This is a torture scene from the first time we see Giles bound to the chair to just before the appearance of Jenny Calendar in the episode Becoming II.. not entirely graphic more on the thoughts of Rupert and his alter ego Ripper...

Once More Unto The Breach...

He felt his head loll to oneside and no matter how hard he tried, he did not have the strength to raise it. He could taste the taste of metal in his mouth. 'My blood', he silently deduced, 'God, it's awful.' He then shivered, because no matter how much he hated the taste of his own blood, he knew he would detest Angelus'. And another shiver coursed its way the length of his spine. 'He will not turn me.' he silently determined.

With this thought he momentarily struggled against the bonds that held him. The ropes let out a groan of their own, but would not relinquish their hold on their prisoner. 'Futile' he admonished silently and slumped back into the chair he was bound to.

And in that moment it all came to him. A hot rush of light and reality. The scars, the humiliation, the pain. All of it. He wanted to scream, to relieve himself of this nightmare, but he knew he couldn't. Instead a lone tear fell from his eye, trickled the length of his face, over a cut that followed the line of his cheekbone, and dropped, unceremoniously, onto his chest. He winced knowing what it had cost him and then savagely bit his lip to abate the cry of pain that insisted on following. He would not give the demon the satisfaction. One whimper and he knew the rest would cascade into a crescendo of expressed pain until madness claimed him...

And then he would be lost...

The effort caused his nostrils to flare and he felt the uncomfortable sensation of his hot breath upon his top lip. He wanted to moan. 'Perhaps the vibration would soothe me and my wounds' he thought irrationally. He repressed the urge to shake his head in denial and simply acknowledged the thought inwardly. Was this stubbornness through training or something that was inherent within him all the time; something that could not be taught...? 'Whatever.' he thought, 'It does not matter'.

He had to remain focused.

Inch by inch, he drew himself up. The blurred edges of his prison snapped into reality and the pain that had nudged at him constantly, re- awakened itself. 'No noise', he reminded himself and breathed deeply against the scream that had lodged itself in his throat. His teeth instantly drew together in a grimace and he swallowed the rest. As if that simple motion had drained him of all his energy, he could not stop the motion of his head falling forward again. He sighed. 'All that effort,' he thought resignedly and he sighed again. He contemplated raising his head again, but instead opted to leave it where it rested against his chest.

To the casual observer they could have believed he had lost consciousness, but they would have been wrong. For as soon as his eyes had closed he was thinking again. He suddenly remembered someone who would undoubtedly be more than able to hold on for a bit longer. 'Oh for a little of Ethan's magick now.' He chuckled silently at that thought and realised he would never have believed that since he had accepted his destiny to be a Watcher, he would actually, wholeheartedly have wished for such a thing.

He was aware that Buffy would come to his aid; that she would not abandon him; but he was afraid she would be too late. He hated himself for feeling that way, but he couldn't help it. He willingly acknowledged the fact that it would be through his own failing and not hers, but that was why he hated himself so much for that one thought. He sighed. He had to hold on until she came, he knew this, but he also knew that he needed all the help he could get. He needed someone who knew all about torture and one who might actually get a kick out of all this along the way. 'Please,' he silently begged, 'just for a moment.'

Nothing happened...

He could still feel his pain and it became more and more difficult not to express it... until he finally let himself go. His head threw back, up and over, the back of the chair he was tied to, straining the neck muscles so much that a vessel stood proud against the bruised and battered muscles there, and then he slowly opened his eyes.

'Oh, yes,' he thought. 'I am in pain. Mmmm... different.' His eyes were still clouded and his face still grimaced, but his inner thoughts turned more towards the inquisitive than to the depression of helplessness and pain. 'Hmm,' he thought, 'next time I see Ethan, perhaps I might be able to teach him a thing or two.' At this thought he actually smiled. A deep feral smile of amusement and almost laughed. He would have laughed, but the pain re- asserted itself in quite an agonising manner, so he left it at a smile.

A voice interrupted his musings. A voice tinged with bemusement and arrogance. A strange combination, but one that Ripper recognised.

"You're smiling, Rupert. Now, you know I abhor smiling." And in answer to a shrug of his shoulders, the voice added, "Guess I should remind you of the rules. I hit you." *THWACK* Ripper's head snapped back with the force. "You scream... I rape you." A hand forcibly grabbed Ripper's scrotum, squeezing hard without preamble and then waggled the grip for emphasis. Ripper gritted his teeth. "You scream." The voice laughed. "Is the picture I'm painting a good one, Rupert...? Do you understand...?"

