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Title: The Moment You Know
Author: Dezdemona (FreddysGirl@wickedmail.com),  
(FreddysGirl@angelfire.com)
Rating: NC17 for language and sexual situations, though not as 
bad as last time--trust me.
SPOILERS: To current episode possible...but with this one, 
unlikely. <g>
DISCLAIMER: Ain't none of 'em mine, wish they were. :)
Dedication: To Ebonbird, who asked for it...and who said I write 
Ripper "real"...she seems to think I have a real affinity for Giles. 
Well, I had to write it for her after that, didn't I? <g> So, Ebonbird, 
I started writing and this is what came out...hope you like. I also 
hope it's not too long for one post. :)

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"C'mere, Ripper, I want you to meet someone."

Ripper threw down his cigarette and exhaled the last of the 
smoke in disgust. Whenever Brian started a sentence that way, it 
never boded well. The night usually ended with him trying to 
discourage some silly bitch from following him around like a dog. 
Brian did *not* have an eye for attractive women, unfortunately. 
"Brian. Not again."

"Don't be an idiot, Brian," David warned. "They've just gotten 
together. She's too much class to throw him over that soon."

"No, really, she's wonderful," Brian sloshed at Ripper, ignoring 
David's protests altogether. Like almost everyone else in this 
crowd, he was very good at ignoring David. Even drunk. The 
alcohol was nearly oozing out of his pores.

"How could *you* tell?" Ripper shoved the smaller man 
backward as Brian swayed toward him.

"Well, she dinnt come here on her own," Brian replied, missing 
the insult entirely, too busy concentrating on how to pronounce 
his words. His concentration failed him, but Ripper understood 
anyway. He perked up a bit.

"She's with someone?" He glanced around the room, sharp 
green eyes taking in every dark corner he could. Could be she 
was worth taking a look at, after all. Might even be fun to tear her 
away from whatever bastard had brought her here. Shouldn't be 
too hard, considering the regulars of these parties. He had no 
unrealistic images of himself, really, and even he knew he was a 
standout in this crowd. These weekend benders at Ethan's really 
didn't attract a high class of people.

Brian gestured with his glass through the haze of smoke and 
people. "Over there."

Ripper followed the unsteady gesture until he picked out the 
woman Brian had indicated.

Oh. He was not the only standout here tonight.

Part of the woman's uniqueness was her coloration; she wore 
classical African features, and wore them well, holding herself 
somewhat removed from the din of drugged and drunken party 
goers around her. Ripper snapped her a look up and down, 
appraising her quickly. Cultured, he thought to himself, glancing 
at her hands and eyes; her arms were bare, and smooth-- no 
track marks-- though she did hold a glass. He wondered if she 
was drunk enough yet to approach. Lovely. He spared a glance 
at her date, and nearly laughed out loud.

She was with Ethan.

Oh, now the gauntlet was thrown, and the challenge would be 
truly met. He could tell from the way she stood-- slightly apart 
from Ethan, though comfortable enough with him-- that this was 
an early date-- third at the latest, perhaps even the first. Though 
her looks and bearing bespoke class, it was still early enough in 
the relationship that he bet himself he could take her away from 
Rayne.

It would certainly be fun to try.

"What do you think?" Brian asked, watching Ripper tearing the 
couple asunder in his mind. David just shook his head in disgust.

"Why do you want me to meet her?"

Brian shrugged. "Rayne's a bastard."

Ripper grinned. "God, I need told that?"

Sharing the grin, Brian replied, "Ethan fucked me over. I want to 
see someone do the same to him. You're the one to do it."

Ripper's grin turned to a happy snarl. "I sure as hell am."

"I told you, you'll never get her away from him. She's new to him. 
Wait a couple weeks, she'll leave him on her own," David 
reasoned.

"Where the hell's the fun in that?"

David laughed. "Don't you get it? She thinks it's real. She thinks 
Ethan cares about her. She won't just take a walk on him like 
that. Not even for you."

"You think?"

"I know."

Ripper lifted his chin. "How much?"

"Serious?"

Ripper just looked at him. He hadn't been hanging with this 
crowd long, but one thing almost everyone knew by now...Ripper 
didn't back down. From anything. It was almost as if nothing he 
saw *could* scare him-- like he knew, no matter what it was, that 
somewhere... there was something worse.

Some people thought maybe he was right...and that the *worse* 
thing was Ripper himself.

"Fine. I'll bet a hundred quid you can't lift her."

"Jesus, David, how much of your packet have you put up your 
nose tonight?" Brian yelped.

"How much time you give me?"

"Two days."

Ripper snorted. "Hell. I'll do it tonight."


By the time he made it through the crowd, the woman had 
slipped away, but Ethan was still waiting expectantly for her to 
return. Ripper leaned against the wall next to him. "Fucked her 
yet?" he asked conversationally.

Ethan looked him up and down. "Intend to tonight. Have you 
given any more thought to--"

"Jesus, Ethan, piss off about that, will you?" Ripper growled. "I 
told you, if I decide to throw myself to the demons, I'll let you 
fucking know."

