Title: Miscellany

Title: Miscellany

Author: Scribe

Fandom: The Sentinel/Buffy, the Vampire Slayer

Status: WIP

Sequel/Series: The Swingers Series, Sequel to Melange and Medley

Disclaimer: Recognizable media characters belong to their respective creators. This is a non-profit work, done purely for entertainment. The actions of the characters do not reflect in any way on the real lives of the actors who portray them.

Summary: Jim and Blair participate in an officer exchange program.

Archive: Yes, but tell where, provide credit and a feedback address.

Warnings: ON chapters as needed.

Rating: NC17

miscellany n 1: a collection containing a variety of sorts of things

Miscellany
By Scribe

Part One: New Assignment to a Quiet Little Town

"Why couldn't we put the vehicles in storage and FLY down, Jim? Why the hell do we have to DRIVE down?"

"For the last time, Darwin, we are going to NEED wheels. If you don't have a car in California, you're stuck, big time."

Blair grumbled, slumping on his side of the booth in the roadside diner. "Sez you. I happen to think that the department is just too damn cheap to spring for plane tickets."

"They're reimbursing us for travel expenses."

"Ain't the same, man. I was really looking forward to those itty bitty packages of honey-roasted peanuts they feed you."

"You know damn good and well that any flight they would have sprung for would have been so cheap that we'd be lucky to get Fritos."

"I LIKE Fritos."

"NOW you're just being difficult."

"So sue me. Hours on the highway fighting psychotic semi drivers who try to run up your tailpipe when you have a FREAKIN' DOUBLE YELLOW LINE and the little old lady in front of you insists on going ten miles under the speed limit will do that to you."

"If you'd stay right behind me you wouldn't HAVE that problem."

"Yeah? Well, if YOU hadn't let that convoy of car carriers pass you, I wouldn't have gotten so far BEHIND."

The two men scowled at each other across the Formica tabletop. The waitress trotted over, plunked down two glasses of water next to their menus, and said brightly, "What can I get for ya?"

Jim snapped, "A boyfriend who's less bitchy."

Blair shot back, "A boyfriend who ASKS before accepting a major life change for BOTH of us."

"Okay! So, you'll need a little time to decide!" She trotted away again, shaking her head, looking at the ceiling pleadingly. *Lord? Is EVERY good-looking man west of the Mississippi gay?*

The two men glared at each other a moment more, then grabbed up the menus almost simultaneously and opened them, holding them up like barriers. But after a moment, the menu held by the long haired young man started to tremble, and choking sounds emerged from behind it.

Jim lowered his own menu, concerned. "Blair?" he asked quietly. No verbal reply, but the menu shook even harder, and the sounds increased. Worried and contrite, Jim reached over and touched his hand. "Chief..." He almost jumped at the bark of laughter. Blair lowered the menu and looked at him with dancing blue eyes. The contrast to his sulky, angry mood of a moment ago was startling. "What the hell?! Sandburg, what IS it with you?"

Blair wiped his eyes, but he wasn't crying because he was upset. "Oh, man. Ruh-read the description of the Mariner's Stir Fry."

"I thought we were getting sandwiches?"

"Just read it, Jim."

Jim located Mariner's Stir Fry under the 'Dinner Specials' section, and started to read out loud. "Mariner's Stir Fry. This menu item is designated 'Heart Healthy'. This melange..." He trailed off and looked at Blair. "Fox, right?"

Blair nodded, grinning from ear to ear. Jim could feel his own lips turning up in an involuntary smile as he remembered the long, lanky FBI agent who had so enthusiastically given his 'guy-to-guy' virginity to the couple a few months ago in an alcohol fueled state of bliss. They had, with the best of intentions, outed him to his Assistant Director, for whom Fox Mulder had confessed a (he thought) unrequited passion. A couple of weeks after Mulder had returned to work, they'd gotten a phone call from him. First he cursed them fluently for about three minutes. Then he told them thank you.

Blair tapped the laminated cardboard. "Keep reading."

Jim glanced back at the menu. "This melange of sweet scallops, tender whitefish, and succulent shrimp is served with a medley of tender-crisp Chinese vege..." He lost it. He laid down the menu, put his forehead down on it, and joined Blair in howls of laughter.

The little waitress watched, feeling relieved. She had been worried that there was going to be a 'domestic dispute'. It looked like they had made up.

Jim finally got control of himself enough to sit up. Waving the menu at Blair, he gasped, "Buh-Bennie and Ruh-Ray."

"Call him Stanley." Another burst of laughter, finally trailing off into hiccups. Blair said, "I'm sorry I've been such a shit, man."

Jim shook his head. "I'm sorry I said yes without discussing it with you. It just seemed like such a great opportunity."

Blair sighed. "It is, I know that. The pay is higher, they provide a place to stay, and it's a YEAR in CALIFORNIA. What's not to like? I was... I guess my feelings were a little hurt that you didn't ask first."

"I was wrong. And I was so sure that you'd agree with me that when you balked, it got my back up. I should have apologized a long time ago. Forgiven?"

"Only if you forgive me."

"Really nothing to forgive, but if you need it, sure." He offered his hand, and Blair took it. They didn't shake, but just sat there for a long moment, looking into each other's eyes. Each was thinking how strong, warm, and comforting that familiar grip was, and how much they had missed it the last few days. They had been angry with each other for a couple of weeks, and there was no real touching when they were angry. It was a rule of their relationship, and it worked well. Now it seemed like the long dry spell was over.

They finally released each other, Blair slowly stroking Jim's palm as he pulled his hand away. Jim bit his lip, feeling the simple touch all the way to his groin. Blair picked up the menu again and pretended to study it, bending his head so that his hair fell forward and half hid his smile. "I think I want everything on the left side."

"Greedy."

Blair peeked at him, and Jim felt a sock clad foot stroke his calf under the table. "Complaining?"

*An advantage to those loafers he insists on wearing.* "No." He cleared his throat. "You know, Chief, I really don't think we should drive straight through, like we planned. It would mean at least another three hours on the road, and you're tired."

"Uh huh." The toes were wiggling against Jim's knee.

"There's a clean looking motel on the other side of the street. Why don't we just crash, and finish the trip tomorrow."

"Sounds logical."

"This way we don't have to risk waking anyone up to let us into our place. We can show up at a decent hour, instead, fresh and ready to go."

"Jim..." Ellison stiffened, his spine and his cock, as Blair worked his instep along the inside of Jim's thigh, between his obligingly spread legs. "I'm not arguing with you, man. I think it's a good idea. Besides, my ass is tired."

"Not TOO tired, I hope."

"It take's more than a few hours on the road to get me THAT tired, Big Guy." Blair's foot settled on Jim's crotch, and began to flex. Jim slumped, sighing. "You were studying Vecchio, weren't you?"

"I have a history in academia, Jim. I pick things up."

"Bless you."

The waitress, when she came to take their orders, noted that they both looked a little flushed, but were in a MUCH better mood. It surprised her a little when they ordered burgers to go.

At the motel across the street, Blair half lay on the check-in counter, chin resting on crossed arms, as Jim got them registered. He grabbed up the key before Jim could reach for it and scampered (Not ran. Scampered was the only proper word for it) out to their designated room. Jim followed, grabbing a suitcase out of the back of the truck.

As he let himself in, he said, "Hey, Darwin. Better go get your clothes for..."

A naked Blair slammed into him, knocking him into the door and thus shutting it. "Ain't gonna need 'em, Big Guy." he breathed, just before beginning the pleasant task of trying to eat Jim alive, starting at the mouth.

Blair's tongue remained in Jim's mouth, but his HANDS went everywhere else. Jim wondered muzzily how the hell Blair could seem to fondle his nipples, his crotch and his ass, all at the same time. He only had TWO hands, didn't he?

Jim wrapped his arms around the compact body of his Guide and lover, and mumbled around the probing tongue, "The food's gonna get cold?"

Blair pulled back "Do I look like I give a flying fuck? If you want a hot meal, I can give it to you." He stepped away and fell back on the bed, grinning. His erection, thick and long, quivered almost straight up. "Clang, clang. Dinner bell." Laughing, Jim started to strip. Blair reached down and stroked himself sensuously, crooning, "Hurry up." His fingers spread the first clear drops of pre-cum over the rosy head of his prick. "You're missing the appetizer."

Normally careful about his clothes, Jim discarded them with an abandon that a stripper in the heyday of burlesque would have admired. When he was nude, his own impressive hard-on wavering, he pounced. In the split second Jim was in the air, Blair thought about trying to roll out of the way. A, it was damn near impossible to evade an aroused Sentinel. B, why the hell would he want to? He met Jim with open arms and legs.

For several minutes there was an intense, but playful wrestling match on the bed. As it went on, it got more intense and less playful. Finally Blair, pinned to the mattress, went very still, and peered directly into Jim's eyes, saying firmly. "I want to top."

Jim smiled slowly, eyes hooded. In answer, he rolled over quickly, pulling Blair on top of him. "I guess I have to be considerate of that tired ass of yours."

"This ass still has plenty of spring left in it, big man."

"You're gonna have to prove it to me, Sandburg."

"Happy to oblige."

"I thought you wanted me to suck you first."

"Call me impatient." Blair kissed him hungrily, tongue lapping deep, then asked, "Supplies?"

"In my suitcase." As Blair bounced off the bed, Jim teased. "I thought teachers were supposed to be the ones to plan ahead and have everything ready in advance for any sort of demonstration."

Blair had unsnapped the suitcase and was rummaging in it. "Not when we have ex-Rangers to look after the details. We just concentrate on the creative side of things."

Jim watched him stirring up the bag's contents. "Hey, it took me a long time to get those packed just right."

"Trivialities are gonna swallow you, man." Blair gave a yelp of triumph as he came up with a tube of lubricant and a box of condoms.

"I'd rather have you..."

"Don't say it. It's too bad a pun, even for me."

As Blair stood up, Jim positioned himself on the bed. He moved into the center, and turned onto his belly, tucking a pillow comfortably under his chin. "Shall I prepare myself, or do you want to do me?"

"Do you really need to ask me that question, Ellison? You KNOW how much I like playing with your butt. I don't get enough chances."

"You knew I was a top when you married me, Chief."

"I'm not complaining. I just like a change every now and then." He smacked Jim smartly on one taut buttock. "So do you." Jim snorted, but he wiggled, too. Blair got on the bed with him, straddling his thighs "Reach back and spread yourself for me."

Feeling his anticipation rising, Jim did as he was bid. He reached back and parted his own buttocks, spreading the narrow crease wide and exposing the pucker of his anus to his lover. There was a pause, and he said, "Chief, come on. I know you have the lube open, I heard you take off the cap."

"Hang on. You know how cold this stuff can feel. Do you want hypothermia of the ass? You always warm it for me, I can do it for you." Blair had squirted a thick blob of gel onto the fingers of his right hand, and was rubbing it, warming and liquefying the lubricant. When he was satisfied that it wouldn't be uncomfortable for his lover, he reached down and stroked his fingers the length of Jim's crack. Jim shuddered almost violently. "Jim, you have your senses dialed WAY up, don't you? That's not good, man."

Jim mumbled, "It's just been such a long time."

Blair leaned over and kissed each shoulder blade. "I know. But YOU know that you could zone on the sensations. We don't want to have to take time out in the middle of a good shag to drag you back to Real Life, do we, Big Guy? Just dial them down to almost normal. It'll be enough, I promise. I'm going to take good care of you tonight."

Jim dialed his sense of touch back down to around normal levels, and the gotta-jump-out-of-my-skin sensation faded. Blair was right, of course. In Sentinel matters, he was almost always right. "All right."

"My man." Blair continued stroking up and down the crease. On each pass, he lingered a bit longer around the little crinkled opening. Finally he was circling it with gentle, steady pressure. Gradually the tight muscular ring loosened and relaxed. Blair coated his fingers with more gel, then slowly slipped the first into Jim's tight back passage.

Jim sighed as the finger slid in. "God, that's good, Blair."

"Best is yet to come, Big Guy." Blair pumped slowly.

Jim squirmed minutely, rubbing his cock against the smooth sheets. His voice was hot. "The best is gonna come like a fucking freight train, Blair. I'm going to drain you dry tonight."