Ripper glanced nonchalantly up at the person who had spoken to him and sighed audibly, "I'd say ya've been there and done tha' already, if my sore arse," he spat the word, "and bruises are anything ta go by." He shrugged and then winced.

A sudden roar accompanied the sensation of his head, once again, snapping back against a blow and again he tasted his own blood in his mouth. Yet now it tasted a tad more sweeter than before. "Hmm," he muttered savouring the taste, "not bad."

Another roar and another blow. And another.... And another. His head began to numb with each contact and Ripper was vaguely aware of blood trickling down the back of his head and onwards to the nape of his neck. He guessed that the collar of his shirt absorbed it from that point on, for he could not feel the tickling sensation of it running any further.

He suddenly realised that his head had fallen forward again, because the owner of the voice that had spoken to him and hit him, suddenly grabbed a handful of hair and painfully yanked his head back. He opened his eyes wanting to see what happened next and immediately came face to face with a vampire in full game face. He knew he should have been worried, but he could not stop a thought flitter into his mind, 'My, my, Rupert, just what 'ave ya gotten ya-self into, old boy...?'

He did not have time to add to it, because the face before him suddenly moved forward and rested upon his shoulder. Then he felt something cold, wet and slimy leave a gooey trail the length of his neck. He could not stop the shudder that came from such a contact.

His worst fear... To be turned... So close... He almost whimpered with fear, but again he stopped himself and his lip bled from the pressure.

Then a roar of laughter filled his ears, followed in quick succession by a whisper, "I felt that, Rupert. Was it good for you...? Did you like that...?" The vampire then savagely pushed his head away, as if the contact was too much.

Ripper bit the inside of his cheek with the force of it. He sighed and thought, 'More blood. If he ain't careful I'm gonna be drinking my blood for 'im...' He looked up to see Angelus pacing in front of him and heard him grunt with apparent concentration. Then he turned to him; suddenly remembered. Startled, Ripper could not stop the flinch that coursed through his body at the sudden action.

Angelus ignored it and waggled a finger towards him. "You know, Rupert, I'm bored. You're boring me." He moved towards Ripper with every word. "Now, I was thinking to kill you. You know, outright... or to turn you. But then you'd only want to bring Acathla forth instead of me. And I so want to be the one to do that. So, I thought, before you died, why not have some fun." He bent forward, untied the bonds that held Ripper in place and smirked, "You never know, you might actually beat me." And with that he laughed loud and raucously whilst stepping away from his prisoner.

Ripper eyed Angelus cautiously. He frowned with puzzlement with each step the vampire took towards him and if Angelus could have seen his face, he would have seen surprise form in every lift of his eyebrows and the slight opening to his mouth when the vampire untied him.

As it was, the only satisfaction Angelus got was a whispered grunt of pain when the hands that had been bound fell to Ripper's sides. "So, Rupert, wanna take a chance..?" The vampire muttered, whilst taking another step back, and arrogantly beckoned him forward with both hands. "You think you can take me, old man...?"

Ripper really couldn't believe his luck. Oh he knew that he was wholly unmatched against the burly vampire that stood before him, but at least, he felt, he would get satisfaction. And if he could manage it, perhaps get the Bastard to kill him quickly.

He gingerly stood on two wobbly legs and shook them to try and re- establish a blood flow. He also shook his pain filled hands to get them going and briefly winced in pain. Yet, instead of succumbing to it, he concentrated on it to gain some focus of what lay ahead and also who and what stood before him. With great care he started to move his head from one side to the other, gradually massaging the knots that had gathered in his neck. He took one deep breath and slowly exhaled.

He nearly balked at the sight of his clothes, but then he shrugged. They were Rupert's... What did he expect...? With a certain amount of resignation showing in his posture, he pulled the tails of his shirt from his pants and flapped them before letting them rest over the curve of his hips. He quickly came to the conclusion that this was as ready as he was ever going to be, given the current situation, so he stood erect with a grin that split his face into laugh lines.

Angelus suddenly let out a roar and instantly attacked in full game face. Ripper just managed to dodge the first blow that had been aimed at him, but his legs gave way and before he could rise from where he had fallen, Angelus was on him. 'Oh for a stake' he thought lazily. Then he felt the vampire take a bite from him.

