snobs or not. His mother simply had no luck with men, and no taste either. His own, unknown father being the best proof.

Richard didn't really care. He was a successful author, with a horde of adoring fans. He was marrying a beautiful, brave and smart woman, who would soon bear his first child. And he was doing his part to protect humanity from demons. He was quite proud that he hadn't sent an invitation to Kyra, to show her and her parents just what kind of man he had become.

When Mister Wilkinson led the bride through the church gates, down the aisle, when Richard saw just how beautiful she was, in her wedding dress, he knew he had achieved his wildest dreams.

 

[Starfox5]

London, March 1994

He was a husband and father. Richard Rodgers still couldn't believe it, even while he was holding his daughter. Alexis Harper Rodgers. So small, so vulnerable. So … loud.

Holding his screaming daughter to his chest, gently rocking her in an attempt to calm her down, he turned to his wife: "Is this much screaming normal for a month-old baby?"

Mary, who had just fallen asleep, looked at him with half-lidded eyes. "According to my mother, yes. What did your mother say?"

"She said she would love to visit, but couldn't stay for longer than a week at most, due to her new role in that play." Richard answered.

"Yes, it's normal then." Mary turned on her side again, telling him without saying anything that he was on his own when it came to calm the little screamer down.

Rocking her back and forth - gently! - he walked out of their bedroom. Mary and lack of sleep didn't mix well.

She didn't need her diapers changed, so she was probably hungry. Or she just felt like screaming. He wouldn't rule out demonic possession either, but Mary claimed she had checked that.

A bit later Alexis was quietly drinking her formula while Richard tried to read up on Suvolte Demons. Apparently, the current Slayer, India Cohen, had stumbled upon an egg-smuggling ring in France, and her Watcher had required a report. Reading with a baby in his arms was that difficult. He hadn't gotten the hang of making notes with the same handicap - it wasn't as if he could dictate the reports for the Council, unlike the draft for his next book.

Though he knew he shouldn't be complaining - most families were not in the rather comfortable situation where both parents could work more or less at home. He could hire a nanny of course, money wasn't an issue. He'd even be able to explain the vast amount of medieval weapons, and the odd modern variant, stashed in the flat as related to his work. The Wilkinsons would approve - it was the proper thing to do. Even if they also were subtly pushing for Mary to stop working, now that she was a mother, as that was also the proper thing to do. Their not so subtle pressure didn't help with Mary's mood and lack of sleep. A nanny though would. But it would also mean that he and Mary would have to watch what they said at home. There was only so much you could explain as research for a book, or eccentricity, before the nice polite people came to check if you should be trusted with your children.

Hopefully Alexis would soon grow out of her current phase. And while he was at it, world peace would be nice as well.

 

[Starfox5]

London, February 1995

The sound of silverware and dishes crashing to the floor alerted Richard to the fact that Alexis had managed to get out of her playpen, again. Fearing the worst, he raced to the dining room, then stopped short, gaping.

Alexis hadn't just managed to break out of her baby jail, she had also figured out that by pulling on a tablecloth, she could move her first birthday cake from the middle of the table, where she couldn't get to it, to a more accessible location, such as the floor. His daughter was such a genius!

He was still laughing at the sight of Alexis, cute as a button face smeared with vast amount of chocolate cake that had missed her tiny mouth, sitting in the middle of the remains of the birthday dinner, when Mary arrived at his side.

"Alexis! What have you done!" his wife screeched. "Richard! Why didn't you do something? Oh, no - that's the good rug! And look at your face! Can't you be a good girl, once in your life? Do you have to take after your father that much? I should spank you for this so you learn to behave!"

Alexis, who had been laughing along with her father, was now crying and sobbing. Richard quickly scooped her up and held her close, heedless of the damage that did to his clothes. Mary sent him a glare, then busied herself salvaging the dinner. At least the food hadn't been on the table yet, but a number of the plates needed to be replaced. Richard had calmed down Alexis quickly enough, despite Mary's outburst. Of course, knowing the Wilkinsons, he should not have been surprised that their daughter lacked somewhat in parenting skills, at least by the standards he adhered to. And given he had been raised by Martha Rodgers, that should tell anyone enough about that subject.

His mother still couldn't really believe that Richard was the sensible one when it came to raising Alexis, even though she had visited so often, Richard had started to call her 'the world's most expensive babysitter'.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up, Alexis dear, while mum resets the table!" He scooped up a particularly large cake crumb stuck to her cheek with one finger and stuck it in his mouth. Then he whispered conspiratorially to the little tyke: "You've got great taste, kid! I wouldn't have been able to wait until after dinner for such a tasty cake either!"

By the time Richard had cleaned up his daughter, and then himself, Mary had reset the table, got another cake from the bakery around the corner, and got the wine in the cooler so it would be ready when the guests arrived. If she had a bit more of a head for children, she'd be the perfect woman.

"So, Alexis, for the crime of stealing your own birthday cake, you are sentenced to another hour in jail!" Richard declared with the overly serious voice that his daughter had already realized meant he was not serious at all. She was giggling loudly when he put her down behind the bars.

Mary straightened his tie as soon as he turned towards her. He pouted. "I spent minutes getting that tie just correctly crooked. I've got an image to maintain! Being the uncultured yankee for a group of stuffy Brits is hard work, I'll have you know!"

Mary fought to keep a smile off her face while she glared at him disapprovingly. Before she could say anything though the doorbell announced that the first guests had arrived. "Just don't antagonize Mister Travers again," she whispered.

"I antagonize him by merely existing," he retorted. It wasn't his fault the Council was led by a bloody pillock. By a damned asshole, he corrected himself.

"Richard!" Her glare intensified.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "OK, OK. I'll not antagonize him." When she nodded in satisfaction and some relief, he added "unless he does it first."

The doorbell rang again, preventing another argument. Sometimes he felt that Mary was simply too proper, and too loyal to those old idiots. He shook his head while his wife went to open the door. Even Rupert agreed with him, and the man was as British as they got, and came from an old Watcher family.

 

[Starfox5]

London, April 1996

"You know, most people hire a babysitter to go out, watch a movie, have sex for longer than 20 minutes…" Richard stated while working with a crowbar on the back door of an abandoned house.

"We're not 'most people'. We're Watchers."

"Not even most Watchers would hire a babysitter to go vampire hunting!" he grunted when the old wood finally splintered and the door swung open.

"Most Watchers get to hunt vampires as part of their work and are not stuck hunting information inside old books!" Mary sniffed. She held her cross in one hand and a stake in the other. With a glance towards him, she added: "Most Watchers use crossbows, swords and stakes too. Not that…"

"Very effective and very British weapon?" Richard picked the 'Ack Pack', also known as the 'Flamethrower, Portable, No 2', a World war 2-vintage British copy of a German design from World War 1, up and put the tank on.

"... 'monstrosity' was what I was going to say."

"I would have gotten a more aesthetically pleasing American model, but I couldn't get one of those as an antique here." And his mother had refused to procure one for him in the US. One call from the police and the woman was spooked!

Mary didn't answer, but stepped inside. He quickly followed, flamethrower ready. His wife shouldn't be complaining. If not for this beast he wouldn't have let her risk her life like this. Alexis needed her parents. If only Mary wasn't so damn stubborn, and so determined to hunt vampires…

The stench of decaying flesh hit them soon after the door. "I guess this vampire is a fan of takeout food, instead of eating out." Richard quipped. His humor got darker the more dangerous the situation went.

"As long as he doesn't consider us a food delivery service…" Mary snorted, and then kicked open the door to what was once a living room or salon. They saw an old corpse on the table in the center, flies and maggots crawling all over it.

"Ugh. That demon never learned to clean up after himself."

Mary glared at him, and he remembered their argument earlier that day. He didn't know why she was still miffed - Alexis had taken her side, and cleaned up after herself! Even when he had tried to show her how to hide her mess!

Creaking floorboards gave them just enough warning for Mary to turn around and hold up her cross. The vampire that had been about to pounce on her recoiled, hissing at her and shielding his face. Richard pulled the trigger, and lit the demon up. It hadn't even time to scream before it was just ashes falling to the floor.

"I am naming it "Doughnut of Death!" He happily declared. It was a much better nickname than "Lifebuoy", in his opinion.

Mary shook her head. "If the bobbies stop us with this in the car, I will claim I don't know you and was just hitching a ride after my car broke down."

"You would still come visit me in jail though, wouldn't you? Do British prisons allow conjugal visits?"

She didn't answer but continued towards the exit. He didn't understand why she wasn't as happy as he was - the flamethrower had performed perfectly, after all, and would make killing vampires far safer than the usual methods. He'd never understand women.

 

[Starfox5]

London, January 1997

"You're going to California, to become the new Slayer's Watcher?" Richard Rodgers stared at Rupert Giles. His visit to their flat had been a surprise, this... was more like a shock.