"Promises, promises." Blair pushed deeper, and Jim moaned. "You okay?"

"Hell yes." Jim lifted, trying to push back on the impaling finger.

Blair put a hand on his back, holding him down. "No ya don't.

Blair worked his finger in and out, watching the way Jim's flesh seemed to cling to it. "Can you take another right away?"

"Yeah, go for it." Jim grunted in pleasure as Blair squeezed a second finger in beside the first and began working them both, scissoring them apart gradually to open him even farther.

"I just wish my hands were bigger. I really have to push to reach your prostate. I'm afraid I'm gonna hurt you, one of these days."

"Lover, you'd pretty much have to TRY to really hurt me, and you're not going to do that. Just keep it up. I'd have you finger fuck me all night if I didn't want your cock inside me so bad."

He heard Blair's sharp intake of breath. "God, I love it when you talk dirty. That deserves a thank you." Blair pushed harder, feeling. Jim felt a fingertip glide over his prostate, and pushed up toward him, purring. "Yeah, just like a big ol' tomcat when I do that, aren't ya?"

"Tomcats do not willingly bottom, to the best of my knowledge. C'mon, Chief, I'm ready."

"One more."

"Blair..."

"No, JIM. One more, THEN I'll fuck you." Blair's voice was patient: an adult explaining to a greedy child why he had to have his cake AFTER he had his vegetables. Blair pulled out, bunched three fingers tightly, and slowly inserted them deep into his lover's rectum, drawing a moaning shudder. "You'll thank me for this when there isn't any tearing, man."

Jim was panting as Blair patiently thrust half his hand in and out of his back passage. "You don't always need this much preparation."

"Yeah, well, you don't do this as often as I do, right? I'm not complaining, Big Guy. I'm just explaining. Anyway..." He smacked Jim's rump. "We're good to go now."

"Finally." As Blair got the condom and rolled it onto his erection, Jim got up on his hands and knees, spreading his legs wide.

"I really wish you'd let me take a couple of pictures of you like this for our old age," Blair moved up into position behind Jim, till the older man felt his young lover's thighs pressing his own, and the warm length of a latex clad prick lying in the crack of his ass. Blair parted the cheeks, letting his cock drop into the valley, then pressed them back together for a moment, trapping his flesh. He called this 'The Sandburg-Ellison Hotdog', and he did it every time he topped Jim. He liked to see the tip of his dick just peeking out at the top of the crease.

Then he parted Jim's buttocks again and pulled back a little, fitting his cock head against the carefully stretched little ring of muscle. He held it there for a moment, relishing the sight, the feel, and the idea of that tense, quivering body waiting for him to penetrate. Then he moved forward. The anus spread, easily taking him in, and Blair started the slow slide into Jim's tight back passage.

Jim bit his lip and arched his back as Blair filled him from behind. He didn't do this with many people. He and Blair swung, there were other partners, but he didn't often let anyone fuck him. The last time had been Stanley and Fraiser, the tough little blonde cop and the big Mountie from Chicago. Both were excellent in their own way, but Blair... Well, Blair was Blair. He loved him. There wasn't anyone on earth better.

Blair settled against him, buried to the base of his cock. Jim felt the soft tap of Blair's balls swinging against his own, and then the younger man bent over him, wrapping his arms around him. Now, for a moment, he would just hold Jim, feeling the dark haired man's body surround him. Jim took the moment to concentrate on the feel of Blair's dick, cradled in his bowels. Even with his sense of touch dialed down, he could feel the warm beat of his lover's pulse through the thin rubber sheath he wore.

It was sweet, and it was loving, but Jim needed more tonight. He deliberately flexed, using his strong internal muscles to squeeze. Blair moaned as he felt the ripple along the length of his prick. Jim whispered, "Fuck me, Blair. Hard."

Blair kissed his back again, and started to move inside him. Yes, it would be hard, but not at first. In the beginning, he was as gentle and tender as any lover who had ever taken another. He stroked in and out of the slick, heated hole with steady, even thrusts. He would pull out till he was nearly free, then slowly slide back in, carefully angling himself
and Jim so that his cock would pass over Jim's prostate, and give his lover an added burst of pleasure.

Jim started to push back to meet him, being careful to keep his motions slow and controlled. If he got wild too soon, Blair would grab his hips and stop the proceedings, holding him while he calmed down. When Blair knelt back up, holding his waist and speeding up a little, Jim knew that he could begin his drive toward orgasm.

Blair increased his rhythm, shortening his strokes and putting more power behind them. He and Jim often shared long, slow, tender love, but there were some times that they just wanted raw, animal rutting, and the time had come. Jim wasn't fragile, he liked to be ridden rough, and Blair was happy to oblige.

Jim grunted with each lunge Blair made into his body. Many people might look at Blair's short stature, long hair, and whimsical attitude, and think him less of a man. Jim knew differently. Blair could top with the best of them. When he was in control, he was in control ALL the way. With everyone else, Jim held back a little of himself, only with Blair did he surrender fully. Only with Blair did he feel safe enough.

Blair released his grip on Jim's hips with one hand, and reached under him. His hand found his lover's cock where it bobbed and swayed with their motion. Jim couldn't touch himself without risking being knocked flat by Blair's pummeling. That had happened a time or two, and the love making had been finished with laughter. But usually Blair would help him toward his own completion. If Blair lost balance, Jim was there to hold him up. Blair began to masturbate Jim as he fucked him, giving his lover pleasure in both directions.

It had been so long that it didn't take many strokes to finish him off. Jim cried out Blair's name as his cock pulsed in Blair's hand, spilling his seed. His body clenched naturally, milking at Blair's cock, but Jim concentrated again, giving added pressure, caressing Blair with the smooth contractions.

Blair made a half-articulate sound and threw his head back, his sperm smeared hand again gripping his lover hard as he buried himself deep in the hot, accepting flesh of his ass. At the last instant, Jim dialed his senses back up, and reveled in the feel of Blair's orgasm. He could FEEL the throb of the little jets of sperm hitting the latex barrier of the condom, feel the heat, even through the prophylactic. He didn't zone, but he came close. It was just so GOOD.

Blair dropped down on his back, and Jim let go, collapsing under him so that they both lay flat. After a moment he mumbled, "Chief, we're both gonna have to sleep on one side of the bed. We forgot to put down a towel, and now we have a wet spot." Blair burst out laughing. "Laugh all you want, I'm not sleeping in it. Jizz hot it delicious, but cold... It's just kinda icky."

Blair eased out of his lover's body, careful not to cause any pain to the now tender ass. As he stripped off the condom, knotting off the end before dropping it in the wastebasket, he teased, "And you say I'M messy."

"Don't rag me about that. You know I can't think clearly when I'm horny."

"Join the club."

A towel was laid over the wet spot, sated bodies were wiped clean with lingering, loving strokes, the lights were turned off, and the two men settled on one half of the bed, snuggled close together in the narrow space.

Cradled in Jim's arms, Blair said, "I really am glad we took this assignment, Jim. I've been in big cities for so long, it'll be nice to spend some time somewhere that?s more quiet."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "It should be a lot less hectic. No terrorists, militias, mad bombers, organized underworld conspiracies..."

"You sure it's going to be all peaceful and tranquil?"

"Sure. How much violent activity can there BE in some place named Sunnydale?"

Part 2
Welcome Wagon

Up ahead, Blair could see Jim consulting a scrap of paper as he idled at the stop sign, waiting for a car containing several blue-haired old ladies to pass. Their apartment HAD to be around here somewhere. It wasn't as if there were acres and acres of tightly packed urban sprawl to comb through.

The waning daylight didn't help things any. Shadows were starting to deepen, clustering in odd areas. They had been delayed by paperwork at the station, and had then decided to have dinner before going to their new apartment. If they didn't hurry, they'd be humping boxes by flashlight.

He hoped they were in the right neighborhood. This looked like a pretty nice area. Well, not TOO seedy, anyway. There was a good sprinkling of conveniences like corner stores, video rental places, pizza restaurants, and laundromats. He'd even spotted what looked like a club not too far away: something called The Bronze.

To his relief, Jim pulled into a parking area in front of a apartment complex, slotting the truck in space number twenty-one. Blair located a blank stall close-by and parked there. He got out and walked over to the truck as Jim began to unstrap the tarp that had been stretched over the truck bed. "This is?"

"Looks like, Chief." He tossed a key to Blair. "Go see if that unlocks number twenty-one. If it does, we're home."

"Cool." There were just four buildings in the complex: three of apartments, and one that seemed to be a combination office/rec room/laundromat. Each apartment block consisted of eighteen units, three floors of three units each, on opposite sides of a middle walkway. Blair chose the middle building. Twenty-one was the first apartment on the left side of the walkway, and the key fit.

He did a brief run-through. Two bedrooms, but they could use the second one for storage. The kitchen was smaller than he would have liked, but nothing he couldn't handle. It was just all on a smaller scale than the loft in Cascade, but better than a lot of the places he'd lived before moving in with Jim. It would do. And if they got on each other's nerves, started stepping on each other's toes, well... There was always The Bronze.

"Hello?"

Blair came out of the back bedroom to find a teenage boy peering in the door he'd left open. "Hi. What can I do for you?"

"You the new tenant?" The boy was regarding him with the sort of wariness that Blair would have expected in a larger city.

"One of them." Blair offered his hand. "Blair Sandburg."

They shook. "Xander Harris." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm in twenty-four, just across." The boy was staring. Blair hadn't had this thorough an examination since Jim first realized he was attracted to him, but he got the feeling that the boy was doing it for a different reason.

He either saw something that reassured him, or DIDN'T see something he was looking for that would have alarmed him, because he relaxed a little. "Need any help moving in? I have some free time."

"Oh, now THIS is small town hospitality! Back in Cascade the new neighbors might have made popcorn and enjoyed the show, but they wouldn't have offered to help. Sure, c'mon."

They started toward the parking area, and Xander said, "I'd offer ya a 'Welcome' cake or something, but I don't do the domestic bit, and my girlfriend moved out a long time ago. Actually, Anya didn't do the domestic bit, either."

*Girlfriend moved out? He's been living on his own long enough to not only cohabit with someone, but break up with them?* Blair took a closer look. Xander was older than he had first thought. He might even be as much as twenty, at a stretch. "Thanks for the thought, man."

"So, you and your wife are from Cascade?"

Blair smiled as they came to the truck. "Me and my partner." Jim was hefting a box of kitchen stuff out of the bed. He was wearing a thin, sleeveless T-shirt, and he bulged in most interesting ways. "Hey, Jim." Jim set the box on the ground and straightened, dusting his hands and casting a questioning eye at the boy before cocking an eyebrow at Blair. "Our first friend in the neighborhood: Xander Harris, from across the hall."

Jim nodded. "Pleased to meet you." He offered a hand.

He got the same laser exam treatment that Blair had, and passed the test. "Hiya." Xander picked up the box and started for the apartment building. "You guy's will want to hurry up and get all this stuff in before dark."

Blair grabbed a suitcase in each hand and followed, saying, "Is the security lighting bad, or something?"

Xander had placed the box on the dining room table and was heading back out as Blair came in. "Nah, it works fine. You just don't want to be out on the street in Sunnydale after dark if you can help it."

"Really?" He was already out the door. *Damn, he's quick!* Blair dumped the suitcases by the door instead of taking them into the bedroom, risking the Wrath of Jim, but he was curious about Xander, and wanted to keep an eye on him.

Those long legs certainly ate up ground. By the time Blair emerged, Xander was already back at the truck, accepting another box from Jim. As he passed Blair he said, "Says 'Bathroom' so I'm gonna assume it goes in the bathroom, unless you guys are WAY different."

"You got it." At the truck, both Jim and Blair watched Xander disappear into the apartment, then exchanged looks. "I wasn't expecting it, but as Welcome Wagons go, he's not bad."

"He's certainly eager to get us done before sunset. Look, he's coming back."

"Shake a couple of legs, guys." Xander ordered, grabbing another box. "The day ain't getting any longer, but the shadows are."

The two older men shrugged, and continued unloading. With Xander's help, they had everything in the apartment in less than a half hour. The boy set a last load neatly against the wall, and Jim said, "We appreciate the help. I'd offer you a soda or something, but..." He waved at the clutter.

