Rating: FRC
Pairing: None
Spoliers: None
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: Rupert Giles and Wesley Wyndham-Price belong to Mutant Enemy. The rest belong to me.

Summary: This came from a thread on Watchergirls. GreyAngel had a picture of Wesley which showed his left ear pierced and wondered when he had it done. As it was the same ear as Giles I wondered if it could be some sort of tradition amongst the COW. This is the result of that wondering.

Note: Thanks to Gail and Gylzgirl for their read and all suggestions

Dedication: To GreyAngel who started the thread.

"Argh!" The scream echoed through the darkened corridors as the young man attempted to escape his captors.

"Do be quiet Wyndham-Price. I've barely touched you."

"You haven't numbed the area well enough then. I definitely felt something." Wesley cringed as he felt Digby's hand press once more against his earlobe. His normally impeccable attire was slightly rumbled from the struggle, his hair sticking on end in a few spots.

The other watchers-in-training sniggered. Saunders, the largest of the group, and Wesley's nemesis, actually laughed. "And this is the brave hunter who just a few hours ago staked his first vampire. Perhaps we all saw a doppelganger in the observation room." The others joined in his laughter.

Digby looked up at Saunders in disdain. "I doubt if he'll pass out at the sight of blood." The other man backed down in remembered shame.

"B-blood? There'll be blood?" Wyndham-Price's voice squeaked at the end of his query.

Granville sighed in disbelief. "Men! We women have to go through far worse than you do. Ear piercing is something most of us have done when we are children." She looked across at her sister watchers, satisfied at their agreeing nods. "Come now Wyndham-Price. You're always going on about tradition. And this is an age-old tradition that all watchers go through on their first slaying."

"Not that old a tradition." Digby concentrated once more on the ear before him, adding more ice to numb the area. As the most experienced watcher-in-training, he was nominated to do the actual piercing. This was his twelfth, and most likely his last. He would be graduating at the end of the year ready to take on his duties as a full watcher. "Only started about ten years ago."

"What?" His audience gave him their full undivided attention, sensing a story in the making. Digby was good at remembering all the old legends, and often regaled them with tales of watchers past. Saunders sputtered. "B-but all the older watchers! They..."

"Had to get it done didn't they. Couldn't be seen to be less than the juniors. Pride man. Must have stung though, being shown up by a traitor."

Even Wyndham-Price forgot the purpose of their being there. None of them had heard of anybody betraying the council before. In fact, none could remember anybody voicing any disagreement with the council's policy. One of the younger members of the group prodded Digby. "What happened?"

Digby paused, realizing what he'd begun. "Perhaps I'd better not. Spoken too much already."

"No. Go on. Go on." The others were almost in unison in their entreaty.

Digby paused, looking around the corridors to ensure nobody else was near enough to hear. "Very well. But this must be kept secret. Agreed?"

"Agreed." One or two answered, the rest just nodding in assent.

"Very well. It was a shock to them really. He came from a long line of watchers. The family had been involved in the council for generations. He'd gotten into Oxford without any influence on the deans. Was an honor student, top of his class in everything. Both his daytime and evening studies. He was slated for greater things, perhaps even working within the inner circle.

"Then one day he disappeared. Dropped out of college and ran off to London. Nobody's sure why, although there were rumblings of external influences. It was also felt his father had been too soft on him after the death of his mother. Indulged him too much. Allowed him to play rock and roll, instead of proper music."

A gasp of horror went around the group. Very few of them had heard the music of the 1970's or 80's. They'd been raised on the classics and taught any other music was a waste and not to be tolerated. That a watcher would actually..

"You mean he actually bought records."

"I mean he actually played in a band." Digby nodded at the murmured denials. "Precisely. He was bound to go bad. His father eventually forbade his performing again, and so he ran off. Was away for almost a year. The old man was frantic, poor chap. The son had not only ruined his own career, but his father's as well."

"What happened?"

"Well, I wasn't here then. But he came back. Just turned up one day. No explanation, no apologies. They say he'd changed though. Was more subdued. Veered away from some of the more hands on work, such as spell casting and demon raising. There was some concern that he'd be no good at the actual fieldwork. What use is a watcher who can't kill vampires?"

"But he did? Kill a vampire I mean."

Digby looked down at Wyndham-Price. "Hmm. Yes he did. But not the way you lot did. In a controlled environment. He used to go out a lot you see. They couldn't stop him, short of chaining him up. He'd go out at night, claiming he just walked. Had trouble sleeping. That's when he did it."

"Did what?" Wyndham-Price often wondered if Digby enjoyed the attention his story telling gave him too much. The man often dragged the tale out.

"There was a vampire around in those days. You may have heard of him. Renoulf?" A few nodded. "Not very nice. Wore a big earring, thought himself some sort of pirate or something. Liked the females. And not just for food." The female watchers shivered. "They'd sent out hunting parties after him. The active slayer was in America at the time, so they couldn't call for her. Some of their best wetworks teams went after Renoulf. Very few came back alive.

"So one night one of the parties came across Renoulf. They weren't alone. He was there too. Said he'd stumbled on them by mistake, but offered to tag along. They didn't like it, an amateur with them. What could they do? His father still had influence.