"Y-yes. I was chosen to replace Watcher M-Merrick, who was k-killed in the line of d-duty in Los Angeles." The older Watcher's stutter was a sign that he was nervous, Richard knew. With good cause.

"Isn't the Slayer moving to the Hellmouth there?" Richard wasn't the most well-connected (or well-liked) Watcher, but he usually managed to keep up with the most important news.

"Yes. There are p-portents and signs that indicate that her p-presence is needed there for the f-foreseeable f-future." Rupert took off his glasses and polished them.

"That's a bloody suicide mission!" Richard was appalled.

"That's quite an honor!" Mary said at the same time.

While Richard and his wife glared at each other, Rupert coughed. "It is a somewhat dangerous posting, yes."

"It's an honor to be chosen as the Slayer's mentor. To train and guide her, to help her fulfill her destiny… your name will be inscribed in our most sacred annals, Rupert!" Mary smiled at their colleague, though Richard knew she was jealous. His wife hadn't been able to become a potential's Watcher despite applying each time another of the poor girls was discovered. She claimed it was all her parents' fault, who were still pushing for her to stop working, but Richard knew she blamed him for it as well.

"We're talking about a Hellmouth here, Mary! A big magical rift that's leaking evil energies, remember? The stuff that would be banned as illegal doping if there was a demon olympics!" Couldn't his wife see that they were talking to a dead Watcher walking?

"W-well, the Slayer in question managed to d-destroy Lothos, a very powerful m-master vampire so…" Rupert started to say, but of course, Mary wouldn't let the poor man have any last words.

"Richard! Remember our oath? If the Slayer's needed on the Hellmouth, then that's where her Watcher goes as well! The world may be at stake!" Richard's wife huffed.

"I'm actually here to ask about…" Rupert still hadn't realized that Mary wasn't really listening, so Richard cut him off.

"That's a very nice trick. I can barely see Travers's hands move your lips, Mary!" He snarled.

"E-excuse me…"

"It's always about Travers with you! Just because you hate the man you doesn't mean he's wrong! You can't win a war without necessary sacrifices!" Mary glared at him.

"M-may I…"

"I know that!" he glared right back at her. "Just because you suck up to the fossilized pillock doesn't mean he knows what he's doing! If he's talking about 'necessary sacrifices' any smart man should be running for the hills!"

"C-could I…"

"You're paranoid! If Travers was abusing his power, why hasn't he sent you to the Hellmouth?" Mary grit her teeth.

"P-please…"

"He probably couldn't convince anyone of the other fossils that a yankee Watcher for an American Slayer was a good idea." Richard snarled.

"Mum, dad! Don't fight!" Alexis stood there, pouting and with tears gathering in her eyes.

"Sweetie! We're not fighting. See? No blood!" Richard picked his daughter up and showed her his face. "We're just discussing some adult things."

Alexis nodded as sagely as a three year old could. "In adult voices."

"Exactly!" he beamed at his smart daughter while Mary rolled her eyes.

His wife turned to Rupert. "I am terribly sorry you had to see that." A glance towards Richard showed exactly who she blamed for their embarrassing display.

He would be the better man though, and wouldn't continue their bickering. "Yes, indeed, sorry about that. I think you were about to tell us the reason for your visit though, before my wife interrupted you."

Rupert stopped polishing his glasses and put them on again. "Ah, yes, that's correct." Taking a deep breath, he smiled a tad forcedly - no doubt he'd rather have faced a vampire by himself than witness the row between Richard and Mary. "I must confess that I was a bit surprised by my appointment, and, having no experience with the United States myself, I wanted to ask you about some advice to fit in."

Richard opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked at Mary, who was again glaring at him. "Ah… I am from New York. Where is the new Slayer from?"

"She was born and raised in Los Angeles. She's moving to the Hellmouth in Sunnydale, a bit to the south." Rupert stated.

Richard barely managed not to wince. A Slayer from Los Angeles. A Hellmouth in southern California. Rupert wouldn't last six months before he lost his sanity or his life.

At least it wasn't Texas.

 

[Starfox5]

New York, June 1999

"How are you doing, dear? And don't say fine. You've visited me more often this year than in all the years before." Martha Rodgers said as she returned from the kitchen, two glasses of wine in her hands. She passed one to him before she sat down.

Richard glanced to the guest room. His mother smiled. "Don't worry. Alexis is watching TV."

"As a responsible father, I should be concerned about the effects our daytime TV has on her still developing brain," Richard stated.

"Stop stalling, kiddo! Tell me what's going on!" For all that she displayed it very rarely, his mum still could make him feel like a child, on occasion.

He sighed leaning back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I think we'll break up." His mother didn't say anything. He looked at her, narrowing his eyes. "You don't seem surprised."

"Richard, I saw that coming from miles away." Martha Rodgers patted his hand.

"Funny. I do not recall you warning me before my wedding. Missing an opportunity like that seems rather uncharacteristic for you." If she also stated she was shunning alcohol now, he'd check for demonic possession.

"You both were young, in love, and Alexis was on the way. You could have made it work." Martha sounded wistful as she smiled sadly at him.

"What went wrong then? What did I do wrong?" He was 30 years old, he shouldn't be asking that, least of all of his mother. He couldn't help it though.

"You realized your dream and became a successful author. Mary stayed a librarian. I don't know why such an intelligent woman stuck with a dead-end job, but she wouldn't be happy with her husband outshining her. That you kept working as a librarian - and I never understood why you'd do this, unless you really like to have sex at work - while writing bestsellers didn't help, of course."

They actually hadn't had sex in the Watcher's library, not more than a few times, at least, but what his mother said made perfect sense. Richard, rich and famous, Mary, missing field posting after field posting, unable to advance in the Council. And to think he had been happy that Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had been selected as the second Slayer's Watcher - and hadn't that been a surprise, the first rule of the Slayer, broken - instead of his wife! "Why didn't I see it coming?" He covered his face with his hands.

"You didn't want to see it. Love does that to people."

He glanced at her. "Is that from a play?"

"Maybe." She finished her glass and fetched the bottle. "Do you have a good lawyer?"

Did he? "No one I trust fully." They were friends of the Wilkinsons. "I'll find one though. I can't lose Alexis." His daughter was already far too responsible. If Mary kept custody, Alexis would become a copy of her.

"Just tell Mary that if she tries to keep Alexis, her parents will force her to become a housewife." Martha sipped from her glass. "And don't file for divorce in London. You'd lose half your money."

He had forgotten just how vicious his mother could be when she wanted to be. "That would actually work." It would be underhanded, making Mary think that if she got custody of Alexis, she'd never advance in the Council, but he had to think of what was best for his daughter. And living with a parent who went out hunting vampires by herself wasn't it. He closed his eyes. "I am such a damn idiot!" And a hypocrite. But it was for Alexis. And he at least would stop hunting vampires. For her.

"Well, yes, you are."

"Mother!"

"I am just agreeing with you." She smiled innocently at him.

"I'll quit my job in London and move to New York with Alexis." They wouldn't be sad to see 'the yankee go home'. He hadn't any real friends left there. The revelation about his career as an author had ruffled a number of feathers as well. Damned fossils! Maybe he should change his name to his nom de plume, to show them.

"Good. I don't know why you haven't done this years ago already." His mother shook her head. He'd explain it to her, all of it. But only once this divorce was over. If his own mother testified that he was delusional, he'd never get custody.

"Will you become a full-time writer then?"

"Yes. Gina should be happy about that." His agent had never gotten along with Mary, and had complained a lot whenever his job had interfered with planned promotion events for his latest book.

"Oh, Richard!" He didn't understand why his mother sighed and looked at him as if he had said something stupid.

 

[Starfox5]

New York, July 1999

"Alexis? I've got something important I need to ask you." Richard Rodgers stated.

His five year old daughter looked up from the book she was reading - or trying to read. "Yes, dad?"

"If I and mum split up, who'd you like to stay with?" He shouldn't ask like this. He shouldn't put his daughter on the spot like this, shouldn't force her to choose between her father and her mother. She was just five year old. She would be traumatized. But it was what this divorce would come down to. There wouldn't be a shared custody. There wouldn't be weekends with the other parent. Alexis's parents would be living on different continents. And he had to know what his daugther wanted, before he filed for a divorce in New York.

"I'd rather stay with you, dad." Alexis said, as serious as a girl her age could be. She wasn't crying, either, or not yet.

Richard had to fight not to smile or to cry, or to do both together. Instead he hugged his daughter.

"You need me, mum doesn't." Alexis added, nodding sagely while she patted him on his back. He winced a bit at that statement - he wasn't that bad, was he? "Does that mean you'll be getting a divorce?"

He blinked, and pulled back, looking her into the eyes. "Where did you hear that word?" She was five years old!

"Gran explained it all to me." Alexis nodded sagely again.

Richard turned his head to the living room. "Mother! What did you do?"