"I just think if you don't, it's a waste of talent." His leer suggested 
a waste of something else as well, but Ripper ignored the look 
he was getting. "God, Ripper, you'd be a natural' Ah, here she 
is." He held out his arm as the woman approached, two fresh 
drinks in her hands. He took one and said, "Olivia, darling, this is 
my dear friend Ripper. Ripper, Olivia. Keep your fucking hands 
off of her."

Noticing her look at Ethan when he swore, Ripper pulled up a 
shred of his Oxford days and gently kissed her hand in greeting. 
"You'll have to forgive Ethan," he purred. "He thinks every man is 
like himself, and after every woman."

Olivia's gaze traveled over his body, but not with the I'm-
stripping-you-with-my-eyes-and-you'd-better-allow-it look that 
most everyone else at one of Ethan's parties usually employed. 
Instead, he could read actual thoughts clearly in those 
mahogany eyes...she was trying to piece together his puzzle. 
Oxford accent, manor house manners, biker jacket and jeans so 
tight they left room for nothing but skin beneath. He caressed the 
underside of her fingers as he released her hand and saw her 
eyes sparkle at the sensation. "And what are you like, Ripper?" 
she asked, her accent dancing over his name.

He gave her what seemed to be his most charming smile-- at 
least, it was the one that got him the most acquiescence from 
women. "I honestly haven't done that much soul searching," he 
replied. "Why don't you tell me."

Ethan cleared his throat. "Ripper," he warned.

Ripper held his hands in the air. In spite of it, Ethan still didn't 
look convinced that he was keeping his hands off her. Instead, 
he looked rather more like he had just seen Ripper tearing her 
clothes off and rubbing his cock against her soft belly while she 
screamed for him to fuck her.

Ethan was not happy.

"Sorry, dear," Ripper told Olivia gently. "I rather think your love is 
jealous. I think I'll just leave you two alone...." He slipped back 
into the throng, though he was careful to choose a path along the 
few lights that did pierce the smoke, placing his hands in his 
jeans pockets as he did so that his jacket hiked up and she could 
see his backside. He retreated to a darker corner of the room 
where he could watch them unobtrusively, and smoked another 
cigarette, waiting.

Ethan. Hounding him again to involve himself with Ethan's little 
band of magic users. He had already put him off twice, but 
patience was not one of Ethan's virtues. In fact, at the moment 
he couldn't think of any of Ethan's virtues, excepting the fact that 
he threw one hell of a party. No, Ethan had never learned 
patience.

Thank god. Tonight it was going to net Ripper an easy fuck and 
a hundred pounds.

Sure enough, Ripper hadn't finished his cig yet when the two 
began having the most quiet argument he'd ever seen Ethan 
engaged in. He attributed the low profile of the row to Olivia's 
sense of decorum. If she were any other of Ethan's sluts, there'd 
be shouting and fisticuffs by now. And likely Ethan coming 
toward *him*, out for blood. He made a few quick guesses, from 
her expressions, as to what she was saying. *He didn't do 
anything...well, *I* didn't do anything! He was just being polite. I 
can be polite back if I want to be.*

*You can't tell me what to do,* Ripper smirked in his head. He 
didn't for one moment think that Olivia was actually saying that, 
but it still seemed appropriate.

*Fine. Why don't I just give you some time to cool off?*

Whoops. His cue.

He was on his feet and following as Olivia stalked away from a 
fuming Ethan.


She was picking her way carefully through the press of people, 
but Ripper was far less picky. He shoved a few aside so that he 
reached her chosen destination a moment before she did. He 
feigned surprise when she appeared out of the crowd before 
him. "Hello, Olivia," he said.

She started a little, then seemed to gather herself up and come 
to a decision. He could just guess what it was. "Hello, Ripper. 
Fancy meeting you here."

For just the briefest of moments, he imagined that she had 
somehow sussed his game, but then he noticed the glint in her 
eyes. She was on the verge of tears.

Oh, god, how easy could this be?

"Is something wrong?" he asked with as much sincerity as he 
could muster.

She shook her head gamely. "No, nothing." She glanced back up 
at him. "Ethan doesn't trust me."

Snorting, Ripper replied, "Ethan doesn't trust Ethan. You 
shouldn't let that bother you."

"You can't have a relationship if you don't have trust."

"Not everyone is looking for a relationship."

"But surely someone is." She gave him a wry smile.

He returned the smile, but didn't meet her eyes. "Perhaps," he 
said quietly. He glanced around the smoky room. "God, it's 
oppressive in here. Do you think Ethan would mind if we took a 
walk?"

He saw hesitation flash across her eyes, and for a moment 
wondered if he'd misjudged her mood, his timing. But then she 
gave him that same brave smile and gestured toward the door. "I 
don't think I need Ethan's permission."

*Candy and babies,* Ripper thought to himself as she led the 
way out of the flat.


But that was before they talked.

