"You never told me."
"Huh?" The two of them were on patrol. Angel was busy scanning the shadows, looking out for trouble lurking in the darkness. Buffy was doing much the same - in between sideways glances at him, which she was trying to pretend were purely accidental.
"How you knew."
"Knew what?" Angel paused to give her a puzzled look and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Hello. Earth to Angel. Have you even been listening to what I've been saying all evening? You said that Giles would work out how to deal with that demon thing we ran into, and I said that's because he's - like - all super librarian and down with the research stuff, and you said yes, because that's what Watchers do, and I asked how you knew he was my Watcher, and then we ran into those newbies and we dusted them - and you never told me."
"Told you what?" he queried, frowning as he re-ran the evening's events through his head. There had been some sort of conversation like that ..
"How you knew Giles was my Watcher." Buffy glared at him, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing with impatience. He loved her like this, all fire and full of life. "I never told you. Did he tell you? Because I don't think you've actually spent that much time together and ... no, I was there, and he didn't tell you then. Or have you been sneaking into the library and pumping Giles to get the lowdown on me - and I really shouldn't have said that, because - ew- not an image I want to encourage, thank you very much ..."
Angel had to smile, amused by the look which had chased across her face. "No," he said. "He didn't tell me. He didn't need to. I knew the moment I met him. In fact," he considered a little anxiously, "I could have sworn I'd met him before, but - no," he concluded with a shake of his head. "That would be - impossible."
There'd been a moment, just before Rupert Giles had stepped out of the shadows in the Bronze and shown his face, that Angel had thought he was being haunted. Because he'd known another Watcher, a long time ago, who'd brought with him that same shivering sense of presence. But that man was dead - long dead. He'd died in a fire, back in the early part of the nineteenth century. Angelus had seen him burn. Well - seen the building he'd been in burn, and no-one had left the place alive. No-one had left at all, except for two laughing vampires. Darla had had fun that night ...
"So what gave it away?" Buffy was still focused on her original question. "Wait, I know - it's the tweed, right? Watcher's and tweed - going together like ham and eggs. And the British accent. Only ..." She paused to think about what she'd said. "Merrick wasn't exactly tweedy. Or that British, either. Just - Watcherly. Is that it? Do they have this 'Watcher vibe' thing? Can vampires sense that, the way they can sense I'm the Slayer?"
"Not - exactly." Angel had to smile at the thought. Then he frowned, realising that she wasn't joking with him. She didn't know. Maybe her first Watcher hadn't found time to point out the little differences that made him so special among her kind - and surely Giles would have assumed he had, since he clearly hadn't mentioned it. Or maybe he was just waiting for the right moment to explain.
"Don't tell me," she groaned, pausing to rest her weight against a nearby tombstone. "It's something utterly obvious and I've missed it, right? His ring. Is it his ring? 'Cos Merrick had the same ring - well, one exactly like it, anyway. Do they have this initiation thing and get the ring, and the secret password and stuff?"
Now he had to smother a laugh. She'd obviously been spending far too much time with Xander recently. "I have no idea," he admitted, wondering if that were the case. Now he thought about it, that other Watcher had owned a very similar peice of jewelry. "I'm just surprised you haven't noticed. You have Slayer hearing. It's as good as mine. Next time you're standing next to Giles - just take a moment and listen."
"Listen?" She frowned. "Listen to what? Do Watchers - tick, or something?"
"Something." His smile held a haunted note. The first time he'd recognised the source of that signature sound, he'd been amused by it. Angelus had found a lot of those sort of things amusing. Angel just found it bitterly ironic. And entirely apt, if slightly disconcerting. "Here," he offered, putting out his hand. "I have - no pulse, do I."
Her fingers closed over his wrist, and he shivered, despite all his effort not to. "Nope," she reported, holding on to him just a little longer than necessary. "None worth mentioning, anyway."
He shivered a second time, wishing he didn't have to remind her that he was dead, and likely to stay that way. "That's because I have no heartbeat."
"Yeah. So?"
"So ..." He took a deep and unnecessary breath. "You have one. Strong, and firm and very determined in your case. The heart of a slayer is always strong. Xander and Willow - they each have one."
"And?" She was waiting for the punchline. He turned to watch her reaction as he delivered it.
"Watchers," he said, "have two ..."