His mother appeared in the door. "Don't shout, Richard. Someone had to explain things to Alexis, so she could make an informed decision about her future. And you obviously wouldn't do it right."

"She's five years old, mother!" He let go of his daughter and stood up, facing his mother.

"And generally more mature than you." Martha Rodgers shot back.

"That's rich, coming from you!" Richard was gathering steam.

"Don't fight!" Alexis yelled, frowning at them.

Both Martha and Richard Rodgers fell silent. Richard stared at his daughter, standing there, looking both serious and terribly cute, and started to laugh. "To think that the most mature in this family is a five year old child…"

Of course, Martha would have to have the last word. "See, Alexis? Even he admits that you're the responsible one in the family."

Alexis nodded again, sighing, while Richard glared at his mother.

 

[Starfox5]

London, August 1999

"Is this all?" Mary's voice was cold enough to drop the temperature by a few degrees, but Richard was almost certain she was secretly relieved. In hindsight, it was a surprise they hadn't broken up sooner, given the amount of fights they had gotten in. It was mostly a matter of pride, he thought. And that it hadn't been her idea. Though filing for divorce in New York probably hadn't helped her temper. Richard didn't care. She was not suing for custody of Alexis, and that was all that mattered. Well, that, and he still would be rich after the settlement. That was important too. If he ever married again, he'd certainly get a pre-nup though.

"Yes. Everything left belongs to you or the Council." He handed her the keys to the flat. The apartment itself was part of the settlement, and was going to be hers.

"You're quitting everything and everyone then." Mary stared at him. She didn't call him a coward, but he knew her opinion on his courage, or lack thereof.

"I am not quitting my family," he shot back. She didn't flinch. Not anymore. "Alexis needs me. She needs a father she doesn't have to worry about because he's hunting monsters at night. Besides, the Council has things well in hand." The Slayer had prevented an ascension a few months ago, and was still alive after almost three years on the hellmouth. Buffy Summers - and who in their right state of mind would name their daughter 'Buffy'? - got results, even if she was a bit hard on her Watchers. After Rupert, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had been fired as well. Mary was probably hoping she'd get the position this time. He hoped she'd not - both Rupert and Wyndam-Pryce had stayed in California instead of returning to England, and he'd rather have an ocean and an international border between himself and Mary.

The two glared at each other until Richard nodded at her and left what had been his home for so many years. He wouldn't dwell on the past though, or not too much. He had a future to look forward to. And he had to figure out how to get a flamethrower to New York.

 

[Starfox5]

New York, January 2000

Richard Edgar Castle. The name of a rich, successful author. His name. Officially now.

"Are you playing with your new business cards again?" Martha Rodgers shook her head at him on the way to the kitchen in his new, expensive apartment. She was visiting often since he had moved back to New York.

He dumped the stack of cards in the drawer in his desk and yelled: "No, I am not!"

His mother appeared again, one of the canapes from last night's party in her hand. "Though I have to hand it to you - for a clean break, a name change works wonders. Now if only Mary wouldn't know your new address…"

"She'll hardly show up here, mother. She's quite happy in Merry Old England."

"I am not sure Mary will ever be happy." Martha sat down on the seat in his office, and studied the various melee weapons hanging on the wall. "Did you actually split those things between the two of you?"

"Each of us kept their own weapons." Those on the wall were harmless props. His actual weapons were hidden in a concealed safe, or secured so no six year old, or older, kid, not even a very bright one, could get to them.

Martha shook her head. "To think that both of you are crazy for medieval reenacting. Or were - she stopped attending conventions with you years ago, didn't she?"

"She did yes. But she still is quite fond of her weapons." That should have been a first sign things were not going well, he thought. They had had such fun, dressing up.

"A very weird hobby, even for a British woman." Martha stated, though she was looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Her parents have a collection."

"And so do you, now."

"I do research for my books, mother. 'Vampire Hunter' is a successful series since I take care to get the details right." At least among the fans of medieval weaponry.

"Such as the sizes of your heroines?" Martha finished her canape. "Just remember to use Gina as a model for the next vampire villainess. She'd never fit the hero role."

"Mother!"

"I am serious, Richard. Mary turned out to be a bad fit, but Gina's a gold digger." Martha shook her head at him. "Which you'd realize if you were thinking with your head."

"She's a very competent agent, not a gold digger." And she was very attractive too, and she admired his talent as a writer.

"Kiddo, all agents are gold diggers. Both want to screw you and take your money." Martha Rodgers shook her head.

"You make her sound like a whore." His mother hadn't liked any of his girlfriends, as far as he could remember. Maybe Anne Bartlet, but that had been in pre-school.

"She manages to do that just fine by herself. A pushy one at that."

"Was there something else you wanted to talk about, mother? Or did you just come by to raid my fridge and berate my life choices?" Richard asked while starting up his computer.

"Alexis told me you carry a "lucky stake" around, to 'fend off vampires'. She also lectured me to never invite anyone into my or your apartment, since 'vampires cannot enter uninvited'. And she always wears a cross." Martha leaned forward. "I know I raised you better than to believe in superstition."

"Yes, you did." He should have had this talk long ago, Richard knew. But there never was a harmless chained up vampire around when he needed one.

"Alexis is sensible and mature for her age, but she believes in that… stuff. She takes it very seriously. And she said Mary taught her the same rules."

"Yes. Very thoroughly, too. With quizzes even." He tried to make light of it - and failed.

"Richard, it's one thing for a successful author of vampire books to carry a stake and a cross around with him. Eccentric, ironic, an ice breaker at a party - though your bank account balance works much better for that now that you're rich. But for him to indoctrinate his daughter is another thing."

"Did you ever wonder why I only wear shirts with a collar?" he asked and started to unbutton his dress shirt. To his surprise, Martha remained silent until he pulled the shirt off and the undershirt back. She hissed at the sight of the scar on his neck. "I was bitten by such 'superstition', mother. Without Mary I would have died."

She was eyeing the weapons on the wall with a different expression now. And him as well. He sighed. She'd not believe him without actual proof. Hopefully, that coroner contact of the Council hadn't heard of him quitting, and had a potential fledgling on ice, ready to be staked. He'd rather not chance visiting a demon bar, if he could find one. With or without his mother.

 

[Starfox5]

New York, January 2000

Richard Castle had met a number of eccentric people in Britain. People who spent their lives, sometimes literally, fighting vampires and other demons tended to acquire some quirks. And worse. Sidney Perlmutter, the medical examiner in charge of the morgue with a possible fledgling, would have fit right in with them.

At least Richard hadn't ever met a guy who ate his take-out dinner next to a corpse while pointing out the intricacies of the straps that 'would stand up to a bloodsucker's strength'. No wonder the man was a contact of the Council. At least his mother wouldn't flirt with the doctor, not after seeing him use a scalpel to open the container with his food, and then to use the same tool to demonstrate that the corpse was truly dead while lecturing her and Richard about the telltale signs of 'proto-vampires'.

That had actually been quite informative. He could use some of the information for a book, should 'Vampire Hunter' ever reach the 20th century. Richard pulled out his notebook and wrote a few lines down while his mother's polite smile grew more forced each minute she was listening to the coroner. It had taken a lot to get her to come, and if she stormed away now it'll all be for nothing. Worse, she would believe he was delusional.

"So, when will the bloodsucker rise?"

"Hard to say. It's not that predictable, but within the hour, if my time of death is correct." Perlmutter's tone made it clear that this was the case, and that questioning him would not be a good idea.

Richard nodded. "How many such cases do you get, by the way?"

"Not too many. The population still hasn't recovered from the time Nikki Wood cleaned the city up." Perlmutter answered, his face briefly showing a wistful expression when he mentioned that Slayer. "The number's slowly rising though."

A coroner and the Slayer, working together? That would make for a nice novel, with a Quincy vibe. Still quite different from his usual books though. And he had a feeling that if Perlmutter recognized himself in a fictive character, it would lead to trouble. "Well, no worse than London, yet."

"Ah. What's your preferred method of disposal?" The doctor finished his meal and threw the box into the next trashcan. For a moment Richard wondered if he disposed of body parts in the same way.

"Stake if they are tied down. But if not… fire." He grinned. Next to him, Martha rolled her eyes. She obviously hadn't forgotten or forgiven the time he had set their garden table ablaze. Even if it had been an accident, mostly.

"That can be messy. And dangerous."

"Not as dangerous as trying to stake them in melee." He had gotten good with the flamethrower.

"It can lead to attention from the police though. Arson charges are a thing."

"Well…" Before Richard could explain that he had been careful, Martha's shocked scream - and, dear Lord, she should really audition for a Slasher movie - interrupted the two men. The vampire had risen, or tried to.

Snarling, his ridges and demonic eyes fully visible, it struggled against the straps holding it down. Richard was pulling out a stake while Perlmutter noted down the time, and a few other observations. "See, mother, that's a vampire with its demonic face visible. They show that when feeding, otherwise they look like normal humans."