"No sweat, man. Well..." He drew a finger over his brow and flicked a droplet away. "A little, but not much. I do construction, so this was nada. But hold that thought, and consider making it a beer next time."

Jim kept his tone neutral. "Blair DID tell you we're cops, right?"

Xander pursed his lips. "He failed to mention it. He said his partner, and I just kinda assumed he meant... uh..., well, like... life partner."

"That, too."

"Oh. Well, that's cool, on both counts. Anyway, I'm nineteen, and that's legal around here, so you don't have to worry in THAT department. You can feel free to give me all the beer you want, any time you want."

Blair chuckled. "We'll remember that."

"Welcome to the 'hood, guys." Xander headed for the door. "If ya want to club a little later on, The Bronze is good. No one's gonna freak if you want to dance or, like, cuddle or anything." Then he was gone.

Jim looked at Blair, scratching his head. "Sandburg, are you sure that Naomi didn't give you a half-brother and just not tell you about it? That's the most energetic person I've ever seen, aside from you, and he seems just as flaky."

"I like him, too. What do you think?"

Jim sighed. "Jesus, Blair, let's shut the door to our new place the first time before we go looking for playmates."

"Okay." Blair shut the door. "So, what do you think?"

Ellison shook his head, smiling. "He's nice. Young, though. We've never swung with anyone that age. And just because he has no problem with us being together doesn't mean he wants to join in the mix."

"But you like him, right?"

"Yes, you horndog. I like him."

"Possibility?"

"Blair, BREATHE, okay?"

....................................................

Xander's POV

I was wondering why the apartment across the way hadn't been rented out yet. Now it looks like it had, and they were just waiting for the new tenants to show.

Cops, two of 'em. I'm curbing my natural dislike till I see what these two are like. Don't wanna go making blanket assumptions. Just 'cause some of our own boys in blue were totally screwed doesn't mean they ALL are.

They seem pretty cool. I half expected to get my butt kicked away from the door when I poked my head in, but Sandburg was friendly enough. That surprised me a little. They're from Cascade, and I thought that big city people were naturally more stand-offish.

I was surprised when I found out they were police. Sandburg sure as hell doesn't fit my coply stereotype. Not with all that hair and the earrings. He looks more like someone Oz might hang with. But the career choice isn't a stretch with Ellison. He LOOKS like a cop: big, serious brawn, Marine type haircut, no bullshit expression, and I bet those eyes can freeze a perp into submission.

Oh, man, why did I have to go and think about submission? He's seriously hot, but he's taken. They both are: hot, and taken. Damn, it's so unfair when two really sexy guys hook up. Takes twice as many out of circulation.

I'm gonna have to watch my ass around them. Don't want to drool down my chin or sprout a boner. Either one of them could probably kick my ass, and I have enough to deal with what with the local 'elements'.

I wonder. I wonder if they're going to snap to what goes on in Sunnydale, or if they're going to be in the majority: clueless. Somehow I think they may catch on. There's some sharp edges to those dudes.

Some round ones, too. Boy, that was the nicest pair of asses I've seen in a LONG time.

Shit. Being bisexual makes things so fucking complicated sometimes.

Part Three
Exploring the Territory

Xander swirled the ice in his glass, wishing for perhaps the million-and-first time that The Bronze sold booze. At least BEER. He sure could use one right about now. Work had been a bigger bitch than Faith had ever THOUGHT about being. A load of lumber had been late, and when it arrived it had turned out to be substandard material. The driver wasn't too happy when Xander had refused delivery. While the boss had been glad that Xander had caught the glitch, he'd still been generally pissed, and thus was not pleasant to be around. Then some sort of goof-off bug seemed to be making the rounds of his crew, and he'd ended up snapping at some of them. Not something you felt comfortable with when the snapees carried hammers on their belts and had access to nail guns.

So he COULD have been at one of the local bars, trying to have a drink while surrounded by men he'd been... well, not exactly BOSSING. Xander was a good crew leader, and he knew it. He was always fair, he got good results, but didn't have ridiculous expectations, and he made sure that his men knew whenever they'd done a good job. But still, he was the one in charge during the day, and the guys might not out-and-out SAY anything, but there was never a feel of welcoming warmth.

So here he was, back at his old high-school hangout. Why not? There was beer in the fridge at home if he really felt like he needed it, and he was comfortable here. It was one of his free nights from Oogie Patrol (the regular sweep that Buffy and the Scooby Gang made through Sunnydale to keep the demon population under control), and he just wanted to be somewhere familiar and not have to deal with any life or dimension threatening situations.

Dingos Ate My Baby had finished a set, and the band members had wandered down off the dais to do their various relaxing bits. Devon headed out to Oz's van for his usual mid-gig toke, and Oz came over and sat with Xander.

Oz was wearing his hair a red about two shades more subdued than that of Ronald McDonald these days. "Hey Xand," he said, sprawling in a chair. Well, as much as someone his size COULD sprawl. "Wassup?"

"Nothin' much, Oz. Things are pretty slow. Anywhere else that would be a complaint, around here it's a sigh of relief."

Oz tugged at his left earlobe. "I heard ya. My last turn around the burg was, pardon the expression, dead. Not a vamp, demon, or what have you in sight. It's been so quiet lately that even the winos are starting to stay out again."

The after dark homeless population in Sunnydale had been sparse for the last few years, due to the predation of the undead. Now that a couple of months had passed without a death... well, a death that anyone was OFFICIALLY aware of, they were starting to move back out into the streets, out of the shelters.

Xander sipped. "Can't say I'm exactly happy about that. Some of those guys are almost as scary as the vamps, and not nearly so well groomed." Oz was tugging at his earlobe again. "What's wrong with your ear, man?"

"Nothin'. Just got a new one. Look." Oz turned the left side of his head toward Xander, and Xander leaned closer, squinting in the dim light.

"Wow, kewl!" Oz had a hoop and a plain stud in his lobe, and just above that, a tiny wolf's head set against a silvery circle that was obviously meant to be the full moon. "But tell me that isn't silver."

"Pewter." He rubbed at it again, grimacing. Xander noticed that the skin around the new stud looked pinkish.

"Quit picking at that. Have you cleaned it?"

"Duh, Xander. It isn't like this is my first piercing, ya know."

"Did you take the right care of the others?" Oz looked down at his hands, examining his black nailpolish, fidgeting. "Thought so. Put some peroxide or something on that when you get home."

"Yes, Mom."

Xander threw a piece of ice at him. "Wanker."

"Been peekin' in the van again, Xander?" Oz teased. Xander blushed, and Oz smirked. Xander was a lot of fun to tease. He'd only recently come to terms with his sexuality, and still wasn't entirely comfortable with the lifestyle choice he'd made. Oz, on the other hand, had known what he was for a long time. Being a werewolf had it's advantages in that area: the beast didn't question such a basic necessity as sex. The wolf philosophy was if it looks good, do it. If it feels good, do it twice.

"Look, have a talk with Devon about his weed usage, wouldya?"

Oz frowned. "I haven't been busted, so I'm not down for any public service 'just say no' messages."

"That isn't what I'm asking. It's more along the lines of 'just say whoa'. There's a new sheriff in town, and I thought Dev might want to cool it a little till he scopes the guy out."

"New sheriff, huh? Matt Dillon?"

Xander bit his lip. "You talking Gunsmoke or Little Darlings?"

"Duh."

"Just checking. Well, he's TALL enough to look like James Arness, but I think he's better looking. And the deputy he brought along SURE isn't a Festus clone."

Oz sat up a little straighter. "Xandman, I do believe I heard interest in that tone of voice. Spill it." Xander shrugged, but Oz noted a faint flush rising in his cheeks. "Oh, man, the blood is
rising! If we had any vamps in here right now they'd be all over you. C'mon, Xand, is he THAT hot?"

"They're both pretty nice, but they're together." Oz shrugged. "TOGETHER, together." He shrugged again. "Damn it, Oz, doesn't ANYTHING deter you?"

"Guns. Knives. Really, REALLY bad BO."

"You're gonna get your fuzzy ass kicked one o' these days."

"Look, Xander, if you never try, then you die a virgin, and that is the TRUE fate worse than death."

"I don't know how this conversation got around to this. Just tell Devon to be a little more discreet, huh? Like, not to have a joint parked behind his ear when he comes back onstage?"

"He only did that the last time because he was so stoned that he forgot he had it there. But I'll tell him."

"Great. I gotta go to the little boys' room. Coke isn't quite as bad as beer, but you still rent it instead of owning it." He took a last gulp, getting a mouthful of ice, and walked to the men's room, crunching it.

Oz went out to his van to deliver Xander's warning. He caught Devon just lighting his second joint. "Hey, buddy. Harris gave us the heads up. There's some new dudes in the P.D. It might be cool to ease off just a little till you get to where you can sight them. There's no telling how tolerant they are."

"Yeah?" Devon took a deep toke. He didn't seem too very interested. Big surprise.

"Look, take another hit, then snuff it, okay? You're in MY ride, and the last thing I need is having the damn thing impounded. On what we make, it'd take me a year to bail it out." Oz was concentrating on Devon, and didn't notice the pick-up that entered the lot and parked nearby.

Devon sucked in one more huge lungful, then carefully pinched out the spark on the roach while he held it in. His stamina never ceased to amaze Oz. The guy could hold his breath longer than Jaques Cousteau if he thought it would increase the buzz. Satisfied that the coal was dead, he carefully tucked the butt into a handkerchief, folded it, and put it in his pocket. THEN he released the fragrant cloud of bluish smoke.

He climbed out with a mellow, peaceful grin on his face, patted Oz on the cheek, and began to meander back to The Bronze. Oz was fanning at the lingering cloud of smoke as the two men got out of the truck behind him. They exchanged glances, then came over.

"Hey."

Oz quickly slammed the van door shut, turning and leaning against it as casually as he could. He quickly assessed the two men, trying not to be too obvious about it, and failing miserably. Well, Short-and-Curly probably wasn't a problem, but Big-and-Buff looked like the authorotative type. This suspicion grew when he looked pointedly at the last few drifting wisps, sniffed, and said mildly, "Son, is your upholstery on fire?"

"Uh... no. I had some paper in the ashtray, and it caught on fire."

Shortstuff... Well, he was really about Oz's height, but more solidly built, put his hands in his pockets. "Did YOU set it on fire, or was it a friend?"

Uh-oh. Two of them, Xander had said. One of them tall, like Matt Dillon, and the other DEFINITELY not Festus, and together. With a sinking sensation, Oz said, "A friend, I swear."

The big one said, "You might want to ask your friend to be a little more careful."

"I will." It was beginning to look like his ass WASN'T in a sling, at least not this time. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Oz." After a moment's hesitation, they both shook hands, introducing themselves. "You the guys Harris was telling me about? The cops?"

Blair's eyebrows crooked. "News travels fast."

"Yeah, well... Secrets travel fast in Sunnydale. You CAN keep them, but you gotta work at it. My band is gonna be doing its second set in a few minutes. Come on in and I'll have 'em set you two up with a free drink. Sort of a 'Welcome to Sunnydale'."

As they walked in, Jim remarked. "The people around here are real friendly. Xander helped us get moved in, now we have someone treating us on our first night out."

"Mm. Not everyone is so nice around here. Piece of advice? You see someone you don't know on the street after dark? Don't talk to them. Just go in the other direction as quick as you can. There's a table right up front for you. I'll go get 'em to set you up."

As he left, Blair said, "That's twice we've been warned about going around after dark. Jim, are you sure about this being a quiet little town?"

"I haven't seen anything to make me change my mind. I need to visit the can, Chief. I'll be right back."

Jim walked into the restroom, and stopped just inside the door. The urinals were around the corner, out of sight, and someone was talking.

"Come on, what do you think I brought you in here for? Dammit, just go ahead and do it! You can't tell me you don't want to, you sure as hell were sending me clear enough signals outside. Now we get a little privacy, and you pull THIS shit!"

Jim contemplated backing out and leaving whoever was in there to their privacy, but he REALLY needed to pee, and he wasn't sure he could make it outside to a convenient bush. So he cleared his throat. The voice that had spoken said, "Oh, shit," quietly. He waited another second, then came around the corner.

