Chance Meeting: Part 1
Roger noticed him first. Of course, Roger was there by himself that night. He'd been trying to find the perfect bar for him and his brother to frequent. Roger had been living in Sunnydale for a little over a year but he hadn't gone to many bars since he'd been in town. He didn't like to drink alone. But his brother Paul was arriving tomorrow to become the new Chief of Police, and when the two of them were together, a regular bar was essential.
Roger took a sip of Guinness and let out a happy sigh. Excellent beer. He decided this was the one. Roger turned on his bar stool to scope out the rest of the place. That was when he saw him. He was sitting in a corner booth, reading. Every now and then he'd pinch his nose under his glasses or run his hand through his hair. He looked worried. And he looked weary. Roger didn't know why but he felt his heart go out to the guy.
Roger turned back to the bar. The bar was not crowded. Only one other man sat at the bar, the few other clients were sitting in booths in pairs. Roger caught the bartender's eye. He gestured towards the back booth. "Who's that guy?"
The bartender looked in the direction Roger was indicating. He pursed his lips. "He owns the magic store down the street." He didn't volunteer any more information.
Roger lifted his eyebrows. Magic shop. That he never would have guessed. Maybe a teacher, or some sort of researcher. "What's his name?"
The bartender shook his head. "I don't know. I don't ask my customers for their names. I figure if they want me to know it, they'll tell me."
Roger grinned and held out his hand. "Roger Erikson."
"Frank LaSalle." Frank took Roger's hand and they shook on their introduction. Frank took his hand back and cleaned away the glass from the other man who had just left. "I figure if a man can't come to a bar and be anonymous if he wants to be, what's the point?"
Roger grinned again. "Does he come here often?"
"A couple times a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less." He pointed to Roger's beer. "Want another one?"
"Please, thanks."
Frank filled his glass. "So, Roger Erikson, what keeps you busy?"
"I'm a doctor."
"My sister's a doctor."
"Really, what kind?"
"Obstetrician."
"Oh, I'm an emergency room doctor."
Frank let out a laugh. "Well, you're in the right town for that."
Roger gave him a curious look. "What do you mean by that?"
Frank had lived here for a long time. "It's just an odd town. The police think there's a lot of gang activity."
"There are a lot of violent accidents in this town, I'll give you that. Puncture wounds, animal attacks. Not the stuff you'd expect in a smaller town like this." Roger took a swallow of his beer. "So, are there a lot of gangs?" Paul might be interested in knowing this.
Frank shook his head. "No, no gangs."
"So, why do the police think there are gangs?"
Frank just looked at Roger. "Like I said, it's an odd town."
Roger turned to look at the corner booth and saw the man unhappily close the book he'd been reading. He stood and put on his coat. Picking up his book he headed for the door, barely noting Frank and Roger on his way out.
Frank called out. "Goodnight."
The man looked briefly disconcerted and then smiling, just a little, he stammered out a good night. Frank and Roger both watched him as he left. Roger turned back to Frank. "He's English." Frank nodded. Roger didn't know why he was so curious. "Does he ever come in here with anyone?"
Frank shook his head. "Nope, maybe once or twice he's been in here with someone but he's almost always alone."
"And he runs a magic store." Somehow the pieces didn't fit.
Frank didn't help him out. He knew a little bit more about that man than he wagered most did. But it wasn't anything he would ever talk about. All he knew was that one night he'd been attacked by something that wasn't human as he was taking out the garbage. The man had been heading out to his car. He'd obviously heard Frank yell and had come running. And he'd shoved a wooden stake through the thing's heart. Frank had watched him explode into dust. The man had asked if he was all right and when Frank had nodded, he'd left with a warning to be more careful when he went out at night. Frank took the garbage out in the morning now.