"They caught up with Renoulf in one of the old parts of town. He had a gang with him. About twelve of them, some former watchers. That must have been terrible. Having to face off against your old comrades. The battle was joined. Renoulf stayed back, laughing as he sent his minions to kill the watchers. They were holding their own quite well, but there were too many vampires to break through. They'd forgotten about their companion. The rest I got from one of them who'd been there that night."

"What?" Frustration could be heard in the voices of all of Digby's audience.

"He said he'd just killed one of the vampires when he heard a noise above him. He looked up to see the civilian, his words, climbing across some roofs. He was worried the man might fall, but he was surprisingly nimble. Another vampire attacked my friend, so he lost sight of the climber. When he was next free, he saw somebody jump on the ground, not far from Renoulf. The vampire was laughing, expecting an easy kill. The battle around him gradually stopped as if they all knew they were about to witness something remarkable. For the watchers, they thought they were to see the son of one of their most prominent members killed, and that they would be blamed for it.

"The battle was fierce. The vampire had strength on his side, but the man knew moves none of the watchers had seen before. My friend said it was as if a change had come over him, as if he'd turned into somebody else. He later learnt the person he was looking at was called Ripper."

The others looked at each other in confusion. They'd never heard that name before.

"Ripper fought dirty, but couldn't get in close enough for a kill. He'd brought a sword with him, but must have had it hidden because my friend hadn't seen it before. He was very good with it, but Renoulf used his strength to keep the blade away from him. At first it appeared as if he was playing with his next meal, but it then became obvious that he'd met a man almost his equal in skill.

"Suddenly Renoulf lunged, diving into Ripper. They fell to the ground and an unearthly scream was heard. Renoulf jumped up, not in victory but in pain. His hand was to his ear, and my friend noticed a trickle of blood running between his fingers. Renoulf was screaming about his ear and his ring. Ripper got up, calm as you like. He offered the earring to Renoulf, telling him he just had to get it off of him. Renoulf yelled in rage and attacked Ripper. Ripper just sidestepped the charging vampire. Then my friend said he saw something he would never forget. That twenty-two-year-old boy with very little training waited until the vampire was level with him, then spun on his foot and raised his sword. The head came off with one clean swipe. He said it was pure poetry." Digby sighed, a faraway look in his eye.

The others looked on, awestruck. They'd seen the fight as Digby had described it. The black night, the slippery rain swept cobbles, the slight young man against the bigger fierce vampire. The men sighed, imagining themselves in the role of Ripper. The women sighed, imagining themselves in his arms.

"The tradition man! The tradition!" Saunders practically shouted his demand.

Digby pulled himself away from his recollections, looking at Saunders a little dazed. "The tradition? Yes, of course. The ops team took advantage of the shock experienced by the vampires and finished them off. Ripper looked on, laughing at the slaughter. When they'd done, the others surrounded him. Ripper just smiled then took the earring and forced it into his own ear. Didn't even flinch. Then he said something remarkable. 'Not bad for a first kill.' All that grace and ability, and it was his first vampire." Digby smiled as he wound down his story. "Then he asked them if they always had such fun at night."

The female watchers sighed once more. Billings asked the question burning on all their tongues. "What happened to him?"

Granville, who most would have said didn't have a romantic bone in her body, volunteered; "He died didn't he? Surrounded by the enemy, trying to save the world once more."

Some of the men sniggered. Lambert spoke next. "I bet he joined the wetworks division, didn't he."

Digby smiled. "For a while. One of their most valuable operatives. Then his father became ill and he quit. Came back to the sanctum and joined the research team."

"Research?!" Everybody knew the research team was made up of old men and those not good enough for active service. There were already wagers on who in their group would be relegated to that ignominious fate.

A scrape on the wooden floor behind them startled them all. They spun around, relaxing when they realized whom it was. The older man continued his journey, his head in a research tome. He was about ten years older than them, yet his appearance and mannerisms were of a man somewhat older. Only when he was talking about some demon he was researching did he become animated. He was known for his absent-mindedness, and they all believed they were fairly safe. His tweed jacket hanging loosely on his shoulders and, he elicited derision from most of the men, and a desire to dress him properly from most of the women. He received very little respect from anybody within the watcher's council. A true example of a member of the research department.

The group turned back to Digby. "So, who was he? This Ripper?"

Digby turned his vision from the back of the retreating watcher and concentrated once more on Wyndham-Price's ear. "You just saw him."

The others gaped at him open-mouthed, then turned to look back down the corridor. Saunders started chuckling first, to be joined by the others, until they were all laughing hysterically. "Oh Digby, you got us going on that one. But you just ruined it. It was all a story wasn't it? Really. Rupert Giles? You'll be telling us next that he's been assigned a slayer!"

Rupert Giles paused at the end of the corridor, lifting his head as a high-pitched scream filled the air. Hearing no other sounds to alert a real danger, he rightly assumed that there was no need to call the alarm, and continued his journey. He'd been called into the director's office. Which meant a new assignment. Hopefully this one would last only a few months.

END