"Look how the cuts I made before it woke up have disappeared." Perlmutter threw in. Martha gaped at him, then at the demon again.

Richard shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but to show his mother she had been wrong about him? This was almost as good as when he told her about his book contract! "But check this, Mother: It has no reflection. That's why I have so many mirrors, and one directly opposite our door. If someone doesn't show up in the mirror, do not open the door, ever!" He held out a small mirror to demonstrate.

Martha's mouth was moving, but she wasn't saying anything. Maybe he was overdoing it? "To kill them, a wooden stake to the heart works well." The vampire was screaming and cursing a bit too much now. A moment later, he turned to ashes. "Mother?" Oh, yes, he had overdone it. But he couldn't think of a way to show her that would have been less shocking.

Perlmutter was commenting on the way the clothes - if the scrubs on it counted as clothes - had disappeared as well while Richard gently guided his mother out of the morgue. He just knew this would be costing him a small fortune to make it up, even though it was all her fault for not believing him without proof!

 

[Starfox5]

New York, January 2001

"I know it's customary to dislike your daughter-in-law or step-mom, but aren't you jumping the gun here? Gina hasn't even mentioned marriage so far!" Richard Castle - 'Rick' for his friends - said exasperatedly. It wasn't often that both his mother and his daughter agreed upon something, but in this case, both were of one opinion: Gina Cowell was not the right woman for Richard Castle!

"We're being pro-active," his smart, precocious and protective daughter declared, taking care to pronounce the obvious newly learned word carefully. Rick shot a glance at his mother, who feigned confusion. "If we get rid of her now we'll not have to commit a crime later!"

While he was gaping at the little girl who was supposed to be innocent, his mother cut in: "You're very rich and very prominent now, Richard. Women want a piece of that, and usually not the one you'd like to share."

"Mother!" He made a face and pointed at Alexis.

"Pish posh! She's your agent, she already gets more than her fair share of your money. That she is trying to marry you just proves that she's too greedy. Even for an agent." Martha Rodgers ranked agents several steps below lawyers. Alexis showed her agreement with this statement by nodding several times.

"Did you two ever think that Gina might have honestly fallen in love with me because of my charm, wit, and handsome face?" He had his hands on his hips as he glared at them.

"No," Alexis flatly answered and shook her head emphatically.

"I do not think she knows what love is unless it's related to money." Martha stated.

Rick sighed. "Look, you are being very, very biased. Can't you give her a chance, for my sake? She may be an agent, but she's got a number of good sides to compensate." Like her body.

"Well… with her around we'd be safer," his mother stated after a short pause.

"Exactly! We… wait, what?

"She obviously sold her soul to the devil already, so vampires and other demons will stay away from her!" Martha said in a deadpan voice, before breaking out in giggles with Alexis.

"Very funny." Richard glared at them, but as usual it didn't impress either of the two. Martha was immune to it, and Alexis only caved when she thought she had been bad - and she was such a good girl, when she actually did something bad for a change, she punished herself so much, Rick usually never needed to scold her. He groaned. "If she's really after my money, then two words will scare her away: Prenuptial Agreement."

"That's why I think you'll one day wake up in Vegas, married to her, and with the prenup unsigned since you'll be so drunk, you won't even remember the night. Did she ever mention how nice Nevada is in the winter, spring, fall or summer?"

"No she didn't!" Gina had mentioned California, but Rick didn't really want to get close to the Hellmouth. The things he had heard… even though he would have loved to be a fly on the wall when the Slayer had told Travers off!

"Smart of her. She'll present it as a spontaneous idea, something wild, like a teenager would do, and you'll fall for it hook, line and sinker!" Martha wasn't about to change her opinion of Rick's girlfriend.

Alexis kept nodding, then frowned. "What does that mean, Gran?"

While Alexis learned about fishing, Richard went and fixed himself a drink. He and Gina would show them! They could be happy together without marrying, or mentioning money!

 

[Starfox5]

New York, June 2001

"Told you so." Martha Rodgers commented, without looking at him, her gaze locked on the newspaper announcing the break-up of "Rick Castle and his agent".

"Mh." Alexis was holding her orange juice with both hands.

Rick Castle walked to his new and expensive Italian coffee maker while glaring at them both. "Yes, you were right. And? Am I supposed to run every girl I am interested in first by you two, so you can judge her?"

"Yes!" "Of course, dear. Not that you'd ever do much of what you're supposed to."

Rick groaned while his coffee slowly dripped into his mug. He just couldn't win.

 

[Starfox5]

New York, November 2002

Gina had fought tooth and nail to get as much money as possible from him during the divorce. At the same time she had done all she could to make more money for him - she got a cut from that anyway, after all. Richard Castle had to admit that his second ex-wife was a professional when it came to money.

He rubbed his chin. That would make for a good remark for the press: 'I have the utmost trust that our relationship will only improve now that it is strictly professional again. My ex-wife always was better with my money than with me.' At least he had had the presence of mind to get a prenup that did stand up, mostly, in court. Oh, another one: 'If I had spent every evening with a professional, it would have cost me less.'

"... explosion shook the heart of London. Authorities are still investigating. So far no one has claimed responsibility, though both islamist terror groups as well as the IRA are under suspicion…" He whipped his head around and stared at the TV running in the living room. What the…

"Dad! I am old enough to watch the news! It's educational" Alexis claimed while holding the remote to her chest. Rick shook his head. "Switch to BBC."

Alexis stopped trying to defend her right to watch news of terror bombings in the morning and did as told. He stared at the screen showing the smoking ruins of an old building in London. A very familiar building.

"Dear Lord!" He hadn't cursed like an English in years. "That was the Council's headquarters. I worked there for years with your mother!"

Alexis gaped at him, and he realized his mistake at once. "You mean mum was in that house?" she asked in a trembling voice. He wanted to hug his daughter, hold her, and assure her everything would be OK. Instead he was dialing. Mary's apartment - no answer. Mary's cellphone - no answer. Mary's office - no answer. That was no surprise. It was currently burning and buried under rubble. Her parents… no answer. He dialed the numbers again and again, every time getting the same result, until Alexis started to cry.

He hugged and held his daughter then.

*****​

A day later, things had not improved. His TV had been running constantly. He had bought all British newspapers he could. Even the tabloids. There was no news about survivors and the families of the dead were not giving interviews. Rick had called all his old contacts in England. Most of them he hadn't been able to reach. He wished he had stayed in touch with the Council, hadn't limited his contact with Mary - he didn't know enough people to ask about his ex-wife. At least she hadn't been found dead in the rubble, like so many others. So, there was still a bit of hope that Alexis hadn't lost her mother.

A cynical part of him wanted to claim that she had lost her mother years ago. But it would not do to speak ill of the probably dead. No one had taken responsibility for the attack yet. The press had started their own investigations, and the tabloids were already speculating about secret services and conspiracies.

Not too far off the mark, to be honest. He had reached a few survivors, but they hadn't been able to find Mary, or confirm her death either. They had warned him though - the Council headquarters hadn't been the only attack, just the most public one. And Mary's parents had died in the blast, as well as Travers.

Rick glanced at the painting hiding his weapons locker. His apartment was pretty secure when it came to attacks by demons. Reinforced doors, panic rooms, he had even hired a wiccan to cast protective spells on it - his mother had complained about the smell of incense for days, and she didn't even live there - he had gone to great length to protect his family. But against enemies using bombs? What could he do against that kind of threat?

He had a Glock 20 in his desk. He didn't have a concealed carry permit, but as long as he stayed in his home, he could carry as many weapons as he could, well, physically carry. But shooting a bomb wouldn't help, and Alexis would be frightened if she saw him carrying a pistol instead of a sword.

Alexis… she was not coping well. Not that anyone would expect her to, seeing as she was just eight years old. Or 'almost nine', as she had started to claim right after her birthday. He sighed. Alexis was usually very mature for her age, but this would be too much for anyone.

The doorbell interrupted his thoughts. Who could it be? His mother was in the guest room. She had stayed up too late last night, after having rushed back from her vacation in Florida with her latest lover. Alexis was already in bed, hopefully sleeping. After a second of hesitation, he picked up the Glock and walked to the door. If the gun wouldn't work there was a broadsword mounted next to to the doorframe.

Rick looked through the spyhole and froze. Mary? She did show up in the mirror across the door. He opened the door a gap, as far as the far more solid than usual security chain allowed. "How did we meet for the first time?" he stated, instead of a greeting. He was sweating a bit, and gripped the Glock harder.

His ex-wife had been about to say something, and froze for a second, her mouth half-open. She recovered quickly though. "I saved you from a vampire that had picked you up in a pub in London and wanted to eat you in a dark alley." The Council didn't know that. Hadn't known that. Almost no one outside their closest family knew that.

