Title: Regrets 3/?
Author: Shelley
Feedback: Suggestions for improvements are deeply, deeply appreciated. (Not that I object to praise as well... <grin>)
Disclaimer: Rupert Giles and Ethan Rayne still belong to Mutant Enemy. I wish they were mine...

As Rupert entered the magic store, a little bell above the door tinkled. An unseen voice called out, "Thank-you for bringing your money to the Ma—oh, it's you."

Rupert examined the beautiful brunette, and tried to think of something to say. He was at a bit of a loss. Hearing a total stranger say, "oh, it's you," can damper a conversation rather nicely. Before he could formulate a response, she bounced up towards him and smiled like a child on Christmas morning. "So, where are my ledgers?"

Rupert wondered whether this was some American slang term for illegal drugs. "Your, um, did you say, um, your ledgers?" He felt a blush creeping across his face as other, more pleasing, possibilities paraded themselves across his errant brain.

The brunette nodded brightly. "Yes, my ledgers. So I can keep track of the merchandise and know when Willow is stealing from the store again." _She really did mean ledgers?_ Rupert's confusion must have shown on his face, because she abruptly lost her smile. "You promised, Giles. When I asked for a more modern cash register, one that records purchases, you promised to get me new ledger books instead."

Rupert hated to disappoint a beautiful woman, even if she did appear to be insane. "I, I thought that you might, um, might want to help pick them out." The brunette smiled brightly again, and Rupert had an unexpected idea. It had been too long since he had gone on a date; he should use this opportunity to ask her out. Perhaps she wasn't as unbalanced as she appeared. "Um, perhaps we could go to an office supply store during your lunch break and then we could, um, have lunch together?"

The volatile young woman scowled at him. "Then who would watch the store? What if somebody decided to spend a lot of money here during his or her lunch hour, and nobody was here to take it? That would be wrong! Not capitalistic *at all*!" Her indignant look turned thoughtful. "I know! You could give me enough money to take Xander to lunch! Would you give me an extra half-hour for lunch, so we could go have sex together afterwards?" This last question was accompanied by one of the brunette's mercurial smiles.

Rupert blinked, even more lost than he had been before. He was glad, however, that she hadn't accepted his lunch invitation. His first impression, that she was demented, was obviously the correct one. He should just ask for the supplies that he needed and then escape this madhouse as soon as possible. "Well, in that case, I wonder if—"

"And what are you wearing," the mad young woman interrupted. "Surely you know that that outfit is not appropriate!"

Rupert involuntarily looked down at his clothes. Short-sleeved red shirt, brown leather jacket, jeans with a small hole in the left knee, and black boots. Not the fanciest ensemble he owned, but not entirely unpresentable either. He hadn't shaved this morning, and his eyes might be a little bloodshot, but he didn't deserve this unprovoked attack. He started to defend himself, never stopping to consider the fact that this stranger had no right to comment on his appearance in the first place. "It's not so bad as all that."

"Not so bad," she screeched. "You'll scare away the customers! How can the store make any money if you don't dress for success?"

Now Rupert was starting to get mad. "I fail to see—"

The bell over the door rang, and once again the infuriating young woman prevented him from finishing a sentence. She gave him her sweetest smile to date, pointed at the door, and said, "Look, a customer."

Cursing to himself, Rupert began collecting the materials he needed. He wanted to pay for the supplies and get out of this insane asylum as quickly as he could. As he was studying the collection of salamander tongues, debating the merits of fire salamanders versus speckled salamanders, he heard a quiet voice behind him. "New look for you, huh? I like it." He spun around, and found himself facing a petite blonde. She was wearing a look of warm affection, and seemed to be looking at him with approval.

Rupert stared at the blonde in a daze. He felt a pull, a tugging at his soul, that completely confused him. She wasn't his type. Not at all. She was too young for him: just three or four years older than Buffy... if that. She was too short for a man of his height, and far too skinny. Her hair was flaxen gold and her skin translucently pale, even though his taste ran towards brunettes with a bit of melanin in their skin. True, she was beautiful. Good Lord, she was beautiful, but still not his normal ideal. And yet, he was drawn towards her in a way that he had never been drawn to any other woman that he had ever met. He didn't understand it at all. Looking into her hazel eyes, he realized that he didn't *want* to analyze this feeling. Rupert found himself wondering whether this was what love at first sight felt like.

The goddess was speaking again. "Are you okay, Giles? You look a little out of it... Are you hung-over again?

Rupert mentally shook himself. "I, I, I'm fine. Per- perhaps a * little* hung-over, but really, quite fine." She didn't look pleased, so he added a timid, "how are you?"

The blonde frowned, and stared at him. She started to say something, but then shook her head and walked away.

Rupert wondered what he had done wrong. He wanted to fix it, and then find some means of working his way into her life. But something was off, something that she had said. _"Are you okay, Giles?"_ Wait a minute. How did she know that his last name was Giles? Come to think of it, that crazy brunette had called him "Giles" as well, but he had been too distracted to pick up on that fact. Did these two young women know the other him, the Rupert Giles that belonged in this reality? _"Are you hung-over again?"_ Just how well *did* the blonde know him, or rather, the other him? And there was something else about her, something pricking at the back of his brain...

Rupert looked around for the blonde, not wanting to let her out of his sight until he figured out what the connection was between her and his other self ... assuming that such a connection actually existed outside his hopeful imagination. He found her over by a little table housing a coffee pot and an electric kettle. As he stared at her, he saw her sneaking a worried glance in his direction. He was almost certain that there must be a connection of some sort.

As he was working through the possibilities in his mind, the bell over the door rang once again, and Ethan came in. The blonde jumped, as if struck by a cattle prod, and ran over to the door. To Rupert's surprise, she slammed poor Ethan into the door and held him up by his throat. She looked almost feral as she snarled, "Ethan Rayne. I should have known."

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