He didn't know what that thing had been, didn't really want to know. He had some ideas, but he wasn't going to tell anyone and the only one he might have asked clearly wanted to be left alone. All he knew was that the man had saved his life and Frank would have given him free beers for life if he'd let him. But he'd insisted on paying, and insisted on not being made a fuss of, so Frank left him alone. People had the right to be left alone in a bar.
And ever since then, truth to be told, Frank liked having him in the bar. Frank wasn't a coward but that thing had scared him. And there were some nights when the memory of that attack felt a little too close and when that happened he felt that the man was a good luck charm. So despite Roger's curiosity Frank kept his mouth shut, because he didn't want to run the man off.
Roger felt himself getting tired. He finished off his beer, told Frank good night and left. As he got in his car he was grinning. This would be a good bar. There was good beer, a friendly enough bartender who would loosen up quite nicely, and a mysterious man who sat in the corner. Roger started his car and drove off.
***
When Roger showed up the next night with Paul in tow the man was once again seated in the corner booth. And he was once again reading a book. He was reading with that same extraordinary concentration Roger had noticed the day before. He nudged Paul in order to point him out.
"That's him, that's the guy."
"That's the big mystery guy?"
"Yeah." Roger walked up to the bar and got Frank's attention. "Hey, Frank. This here's my brother, Paul Erikson."
Frank put out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Paul."
"Same here." He nodded in the general direction of the corner. "Roger here seems quite taken with mystery man."
Frank pursed his lips. "Don't do anything to run him off."
Paul snickered. "Can't promise that. Roger sort of comes by that gift naturally."
Roger pretended to punch him. "Hey, I have a charm that never ends. You're the one that scares people away."
Paul noticed something. "Look, they have a dart board." He looked at Frank. "You got the darts?"
Frank reached under the counter and retrieved a tray of darts. "You guys good at this? I don't want holes in my wall."
Roger put his hand on his chest. Paul interrupted him before he could start pontificating. "Trust me, you don't want to listen to his spiel about his skill at darts. Let me just say that we won't put holes in your wall. Or at least not on purpose."
Frank nodded. "Good enough."
As Roger and Paul moved over to the dartboard Roger muttered to Paul under his breath. "That bartender knows stuff."
Paul deliberately misunderstood. "You mean about mixing drinks, that sort of stuff?"
Roger rolled his eyes. "No, about the guy. I can just tell, there's something in his eyes."
Paul snorted. "Hey, I'm the cop in the family. Would you leave the conspiracy paranoia to me?"
"No, see that's how I know. He gets that same look you do when you're holding back on me."
"How would you know? I always end up telling you anyway."
"Well, sure, you know I could beat you up if I had to."
"First of all, you couldn't beat me up if I had one hand tied behind my back, and besides I could shoot you any time I want."
"Okay, then you tell me because you trust me." He gestured with his chin back towards the bar. "See, Frank doesn't trust me. So, he's not going to tell me. But I know he knows something."
Paul just made a face and handed half the darts to Roger. "Just shoot."
They started a lively game of darts with much laughter, insulting and shoving. Paul happened to glance over at the corner and caught the man watching them. He had the oddest look in his eyes. When the man saw Paul looking he went back to his book. Paul missed his next shot trying to figure out what that look was. Suddenly it came to him. Wistful. That's what it was. Like the guy wished he could play too.
Paul walked over to his booth. "Do you play darts?"
The man looked up, surprised at the question. He also looked a bit alarmed. "No, no."
"Want to learn how?"
A small smile appeared on the man's face. "Thanks, but perhaps another time."
Paul looked at the book he was reading. His eyebrows lifted. "What language is that?"
"It's Latin."
"You're sitting in a bar, drinking Guinness, turning down a darts game for a book in Latin." Paul shook his head. The man smiled ruefully and didn't respond. Paul smiled. "Must be a real page turner."
The man let out a half laugh. "Well it certainly keeps me awake at night." He looked at his watch and took a last swallow of his beer. "Well, it's late." He stood and grabbing his book, he left.