He nodded, then unlocked the chain and opened the door. Mary stepped inside, nodding approvingly when she spotted the gun in his hand. "You heard, then."

"Yes. My condolences."

His ex-wife nodded, her eyes barely showing any emotion. He locked the door, then held out his hand to her. She shrugged out of her coat, revealing an outfit she usually had worn on their hunts together. It looked slightly rumpled, like her hairstyle.

"Alexis!" he shouted. "Wake up! Your mum's here!"

Mary jerked, staring first at him, then at the stairs leading up to her daughter's room. The door upstairs was thrown open, and Alexis Castle came rushing out. "Mum? Mum?" She stopped at the top of the stairs, staring down. "MUM!"

Mary barely had time to open her arms, still just starting to smile, when the almost nine years old latched on to the woman and wailed.

*****​

"You want us to move to the Hellmouth?" Rick stared at his first ex-wife. He would have shouted, if that wouldn't have woken up Alexis, who had finally fallen asleep.

"Yes. The Slayer needs all the help the Council can provide. She's facing the First Evil, who is trying to destroy the Watchers and the Slayer Line. The Hellmouth is the key to her plan, as far as we know." Mary stated.

"I'm not a member of the Watcher's Council anymore. Haven't been one for years." Rick retorted.

"The First won't care. Its servants have struck all around the world. Watchers, potentials, contacts - far too many died, alone, overwhelmed. More are still in danger. Our best chance is to join the Slayer. She has beaten a god and prevented more apocalypses than any other Slayer in history. If anyone can beat the First, it's Buffy Summers!" Mary sounded quite fanatical for someone who had had a low opinion of the 'yankee slayer' a few years ago.

"She did all that without much help from the Council." More like, despite the interfering from the Council, in his opinion. Rick wasn't about to leave his family. It wasn't as if the Slayer would need help from an author and retired vampire hunter.

"She wasn't facing the First Evil then. She does now. This is the most dangerous enemy the Council has ever faced. We need everyone, or we'll fall, and the world will be doomed. No one will be safe. Nowhere will be safe." Mary glanced at the door to Alexis' room.

He grit his teeth in anger. "Don't bring her into this! She cried for two days, thinking you were dead, and now you want both of us to leave her?"

"Do you want to protect her, or not? You are a Watcher. The First will come for you." Mary didn't say that he was endangering their daughter by his very presence. She didn't have to.

"I am retired!" He was no Watcher. Not anymore!

"Do you really think the First Evil cares about you formally quitting the Council? A number of retired Watchers were killed already!"

Martha Rodgers had been surprisingly silent during the exchange so far. She was on her second glass of wine now though, and looked grim.

Rick started to pace.

"Are you so selfish to endanger our daughter instead of doing what's right?" Mary went on.

"Shut up!"

She ignored his outburst. "Why do you think the First has gone after the Council? It's because we are a threat. With so many dead, everyone is needed, or it'll win. Even 'that damned yankee'."

"I can't leave Alexis!" He had to protect his daughter. Keep her safe.

"You have to. You're not safe to be around."

Rick snarled at her and went to get a drink from the kitchen, forcing himself to calm down. He'd never forgive himself if Alexis was hurt because of him. His mother was still not saying anything.

What should he do? What could he do?

Alexis. He had to do what was best for her. His daughter.

"Damn you, Mary!"

 

[Starfox5]

Sunnydale, December 2002

Richard Castle - Rick to his friends - hadn't expected the Hellmouth to look so… normal. Suburban. There was no gothic architecture looming over narrow alleys, no ubiquitous shadows and mists hiding monsters, no general atmosphere of danger and violence. Instead, Sunnydale looked like the stereotypical Californian town. Sunny, open, filled with tanned, health-conscious people. Buffy Summers had to be a miracle worker to keep the hellmouth in check so it didn't corrupt the town.

Well, there were less people on the streets than he'd expected that time of the day - but then, it was a lot hotter outside than in New York. Sane people would stay indoors. Not that Californians were sane by East Coast standards.

"What's the address again?" Rick asked while stopping to let a hot jogger cross the street.

"1630 Revello Drive. Take the next turn left." Mary answered, splitting her attention between the map on her knees and the town.

Rick nodded, not bothering to answer verbally. After two days on the road filled with planning, ranting, and arguing, both had spent the rest of the drive in silence, even when they stopped to eat, or to shower and rest a few hours in a motel. He had wanted to fly - charter a private jet, even - but with both of them hunted by the First, and with Mary connected to the London bombing, they'd not have gotten far at any airport. And the Ack Pack currently resting in the trunk would have led to awkward questions from any authority.

He checked his appearance in the rear view mirror, ignoring the frown on his ex-wife's face. He had a reputation as a handsome, rich playboy to maintain. It wouldn't do to arrive too rumpled. At least he had been able to shower and shave that morning, though a bit of stubble might have made him look more like the experienced vampire hunter (retired) he was.

He drove the M3 Coupé into the driveway of the house and cut the engine. For the Slayer's residence, it looked deceptively harmless. No high fence around the area, and the walls looked rather flimsy. Once outside his air conditioned car, the heat quickly started to get to him. His stylish leather jacket with the hidden loops and sheaths for stakes and blades and vials of holy water was more appropriate for London's fog than California's sun. Mary of course didn't look as if the heat affected her; she wore her long coat and sour expression as if she had just returned from another boring Council meeting.

He pushed the doorbell, then waited. After half a minute, the curtain behind the window on the left side moved, and he could see part of a face peering out. Then the door opened, and Rick came face to face with Buffy Summers. Lothos, the Master, Darla, Angelus, Kakistos, Spike, Dracula himself - she had faced the most powerful vampires and had defeated them all. She was a legend. She was an inspiration to every vampire hunter. She was… about 5 feet tall, and thin like a fashion model.

"Buffy Summers?" He couldn't quite keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Who are you?" The girl narrowed her eyes, and he suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, despite the heat. Her right side and arm was hidden behind the half-opened door. No doubt she held a weapon there, ready to kill him in a split second.

He quickly put on his best, most charming smile. "I am Richard Castle, Watcher. This is Mary Wilkinson, also a Watcher. We're here to help." He hoped Mary managed to smile instead of frown.

The blonde didn't move, didn't look away, she simply yelled "GILES! We've got visitors!"

Wait, Giles?

"Buffy, there was no need to yell, I was already on the way… dear Lord! Richard! Mary! You're alive!" Rupert arrived behind the Slayer, adjusting his glasses. There was more grey in his hair, he had more lines in his face, but otherwise he could have stepped out of the Council library 10 years ago. Behind him, a gaggle of girls was hanging back.

"You know them, Giles?" The Slayer was still giving them looks full of suspicion.

"Yes, Buffy. They were colleagues of mine, back in London." Rupert smiled at the girl, probably as he'd smile at any dangerous predator, Rick thought.

"Great. We're invaded by the English. Soon Starbucks will go out of business, replaced by teabucks. And where will I get my coffee-fix then?" Buffy pouted, but stepped back and opened the door all the way. As expected, she had a stake in hand, a rather warped thing, too.

"I am actually American," Rick corrected her as he stepped inside following Mary, "I just spent a decade in London."

"You don't sound American. Oh my god, English is contagious!" Buffy gasped. Had Rick really slipped back into the accent he had picked up in his years in England?

Rupert's smile grew forced. "We could only wish English was contagious. You might stop mangling our language if that was the case." The Watcher and the Slayer stared at each other for a second before the girl pouted and closed the door.

"Please excuse Buffy," one of the other girls smiled at Rick, "my sister is ... oh my god! You're Richard Castle!"

"Yes, Dawn, he said that." Buffy glared at the girl.

"He's a famous author!" Dawn, as the girl was apparently called, stared at Rick with an expression of awe he'd have loved if she was, say, 10 years older, and not the Slayer's sister. "Willow! Castle is in our house!" She had a set of lungs like her sister too.

Rupert looked confused, Mary looked annoyed, and the Slayer looked lost. As first impressions went, this was one of Rick's better ones.

*****​

"I've actually been a Watcher for about ten years. I quit the Council in 2000 and became a full-time author and father," Richard explained a bit later while sitting in the Slayer's living room. Which looked far too normal, in his opinion. If he ever wrote a book about this, he'd have to change things. Maybe add some weird hunting trophies and weapons to the walls. Older furniture, sturdier. More chests. He'd keep the Californian fashion worn by the girls though.

Rupert was polishing his glasses. He hadn't taken the revelation that Rick had made a fortune by using the Watcher journals as inspiration that well. The girls, especially that redhead and the Slayer's sister, were very impressed though. And the young man, Xander, seemed to be very amused. Probably at Rupert's expense.

