Radioactive

[the_huffster]

Title: Radioactive

Pairing: Gen, Ripper

Rating: PG

Setting: Pre-series

Word count: 1,368

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Summary: After leaving the Council, there are some things that Ripper can't deny about himself.

Author's Note: So I'm trying something different by writing a non-angsty, non-shippy fic. I also apologize for how bad it is compared to my other stuff. My creative spark has been out and I literally spent 5 hours trying to get the story in my head out on the page.

There was something oddly satisfying about fighting off sobriety with alcohol, drugs, fights, or music. Ripper wasn’t too picky, as long as he didn’t think about the night of Randall’s death. He shook his head and knocked back another shot of the cheap vodka he had ordered.

        
In the four months since that night, he had found himself spending his nights performing with the punk band he had fallen in with or by seeing how much it took him to forget his own name. Either way he was sure he was on the fast track for an early death. Not that it would be such a bad thing; after everything he had done since leaving the Council, an early death was what he deserved.

       
Of course in the time since leaving his group of friends, his father and grandmother had found him. He hadn’t asked how they had found him, and they hadn’t offered any information on that subject. They would occasionally turn up at the shithole flat he called home and from there the conversation would either re-enforce the idea that he was nothing more than a failure and disappointment, or he would feel absolute shame for letting his grandmother see the man he had become. No matter the outcome, Ripper felt the need to escape his all-consuming depression.

       
And that was how he found himself five shots in at the seedy bar near his flat. It had been his father who had turned up outside his door this time with another attempt to get the younger Giles to come back to the Council. Although, looking back on it now, that attempt had most likely been an excuse to verbally beat up Ripper more than anything.

       
He had lasted nearly twenty minutes before storming out the door, not really caring if his father stayed in the flat or not. The more the conversation played in his mind, the more he felt the need to drink himself into oblivion. And that’s exactly what would have happened if he hadn’t seen a familiar face walk into the bar.

       
There was no way of knowing why Ethan had walked through the front entrance, and Ripper wasn’t going to stick around to find out why. He quickly laid down enough to cover his tab before getting up and disappearing into the back hall. It occurred to him that he shouldn’t be as comfortable slipping out the side door as he was, but a small voice reminded him that it was to be expected with the life he led.

       
Once he was in the alley on the side of the bar, Ripper looked around to make sure he was alone before making his way towards the street. This wasn’t how he planned on spending his night but he figured he could always buy something to take back to his flat. After all, his father should be gone by now. And if he wasn’t then he could sit in some corner while Ripper did whatever he ended up buying.

       
“Serve him right if he’s still hangin’ around.” He muttered to himself as he turned out on to the sidewalk, making the familiar journey towards his usual haunts.

       
He had only been walking for ten minutes when a noise caught his attention, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He had tried to tell himself that it was just the normal scuffle between two people who had had too much to drink, but that voice in the back of his head told him it was more than that. Ripper shook his head, determined to mind his own business and keep walking. Of course that wasn’t the reality of the situation.

       
No matter how much Ripper wanted to believe that he didn’t care about anyone but himself, deep down that was the furthest thing from the truth. All it took was one strangled out cry and he found himself running towards the noise. He turned the corner of a nearby alley to find a young man pushes against a wall with the face of another young man buried against his neck. To anyone else it would look like an intimate moment, but Ripper knew better.

       
He wasted no time in grabbing the attacker’s shoulder and yanking him off the young man. A brief moment of doubt crossed over him at the thought that maybe he had just ruined a couple’s evening, but all that went out the window when he saw the distorted face of the man he had grabbed. He didn’t give a second thought to the man that had been against the wall as he felt his body prepare for a fight, something that shouldn’t have felt so much like second nature.

       
“Oh, you’re much prettier than he was.” The vampire snarled, looking Ripper up and down. “The things I could do with you.”

       
“Too bad you’re never gonna find out.” He smirked before launching at the vampire.

       
Under any other circumstances, he would have remembered in full detail the fight that followed. But considering how many shots he had had, and how quickly those shots were catching up to him, it would be understandable that he was a little hazy on the details. He knew there was a fight judging by the way his body ached and the few bruises that were already forming, and the stinging on the side of his neck that could only mean he had been bit at some point.

       
But the important thing was that he had slayed the vampire, and survived. An accomplishment he hadn’t even been sure he was capable of since leaving his training. The adrenaline pumped through his veins as he stared at the pile of ash that lay before him, a smirk making its way on to his face. It seemed no matter what state he was in, he was still able to best a vampire.

       
“What the hell was that?” a voice broke through his self-congratulatory fog.

       
Ripper turned around to see the young man he had saved was still leaning against the wall, staring at him with wide eyes. There was a moment of silence as he considered what to say. A part of him knew he should try to explain away what just happened, but another part of him wanted the small glory that came with saving a life.

       
“You should get home.” Ripper said instead, quickly making his way out of the alley.

         
It wasn’t until he was back at his flat that he allowed himself to process what had happened. Granted, it wasn’t anything of true significance on the surface. But the fact that he had jumped straight into the life that he had run away from spoke volumes to him, especially since he felt good about himself. Not because he had saved someone but because he had helped make the world just a little bit better.

        
He collapsed on to the ratty couch he owned, trying to catch the breath he didn’t realize he needed. As he tried to come to terms with what he remembered happening, he found himself at a crossroads of sorts. On the one hand, he could continue down the path of an early death and not give anything thought to any potential of a future he held. Or he could stop being so bloody stubborn and realize what had been staring him in the face ever since he started summoning Eyghon.

        
He had run away from the academy to get away from living a life revolving around the supernatural and occult, and yet that seemed to be all his life as Ripper revolved around. Maybe it was time to stop denying his destiny, a destiny he had always thought his father had forced upon him. But here he was, nearly two years outside of the Council’s influence and that aspect of his life had still followed him. First as Eyghon, and now as the vampire attack he had stopped.

        
Before he could stop himself, he had picked up the phone and dialed a number he hadn’t since before he left the academy.

       
“Gran, I’m so sorry.” Rupert started once the other line had picked up. “I was wrong.