Notes: This is both an AU and a Due South/Buffy, the Vampire Slayer cross-over. From a dream, partially, as well as an evening spent watching several Fraser/Kowalski episodes of Due South. In the universe depicted here, the events of Hunting Season and Call of the Wild never happen.

Pairing: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski.

Disclaimers, et al.: Alliance and Warner Brothers thinks it owns these characters. Alliance and Warner Brothers can go right on thinking that. Rated NC-17 for boy-on-boy stuff and language. There is some blood involved in this, not much, but you have been warned. Unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine.

Feedback is muchly wanted and will be greedily slurped at

by LaT

Ray decides on the simple black tee-shirt, slips it on as he glances at the clock for what must be the umpteenth time since waking from a sleep he knows lasted the entire day. He feels invigorated and thoroughly alive and is impatient for Fraser to join him. He has something...special planned for them and as far as he is concerned, Fraser's duties at the Consulate can't be completed soon enough.

They have been apart for two weeks, the longest period of time they have spent away from one another since the day they first met. Even before becoming lovers, they spent most of their time together. Indeed, the only genuine change occasioned by the realization of their true feelings for each other after the Denny Scarpa case is that a goodly portion of their off-duty time is spent making love.

Two weeks in California preparing for and participating in the trial of an all-purpose, multi-jurisdictional serial killer has left Ray *hungry* for Fraser. He is also nervous and worried about how Fraser will receive his news. Ray thinks of it as a gift, but is not certain Fraser will see it that way, and the plan he's devised to share it feels both dangerous and right. He must share this with Fraser. For Ray, there really is no other choice.


His last night in L.A. and Ray is sitting in a bar that clearly prides itself on its rough-trade clientele. He likes the seediness of it simply because it amuses him. The bad-ass factor is high and there is enough leather in the room to outfit a third world country. He is not there to scope or be scoped, just needs air and a change of scene from the inside of a court or his hotel room. Nothing in the bar moves or excites him even a fraction as much as Fraser does, although there is an awful lot of prettiness on display.

He is on his second gin and tonic when he feels someone sidle up to the bar beside him. A blond someone. A *very* blond someone. Several bottles of peroxide did their duty for the shade of hair sported by the man now next to him. //That's what 'white-blond' means//, he thinks as the man asks for a bourbon straight up, water back.

Ray can't stop himself and looks over at the sound of the other man's voice. Cool accent. Sharper and harder than Ray's own. Clearly British. English. Ray's heard that accent in old movies. *Cockney*, yeah. Ray's still not scoping and doesn't plan to be scoped, but the Cockney One *is* hot in a petulant, James Dean sort of way. Ray chuckles to himself at that, wonders how many times in his own life that description's been applied to him.

"Something funny?" Cockney's eyes are on him now, and Ray takes his time before answering. Hot, yes. Not hot enough to make Ray forget he's got Fraser waiting at home.

"No. You just...remind me of someone, that's all." Good Kowalski, he tells himself. Nice, steady "thanks but no thanks" tone.

Cockney rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink. "Like I haven't fucking heard *that* one before."

Ray shrugs. *He* knows it's not a line, and that's all that matters. He takes another sip of gin, thinks to himself it would taste even better if it was on Fraser's skin. He's ready to go back to minding his own business, but he's gotten Cockney's attention now.

"So." That accent's like a slap and Ray can't help but look back up. "Who do I remind *you* of?"


Ray begins swiveling his hips to the percolating bass line sneaking out of his stereo. Dancing is the only thing that takes his mind off the fact that Fraser hasn't yet arrived, and it's been a long, long time since Black Box's gotten a whirl in the CD player. He is deep into the chorus of "Everybody, Everybody" when a spin in the middle of the floor reveals Fraser just...watching him. The music is so loud he didn't hear the knock and after all that is why Fraser has his own key.

So fucking beautiful, Ray thinks and he doesn't even bother turning off the music before taking two loping steps across the room to wrap himself around Ben. Fraser smells of soap, leather, cedar and something that Ray has given up trying to name anything other than 'Fraser.' He feels those strong, Mountie fingers digging into his scalp and the only thing he can think to do is moan his pleasure at it into Fraser's mouth.

"Missed you, " he gets out when they come up for air, then he dives back in for another kiss before Fraser can respond.

"I've missed you, too, Ray," Fraser murmurs these words against Ray's neck, swipes his tongue along the skin. He's tugging on the tee-shirt, pulling it free of Ray's pants and sliding his hands underneath.