"Wow. That explains why the 'Vampire Hunter' series is so good. I should have noticed that the descriptions of the vampires and demons were completely correct! But… does that mean that those past Watchers all had affairs with their Slayers? I mean, in every book, there's this love story as well, very romantic, even if it's a tad biased since there's no lesbian couples, but then again, there was that story with the female Watcher, but since we know that most Slayers die so young, that makes all those love stories very tragic in hindsight. Oh my god, I will have to reevaluate my whole opinion of those books!" The redhead babbled, then stared at Buffy and Giles.

"What?" the Slayer looked again confused, then her eyes widened. "No way! Me and Giles? Eww! He slept with mom! On the hood of a police patrol car! With handcuffs!"

"Giles! Oh my god!" Dawn looked shocked.

"G-Man! Way to go!" Xander exclaimed, then cringed when the Slayer and her sister glared at him.

"Buffy! I explained to you that both of us were under the influence of a mind-altering substance in those chocolates! I certainly would have never done anything like this otherwise!" Rupert huffed at the Slayer, then glared at the kids staring at him.

"Does that mean mom wasn't good enough for you without doing drugs?" Buffy scowled at the Watcher.

"What? I most certainly didn't mean that! Joyce was one of the most impressive women I knew."

"You can be my step-dad anytime," Dawn Summers cut in. "At least you're around most of the time, unlike our real dad." She perked up. "I'd need a bigger allowance, of course!" When the older man glared at her, she giggled.

Rick glanced at Mary while Rupert tried to defend his reputation. His ex-wife looked shocked, well, it was understandable. Rick was a bit shocked himself.

This was humanity's best hope for survival? The world was doomed!

*****​

After things had calmed down, the talk returned to what might pass for a strategy session if one was a Californian teenager. Rick wondered if what he was feeling now was how Travers had felt when talking with him. And he wondered how Rupert was still sane - the man had spent years here, and he was born British!

"So… if I got this right, you're an author who moonlighted as a Watcher librarian. And your ex-wife is a Watcher librarian." Buffy Summers was pacing in front of the couch Rick was sitting on with Mary, while the rest of the house's occupants were sprawled around the living room, mostly on the floor. "We already have an ex-Watcher ex-librarian." She pointed at Rupert, who coughed. "What exactly can you do, other than writing books about old men seducing poor young Slayers?" More coughing from Rupert followed. "I doubt we can beat the First by feeding her novels. That might have worked with Glory, though."

"Well, it's not as if we are only librarians," Rick answered, before Mary's indignation could overcome her shock and his ex-wife could start a confrontation with the Slayer who had sent Travers packing, "both of us regularly hunted vampires in our spare time in London."

"Dear Lord!" Rupert sounded surprised - he really didn't know Mary well - but the rest looked impressed.

"We left our weapons in the car. People tend to get nervous when they see a flamethrower." Rick's remark caused an instant change in the Slayer's attitude.

"You've got a flamethrower? Can I see it?" For a feared veteran Slayer, Buffy's puppy dog eyes were remarkably effective. Of course, knowing that she could rip him limb from limb if she wanted to helped her persuasiveness a lot.

"Of course. We can buy one for you too, if you want. That's the other thing I bring to the table, apart from my ruggedly handsome looks and my experience: I am rich. Money can solve a lot of problems."

The expression on the Slayer's face suddenly changed and Rich felt as if he was a piece of meat in front of a hungry tiger. And not the in the good, kinky sense. Next to him, Mary was covering her face, across from him Rupert was polishing his glasses, and everyone else was smiling far too eagerly at him.

Maybe his mother was right, and Rick really didn't learn from his mistakes.

 

[Starfox5]

Sunnydale, December 2002

Richard Castle was rich. Still. Financing the fight against the First Evil hadn't really dented his fortune, yet. Despite Buffy Summers and her friends making a very determined effort to achieve that feat. And in less than a week too. Maybe the reason that the Slayer usually worked alone was that the Council would have gone bankrupt otherwise.

Sitting in the kitchen and waiting for the water to boil - he really needed to order a coffee maker too, Italian design of course - the author mentally ticked off the recent expenses. Rented a new, far larger and far more defensible, house. Villa, actually. He couldn't fault that - he'd rather not share a room with Rupert and Xander again, and they needed more bathrooms with that many girls in one place. Lots more bathrooms. And solid walls were far better than that flimsy wood they used in California. Not to mention safer if one used a flamethrower as a weapon.

"Yes!" A yell from the backyard interrupted his tallying. The Slayer was practising with her new flamethrower. Another necessary expense - she had laid claim to his old one, holding it hostage until he bought one for her as well. And a few spares. And enough spare fuel to keep the US Army running for a week.

"And it burns, burns, burns!" Xander mangled Johnny Cash while instructing Buffy. At least the targets they were using had been cheap - the young man had made them himself from a few planks of wood, down to the painted-on fangs and slick black or blonde hair, which annoyed Buffy for some reason.

The water finally boiled, and Rick filled his mug. A sip later he winced. He really needed to order that coffee maker. Stepping outside, he saw that Buffy had switched to sword practise with Rupert, and Xander was now instructing the potentials in how to use a flamethrower in the midst of the burned remains of Buffy's targets.

"That's far too dangerous. One mistake, and they could set themselves on fire." Mary had joined him on the porch, holding a cup of tea, no coffee for her of course, and glared at him.

Rick shrugged. "One mistake on a hunt, and you're vampire chow."

"It slows them down."

"Even as potentials, they can't keep up with the speed of vampires. Not on a Hellmouth. It gives them a range advantage, and even a glancing hit will kill a blood sucker." Rick answered, almost bored. They had gone over that same argument twice already. "Besides, Xander knows how to use one." And setting things on fire was cool.

Mary scowled, but didn't continue the doomed argument. When a Slayer who had survived for six years on a Hellmouth wanted a weapon, she got that weapon.

The two watched the training in silence for a bit, emptying their mugs. Rick hoped Mary's tea was as bad as his coffee. Unfortunately, with Rupert here, that was not likely.

"Mr. Castle?"

Richard winced. He pasted a smile on his face and turned around. "Yes, Anya?" The scandinavian friend of the Slayer, was attractive, but so greedy, she made Gina look like a nun sworn to live in poverty. She also was so rude at times, he suspected a mild mental disorder. That, or she had been raised by capitalist wolves in the wood, and had just recently returned to civilization. Now that gave him an idea for a new character...

"Have you considered my offer now?" She beamed a smile at him that was likely supposed to be seductive, but made her look slightly crazy.

"I think we should focus on fighting the First Evil for now, before discussing business opportunities." He smiled as honestly as when he had been talking to Gina's lawyer. Anya didn't seem to notice though. "Besides, if we lose this battle, there might not be a world left to make money in."

Anya nodded. "That is true. Would you like to have sex? In our situation, it is a quite natural desire. Many warriors had sex before battle."

What? He stared at her. He had known scandinavian women were supposed to be very… liberated… but this was…

"Those little girls want to have sex with Xander too," she pointed at the potentials surrounding the young man. "All but the one who wants to have sex with Willow." In the kitchen, Rick could hear a cup crash to the floor, and someone sputter.

"Anya! What did we tell you about sex talk?" Rick hadn't noticed Buffy coming over to them - she simply suddenly was there, next to him.

"Those are not strangers, or visitors. We now live with them, so sex talk is appropriate." Anya answered, frowning at the Slayer.

Buffy turned to Rick and Mary. "I am sorry, she's a bit… blunt." And the Empire State Building was a bit tall.

"We're all a bit stressed," Rick answered. He was tempted to accept the offer - sex with slightly crazy people was great - but he was not sure that the relationship between Anya and Xander was really over. Why else would the man have tried to frighten him with tales of Anya castrating and otherwise maiming men? Not that he believed those tales, but seeing a possibly jealous ex-boyfriend demonstrate how to set a human-sized target on fire tended to put things into a certain perspective. "I'll have to go over a few numbers now."

"Oh, I can help you! I am good with numbers. I ran the numbers for the Magic Box for Giles, and made a healthy profit!"

Rick's smile froze on his face.

*****​

"So, Xander, where did you learn how to use a flamethrower? I've been using one for years, and even I learned something new today," Rick asked at dinner later that day, after a rather interesting afternoon. In the Chinese sense of the word.

"It's a long story," Xander began.

"He dressed as a soldier for Halloween, and due to a Chaos spell he got the memories of that soldier." Buffy interrupted him.

"Apparently not that long." Xander pouted.

Rick wasn't entirely certain he believed that. Maybe the young man was a deserter from the US Army. Or a Green Beret working undercover. He had overheard some hints at a covert operation in Sunnydale yesterday. But he was a guest here, even if his money paid the rent and groceries and most of the clothes. He changed the topic. "Did the prisoner talk?" And hadn't that been a surprise! The group was keeping a prisoner - an evil warlock, if his boasts were true.

"We made him talk!" Dawn piped up.