Xander Harris was standing at one of the urinals, unzipped, a very nice cock in his hand, and totally alone. Surprised, Jim looked around. No one. Not even any feet visible in the stalls. He upped his hearing a little and confirmed it: the place was empty except for the two of them. Then what the hell had he been hearing? Unable to resist, Jim looked at him questioningly.

The young man flushed. "I... uh... Well, some people get stagefright when they have to pee in public. Sometimes my dick doesn't like it even when there isn't anyone else around. I needed
to pee when I came in, I STILL need to, but the damn thing isn't cooperating, and I know if I pack it away and go back out I'll just have to turn around and..." He trailed off, the blush
deepening. "you know?"

"I can understand, but I was in the military for awhile. You get over that, or you ruin your kidneys." Jim stepped up beside him, unzipped, and leaned over the basin. "Maybe the sound of running water will help."

He started peeing. Xander listened to the splash of urine, then looked down with a surprised expressing when he started to pee also. "I'll be damned. If I knew that was what it took, I'd have turned on the taps a long time ago."

"A lot of it is psychological."

There was a companionable silence, broken only by the soft patter. Xander wondered if women shared the same sort of bathroom cameradery. They should, as much time as they spent in the powder room together. Then... damn it, he couldn't help it. He checked out Ellison's equipment. Casually, he hoped. Getting caught staring in a situation like this usually led to one of two conclusions: sex or battery. And he knew Ellison was in a realtionship...

But he couldn't help looking. He hadn't acknowleged his own interest in men for long, and he was just starting to explore it. He wasn't a virgin, but he wasn't really experienced by any stretch of the imagination. And it would be a long time, if it ever happened, before he ceased to be fascinated by the sheer diversity and beauty of the male anatomy.

*Oh, wow.* He swallowed as quietly as he could. *You know you're gay when you look at another guy's prick and your mouth starts to water.* He looked away quickly. "If I start to get hard, I'm in DEEP shit.*

Jim shook off, fighting down a smile as he tucked himself away. *Pulse up, temperature up, couple of drops of sweat, and a nice whiff of pheromones. Someone is interested. Well, helloooo, Mr. Harris.* He went to wash his hands. "Blair's out at a table near the band. Why don't you join us when you're through?"

"Yeah, okay. That would be nice." *Whew. He didn't notice. I get to keep my head attached for a few more hours.*

Jim went back to find Blair sipping a coke, watching the band as it tuned up on the dias. Jim checked them out quickly as he sat down. Judging from the fumes coming off the one with long, dark hair, and his red-rimmed eyes, this was Oz's 'friend'. He made note. Hopefully the kid would listen to his friend, and at least keep his weed intake limited to his house, or private residences.

Jim sat beside his partner. "Guess who I met in the bathroom?"

Blair eyed him in surprise. "You weren't gone THAT long."

"I said 'met'."

Blair frowned lightly. "Since this hardly seems like the hang-out for anyone from work, and since we've only really met one other person, I'd say Xander."

"We need to get you your own psychic friends hotline, Sandburg. He'll be here in a minute, after he shakes off and hopefully washes his hands."

Blair grinned. "The only time you really worry about someone's hygeine is if they're in charge of your food, or you're thinking about sleeping with them. Is Xander working part-time in the kitchen here?"

"No, he is not."

"Outstanding!"

Xander came out just as Dingos Ate My Baby were going into their first number. He pulled out a chair across from Blair and raised his voice a little to be heard over the music. "Hey. How's the unpacking going?"

"Not bad." Blair jerked a thumb at Jim. "It helps to have Captain Anal Retentive here. There's only a couple of boxes left to go, and I had to practically tie him to the bed to make him go to bed last night without finishing up."

"Don't listen to him." Jim stretched his legs out under the table. "He's always looking for an excuse to tie me to the bed." Jim watched the band, smiling as the pheremones kicked up another notch. He noticed the rapt attention Blair was giving to the red-headed guitarist. "You gonna be a groupie now, Sandburg?"

Blair didn't take his eyes off Oz. The boy's hands were small, but he had a musician's long fingers, and they moved fluidly. "What can I say, man? It's in my blood. I was born in '69. It's entirely possible I was conceived at Woodstock or Monterey."

"Your Mom and Dad don't know for sure?" Xander asked. It was more to make conversation than anything else. He figured that if you were doing it on a regular basis, it was pretty impossible to pinpoint conception.

"Mom isn't sure. Mom isn't sure about Dad, either. I never met the man. That I know of, anyway," Blair said casually. When Xander was silent Blair added. "I'm okay with that, though."

"Yeah. Why not? Sometimes knowing your old man isn't all that terrific."

There was such bitterness in the young man's voice that both Jim and Blair looked over at him in surprise. Xander was staring into his coke, scowling. But there was something almost wistful about his expression. The two older men exchanged glances. There was some history behind that statement. Maybe they'd find out later.

The band was pretty good for a bunch of local boys. In a larger city, with more exposure, they might even have the chance of getting an agent, even a record deal. Blair told Oz as much when he joined them after the band finished. Oz shrugged. "We've talked about goin' to Seattle, but hell. Every grunge band in America makes a pilgrimage there, right? Maybe some day." He dug an elbow into Xander's ribs and stage whispered. "You were right, man. They're cool."

"Shut up," Xander mumbled.

"He's shy," volunteered Oz.

"That's it! I'm walkin' home tonight."

"You don't wanna do that," Oz countered.

"You're right, I DON'T wanna do that. But if I stay in close proximity to you and your mouth, I might end up with these guys having to arrest me for assault or something."

"Damn, man, don't be so touchy."

"We can give you a ride home," volunteered Blair.

"I don't want to put you out." Xander demured.

"It's not like it's out of our way," Jim said.

"Yeah, but you have a truck. Wouldn't it be kind of crowded?"

"Xander, a couple of months ago we fit Jim and myself, a pint sized Chicago cop, and a Mountie," Blair stretched a hand far up over his head, "THIS big in the cab."

Oz's forehead crinkled. "A Mountie? Okay, that's a story I want to hear."

Blair winked. "Maybe someday when you're older."

Oz's grin broadened. "Oh, now I GOTTA hear it!"

"Some other time." Jim pulled out his keys and jingled them. "You two ready to go? I want a long, hot shower before I go to bed." Xander had a mental image of Jim, stripped and soaped. Jim noticed that Xander's pulse kicked up another notch. He couldn't resist teasing a little. He rubbed Blair's shoulder and said, "Think I could talk you into one of you famous back rubs?"

"You know it, Big Guy."

The kid was blinking a little too often for it to be casual, and the pheromones were thickening. His imagination must be working overtime. Sure enough, when they stood up to go, he turned away for a moment and made a quick adjustment, tugging at his wasteband and wiggling his hips in a vain effort to loosen his now tight fly.

In the parking lot, Oz loaded a sleepy Devon into the van before waving and taking off. Jim got behind the wheel, and Xander stood back as Blair opened the door. Blair motioned him in. "Uh uh. I ride shotgun. Always."

*Crap. I'm gonna be right next to Ellison. PLEASE don't let him look down, PLEASE don't let him look down. Why the hell did I sit that close to him? Now Sandburg is in on the other side, and he's so close I can't scoot away without ending up in his lap. And his leg is rubbing against mine every time we hit a pothole or take a curve. Crap, crap, CRAP! I'm gonna have the worst set of blue-balls when I get home.*

Jim thought that Xander was going to hyperventilate before they got back to the apartment. *Damn, how long has this boy been celibate? Too long, from the way he's reacting.*

At the complex, Xander got out of the truck, moving more carefully than he had when he got in, and walked to the apartment in kind of a sideways sidle. "Well, it's been real. We must do this again sometime."

"Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow night?"

Blair regarded Jim in surprise, but said, "Yeah. We'd love to have you."

Xander didn't notice the warning nudge Jim gave Blair. "Sounds great, but I have something I have to do tomorrow night. How about the next?"

"It's set, then." said Blair. "Any allergies or major hates we should know about?"

"Well, I'm not much on fish, due to an incident in my past which we won't discuss right now, and I think too many green vegetables make me break out in hives. Other than that, I'm pretty much your basic garbage disposal." He blushed. "Uh, not that I'm implying that your cooking... I think I'd better go home now. Fumble mouth, and I can't even blame it on being drunk."

They watched him enter his apartment, then went into their own. Once inside, Blair crossed his arms, watching as a cheerfully whistling Sentinel tossed his keys in the basket that had made the trip from Cascade with them. "What are you up to, Ellison?"

"Me? What makes you think I'm up to something?"

"Give it up, you can't do innocent nearly as well as I can. Yesterday you were all hesitant about Xander. 'He's awful young, Blair. Just because he doesn't have a problem with us being together doesn't mean he wants to join in, Blair.' And that tone of voice when you talked about the shower, and the back rub. What changed your mind all of a sudden? Because you ARE thinking about him THAT way. I can tell."

"So can I. That's WHY I'm thinking about him THAT way."

Understanding dawned. "Ohhh." He smiled slyly. "Smelled good?"

Jim sighed. "Ripe. I'd be really surprised if he isn't beating off right now. It's a shame there won't be anyone to enjoy it with him, but I think he might have freaked if we moved THAT soon."

"Day after tomorrow will be soon enough. This town is just THICK with possibilities."

"Don't tell me, let me guess. Oz?"

"Jim, he has a WOLF earring."

"Oh, well then."

"Quit teasing me or I won't give you that back rub."

"How about a front rub?"

"That's usually included, isn't it?"

"I love you, Darwin."

Miscellany 4
Alternate Possibility

*Interlibrary loan*, Giles reflected, *is a very, very useful thing.* He carefully began opening the package that had been delivered that morning. Carefully was the operative word. Some of the items that he acquired had to be treated delicately--they were temperamental. This one, for instance.

He was in his miniscule office in the back of the basement at the university library. Actually, office was a rather ostentatious term for the storage room that he and the Scoobies had cleared out, but it served his purposes. Most of the campus looked bright and modern, but the library basement basement might as well have been through a time warp. It was crowded, cramped, dark, and dusty. Electricity had been a grudging afterthought, and couldn't always be counted on. But it was adequit, and it was secluded. No one came down here. You'd have to be very persistant to find this cubbyhole among the clutter that had been allowed to accumulate.

That was why he was startled when the rap came on his door. None of the Slayerettes bothered to knock, except Willow, and he knew that she was in class. He considered pretending that he wasn't there. This being Sunnydale there was no telling what might wander in. But then again, if it was anything nasty, it probably wouldn't have bothered with knocking. "Come."

The door was opened by a young man with long, auburn hair. *Very nice. A bit of a throwback to my own generation. I've gotten quite tired of these near scalpings that are fashionable these days.* "Can I help you?"

"Man, I hope so. Are you Rupert Giles?"

"I am. Please, come in and shut the door. It keeps the dust down to a tolerable level."

Blair entered the room and shut the door. With the desk and chairs, and the shelves on two of the walls, that didn't leave a hell of a lot of room, so he sat down. He regarded the man behind the desk a little more closely. Somewhere in his forties, with grey just beginning to fleck his dark hair. He was wearing the traditional professor duds of tweeds, and judging by his slight English accent, he was entitled to them. A pair of wire-rims were perched on his nose, giving his handsome, thoughtful face an even more scholarly air. From what Blair could tell with the guy sitting behind a desk, the body inside those tweeds was nicely preserved for a man his age, too. Not Jim Ellison
level, perhaps, but then, who was?

Giles was watching him expectantly, and Blair realized he'd either been staring, or on the verge of staring. He offered his hand, "Blair Sandburg." They shook, and Giles' grip was surprisingly strong. *Hell, forget about 'for his age'. I think he's doing all right without that qualifier.*

"What brings you here, Mister Sandburg? It must be fairly important to inspire you to make this trek." Giles removed his glasses. They were for reading, close work. While he wouldn't have minded examining his visitor in minute detail, at present he didn't need the glasses blurring his middle distance vision.

Sandburg was a compact figure, not exactly small. He gave an impression of fluid energy and solid mass, both at the same time. It was not an easy thing to do, and was quite fascinating. Too bad he was a student. Giles had a firm rule about hands off students. It could get SO sticky.