"You hungry?" Ray says this as he pushes Fraser's jacket to the floor, starts working the belt and then the buttons of the other man's jeans.

"Yes." Fraser's got the tee-shirt off now, and goes to town on Ray's pants.

"Wanna get somethin' to eat first?" Fraser's penchant for button-down shirts wears Ray out at times like this.

"I didn't say I was hungry for food." The gleaming wickedness of Fraser's smile makes Ray laugh. Yes. Being loved by this man is a good thing.

They get from the living room to the bedroom with surprising grace given the fact they're taking off one another's clothes. They fall onto the bed and Ray is *covered* by Fraser from head-to-toe and he knows no comforter will *ever* feel this good. For several minutes, he luxuriates in the sensation of Fraser cradling his cock and cupping his balls, and it almost distracts him from what he knows he has to do. He arches wildly, catches Fraser by surprise, rolls them until he is on top.

Kissing again, they are kissing again and Ray feels drunk with this. Fraser's touch, taste, scent. The sight of him, the sounds he makes. Oh, Ray has learned the true beauty of his senses thanks to Fraser and all five are even more glorious to him now.

Ray slides down Fraser's body, stops when he reaches the cock. It is thick and heavy, swollen and beautiful. Delicious, and Ray takes it in his mouth as far as it can go. It is maddening to him and so very, very good to be doing this again. He's missed this, missed Fraser and now that he is home, he knows that what he must do is the right thing, and he knows, from the way Fraser kissed him that his partner *will* understand.

Fraser's fingers dance in his hair and Ray hums around the cock in his mouth in response. This earns a thrust and he hums again. When Fraser comes, he says Ray's name, over and over, the litany's usual lyrical quality made more so by the fact of it as an expression of sheer pleasure.

Ray thinks -- for a moment -- that this vocalization of how much joy Fraser takes in him should be enough to tell him that it *is* right to proceed. Yet, he understands there are questions that have to be asked and answered. He moves back up Fraser's body carefully, caresses the pale skin as he goes, smiles as he thinks of how much more quickly any bruises will heal after this night. He briefly wonders how long it would take to bring Ben to another orgasm, stops himself with the realization that that tactic comes close to being unfair. There must be some choice of Fraser's in this, however little it may be.

"I meant to ask how your trip was, but...I got distracted." Fraser's eyes are dark and shiny, his cheeks the palest pink. He runs his hands down Ray's sides, then over his ass. Rests them there.

"Well, I can be distracting, when I want to be." Ray presses a kiss to Fraser's cheekbone. The other man's skin is so warm and smooth and Ray...checks himself, brings himself back under control. //Not yet. Soon.//

"So. How *was* your trip?"

"Pretty cool. The jury took 45 minutes to convict and 30 minutes to impose multiple, maximum life sentences with *no* possibility for parole." Ray traces the line of Fraser's eyebrow with his thumb.

"The good guys score a resounding victory. Excellent work, Ray."

"I was just a small part of it, Frase."

"You'll never be a *small* part of anything, Ray." Fraser smiles as he says this, and Ray feels it to the very soles of his feet. He smiles back. When he speaks his voice is as soft and gentle as he has ever heard it.



"Do you love me?"

There is not even a hint of hesitation. "Yes."

"And you know I love you, right?"

Same rock-solid certainty. "Yes." A slight lift of one dark, perfect brow. "Is everything all right, Ray?"

"Everything's great Fraser. I just...I just wanted to hear it and I wanted to remind you."

"Well, I do. I love you very much. I'll love you for the rest of my life." More certain than certain, and Ray knows it is truth, pure and unadulterated.

*That's* why you do it, Ray tells himself. Not Not because you think someone's...beautiful. For love. Only for that, and nothing less.

Ray remembers everything he was taught, has gone over it in his head hundreds of times since being told the rules. How it works, how it goes. At least he was given that much, and he is thankful for it. Fraser will have lots of questions, and he must be able to answer them all. There is only one thing left to do. Two things, actually. Later, they will sort everything else out. Like they always have.

"Close your eyes, Ben."

Unquestioning obedience. They have taught each other this in their time together, and Ray is grateful they've both learned so well. Gently, he kisses one, then the other of Fraser's eyelids, moves down to his neck, stops at the spot where he feels the rhythm of Fraser's pulse. He slides one hand under Fraser and into the small of his back. With the other, he cups Ben's head, inhales deeply, once. Then, he opens his mouth, presses newly sharper incisors to the flesh.