Next to her, Anya nodded. "He was more than willing to share what he knew after I told him what I would do to him if he did not cooperate. Even if I had to improvise most of the tools. Torture standards really declined in the last thousand years."

Rick blinked, trying to make sense of that statement, but before he could ask what exactly she meant by that, Buffy interrupted him again. "We found out there's a seal in the school basement, over the Hellmouth, that he has been trying to open. We need to seal that seal. Or re-seal the seal. Whatever, it needs to be locked up. Down. Closed."

"Normally we would simply have walked in during the day and poured cement over it, but the new Principal is not quite as stupid as the ones we had in school," Xander explained. "So we'll have to do it tonight."

"So that was what the cement was for." Rick nodded.

"That, and I have a few ideas to enhance the defenses here." Xander smiled.

"Xander - he can build an entire house, given enough materials and time!" Willow smiled at the man, prompting frowns from both the potential, Kennedy, and Anya.

"We'll also have to find and rescue Spike." At that statement from Buffy, the whole table fell silent.

Rick was puzzled. "Spike?"

"One of the members of the Scourge of Europe. He switched sides and was working with the Slayer the last few years." Mary explained, without looking at him.

"So, it's called 'working' now…" Xander said in a rather sarcastic tone, then yelped, and bent down, probably to rub his foot, while glaring at Buffy. Willow frowned at him while Rupert polished his glasses, but with a dark expression. Dawn was giggling. The potentials looked as lost as Rick felt.

"I feel I am missing something. One of the worst master vampires is working with the Slayer?" Rick gaped. "Why wasn't I told that?" The stories he could spin from that...

"It's a long story." Buffy stated.

"Spike got a chip…" Anya started.

Buffy interrupted her. "I said it's a long story. Too long to be told now. We've got a seal to seal. Willow has a locator spell to cast, and we've got a … Spike to save."

"And there are more potentials coming. I've set up a switch that redirects calls to Buffy's house to our new address." Willow added.

"The seal and the girls are obviously the priority. We don't even know where fangface is." Xander said. "We'll have to patrol the bus stop."

"I'd like to go help with the seal," Rick spoke up. He wouldn't call it sealing the seal. He was an author! "I've never seen the Hellmouth, and that may be as close as I can get to it."

"Oh, I doubt you'll be that lucky. You'll probably get grabbed by the tentacles sprouting from it, and dragged towards it." Xander answered.

Rick was about to laugh at the joke when he noticed that everyone else was nodding with a grim expression.

Just what had been going on in that town?

 

[Starfox5]

Sunnydale, December 2002

After all he had heard about the Hellmouth, it or rather the Seal of Danzalthar on top of it, was not very impressive, in Richard Castle's opinion. It was a pentagram, with runes mixed in, around a sabbatic goat head, all etched in metal. It looked like a cheap cover for a Metal band, actually. Rick wasn't certain what that said about either Ancient Evil or Heavy Metal. "I'm not sure if I should be glad or disappointed that there's no rift and no tentacles."

"Glad." Anya stated with obvious conviction.

"Definitely glad." Dawn chimed in.

Mary just glared at him. He had expected that. Though after meeting the legendary Buffy Summers and her faithful allies, he could now safely say that Mary was far too serious to seriously fight the Forces of Darkness. It apparently took a certain kind of madness to survive for years on a Hellmouth. Rick would have suspected that the madness was the result of years on a Hellmouth, but Rupert had assured him that everyone involved had been crazy before he met them and they started hunting vampires.

"Since we do not know if Andrew would qualify as a virgin sacrifice to appease the demons coming through an open Hellmouth, I cast my vote for 'glad' as well." Xander said from behind the bag of cement he was carrying.

"Hey!" Their prisoner protested, then fell silent when everyone glared at him.

"A virgin sacrifice would probably break the seal, so we would want to avoid that," Mary said in the crisp, calm voice Rick knew heralded an angry outburst. He still took care to stare at Andrew, then at the seal, rubbing his chin, until the murderous little jerk paled and trembled.

Buffy arrived, carrying two bags of cement and her flamethrower as if they weighted nothing. Such sights drove home just how powerful a Slayer was. And the lack of reaction from everyone but himself and Mary showed just how much the group here had gone through. "If I break a nail carrying those, someone better pay for my manicure!" She exclaimed while dropping the bags on the floor.

"Buffy! Just because now we've got some rich sugar daddy supporting us is no reason to abuse it! It's not as if you've got anyone who'd care for the state of your nails with the world in danger of ending!" Dawn scolded the Slayer with the satisfied air of a younger sister who was always waiting for an opportunity to turn the tables on her older sibling. It reminded Rick of Martha and himself, in a way. Not that he'd ever say that. To either one.

"Two words, Dawn: Leather Jacket." Buffy huffed, dusting her thighs off.

"That counts as armor and therefore as slay-gear!" Dawn protested.

"Gucci doesn't make armor!" Buffy crossed her arms and stared at her sister.

"Well it should!" Dawn retorted.

"Well, yes, but that's not the point!"

Before the discussion could escalate into an argument, Kennedy arrived behind Buffy, dragging a hose with her. The potential was struggling a bit, but not noticeably. Impressive, but far from the supernatural strength displayed by the Slayer. Xander took charge of the operation at that point, and soon the cement was hardening nicely over the seal, with a few iron crosses buried in it as well, just in case some vampire tried to dig it up again.

"I'm all covered in dust! And it's not even vampire dust! If it rains, I'll turn into a statute when dry!" Buffy complained.

"At least then you'd look as old as you sound when you nag!" Apart from Dawn, always ready to needle her older sister, no one else reacted to her comments.

"How long do we have to wait until it's dry?" Mary asked. She hadn't had an outburst yet. Rick was impressed by her self-control.

"It'll take a few days to harden fully," Xander answered, putting up some "do not cross" signs borrowed from the construction site on the way. "But it'll be soon too hard to leave your handprints in it." He grinned, then blinked when the Slayer bent down and pressed both hands in the wet cement.

"Hey… it's kind of our walk of fame." Buffy defended herself while trying to wipe her hands clean without smearing cement on her clothes.

"If you squint and are on drugs." But Dawn was eyeing the cement herself.

In the end, the cement was sporting handprints from everyone present before the group left the school's basement.

*****

"So, 'the presence of the First Evil destroys all plant life around it'. If I used that in a book, half the critics would claim it was too cheap, or too cliche as a plot point." Rick commented as he followed the Slayer and Rupert Giles towards a Christmas tree lot. His flamethrower was hidden, somewhat, under a cut-up backpack, same as Xander's. Rupert had declined to take one himself while Xander had persuaded Buffy that she would be needed as a quick reaction reserve to intercept charging vampires, and shouldn't carry a flamethrower herself since she would be more effective in melee. It had sounded more convincing when the young man had said it than now, out in the last hour of the night, on the deserted street.

"Oh, yes! Evil older than recorded history just isn't what it once was, back before humanity climbed down from the trees. First we have magic seals that look like someone copied a Heavy Metal band, and now we have the evil itself copying cheap fantasy novels! I'd have thought primordial forces had more pride, you know?" Xander asked.

"Well… maybe that's a sign that Metal and cheap fantasy novels are evil," Rick speculated. "My novels are expensive, by the way."

"Don't let Buffy hear that! She'll try to kill the next rocker she meets!" Xander chuckled, and Rick joined him.

"Perhaps they sold their souls for fame and success, and the covers and plots were part of a discount? Sort of 'advertise for us, and we'll charge you less'?" Rick spun the thought further.

"What would be a discount on a soul? Isn't that an all or nothing deal?" Xander asked, watching the entrance to a side alley they were passing. For all his goofy jokes and attitude, he moved like a trained soldier.

"I think those stupid enough to sell their souls probably don't consider that." Rick stated, covering his own side.

"Well, if Spike can get a soul, they can't be too rare."

"Could you two shut up?" Buffy glared at both of them, hands on her hips. It should have looked cute rather than lethal, but she was the Slayer, and Rick and Xander shut up. Although the younger man did it with an exaggerated gesture as if he was zipping his lips shut. He had been the Slayer's friend for years though, while Rick hadn't.

The four walked the rest of the way in silence, with Rick and Xander exchanging a few looks behind the backs of the other two, quickly escalating into grimaces, until they both were chuckling. Buffy probably heard them, but didn't react. Rick hoped she was not one to hold grudges.

The Christmas tree plot - Rick hadn't know they even grew in California, wasn't everything, from trees to chests, plastic here? - did have a part where all trees had died, but Rick refrained from making another comment.

"So, there is a cave somewhere here?" Rupert apparently hadn't been there before either.

"Yes, back when I fought the First Evil for the first time. Or, rather, its priests, when they were driving Angel mad." Buffy explained.

"Figures. If it's not one vampire, it's the other." Xander muttered under his breath.