"Yeah, it was a bit of a search. I want to get a card."

Giles frowned. *And he seemed like such a bright young man at first glance.* "Just use your student ID. It will function as your library card as long as it is valid."

Blair scratched his head. "That's the problem. See, I'm not a student, I'm a police detective on loan to the Sunnydale PD for awhile. My first profession was anthropology, though, and I did some teaching during my graduate studies. I want to keep my hand in."

"I'm sorry, Mister Sandburg..."

"Please, call me Blair."

"I'd like to help you, but only students and faculty can use the facilities. Why don't you try the
Sunnydale Public Library?"

The young man grimaced, and Giles realized that he wasn't quite as young as he'd thought, perhaps early thirties. "I've already been there. It's a nice enough little place if you want to read best sellers, pulp novels or the Sweet Valley High series." Giles found himself smiling. "But the nonfiction section is pretty much limited to cookbooks and self-help manifestos. I CRAVE real academic works."

"Far be it from me to frustrate your cravings." *Oh, that could be interpretted SEVERAL ways. I'll just have to hope he doesn't take offense.* "I'd like to help you, but my hands are tied."

Blair hoped he wasn't flushing. That remark had just given him an intriguing mental image of the dignified librarian stripped of his tweeds and tied to his chair. "Are you sure there's nothing you can do? I'm hurting for some intellectual stimulation."

Now it was Giles' turn for a potentially embarrassing mental image of the many different ways this attractive young man might be stimulated, other than intellectually. "I"m truly sorry. If you could tell me what you want, I might be able to supply it for you." *Dear God, did I just say that? Since when did I trade in double entendres? Perhaps it wasn't too obvious.* Blair was smiling slyly, and one eyebrow was rising slowly toward his hairline. *Or perhaps not.*

"I bet I know how I can get you to approve that card."

*No, Giles, do NOT get hard. The boy can't possibly mean what you fervently wish he meant. No one would try to bribe a librarian with sexual favors for a library card. Dammit.* "I doubt that, Blair. There are rules that have to be follwed."

"Rules are best when they can bend a little," He stood up. "Kind of like people." He cocked a finger at Giles, giving him a supremely confident grin. "You don't know me. I have my ways. To quote Ah-nold, I'll be beck!" He was gone in a swirl of flannel.

"Oh, my dear boy, I DO hope so," Giles muttered. But he didn't hold forth much hope. He'd found that the college beaurocrats were remarkably tight-ass ,eventhough this WAS California, the land of the laid back. He resumed carefully removing the book's wrapping.

He finally exposed a leather bound book roughly the size of a photograph album. Stamped into the cover was the title: Dämonen: Allgemeines und Seltenes und ihre Zerstörung. "Demons: Common and Uncommon, and Their Destruction," Giles murmured, nodding in satisfaction. A fellow Watcher on the staff of the Hamburg University had found this copy for him. It was a relatively modern book, as such volumes go, less than a hundred years old. Still, it was quite rare. There were only three copies known to exist, and one of them was in questionable hands.

Giles took a small notebook from his inside jacket pocket and turned the pages, murmuring, "Now, let's see..." He chuckled a little, but quashed it. "No, no puns now. This is serious business, Rupert. Ah... 'To make the scales fall from the eyes'. Touch ensorcelled object, then touch eyes.'" Giles regarded the slightly grubby looking cover. "I DO hope they meant 'touch eyelids', because I do NOT wish to risk an occular infection." He lightly tapped the book, then touched that finger to each eyelid. "Sprinkle one pinch of powdered toad dust on object. Good, I remembered that." He opened a small twist of paper and sprinkled a greyish powder over the volume. Recite the majikal formulae." *I wish that mystical writing was a bit more standardized on spelling. Some of these spells are jolly difficult to pronounce, even when you have a smattering of the original language.*

Giles flipped to the next page in the notebook and cleared his throat. "Zu ihm, der sucht,klar wird gemacht . Geben Sie ihm die Kraft, die er weild würde. Von seinen Augen wird die Skalen fallenlassen. Lassen Sie, dab ihn aus erreicht, und zeichnen Sie den Schleier."

Giles opened the book, and frowned. Well, a history of England's famous rugby teams was all well and good, but not what he wanted. He consulted the notebook again. "Oh, of course." Very deliberately, he blinked twice.

The words and pictures on the page seemed to shimmer and reform themselves. He read, "The Traumen Sie Parasit. This is a small demon, no more than a handspan in height. While thought by some to be relatively harmless, its prolonged theft of dreams can result in emotional imbalance when the victim is unable to resolve conflicts through... Yes, yes. Very good."

He laid aside his notebook and spent a few moments flipping through the book, examining various illustrations and methods of demon disposal. Most of these were races that they hadn't encountered yet in Sunnydale, but the name of the game was preparedness. He wouldn't be much of a Watcher if he didn't keep studying. The learning was never really over.

He was immeresed in a section about a subset of incubi demons, ones who visited men instead of women, when the knock came on his door again. He quickly shut the book on a rather lascivious illustration and tugged at the material of his fly, hoping that the tenting wouldn't be too obvious. He'd just have to remain sitting at the desk. Scooting his chair in a nother inch or so he called, "Yes?"

Blair Sandburg swooped in. From the little Giles had observed, the young man didn't seem capable of moving in a sedate manner. "Gotcha!" He waved a piece of paper between thumb and forefinger.

Giles held out his hand, thinking, *I could only hope.* "What is this?"

"THAT is an official memo. The president of the university, in an a public spirited effort, blah blah
blah, extends to one Detective Blair Sandburg temporary access to library services."

Giles examined the paper in mild astonishment. Sure enough, it was on the president's rather flashily watermarked stationery, and that DID look like his signature. "Good lord. How did you manage this?"

"I told you, I have my ways."

*It can't be the method I was wishing he'd use. I know for a fact that Arthur is straight as a plumb line, and just about as exciting.* "And these ways would be?"

He grinned. "Bribery." When Giles gave him a look he said, "No, not like that. On my salary? Don't think so. Nope. I offered to give a talk one evening each week. I understand it will be used as an extra curricular activity to help certain of the jocks who might otherwise not qualify to remain on their various teams earn bonus grade points."

Giles sighed. "Yes, that sounds like university policy."

"Yeah, it sucks, but it qualifies me as an unofficial instructor, so I get the card. And don't sweat it." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I only agreed if they were required to write an essay at the end of the semester that actually made sense."

Giles had to smile. "Most of them will have someone else do it for them, but your effort is appreciated."

"They can't do it if I lock 'em in a room, can they? Don't worry, I'll get at least a few of those brain cells firing if it kills me."

"You certainly have the teacher's attitude, Blair. How did you end up as a policeman?"

"That's a very long story, which I wouldn't mind telling you some other time, maybe over drinks. But right now, I want my card. I've earned it, I want it." He gave him a mock fierce look. "Give it to me, or do I have to shake it out of you?"

Giles laughed. "How can I refuse someone so dedicated to getting access to books? All right, I'll need to go get a temporary card that you can use right away. We'll have a regulation one with photo ID made up in a day or two. Do you mind waiting here?"

"Nope. Have at it." Blair dropped into the chair. "I've done stake outs. I know how to wait. The only problem I have is when it goes on too long and the coffee kicks in, and I end up having to pee in an alleyway only slightly safer than Beirut."

"It shouldn't be THAT long."

When Giles left Blair managed to sit still for approximately thirty seconds before he had to do something. There were a lot of interesting books on the shelves, and some artifacts as well. Blair recognized at least one of them, a set of Peruvian spirit beads. Giles was getting more and more interesting all the time. *And that's, like, SO unecessary, because I'm ALREADY interested. Geez, Xander, Oz, and now Giles. Sunnydale is turning out to be a regular smorgasbord of hot guys. And to think I was bitching at Jim for accepting this assignment.*

There was a huge old book on the desk, and Blair picked it up. The cover was dusty, and he wiped his hands on his shirt before opening it. *Hm, Cultural Anthropology and the Sexual Myths of Ancient Societies.* He turned some pages. His eyes opened wide, and he peered more closely at a pen-and-ink illustration, whistling softly. "Damn! TWO of them? Whoa, you only need so much equipment. Two pricks are just sorta redundant." He put the book back.

The next thing that caught his attention was a small notebook. He hesitated a bit longer before picking it up, almost forty-five seconds. *I wouldn't do this if he hadn't left it lying open face down.* Blair told himself. *I just want an idea of what he was up to.*

It seemed that Giles was into the mystic arts pretty heavily right now, if he was carrying around spell notes with him. Blair read the instructions. *Huh, German. Lessee if I can remember enough... 'To him who seeks would be made clear. Give him the power he would weild. From his eyes shall drop the scales. Let him reach out, and draw the veil.' What's this all about?*

He checked the previous page. *Okay, I guess this is for if something was supposed to have been disguised in appearance. I don't know how useful this would be, even if it worked. First off, you'd have to know something had been enchanted to change its appearance, and if its appearance had been changed, how would you recognize it? Kinda Catch 22, there. I hope they meant touching the closed eyelids, otherwise it would be mega unsanitary. Toad dust. Ew. Well, at least they have you do the eye bit BEFORE you dump on the dust.*

He heard footsteps and quickly replaced the notebook, sitting back in his chair, hands laced over his belly and Innocent Look #2 on his face. Giles came in, carrying a small square of paper. "Here you are." He handed it over to the delighted Blair. "I had it laminated for you."

"Thanks, man. Otherwise I would have worn this puppy out."

"Don't mention it. I'm happy to have you on the faculty, no matter how tenuously. So, when will you be giving your first talk?"

"Sometimes later this week, probably, if I can find something pretty quick in the library that will be suitable. He gave me free reign on what I wanted to do."

"Well, good luck in holding their attention. I don't want to tar all the atheletes with the same brush, most of them are fine students. But the ones this venture are being aimed at have an attention span roughly equivilent to that of an attention deficit disabled gnat."

"I'll just have to come up with something they'll be interested in. How about sex?"

Giles blinked. "Pardon me?" *Yes, please.*

"I haven't met a college jock yet who isn't interested in sex." Blair indicated the book on the desk. "Maybe I could use that as one of my prepartation texts. It has some pretty interesting items in it,
from the quick look I gave it."

"Really?" *Everyone sees something different in that book unless they've used the spell. Something that will be of particular interest to them.*

"Yeah. The sexual myths of ancient cultures ought to be enough to hold their interests for an hour or two, especially if I can scrounge up some slides of, say, the erotic murals uncovered in Pompeii. Of course I may have to gloss over the homosexual sections if they're phobic. Are they, as a rule?"

"I... There haven't been any incidents. The campus has a generally tolerant attitude about sexual
choices."

Blair reached out and straightened the knot on Giles' tie, then smoothed down his lapel. "Good. Don't let me forget, I own you a long talk over drinks." He lightly brushed his hand over Giles' chest. "Dust. Very dusty down here. See you later." Then he was gone.

Giles, feeling just the tiniest bit stunned, sat down heavily, wincing as his pants pulled tight over an erection that he was positive hadn't been there wnen he entered the room. "Oh, my." He ran one finger along the bulge that was straining his fly, and shivered with longing. But it wasn't wise to dispense with bodily fluids around some of the items he had stored down here. Semen, like blood, had strong mystical powers, and if a drop should happen to land in the wrong place...