Before a startled yelp had even begun to solidify or a body consuming fear could paralyse him, he kicked out and caught Angelus in the groin. The vampire grunted, but did not let go of the bite, so Ripper kicked him again and again, until he felt the pressure on his shoulder lessen. He shoved with all his might and was relieved to be able to breathe again. Instinctively, his hand went to the place where he had been bitten. He pulled it away and found it slick with his own blood. He stood, holding it out to Angelus and grated at him, "Want some more, ya Pillock...?"

A frustrated feral roar of the undead suddenly filled every crevice of the basement and resounded against the stone statue of Acathla.

Angelus attacked again, still in game face. Ripper batted away the first blow but before he could counter with one of his own, the vampire swung at him and caught him square on the chin. Ripper's head flew back and his feet left the ground. He found himself on the floor with blood trickling from the side of his mouth and a gash there for the cause. Ignoring the pain, he wiped the back of his hand across it, and smiled. 'C'mon, ya Bastard,' he thought, 'Not much more... A little further and you won't ever be bringin' Hell on earth.'

He grinned, "That th' best ya can do, ya poof...? My gran'ma can 'it 'arder than you." He slowly picked himself up from the floor and stood waiting. He did not have to wait long. Angelus ran at him, bodily lifted him and continued his run until Ripper's body hit the far wall. Precious air left the Librarian's body with a sudden 'Whoosh!'. He staggered against the on- coming darkness, then steadied his legs as they threatened to buckle. Then Angelus let fly with a right hook. His head snapped back once more and it hit the wall behind him with force. He grunted with the effort. Angelus hit him again and his head swung the other way. Spittle and blood arced its way across the room and landed, unceremoniously, at the feet of Acathla; such was the force of the punch.

Yet, still Ripper remained on his feet...

Angelus hit him again. This time Ripper could not help but let a cry of pain escape him. Angelus ignored it and continued with the onslaught. Ripper vaguely became aware of a darkness arriving and immediately tried to blink it away. Angelus made contact again and he grunted with the force of it. His head was now ringing with the effort to remain conscious. He had to though... He knew it..

For Rupert...

Angelus got a good hit off, straight into the solar plexus. Ripper felt the horrible sensation of nausea convulse him and swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was to puke on the boots of a Vampire that could finish him in a moment. With only one option left to him, he swung wildly in retaliation and hit Angelus square in the face. Later he would have to have a bet as to who was the most surprised, but right now he pressed his advantage... If there was one to press... He didn't care... As far as he was concerned there was and he swung again. Another contact and he actually heard Angelus grunt with what sounded to him, like pain.

He grinned and threw another punch. And another... And another... Ripper felt his heart grow with unbridled hope as he and heard the grunt that was forced from his opponent with each contact... Then, as if a meter had run out, he felt the energy he desperately needed leave his legs and he began to sag. His mind screamed with denial. 'Not now...! Not now...! One more... Just... *THWACK*... One.... *THWACK*... More... *THWACK*...' and then he fell to his knees, gulping in great lungfuls of air... Gritting his teeth against the weakness he felt, he tried to rise.

Angelus immediately leapt in and kicked his arms away from under him and before he could register what had happened, he felt the pain of a boot stamping on his exposed fingers. The pain was unbearable and he retched with the effort of withholding the cry that was imminent. Before he could gulp in a breath, Angelus took it away from him with a savage kick to his ribcage. Ripper went down completely. 'This is it..' he thought sadly, '...Sorry, Rupert, mate... All gone...' and with that thought, he moved himself into a foetal position and did his best to fend off the onslaught of pain that Angelus was gleefully inflicting.

He felt a bone crack and then another. He almost cried out loud with the pain, but Rupert re-asserted himself and the lip was bitten once again.

The only noise that permeated the room was the grunt of effort Angelus was exerting with every kick, and Rupert's grunt of pain with each contact

And then there was silence...


Angelus grinned down at the man lying prone at his feet and then laughed. "I'm not so bored now, Rupert. I should thank you, but I really, really would hate to do that." He kicked out at Rupert's feet and was met with little resistance. He laughed again and began to truly enjoy his victory. He knelt beside the body and rolled it over. He saw that the eyes were glazed over and unresponsive. He slapped the face. Nothing... Other than it turning in the direction to which he had hit it. For a moment Angelus felt the cold prick of fear capture his heart. Had he gone too far and killed the only man who could tell him the secret he so desperately wanted... Had he killed his only chance of salvation... He let out a roar of frustration and frantically shook the body at his feet.