Buffy sent him a glare - Slayers had superhuman hearing, Rick reminded himself, something to keep in mind when snarking - then continued. "We just have to find the entrAAHHHH!"

Before their eyes, the Slayer broke through the ground and fell into a hole. "Found it!" she shouted from below. The cheery tone told them that she wasn't hurt.

"Wait for us, we'll climb down!" Xander yelled down.

"No, no, it's a bit narrow, and you're carrying the flamers. I'll just take a look around - scout a bit, in soldier-speak - and come back up!"

Rick didn't show it, or so he hoped, but he was kind of relieved. Not because of the climbing down - though that would be a hassle - but fighting in narrow spaces and bad air with flamethrowers was not entirely without risk, as his British friends would say. And if he failed to climb up with the additional weight, and the Slayer had to pull, or worse, carry him up, he'd never live it down!

Still, that you were standing around a hole in the ground while a girl risked her life below simply didn't feel like something you could tell your friends when swapping war stories. Xander didn't look like he liked it either, but Rick thought the man was a bit overcompensating. He wondered if such damage to a male's ego was listed in the Watcher's handbook under the risks of associating with a Slayer. It should be, in his opinion.

Minutes passed, then they heard a scream. "It's right behind me!"

Peering down, Rick could see Buffy climbing up frantically, not bothering to search for hand- and footholds, but simply punching and kicking into the packed earth. And behind her, visible in the cone of Rupert's flashlight, was the ugliest vampire Rick had ever seen, gaining on the Slayer. Rick gripped the muzzle of his flamethrower. The thing was too close to the Slayer to make a shot. If he sprayed too much, or misjudged the cone…

Then the thing was on fire, dropping from the wall and thrashing around. Xander obviously hadn't had any such doubts. Buffy, yelling about her hair pulled herself out of the hole and then patted her head until she was certain it was not burning. Meanwhile the thing down there was slowing down, and finally turned to ashes.

"Dear Lord!" Rupert was pale.

"Giles! I staked it, I hit its heart, and it didn't dust! What is that? Was that?" Buffy demanded to know.

"It lasted far longer than a vamp usually does when on fire," Xander added. So that wasn't an effect of the Hellmouth, Rick noted.

"Was it a vampire? Or some sort of demon? Maybe a hybrid?" the author speculated. He had shied away from using those awful vampire-werewolf-hybrid abominations, but if they actually existed…

"It was a Turok-Han. A legendary vampire, far more dangerous than its contemporary brethren. I thought they were just a myth…" Rupert seemed shocked.

"We dusted a myth? Will we get in trouble with a museum? Or PETA?"

While everyone turned to stare at Xander, Rick noticed that not being the one everyone glared at for a quip was quite a novel experience for him.

He wouldn't give up that position to a younger challenger without a fight, of course!

 

[Starfox5]

Sunnydale, December 2002

"I love you, Alexis! Merry Christmas!"

"I love you, dad! Merry Christmas!"

Richard Castle smiled and passed his cellphone to his ex-wife, then walked around the porch to the back. He didn't feel like going inside yet. He wasn't ashamed that he was crying, but… the mood inside was somber enough, no need to drag it down even more, on Christmas. Besides, Alexis and his mother were safe. Celebrating Christmas with his first ex-wife, a former colleague from work and a bunch of bloodthirsty college kids was a small price to pay for that.

He snorted. Many other men his age would be happy to be one of the few men in a house chock-full of girls, even though a primordial evil wanted to kill them all. A great number of such men would also be willing to exploit the situation, offer the girls a bit of comfort, or whatever the excuse would be. Not him though. He had principles. Morals. Standards. And a healthy respect for the Slayer and the potentials. Maybe a little bit of fear as well.

His gaze fell upon the shovel stuck in the earth near the target range for the flamethrowers. Maybe more than a little bit. He shivered at the memory of the 'shovel speech' the Slayer had given him after he had spent one evening talking about his books with Dawn and Willow, who were among his number one fans. As if he'd sleep with an underage teenager! Maybe he shouldn't have shown them the scar from the first vampire he had met, but they had not giggled, or made jokes about love bites, but nodded in understanding. Though in hindsight, he should have stopped them from showing off their own scars. That had been so easy to misunderstand for someone who had just entered the room when Dawn had been lifting her shirt and Willow had been unbuttoning her blouse.

The redhead was not interested anyway - she was still wobbling back and forth between being interested in and scared of Kennedy. It would have been very entertaining to observe, if they hadn't been facing the First Evil.

That was the real dampener for this Christmas celebration: the prospect of a battle for their lives that was hanging over all of their heads. It was hard to get a celebration going when death could await them all. Well, hard for the potentials and the other guests in Sunnydale - the 'scoobies', as apparently the core crew around Buffy called themselves, were old hands at ignoring such things when there was a party to be had. Even Rupert, and he had let slip that Buffy was even worse on Thanksgiving.

So, at least a few were having fun, and if Rick was right, the rest would follow, helped along by some liquid Christmas spirit. He wasn't in the mood for that, yet. Nor to watch the potentials hanging all over Xander, Anya's disapproval notwithstanding. Dear Lord, if he wrote such a passage in a novel, people would complain about turning 'Vampire Hunter' into a soap opera! A teenage drama, at that. He shook his head, chuckling at Gina's possible reaction.

"Martha and Alexis send their regards." Mary had apparently followed him, not understanding that he wanted to be alone. Not that she ever truly understood him. "Shouldn't you be inside, impressing the underage girls with daring tales straight out of the Watcher's Journals?"

Mary hadn't taken the completely natural, if not so innocent interest of the potentials in a ruggedly handsome and rich vampire hunting author well. Probably because there was no similar interest in her. Her jealousy had always been her worst flaw. He turned his head to her. "Shouldn't you be inside, telling them how to properly celebrate Christmas?"

"I left them the Watcher's Handbook for field Christmas. They'll be OK." Mary answered.

Castle stared at her. "That was a decent joke, with self-deprecating humor even. California is good for you!"

"We British have always been good at gallow's humor. You yankees just seldom get our jokes." Mary shot back, and he could hear the edge behind her levity. She was tightly-wound, so he just laughed and didn't escalate.

The two of them stared at the backyard, illuminated by the Christmas decoration that had almost cost two potentials their lives or at least pride before Xander had stepped in and mounted the ensemble without risking anyone's life. The formerly pristine lawn had been turned into a battlefield - burned, trampled, even hacked to pieces in places by potentials getting trained by a veteran Slayer, a young man with the memories of soldier, and one former mass-murdering vampire, who had apparently regained his soul. Castle had known people tended to rediscover Christmas during the holiday season, but this was a success story the church probably wouldn't want published.

"Do you think she's sleeping with it?" Mary whispered.

"I think I'd rather not know, or think about such private details." Castle answered. He knew Slayers had supernatural hearing, and vampires too. "Besides, didn't Travers vet Spike years ago?" He was quite proud he didn't add a few adjectives to Travers's name.

"I am quite certain he didn't know about that particular private detail." Mary pressed out through her lips.

"No one else seems to have a problem with that," Rick shrugged.

"Mister Harris and Rupert do not approve." Mary stared at him with disapproval written over her face.

"They haven't staked him yet, and given the way the locals seem to to voice their disapproval with lethal violence when they're really serious, that's as good as handing the bride over at the altar I'd say." Rick shrugged again, and hid his amusement at her reaction. "Besides, he's chained up in the basement. Although that doesn't preclude some kinky action, of course."

Marry sniffed at that remark, turned on her heels, and walked into the house. Mission accomplished. Rick sighed, then jumped up, gasping, when the Slayer revealed herself right next to him.

"For someone who does not want to know about my private life, you're making with the speculation a lot."

"Jesus! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Don't worry, you're not that old yet. And you'll not be getting any older if I ever catch you with my sister, mister 'I write tales about Watchers sleeping with teenagers'!" For someone who barely reached five foot, Buffy Summers could be very threatening. Mike Tyson would probably shy away from her glare, so Rick didn't feel bad at cringing.

"I told you! I am not interested in Dawn!" he protested.

"She's interested in you though. She always had a taste for men completely unsuited for her. Her first date was a vampire, you know." The Slayer explained.

"Shouldn't you be frightening her into staying a good girl then, instead of terrifying me?" Rick knew he sounded a bit petulant, but he couldn't help it.

"Of course not. She's my sister, if I tell her not to do something, she'd do it out of spite. Or you, in that case." Buffy grinned with a slightly manic touch. "Scaring you works,though!"

"You'd blame me for your sister's faults? That is so unfair!" Castle pouted at her. She was probably joking. At least a bit.

"You've been married to Miss Watcher Handbook, you should be used to getting blamed." With a wide smile, the Slayer nodded at the shovel in the corner, then stepped inside.

Castle had to ask Rupert how he had managed to not become an alcoholic living with those maniacs. Or, if Rupert hadn't managed that, ask where he kept his stash.