Still, he couldn't resist one good, firm squeeze. He moaned. He hadn't been this aroused for some time, and Blair hadn't even touched bare skin. *Well, Giles, the door seems to have been opened in invitation, and you'd be a damned fool not to come in. It would be so very nice to have a bit of excitement in my life that didn't involve stakes, demons, or witchcraft.*

~~~~

"Chief, where on earth did you get that honking great pile of books?"

"The local university library. I told you I'd fins a way to get access."

"Yeah? What did you have to do? Sell your soul? Blow the dean?"

"You know me better than that. Besides, the dean is a wart hog. The librarian, however..."

"Ah, here it comes."

"Well, he's hot. In an English-tweedy sort of way. You know, sometimes those quiet ones can really rip it up.*

"But another one? What about Xander?"

"Sure, why not? But I noticed that you were kinda zeroing in on him, Jim, so I thought I'd leave you a clear shot."

"Thanks. And what about Oz? You can't tell me you're not interested in him."

"Have I tried to deny it? No, but the two extremes, Oz and Giles, are just too hard to resist."

"Shit. At this rate you'll have made it with the entire male population before our tour here is half
over."

"Then I'll start back at the top again. Why are you making that face?"

*sniff*

Blair frowned. "Hey, c'mon. I showered this morning, and I didn't, like, sweat or anything."

"It's not that. There's just something sort of peculiar."

"I was in the library basement, and it was pretty dusty. Could that be what it is?"

"That's part of it, but not all of it. It's kind of familiar. Not really familiar, but..."

*sniiiiiifff*

"Jim? You look funny, man."

"Chief, have you been handling frogs?"

Part 5
Dinner With the Neighbors

miscellany n 1: a collection containing a variety of sorts of things.

*bam bam*

"Crap. What the hell is that?"

"How should I know? You're the Sentinel."

"Aren't you gonna answer it?"

"Jim, I'm up to my wrists in biscuit dough right now."

*bam bam bam*

"Look, all I have on is a towel. Can't you wipe off
and...?"

*BAM*

"SHIT!" Jim stalked to the door and jerked it open. "WHAT?!"

Xander took a step back, jaw dropping. *Son of a BITCH!* He blinked rapidly, desperately trying to keep his eyes from crawling all over that big, hard body. The smooth skin was still slightly damp and pinkish from the heat of the shower he had obviously just left. *Shit, I fell into a gay porno mag letters-to-the-editor fantasy.* "Damn, leave the head, man, leave the head!"

The boy looked so cute when he was startled that Jim automatically cooled down. And the sudden, musky whiff of pheromones didn't hurt, either. "Xander, what the hell? Were you KICKING the door? That isn't a real intelligent thing to do at a cop's apartment."

"So I gather." He held up his hands. He was clutching two six packs of Dos Equis beer, the bottles beaded with condensation. "My hands were full."

Jim stood aside so he could come in. "You could have put one down and knocked."

"Let beer out of my hands for even a moment in this neighborhood? Don't think so. I'll put it away, okay?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Blair is in the kitchen. I'll go get dressed."

"No need to bother on my account." *Oh, crap, I said that OUT LOUD. Better cover.* "I mean, you didn't say this was formal dress, right? I walk around nude sometimes at home." *SHIT, I did it AGAIN!*

Jim was smiling at him. "Blair won't let me in the kitchen naked." The smile broadened. "Well, except on special occasions."

Xander treated himself to a good, long stare at Ellison's terry-cloth covered butt as he went into the bedroom. *The bedroom that he shares with his very sexy lover,* Xander reminded himself regretfully.

He went into the kitchen to find Blair vigorously kneading a ball of dough. "Hi, Xander. You're a little early," He eyed the beer. "But we're very forgiving. Why don't you get one of those for
yourself and me and stash the rest."

Xander extracted two bottles and put the rest of them in the refrigerator. "Tell me, does he always answer the door like that? I nearly had a heart attack." He winced as Blair grinned. "If I knew my feet were going to spend so much time in my mouth I'd have bought chocolate coated Nikes."

Blair laughed. "Don't sweat it. I'd think your hormones were out of whack if Jim DIDN'T affect you that way. Look, I can't drink that with my hands gooped up. Be a good guy and open it and give me a sip."

Xander cracked the bottle open. Blair paused in his work, leaning toward him expectantly, and Xander tipped the bottle to his lips. "Thanks. While you're at it, pour some in that pot on the stove, will ya? About half a bottle."

"From this one?"

"I don't have cooties, but you don't have to."

"From mine?" Xander was patently reluctant.

Blair snickered. "Open another and use it. We'll let Jim have that one."

"And get him pissed at me?"

"I told you: we're forgiving sorts. Go on. Believe me, it would take more than half a beer to get Jim pissed at you." Xander got a third bottle of beer and poured half of the pale gold liquid into the pot. "That's great." Blair picked up a rolling pin and began to stretch and smooth the dough. "Give it a good stir."

Xander took a wooden spoon off the counter and stirred the reddish-brown concoction. "Chili, huh?" Xander took a deep sniff, then jerked back from it.

"Hey, it CAN'T be that bad!" Blair protested. "Jim would have bitched by now. He notices that sort of thing."

"It isn't. I had to move back so I wouldn't drip drool in the pot. It smells terrific. Home made?" Blair nodded. "Shit, and you're BAKING, too? Damn. If I'd asked you over, it would have been delivery pizza."

"Which we would have loved, especially Jim. I'm trying to civilize him a little."

"Chili?"

"Gradually, Xander, gradually. You can't just throw a man into kelp shakes all at once."

"You can't even EASE him into it." Jim came into the kitchen, pulling his T-shirt down the rest of the way over a ridged belly. Jim looked at Xander. "He's been trying for years. I love him, but there are SOME sacrifices I refuse to make."

Blair was stamping out biscuits with a circular cutter and dropping them on a baking sheet. "I'm going to catch you in a weak moment some day."

"If I won't agree to drink one of those potions just before or just after you blow me..." Xander sprayed a mouthful of beer, luckily managing to turn his head so it ended up in the sink. "what makes you think I EVER will? You okay, Harris?"

Xander coughed. "Yeah. Actually, beer makes a very effective nasal wash. Refreshing."

Jim picked up the bottle on the counter, examined it, and held it up in front of Blair's face. "You sacrificed for the good of the communal pot, Jim. There are plenty more, so don't start." He picked up the sheet. "Move, Xander. Once I get these in it'll only be about fifteen minutes before these are done. That gives you time to set the table." Xander moved out of the way and Blair slid the sheet into the oven.

"Me? I pretty much can tell one end of a fork from the other. Usually. But that's about it." Xander was idly flipping a bottlecap in his palm. He missed, and it hit the floor. "Crap."

"Jim will be happy to teach you."

Jim, who had been drinking, lowered the bottle and gave his lover a doubtful look. "I will?"

Blair rolled his eyes, going to the sink and starting the water. Reaching for the soap he said, "Jim, don't you WANT to teach Xander?"

Xander was bending over to retrieve the cap and his jeans pulled taut across a round, but muscular, ass. It was rather surprising that he didn't feel the weight of Jim's gaze. Jim murmured, "O-o-h, yeah." As the boy stood back up, cap in hand, Jim but his bottle aside, opened the cabinet behind him, and started unloading bowls, plates, and glasses. "C'mon, kiddo. Finish your beer and help me carry these into the dining room."

Xander allowed his arms to be loaded, then Jim got the silver out of the drawer and led him out of the kitchen. Blair smiled as he washed his hands. He sang softly to himself, "Jimmy's gonna get some. Jimmy's gonna get some."

Dinner was a pleasant affair. Xander raved about the chili, but the two bowls he ate were a greater testament than his compliments. "This is terrific, Blair."

"Well, it's Jim's recipe, really. I was going to go for quiche." Xander slanted a disbelieving glance at him. Blair tried to hold a serious face, but ended up chuckling. "No, I wasn't. Jim only allows that for brunch. If I served it for dinner, it would have to be as an appetizer, or something. Believe me, you don't want to frustrate him when he's hungry." He gave his lover a sly smile. "For ANYTHING."

Xander shifted in his chair. *Fuck. I'm going to have to go home soon and beat off again. These two BREATHE sex. It's SO damn unfair. Maybe I ought to start a charity: 'Give some nooky to the needy.' I could be the poster boy.*

Jim nudged Blair's foot under the table. Blair said brightly, "So, Xander. Your girlfriend been gone long?"

Xander sighed. "Awhile."

"Miss her much?"

The boy scowled. "Uh... Anya had an... unusual personality. I was really into her while we were together, but it was kind of a relief when she left. I was just finding out that she wasn't really... my type."

"Kind of rough, living alone after you're used to having a steady partner, isn't it?"

Xander made a non-committal noise. *Doesn't help when guys like you flaunt your happy commitment. Brings my 'loser' factor WAY up.*

Jim took the last biscuit, buttering it lavishly. "You didn't have any other girlfriends while you were with Anya?"

Xander stared at him. "If Anya had learned I had been expending sexual energy on anyone but her... Let me just say that it wouldn't have been pretty."

"Did she have any other boyfriends?" Blair smiled at Xander angelically when his neighbor gaped at him.

"Um... couples don't usually get it on with other people when they live together." Xander said cautiously. "Do they?"

"Not unless they have an open relationship," Jim corrected. He licked a smear of butter off his thumb. "Like Blair and me."

Xander was very quiet for awhile, looking from Jim, to Blair, and back again. Finally he said, "You guys... uh... I mean, you both..."

"Screw around," Jim said calmly, starting to stack plates.

"A little crudely put, but basically accurate. Xander, you have to be through with that bowl. All that's left is the pattern in the bottom. Please don't make us have one with four flowers instead of five."

"Sorry." Xander handed over the bowl. They loaded the dishwasher, and Blair started it. "There. I'm glad I washed up as I went along. Doing the dishes is NOT my favorite after dinner recreation." They went into the living room. "Speaking of which," He got his jacket a hook by the door. "I think I'll mosey over to The Bronze. Oz will be playing tonight, won't he, Xander?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. You don't mind if I take off, do you? Jim will entertain you."

"Oh. Um, sure. No problem."

"Fantastic." Blair gave Jim a quick kiss. "I'll be late, Tiger. If I'm lucky. See you later, Xand."

Jim jerked his head toward the living room. "We have cable."

"Sounds good." They settled on the sofa, and Jim took control of the remote, beginning to flip through channels. "I think, like, one or two will give you a listing for the channels."

"Yeah, there it is. Let's see what our choices are... Rush Hour?"

"Jackie Chan is good, but I've seen it."

"Die Hard?"

"Seen it six times."

"Hey, they have Dracula 2000."

Xander groaned, holding his head. "Oh, God, please, no."

"What's the matter? Don't like horror?"

"It's not so much a matter of not liking it. I've just had enough vampires to last me clear into the NEXT millennium."

"Okay. How about Porky's?"

"I can recite the dialogue."

"Scratch Porky's. How about..."

"No, no! You misunderstand me. This is a GOOD thing."

"All right. Porky's it is, and it's just starting." Jim flipped the remote onto the table and settled back. In a minute both he and Xander were chuckling. "Oh, Christ! I remember the first time I saw this! The audience HOWLED at this first scene."

"You mean you saw this in a THEATER?"

"Yes, Xander. I AM actually that old."

Quick sideways glance. "You're not so old." Pee Wee was getting the ruler, and Xander burst out laughing. "This always kills me! He's gonna MEASURE!"

"Yeah. I don't know how he thinks he can be accurate unless someone helped him get that boner. I mean, could it really be his maximum effort?" Xander found he was blushing a little. He wasn't sure why. He'd discussed more off color topics with other guys before. "Look at that! I think the little booger is including his balls in the measurement!"

"What a cheat! When Blair did mine he measured on the top, from base to tip."

Now Xander goggled at Jim. "He measured you?"

Jim scratched his head. When he lowered his arm, he draped it casually across the back of the couch, behind Xander. "When we first met, he was studying me as a subject for a paper he was writing. He had to get all kinds of physical data on me. Though I DO think he might have been able to do without that particular measurement." Jim smiled nostalgically. "I'm glad he didn't, though."

They watched a little more of the movie, but Xander was too distracted to enjoy it. Jim could sense his growing agitation. His heart rate was up, he was radiating heat, and that lovely sex smell was getting stronger. Finally the boy said carelessly, "So, what was it?"

"What was what?" Jim said blandly.

"You know... the measurement. What was it?"

"You mean how big is my dick?"

The red on Xander's cheeks deepened, but he said. "Yeah."

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't watch him take the measurement. I was kind of... preoccupied. And I told him I didn't want to know."