Roger swatted Paul on the arm. "Great job. You scared him off."
Paul just watched the door the man had just left through. There was something about him…Paul hoped he'd be back. He shook his head and went back to the game.
End of Part 1
Chance Meeting: Part 2
Paul and Roger came three times over the next week but the man wasn't there any of those times. It was now a week to the day that they had last seen him. They were both sitting at the bar having a beer. Roger shot a disgusted look Paul's way. "You scared him away. You shouldn't have talked with him yet."
Paul rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Roger, he's not a wild animal. It's not like we need to tame him." Paul leaned towards Roger. "But, just in case he comes back, I wouldn't tell him what I do for a living. He does seem a bit…skittish."
Roger let out a snort. He called over to Frank. "He hasn't been in at all?"
Frank shook his head no and shot them both a glare. Roger grimaced back and decided to shut up about it. He and Paul sat there in silence, nursing their beers. All of a sudden Roger saw Frank's eyes light up and he flashed a quick grin at the two brothers making an almost indiscernible nod towards the door. Paul and Roger forced themselves not to turn around and just waited until he walked in and headed by them.
Paul glanced up at him and winced. The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them. "What the hell happened to you?" The man had a serious set of bruises on one side of his face. And one nasty looking gash that had gotten stitches. Paul didn't know why but he was furious on this man's behalf.
The man looked for a moment as if he didn't even know what Paul was talking about, as if he walked around most of the time with wounds like that. Then he gingerly touched his face. "Oh, oh, it's nothing."
Paul opened his mouth to argue when Roger poked him, hard, in his side. Frank called out. "Want a beer?" The man nodded and headed off to his corner booth. Frank poured him a Guinness and took it over to him. "Want anything else? You hungry? Should I get the waitress?"
The man smiled at Frank. "No, this will be fine, thanks. I'm fine." The man glanced at the bar where Roger and Paul were sitting. He didn't say anything, but Frank answered the unspoken question.
"They're brothers. The one with short hair's a doctor. I don't know what the other one does."
The man nodded. "Ah." He looked down at his beer. "Maybe I will have something to eat."
Frank nodded. "I'll get Kathleen out here." The other side of the bar was a small restaurant. The man smiled his thanks and as Frank moved away he opened the book that he'd brought with him.
Paul and Roger were whispering up at the bar. "What do you think happened to him?"
"Maybe he got in a car accident?"
Paul shook his head. "That looks like someone hit him." He'd seen a lot of fistfights in his career.
Roger opened his eyes wide. "You mean like he got in a fight?"
Paul shrugged his shoulders. "It just looks like someone hit him, a few times."
"Why would someone hit him?"
Paul shot an incredulous look at Roger. "How am I supposed to know? You won't let me talk to him. Maybe we should have brought some food and we could see if we could make him come to us." He rolled his eyes.
Frank returned and took his spot behind the bar. "He was asking about you."
They both raised their eyebrows. Roger spoke. "He asked about us?"
Frank hesitated. "Well, not in so many words, but he wanted to know who you guys were."
Paul made a face. "How do you know that, bartender ESP?"
Frank glared at Paul. "I could just tell. He was looking, okay?"
Paul put up his hands. "Okay. What did you tell him?"
"That Roger was a doctor and I didn't know what you did."
Paul nodded. "Good answer." He hadn't been sure if Roger had told Frank what he'd be doing when his job started in another week.
Frank looked at Paul. "What do you do, anyway?"
Paul took a swig of beer. "I am currently between jobs." That was true enough.
Frank grinned and spoke softly. "Watch this." Kathleen walked by and headed over to the man's table.
All three men watched as Kathleen did everything she could to throw herself at the man as she took his order, short of sitting on his lap. And she would have done that if he hadn't quickly slid over in his seat. And they all watched as he completely ignored it. Frank spoke softly again. "She does that every time. And every time he blows her off."