And bites.

Rich, thick, and tasting both bitter and salty, Fraser's blood flows into Ray's mouth. He can *hear* Fraser's pulse, *feel* the pounding of the other man's heart as the liquid covers his lips, teeth and tongue. He's in that alley again and an accented voice that seems even...cooler now echoes in his mind.

/'Til the heart beats as slow as it can, then stop. You've gotta stop before the heart does. Otherwise, it's just another great *meal*./

Strong, Fraser is *so* strong and his heart actually speeds up at first. He bucks against Ray, unleashes a sound halfway between growl and cry. For Ray, it is better than any drug, sweeter than that gin would *ever* be and he is *reeling* from it, his cock aching to the point of pain. That voice, again.

/You'll know when it's time to stop. It'll feel like there's only one beat every...minute. It's kind of cool actually, like everything's in sloooooooow motion./

When Fraser stops thrashing beneath him and it does feel as though there is too long a time between beats, Ray lets go. He lifts his head and looks into Fraser's eyes. Unblinking and the pupils are so large the eyes seem black, rimmed with the barest hint of blue. Ray takes another breath. The harder part is now upon him and he knows it will kill him if Fraser refuses to take what he has to give.

"Ben?" He brings his other hand up to cradle Fraser's face, turns the other man's head slightly. "Listen to me, Ben. *You* have to drink now. From *me.* Do you understand?"

Fraser blinks once, then again, before slowly nodding his head. Yes. He understands. This does not surprise Ray. If there is anyone who *would* be non-plussed by at least the *reality* of what Ray encountered and what he has become, it's Fraser. But there is one more question that must be asked and answered before he can finish this.

"Ben, do you *want* to drink?"

In the silence that hangs at the end of that question, Ray flashes on moments from their time together. A hug meant only as subterfuge that ended up mattering more than either of them anticipated. A dream-catcher soaring through the air; it was not meant to fly, but it does anyway. Underwater, Fraser coming back to him, feeding him air and life. Fraser, gorgeous in Huey's tux, leaning across Ray's desk for a kiss in collection of a debt. Fraser's steady hand on his neck and shoulder as he wept for Beth Botrelle's eight lost years.

He will die. Ray knows that he will die if Fraser says 'no.' There is no way he can continue to be what he has become if he has to do it without Fraser by his side. But he will not push. Will not plead. He will wait for Fraser's answer, as he knows Fraser would wait for his.

After a time that feels as though the whole night has passed, Fraser looks him in the eyes and nods his head again. Yes.

Relief and joy shoot through Ray and for several seconds, he can't remember how he's supposed to do this. Oh, yes.

/Probably the smartest way to go is to bite your own wrist. It's not the most romantic, mind you, but it's easier to pull away if you're turning someone strong./

And so Ray does. Opens the vein and offers it to Fraser, watches avidly as Fraser...feeds. He can see, Ray can actually *see* the changes as Ben drinks. The skin becomes -- remarkably -- smoother, practically unlined. Fraser's eyes are bright and glittery, deeply and impossibly *bluer* than they were, and in spite of himself, and with not a little effort, Ray pulls away.

The blood on Fraser's lips is tempting to Ray, but before he can taste himself, Ben's tongue flicks out, cleans the rest away. Again, there is an almost disquieting silence in the room, and Ray wonders, suddenly, madly, if he hasn't been a terrible fool. He hears that voice again, the one that guided him through this, but it sounds harsher now, and he is surprised he took such comfort in it before.

/Too bad you can't stick around. We would have had *great* fun, you and me./

He remembers lying in that alley as his pretty, bleached-blond, grim-faced 'benefactor' starts walking away from him, and it scares Ray to think that Fraser might feel any of the same stirrings of vague resentment he did.

/If you're ever in L.A. again, look me up. The name's Spike./

He is pulled out of that alley by the sound of Fraser saying his name. He has trouble meeting those bluer-than-blue eyes.

"What have you...done, Ray?" Astonishingly, it is not accusatory. Curious, yes. Perhaps even...scared.

There is much to explain, Ray knows, but at the moment, he can only think to answer with *why* it was done. "Something so we can be together forever."

He forces himself to look at Fraser then, and what he sees on the other man's face tells him that yes, even for this, there will be forgiveness.