Everything was before they talked.

Oh, they chatted, certainly, on the way back to his flat; he 
discovered that she was on holiday from Oxford herself, that they 
had damn nearly met in class rather than here, before he had 
stolen himself away from that life and turned up in Ethan's 
instead. She learned that he had come to this party alone, as he 
had to every other one he'd been to. They learned they both 
walked briskly to keep out the damp chill. Such earth shattering 
trivialities...Ripper barely made an appearance in the 
conversation, instead allowing his body to answer automatically 
for him; by the time they reached his place, he hardly knew what 
he'd said. But he knew exactly what was to come. He'd spent the 
whole walk here planning it.

They went in, sat on the couch, made a bit more small talk, and 
as if on cue Olivia had burst into tears. He gathered her to his 
chest, cooed and fussed over her, kissed her forehead, let her tilt 
her head back to look at him, and then kissed her lips, long and 
sweet. She pulled away and stroked his face; he let her, let her 
touch his forehead, his cheekbones, his lips, let her lean in and 
take the next kiss herself. He acquired ground slowly, keeping 
his campaign to a snail's pace so as not to startle her into 
retreating, until he finally had her naked beneath him on his 
couch, panting as he fucked her. She was inexperienced, which 
he didn't mind; what she lacked in skill was definitely well 
compensated in the pressure of her around him, the muscles 
tight and unused to penetration...he wondered briefly if she had 
been a virgin before he'd entered her. Not that it mattered now. 
Now that he had what he wanted.

After he came, he took her into his arms and soothed her, 
brushing her glossy hair back from her elegant face, murmuring 
some romantic nonsense at her that she'd probably remember 
for years and that he didn't remember now.

And when he finally shut up...that's when she began talking.

Really talking.

About her childhood, boys whom she'd dated, friends she'd 
loved. She had the father he didn't, a father who adored his 
children and radiated pride at their weakest attempt, their 
smallest achievement. Siblings who teased and took care of her. 
A mother who loved her and died young, leaving behind four 
children and a grieving husband who taught his children to 
treasure life's every breath as a gift from God. She'd left her 
family behind to go to Oxford, where her grades were 
outstanding and her life, lonely. Her first boyfriend since home 
had left her when she wouldn't sleep with him after a week. The 
second was white and broke off the relationship after his mother 
met her on a surprise visit to see him. A friend-- an 
acquaintance, really-- had introduced her to the third. Ethan.

Ripper could feel the fear in her as she talked about her life. She 
was not prepared for the world. She had no ideas what dangers 
lay in wait out there in the dark. He tried to tell her, what little he 
felt she could handle, and she didn't laugh at him, but he could 
see it in her eyes. She didn't believe him, of course. She 
probably thought he was just being a pretentious bastard, trying 
to make the world seem small and less scary by populating it 
with even worse things than stupidity, racism and Ethan Rayne.

Not that those were necessarily three distinct things...though he 
had to admit he'd never known Ethan Rayne to be racist. Stupid, 
though, definitely. He had, after all, let this woman out of his 
sight.

Olivia had curled up against his chest and begun crying again. 
He held her there and stroked her back, unable to think of 
anything to say that might still her tears. So he just held her.

Eventually, she pulled herself away from him, sitting up on the 
couch and looking around bleakly.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

She turned away. "I...I was just looking for my clothes."

He sat up beside her. "You're not leaving?"

She retrieved her clothes from the floor and began pulling them 
on. "I'd better. I want to get home before morning. I don't want 
anyone to worry."

"Let me walk you to your train."

"That's not necessary."

He took her chin in his hand. "You said you didn't want anyone to 
worry." At the tiny shake of her head, he repeated, "Then let me 
walk you to your train."

She put her soft arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek.

That was the moment he knew-- that kiss on the cheek. Later, 
much later, he would reflect on that night and realize that *that* 
was the moment he had known that she had somehow dodged 
around Ripper and found some leftover worthwhile *something* 
within him...whatever last worthwhile dregs were left in the raw 
cavern where his soul and heart used to be.

He wasn't so silly as to think he'd fallen in love with her; he didn't 
think he'd ever do that, not now, not with what he was becoming. 
The man he had been-- *he* might have loved her. Ripper was 
incapable of such a fine emotion. But he cared about her. About 
her feelings, about her safety, about her happiness. He might not 
be able to give her happiness, but he could give her safety. He 
walked her to her train, drew forth a solemn promise that she 
would call him, and saw her away safely into the night, away 
from him.

Safety.

He might even one day be able to convince her of the existence 
of demons. Or at least teach her how to ward off those men who 
could pass for such...like Ethan Rayne.

Maybe...like himself.

*Bloody hell,* he thought, leaving the Underground and walking 
straight into a miserable London drizzle. *Whose life are you 
living anyway, coward? You're sure as hell not living hers.*

He directed his tired steps back towards Ethan's. Whatever 
fineness Olivia had found in him was solitary. Ripper would 
dance with the demons, and the devil be damned.



END
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