Roger pursed his lips. "Do you think he's gay?"
Frank laughed. "I don't think so. I think he's oblivious."
Paul wasn't so sure. He watched the man closely, as he was unlikely to notice Paul staring as the waitress took his attention with her attempts to get both his order and a date. As the waitress finally walked away he continued to look. And because of it he saw it. The man lifted his eyes, saw Paul was watching him, and a quick smile passed his lips, a mixed look of amusement and exasperation in his eyes. Then his eyes went back to his book and the moment of male bonding was over.
Paul had to bite his lips to keep from laughing. He turned back to the bar. "I don't think he's oblivious. I just think it gets rid of her without him having to be rude about it."
Roger stared at him. "What, now you're the expert on mystery man?"
Paul took a swallow of his beer. "Yes, it's all those wildlife classes I've been taking." He almost spilled his beer as Roger smacked him on the arm.
They both sat there in silence for a while and then watched as Kathleen brought the man his food. She only made a half-hearted attempt this time. As the man dug into his dinner, Paul, Roger and Frank appreciated the sway of Kathleen's hips as she headed back to the restaurant. Roger shook his head. "I don't get it. Why isn't he interested?"
Paul shrugged. "Maybe he has someone already."
Roger shook his head. "Frank says he's always alone for the most part." He looked to Frank for confirmation and Frank nodded. "If he had someone wouldn't he bring her here every now and then?"
Paul shrugged again. "You haven't brought Linda here."
"Well, it doesn't mean I won't."
"Maybe he's a workaholic."
Roger rolled his eyes. "Not quite the expert, are you?"
Paul slammed his beer down. "All right, time for me to whup your ass at darts. Come on."
"In your dreams, buddy." Frank pulled out the dart tray and handed them to Paul.
Paul and Roger headed for the dartboard. As the game commenced Paul glanced at the man every now and then. More often than not the man would be watching them. Paul even saw several small smiles in response to him and Roger joshing each other. He wanted to invite him to join them again, but this time he resisted the temptation.
Two younger guys came in and after getting a beer they asked if they could join in the game. As far as Paul and Roger were concerned the more the merrier so the four of them started playing a game. When next Paul glanced in the corner the man had closed the book and pushed it to the side and he was just watching them, enjoying the silliness. Roger glanced at him too and saw the merriment in the man's eyes as he watched them. Roger had no idea why but he was glad they'd taken that weary look out of his eyes, even if it was just for a short time.
After the game and congratulatory beers were bought for Paul and Roger by the two young men Paul glanced over again. The man was rubbing his head as if he had a headache. Paul turned to Frank. "You got any aspirin?"
Frank opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle handing it to Paul. Paul walked over to the corner booth and displayed the bottle. "Want some?"
The man sent him a grateful look. "Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. I have a bit of a headache."
Paul opened the bottle and shook out three pills into the man's hands. "So, does the other guy look worse?"
The man briefly laughed. The other guy was a vampire who was now dust. "Yes, he does." He swallowed his aspirin. "Quite a bit worse."
Paul wanted to know more but something in the man's expression stopped him. Paul decided to take this little victory and call it a night. He was about to walk away when he noticed the book. "No Latin tonight?" He looked closer. "What language is that?"
The man looked down at his book. "Greek."
Paul was about to explode with curiosity. He held it in somehow and just smiled. "Of course." He took the bottle of aspirin and headed back up to the bar. When Paul looked back he was reading his book again. He turned to Roger. "It's Greek this time."
"What's Greek this time?"
"The book. He reads Latin, he reads Greek. Who the hell is he?"
Roger shook his head, grinning. "See, I told you he was a mystery."
They both decided they needed to use the restroom and when they came out he was gone.
***
"Okay, so what do we know?"
Paul tapped his fingers on the bar, mentally assembling all their information. "We know he owns the Magic Box, per Frank. We know he can read Latin and Greek. We know he's English. And we know he was in a fight and he won."