Eventually it moved and then Angelus heard a whisper of a moan as Rupert exhaled painfully.

In that moment Angelus forgot his fear. He stood with an air of arrogance and moved away to sit on one of the leather chairs that hid the bottom half of the basement walls. He pulled a handkerchief from the table in front of the chair and resumed to mimic a well known trait of Rupert's ... He cleaned the Librarian's glasses. Without taking his eyes off Rupert he huffed onto the glass and rubbed. Seeing Rupert struggle for some sort of footing, Angelus laughed and said, "To the chair, old man... Pronto."


Rupert wanted to whimper his frustration. He was weak and sickly and he could not stop himself from shivering against the pain. Though he silently thanked Ripper for his effort, he, as always, had to endure the ramifications of his alter-ego's actions. And it hurt... More than it ever had in his well travelled, knowledge gaining life.

After the third attempt of trying, he managed to get his feet beneath him and slowly rise. His right arm instinctively cradled the damaged ribs as he stood and his left rested on his bruised stomach, gingerly cradling the damaged fingers of his right hand. His face, he hoped, remained passive and unresponsive to the agony it screamed with each movement. Then when he thought able enough, he took his first faltering steps towards the chair that was now empty in the centre of the room.

What would have normally taken him a moment to complete, he did not reach the chair for a good ten minutes. The only noise that accompanied him there was the huffing and puffing of Angelus cleaning his glasses; though he knew this to be a gesture, because he still retained enough memory to know that Vampires did not have the ability to breathe. At another time he would have asked 'Angel' how he could make such a human noise.

With a sigh of release against the anguish, he sat obligingly on the chair he had previously been freed from and waited...

Angelus left the chair he was seated on and moved towards Rupert, swaggering his hips with each step; giggling at the man before him. "Didn't go quite to plan, did it Rupert... buddy..." he laughed whilst binding Rupert to the chair again.

Rupert felt his head lolling forward again, and again he did not have the strength to stop it. He felt the pressure of Angelus' hand squeeze his shoulder, atop of a newly formed bruise. Again his nostrils flared with the effort of not screaming, instead he took tiny gulps of air to steady himself, wishing his voice to return.

Angelus moved around to the front of the chair and regarded his prisoner with arrogance. His victory tasted so good on his lips and he wanted to savour the flavour for a moment more, then he started to move forwards. "You know," he remarked, "I can stop the pain... You've been very brave, but it's over... You've done enough... Now let me make it stop." His whole appearance took on the look of being Rupert's best friend and he squeezed the Librarian's shoulders for emphasis.

Rupert gulped back his initial shock, then he moved his head a way from the voice that had spoken to him; as though the merest sound pounded unrequitedly on the edges of his skull. Then he nodded. Slowly and carefully. "P-please..." he whispered back and his Adams Apple bobbed with the effort it took to raise the whisper.

Angelus grinned his victory. Truthfully he wanted to howl with success, but he wanted the secret a whole lot more. He knelt before Rupert, leaving a hand upon the man's shoulder as a reminder of how easily he could inflict more of the same, and prepared to receive the secret he had desperately beaten from this man before him. He maintained the whisper, though added a hint of soothing and almost hypnotic quality to it as he said, "Just tell me what I need to know."

Rupert gulped in a shuddering lungful of air. The effort to speak was taking its toll on him, but he needed to do this. To stop the pain. "In... order to.." he began falteringly, "to be worthy... you must... perform the ritual...in..." The green within his eyes suddenly iced over with hatred and with as much strength as he could muster, he punctuated, "In a Tutu...!!" He looked his antagoniser hard in the eye and practically spat the word, "...Pillock!..."

"YES!!!" Ripper crowed silently, "Rupert, I'm impressed." and Rupert heard his alter ego laugh raucously.

Above this silent laugh, Rupert heard something being mentioned about a chainsaw and another voice answer. Then darkness made a bid for him. With infinite care, he sank gratefully into its welcoming arms and let his head fall forward once more.



Site Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. own the Buffy characters. All products, movies, books, songs, etc. are owned by their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. All plots and original characters are owned by the authors.