"You didn't WANT to know?"

"Xander, I've never had any complaints. That's enough for me."

"I just thought you'd be curious. I mean, it's only natural..."

"Are YOU curious?"

"What? Me? Uh... No. No! I just wondered... I mean, I thought... I... Maybe I should go home now."

He started to stand up, but froze when Jim put a hand on his arm. That simple touch burned like a brand. "It's all right if you ARE curious. I don't mind."

Xander settled back, looking at him. "You don't?"

"No." Jim muted the sound on the televison, then turned toward Xander. "ARE you curious?"

"Kinda. But what about Blair?"

"Blair is out Oz hunting, and won't be back for several hours. He knew damn good and well when he left what would probably happen, and he's not only okay with it, he's happy with it. He likes you, Xander. So do I, a lot. Can I show you how much?"

"I wish you would." Jim slid closer, his left arm hooking around Xander's neck. He took Xander's chin in his right hand, holding him still, and leaned in, laying a kiss squarely on his lips.

Xander melted immediately. Most of his sexual experience had been fairly traditional, with him making the first move. Well, with Anya and Faith, THEY had often been the aggressors, but this was different. They had still been women, and he knew that at some point he was going to be the one actually doing the deed, in charge, even if it was only by default, given the physical nature of the act. But right now it seemed that he'd been waiting his entire life for someone bigger and stronger to take charge. Jim felt the boy's mouth open under his own and, readily accepting the silent invitation, he slipped his tongue in. Xander stiffened slightly, as if surprised, but didn't try to pull away. Jim was glad because damn, the kid tasted sweet.

Jim started with conservative, shallow probes, mapping the textures of palate, gums, and teeth. When he was sure Xander wasn't going to pull away he let his right hand drop down to stroke the boy's throat, then move lower to spread over his chest.

Xander moaned as Jim sucked his tongue over into his own mouth and began to suckle it. He found himself clutching at the older man's shoulders as his cock began to pulse against the suddenly tight fabric of his jeans. *This is just kissing,* he thought dazedly. *He hasn't even touched a naughty bit yet, and I'm gettin' harder than an IRS agent's heart.*

Jim found the hem of Xander's T-shirt and slid his hand up under it. He stroked the boy's twitching belly, then moved up to his chest. As his fingers found Xander's left nipple, he released the boy's tongue and gently bit his bottom lip. Xander arched to his touch, gasping softly.

Jim rubbed and played with the little bit of flesh till it was hard, then gave it a final tweak and moved over to the other one. He grunted in pleased amusement to find it was already erect and straining. Burying his face against Xander's neck, inhaling deeply the sent of soap, musk, and beer he murmured, "You're still new to this, aren't you?"

"I'm a fast learner, never mind what my teachers said."

"I just need to know how far you've gone." He sucked a patch of skin on Xander's neck. "I don't want to freak you out with anything you're not ready for. Despite Blair's teasing, I CAN be patient."

"You're not my first. I'm not a VIRGIN, or anything."

"Good enough. But I ought to warn you, I suppose. I usually top."

"Okay." By this time Xander was ready to agree to blindfolds, handcuffs, and ice cubes.

"So, have you ever been fucked?" He rubbed Xander's thighs, paying particular attention to the inner area, and Xander spread his legs, but was silent. "Xander?"

"Define 'fucked'."

"Having a cock up your ass, and I'm going to assume from that response that the answer is 'no'."

"Um... no. I've done other stuff, though."

"Would you LIKE to be fucked?" Jim's hand moved.

Xander slumped. "Damn, man, it's kinda hard to say no when you're squeezing my dick like that."

"Sometimes you have to make the hard decisions under pressure, Harris. Do you want me to fuck you?"

Another squeeze. Xander swallowed hard, then said in a tiny voice, "Yes?"

Jim took his mouth again. This time he plunged deep, moving in and out, tongue fucking the teenager's mouth while he massaged the burgeoning lump under his palm. When he had Xander gasping for breath, and he felt a damp patch of pre-come soaking through the denim of his jeans, he relented a little. Pulling back he appraised his handiwork with satisfaction.

Xander sprawled bonelessly, panting. He looked stunned, his eyes slightly unfocussed and his mouth red and a little swollen. His shirt was rucked up under his armpits, exposing the sharp thrust of his aroused nipples, and his fly was taut over the clear shape of his erection. He looked like the beginning of a very good porno movie.

"You still want to know how big my cock is, Xander? I thought you might be interested, since you're going to be taking it, all of it, in a few minutes." Xander nodded wordlessly. Jim pulled his shirt over his head, saying, "Then come over here and find out."

Xander mimicked his actions, skinning off his own shirt, then reached tentatively for Jim. The older man was wearing sweat pants, and the soft material clung to his hard-on, outlining it. Xander hooked his fingers in the waistband and started to peel them down. Jim lifted his ass helpfully to let the boy slip the pants off. Xander made a surprised sound. "Do you always go without underwear?"

"Only when I'm anticipating something really nice, like you."

Xander blushed. "You mean you were planning on this before I came over? Shit." His voice was a little plaintive. "Am I THAT fucking obvious?"

Jim caressed his face, saying softly, "No, babe. Only to me, and I've got a special 'in' on such things. Maybe I'll tell you about it later. But I'd really like for you to suck me right now."

"That's doable." Xander began to run his hands lightly over Jim's sides, belly, and thighs, reaching around to stroke his back.

"The cock, Xander?"

"In a minute, man. There's just so damn MUCH of you, do you mind if I kind of feel around first?"

"Not at all. Blair used to call it exploring uncharted territory, but he pretty well has me mapped
out by now."

Xander touched and tested the texture of every square inch of skin he could reach, He scraped lightly with his nails, bringing pleased hisses from Jim, then smoothed the same spots with the pads of his fingers. Finally, when Jim thought he was going to contradict his claim of patience by throwing the boy on his back and mounting him, then and there, Xander drifted down to his crotch and started breathing hot puffs of air over his staff. Jim enjoyed it for a moment, then whispered, "Xander? Blow is a metaphoric term."

He was answered by a low chuckle and the electric feel of Xander's tongue curling over his weeping cock head. Xander lapped at him industriously, clearing away the clear, slippery fluid, only to have more bubble out. He eyed the fresh flow, made a 'hmph' sound, and took the head into his mouth, beginning to tongue it again. "Oh, that's nice," Jim breathed. Xander kissed the damp knob, smiled up at Jim, then swallowed half his length in one smooth swoop. "That's REAL nice!" Jim gasped. Xander might still have his anal cherry, but his mouth was damn talented.

Xander closed his eyes, relishing the hot mouthful of male flesh. He'd known, deep down, that this was right the first time he'd ever had a cock in his mouth. All the dithering and waffling had been self-delusion. With the feel of Ellison's glans bumping the back of his throat, he could admit that. He did as Oz had instructed him, letting his throat muscles relax, then pushed forward. This hadn't worked the few times he'd tried it with his friend, and Oz was built way smaller than Ellison, but Xander WANTED this.

He got it. There was a little hitch, then he sank down till his nose was buried in crisp, dark pubic hair, and his chin rested on Jim's warm, lightly furred balls. He was pleased by the surprised whimper he heard from the older man. "God DAMN, Xander! I thought you said you didn't have much experience."

Xander pulled back, saying breathlessly, "I don't. I guess it's a gift."

"Well, shit, I'm putting it on my Christmas list. Even Blair can't deep throat me that easily." When Xander started to dip his head again, Jim caught him. "No more, Xand. Not right now. I'll shoot down your throat, and I don't want that right now."

"Why not?" Xander rather liked the idea.

Jim dragged him into another kiss, then growled. "I already told you. I'm fucking you tonight. I'm going to come in that tight ass of yours." He stood up, pulling Xander to his feet and led him to the bedroom. As he stripped the comforter and top sheet down he said, "Get the hell out of those pants unless you want them ruined."

"It's okay. If I come in them, it washes out in cold water."

"I meant unless you want me to rip them apart."

"Oh. Right." Xander pulled off his jeans and shorts, hanging them on a chair.

"Lie on the bed, on your side." Jim was opening a drawer in the night stand. Xander obeyed, watching as Jim removed a tube and a small foil packet from the drawer. Then he got on the bed and knelt behind Xander. "Bend your top leg and put your foot flat on the mattress."

"My master's voice," Xander said jokingly, but there was an odd timbre in his voice, and he did as Jim said.

Jim leaned over to embrace the boy, one hand sliding down to caress his rigid cock, and he whispered, "I don't ALWAYS have to be in control, Xander, but tonight, I want it. Give it to me?"

Xander licked his lips, pushing farther into Ellison's grip. "Yeah, man. Whatever you say. Anything you want, I want." And he knew it was true.

"Do you trust me?"

That was the question. His life in Sunnydale had not made Xander a trusting person. When you're surrounded by people who may turn out at any moment to be some interdemensional demon, or your best friend sprouts a tail and fangs under the full moon, and even your parents... He didn't want to think about that. But there was Willow, and Buffy, and Giles. Yes, some people could be trusted. He got that same vibe from Ellison and Sandburg. "I trust you. Do what you like."

The warm, firm hand tightened around his dick. "Thank you, Xander. You won't regret it. I'm going to make it good for you." And Xander knew this meant that Jim was going to put XANDER'S pleasure before his own. What a concept!

Jim tore open the package and put on the condom. When Xander was ready, he wanted to be ready. He dribbled some of the lubricant on the straining, latex clad staff, then coated the fingers of his right hand. Using his left hand he spread the boy's buttocks even wider. The light that filtered in from the living room was dim, but it wasn't a problem with his Sentinel vision. He easily made out the little crinkle of skin that marked Xander's back passage.

Jim stroked over it, coating the crease also to prevent chaffing, then returned to the pucker and began rubbing around it in circles, working the flesh firmly. Xander made a huffing noise, and Jim said, "Steady. I'm not going to just shove in, Xander. I'm going to get you so relaxed that it's going to be a pleasure for you. Okay, I'm going to put the first finger in?"

"First?" Xander squeaked, as he felt something warm and solid sliding inside him.

"Sh." Jim held his hand still with one finger buried deep inside Xander's ass, and rubbed the small of his back with the other. "You're going to need at least two, maybe three, if I don't want to hurt you." He kept massaging till he felt the boy beginning to relax again. Then he carefully wiggled his finger.

"Oh, damn, that feels weird," Xander whispered. Then he said hastily, "Don't stop! Weird, but GOOD weird." Jim pushed deeper, then pulled out and pushed again. Xander moaned. "Shit. I'm being finger fucked."

"Do you like it?"

"I'm wondering why Cordy didn't enjoy it more," Jim peeked over at him. "Ex-girlfriend, in Los Angeles, long story. PLEASE do that some more."

Jim pulled out, then pressed two fingers into the slightly loosened hole, wringing another groan from the boy. "Yeah, well..." Jim felt carefully along the slick, tight walls, "Cordy doesn't have..." He found the tiny bump, and gave it a firm rub. Xander yelped, and would have jerked free if Jim hadn't held him with a hand on his hip. "a prostate."

"Do that again!" Xander panted. Jim did, and Xander made a thin, keening wail, his hips jerking.

"I think it's kind of like scratching that certain spot on a dog's chest: he can't help but move his legs," Jim remarked. He massaged Xander's prostate again, holding the boy tightly so that his probing fingers didn't lose contact when Xander tried to pump thin air.

"Fuck me!" Xander demanded.

Jim added a third finger, moving the bunched digits more quickly and strongly. "What happened to please?"

Xander tossed a wild look over his shoulder, "Will you fucking PLEASE stick your dick in my asshole and fuck my brains out?!"

"You have an elegant turn of phrase, Xander." Jim lay down behind the boy, spooning up close. He grabbed Xander's top leg, lifting it up and back so he could move into the space, and fitted his dick against the slick, open hole. "Take a breath."

Xander inhaled deeply, and Jim slid into him, slowly and smoothly. Xander let it out with a little *woof*, sounding surprised. "You're inside me."

"I sure am." Jim embraced him, reaching around the front to pinch and rub the tips of his nipples. This brought a shudder that rippled deliciously through Xander's whole body, vibrating along the buried length of Jim's staff. "And you feel great, babe. So hot." He pulled back just an inch, then pushed back in sharply as Xander yipped, "So tight. Do you need me to stay still a little while so you can get used to it?"