Roger nodded. "We also know he worries a lot." Other than the times when the man was smiling at their antics, he looked worried most of the time. Worried and tired. "And he doesn't sleep enough."
Paul rolled his eyes. "How the hell do you know that?"
"Hey, I'm a doctor, remember? I can just tell. He's got shadows under his eyes, and he's always rubbing his eyes like they're tired. He just looks tired."
"Fine, he doesn't sleep enough. We also know he doesn't like to talk a whole lot, or volunteer much information."
They both sat back. Roger shook his head. "Not much to go on." He looked at Paul, a gleam in his eye. "Couldn't you check him out? At least find out what his name is?"
Paul let out an exaggerated sigh. "Roger, I know I like to stretch the rules as much as the next guy but even I have my limits. I can hardly break into private records just to satisfy my curiosity. Unless he breaks the law he does have the right to his privacy."
Roger made a face at Paul. "Fine, be that way." He got a determined look on his face. "We'll figure it out the old fashioned way. We'll just keep spying on him."
Paul barked out a laugh. "What's he doing anyway?"
Roger took a quick look. "Still reading."
Paul risked a quick look as well. "He can read like nobody's business. I swear a bomb could go off in this place and he wouldn't even notice."
"He looks really stressed tonight."
Paul looked over to see what Roger was talking about. The man had taken off his glasses and was pinching the bridge of his nose. He clearly wasn't having a good time. He looked up and Roger and Paul quickly looked away and turned back to the bar. Roger grimaced. "Do you think he noticed?"
"I don't know. Depends if he's far-sighted or near-sighted."
"Far-sighted would be my guess. He always has the glasses on to read."
"Then he might have seen us."
Roger dared to look again. "He's back reading." He looked at Paul. "You looking forward to starting work tomorrow?"
"Yes and no. It's been sort of nice just being a lazy bum. And the few other officers I've met with all seem to think that I need to have my head examined to have actually requested a transfer here."
"Well, Frank said it's a really odd town and that all the cops think there's all this gang activity but there aren't any actual gangs."
"Run that by me again."
"Hey, I'm just telling you what he said. That it was a very odd town, quote, unquote."
"Like I said, yes and no." He glanced at the man. "Mystery man, mystery town." He grimaced at Roger. "You had to move here? An entire country to choose from and this is what you pick?"
Roger looked serious for a minute. "I know it sounds weird, but yes, I had to move here. I have no idea why." He shrugged. "Ooh, I think he's found something. He's getting out a couple of other books, like he's checking something."
Paul glanced over. "Almost like he's researching." They watched as the man slammed all the books shut and stood. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. He headed for the phone. Paul slid off his stool and quietly followed him, standing just out of visual range.
The man dialed a number. "Hello, Anya? It's Giles. Is Buffy still there?" There was a brief pause. "Good. Tell her not to leave until I get there. I found something important." He hung up. As he headed rapidly back to his table he practically ran Paul over. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you all right?"
Paul nodded but before he could respond the man smiled briefly at his nod, hurried past him, picked up his books and raced from the bar. Paul had a grin on his face when he got back to Roger. "Pay dirt. His name is Giles. He spoke to someone named Anya. He did find some information and it was for someone. He instructed Anya to keep her there until he got there."
"Well, what was her name?"
Paul started laughing. "Buffy."
Roger's eyebrows almost lifted off his face. "Buffy?" He shook his head. "I so don't get it. He speaks two languages, he's clearly well-educated, yet he owns a magic shop and reads books in Latin and Greek to give information to someone named Buffy?"
Paul was still laughing. "I feel like I'm in the twilight zone with this guy."
Roger was laughing too as he ordered two more beers from Frank, but there was a gleam in his eye. "At least we know his name now, or part of his name."
Paul tapped his glass against Roger's. "That we do." They toasted each other and decided to play a game of darts.
End of Part 2