Xander reached back, scrabbling for a grip on his ass. "Hell no! I've been waiting for this nineteen years, don't stop now!"

Jim laughed. "God, I love the enthusiasm of youth!" He started to pump into Xander.

Xander couldn't keep a grip on Jim's buttock, so he reached down and grabbed his own cock instead. *O-h-h, good substitute.* He started to masturbate, trying to match his strokes to the plunge of Jim's dick in and out of his ass. "Oh, shit. No wonder Oz likes this so much."

"He does, huh?" Jim grunted, speeding up his thrusts. "Blair will be happy to find that out. I'm afraid I don't let him top quite as much as he'd prefer. Let me try this, Xander."

"Try what?" But as he spoke Jim had eased onto his back. He dragged Xander over on top of him, staying firmly anchored inside the clasp of his body, and began to thrust upward. Xander jerked and made more interesting noises as Jim's cock stabbed over his prostate with each stroke. "Thought you'd like that."

"Like? LIKE?!" Xander started to grind down on Jim's impaling rod. "FUCK like! I LIKE Doritos, THIS I fucking LOVE!"

He pulled Jim's arms away and heaved, bending his legs to get his knees under him. "Xander! Where are you going?"

"Nowhere!" Xander had made it up onto his knees, pulling off Jim's prick almost entirely. Now he plunged back down and began to rise and fall, fucking himself.

"Shit!" Jim gasped. "You hot little bastard!"

"Save your breath, Ellison. Now I know how Anya felt. I want ALL your energy right now."

Jim growled, "You got it, babe." He grabbed Xander's hips, slamming him back down full length and holding him.

"J--I--M!" Xander whined.

"Grab your dick and hang on, Xander." Jim started to buck, throwing himself up into the tight, hot body of the boy who was riding him.

Xander grabbed his bobbing erection, his hands slipping in the pre-ejaculation fluid that had coated it, and stroked hard and fast. He came with a howl, his sperm splattering Jim's thighs. Jim felt Xander's orgasm as a hot, squeezing ripple along the length of his cock, almost as if the boy's body was sucking him as strongly as his mouth had earlier. He snarled and shoved as deep as he could into the tensed, quivering flesh, and climaxed. His toes curled and lightning
seemed to flash from his crotch, out through every part of his body. He felt the hot liquid burst of sperm break against the latex barrier, then begin to ooze back along the length of his cock.

Xander collapsed forward. Jim let go of his hips, and the boy pulled free of the softening flesh that had spitted him so fully. He lay face down along Jim's legs. Jim chuckled when he felt Xander kissing his shins. "You okay, kid?" He was answered by a groan. Jim reached down and petted Xander's upturned ass. The flesh was rosy from where their bodies had slapped
together, and there was a liberal smearing of lube. "Xander, talk to me."

"You mean you're one of those who wants to be talked to after sex?"

"What can I say? Blair has me trained. Come back up here."

Xander turned around, crawling up in the bed till he could lay his head on a pillow even with Jim's. "That was in-fucking-credible. You mean people do stuff like this all the time?"

"The lucky ones." He hugged Xander.

The boy sighed, putting his head on Jim's chest. "Is it all right if I take a nap?"

"Sure it is. Even if Blair comes back soon... Well, we've slept three or more in a bed before."

Xander had been drifting off. Now he cracked an eye open to look at Jim with interest. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me."

"I thought you wanted to sleep?"

Xander opened both eyes now. "I'm not sleepy. Tell me a bedtime story, daddy."

Jim laughed and pulled him closer. "Okay. Let's see... Once upon a time there was a Papa Bear and a Blairbear, and they lived in a loft in the middle of a big, dangerous city. Well, one day Big Red Riding Coat came to visit."

"Big Red Riding Coat?"

"A Mountie. And he brought fine little Goldilocks with him..."

Part 6: Oz Hunting

"Some-body once told me the world the world is gonna roll me. I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed. She was lookin' kinda dumb with her fin-ger an' her thumb in the shape of an L on her forehead..."

Blair smiled to himself as he went to the counter at The Bronze. He found Smash Mouth to be one of the more easily accessable bands to come down the pike recently, and Dingos Ate My Baby were doing a very presentable cover of 'All Star'.

There was a good sized cluster of people at the bar, and he didn't see anyone toting drinks back and forth, so he figured it was a 'come and get it' night tonight. He waited patiently at the back of the crowd, turned to watch the band. Well, turned to watch Oz, actually. He had a casual stage presence that was very appealing. It was almost as if he was just jamming in the garage with his friends rather than performing.

He was so involved that he didn't noticed the crowd thinning out behind him. He might have stood like that through the next song if a slightly annoyed, Cockney tinged voice behind him hadn't said, "You gonna stare at 'im all night, mate, or are ya gonna give me yer bleedin' order?"

Blair turned to find the bartender *Well, he can't very well be a bartender since this isn't a bar and they don't serve booze, but somehow I think calling him 'counter help' might put you in a world of hurt* staring at him. He was a little taller than Blair, a little more slender, but it was a wiry leaness that suggested whipcord muscles under that black T-shirt and black jeans. His hair was acid blonde, and couldn't quite seem to be able to decide if it was going to be in spikes or curls. His eyes were almost as chilly blue as Jim's could be when he was in one of his 'moods', but Blair got the feeling that this was more or less a permanent look for the man. His dress was a little goth, but his sneer and his attitude was punk.

He gave a gusty sigh. "Cor, don't tell me yer gonna be one of those what go off inta trances."

"Oh, no. Sorry. Uh... just a mineral water, I guess."

The sneer curled just a little more. "Wanta live dangerously and have it on the rocks?"

"Oh, hell, I'm feeling suicidal tonight. Put a twist of lime in it, too." The sneer moved a little closer to a smile as he fixed the drink, then set it before Blair. "Can I run a tab?"

"Can ya fly?"

"Uh... no."

"Then it's cash up front, mate. I don't trust no one but angels, and those buggers have been known to flash off if some sod needs rescuin'."

"Unreliable, eh? It's the feathers. You can't trust anything with feathers. Have you noticed how beady eyed chickens are?" The blonde was giving him a stare that said he thought that Blair's last jacket had probably had arms that buckled in back. Blair shrugged sheepishly. "I was seven, we were on a commune, there was a big rooster with an attitude problem."

The bartender snorted, shaking his head. "Awright, that's worth one, but just one. Ya pay for the next."

Blair held out his hand. "Blair Sandburg." The other man's grip was tight, and surprisingly cold. *Must be from handling the ice and drinks.*

"Spike."

*Oh, ho! DAMN, but this town is full of hot guys. I have GOT to give Jim a big, wet kiss when I get home, just to say thank you. Not that giving him a big, wet kiss ANYTIME is a bad idea.*

"Ya were here last night with some big bloke."

Blair nodded. "I didn't see you."

"Ya din' come get the drinks, did ya? Besides, I'm pretty good at fadin' inta the background when I want to. Ya were sittin' with 'arris."

"Yes. Xander is our neighbor. Is he a friend of yours?"

The blond's eyes were hooded. "Not exactly, but we know each other." The song ended, and Spike lifted his hand. Catching Oz's attention he crooked his finger. As Oz put down his guitar Spike said, "He's got his break comin'. If ya like, I can have Doug take over here an we'll all have a natter in the office." He smirked. "Or whatever."

Blair eyed him. "I have to say I'm a little surprised at the liberal attitudes I'm running into is such a small town."

Spike was setting up another mineral water. "Yeah, well, I've been about a bit more than the locals, ain't I? 'Sides, Oz is a friend, and I like to see me friends havin' a good time." The smirk grew. "And you look like a bloody good time."

Oz ambled over to the counter, grinning at Blair. "Hey. Didn't expect to see you back so soon. Where's your buddy?"

"He's home, with YOUR buddy."

Oz nodded. "Thought so. Xander's cool, but he kinda needs a nudge every now and then. Jim looks like he's real good at pushing the issue when he needs to be."

"I can testify to that."

Spike pushed the glass at Oz. "Wet yer whistle, Wolfboy. I'll be right back." He pointed at Blair. "Don't start anything without me."

Oz watched Spike disappear into the crowd, then looked questioningly at Blair. Blair shrugged. "He suggested we go back in the office for a... um... bull session."

"Yeah? That isn't like Spike. Now, if he'd suggested that we go back there and fuck our brains out, I'd believe you."

Blair stared at the younger man as he calmly sipped his water. "I may have not translated it as clearly as I might have."

"Spike-speak is usually pretty clear."

"So, how do you feel about it?"

Oz plucked the lime twist out of Blair's glass and chewed it up, swallowing it. Then he grabbed the back of Blair's neck, leaned over and kissed him, pushing his tongue into the startled Guide's mouth. Blair tasted the sharp tang of lime over the meaty taste of teenager-in-heat. Oz pulled back and said, "I dunno. How DO I feel?"

"Hey!" They both looked to see a frowning Spike leading a gawky boy to the counter. "I TOLD ya not to start without me. Doug, ya got the front. Don't bollocks it up. C'mon, you lot."

He led the other two down a short hallway and into a small, neat office, shutting the door behind them. Then he sat down on the edge of the desk and looked at the other two expectantly. "Well?"

Blair laughed. "Well, what? I'm horny, but I can't exactly perform on demand."

Oz shrugged. "Okay, so you need an incentive." He went to his knees and reached for Blair's belt.

"Whoa, hold on." Blair caught his hands. "Hey, I'm the king of spontenaity, but this is a little sudden, huh?"

Oz leaned forward and rested his chin on Blair's thigh, gazing up at him. "Look, man, did you or did you not come here hoping to get into my pants tonight?"

"Uh... yes."

"Is it having Spike in the room that's freaking you out?"

"I'm not freaking out, and no, I don't mind an audience." He glanced at the blonde on the desk. "Actually, I like it. If I hadn't thought Xander wasn't ready for threesies, I'd have stayed home. It's just that I'm on unfamiliar turf here, and I think there should be a few things made clear before the festivities get underway."

Oz sat back on his heels. "Shoot." Spike nodded.

"Okay. Number one. Protection." Spike and Oz both reached into their pockets and came out with condoms. "Number one, check. Lube?"

Oz produced a tube. Spike shrugged. "Usually prefer the natural method meself."

Blair ran his hand over Oz's spiked hair. It was surprisingly soft. "And I want to top tonight."

Oz lifted his shoulders. "Well, that was MY plan. Hey, does the big guy let you do it often? He seems pretty butch."

"It happens, but not all THAT often. I don't mind, but..." he craned to look down the length of Oz's back. "that's a particularly nice ass you have there, and I'd really like to get better acquainted with it." Oz promptly dropped his upper body to the floor and wiggled his butt. Blair patted it, then gave it a contemplative squeeze. Oz hummed. "You're okay with that?"

"Fuck, yeah. I'm a beta, not an alpha. I know it, and I'm cool with it."

Spike nudged Blair's hip with the toe of his boot. "Oz likes it doggy style." Blair wondered why Oz giggled, but the news was welcome enough.

"So," Oz pushed Blair back till his butt hit the edge of the desk, following him on his knees. "Rules have been read. Are we ready to go now?"

Blair started to unbuckle his belt. "Fuck if I can think of a good reason not to." Oz watched with great interest as Blair undid his pants, pushing them and his underwear far enough down his hips to free his cock.

Oz reached out and took his cock in one hand and cradled his balls in the other. He gently stroked the soft length, regarding it witha pleased expression. "Got you a nice one, man. Glad to see you're cut."

"Well, I AM Jewish, so it's pretty much to be expected. You don't like the natural look?"

"Got nothin' against it," He slid a look at Spike. "It's just nice to have a change now and again."

"Some of us were raised when is wasn't a common thing, Ozzy," Spike said. "and I'm too sodding old to do it now. Though it might be worth it, just to see the look on their faces when they did that temperature, pulse, and blood-pressure shit."

Blair would have wondered about that if not for the fact that Oz chose that moment to bend down and give him a lick at the precise spot his dick joined his balls. That sort of caught his attention. Other considerations more or less went out the window as the boy began a slow, thorough licking of his cock and balls, making sure that not a millimeter of flesh was neglected. Blair sighed happily. Virgins were terrific, but it was nice to get it on with someone who had absolutely no doubt about what they wanted, and had the experience to know how to get it.

Spike watched with a great deal of interest for a moment, then picked up the tube that Oz had put on the desk near Blair's hip. "Skin 'em down, mate, and I'll get you ready." Not stopping his lapping, Oz unfastened his pants and pushed his clothes down to his knees.

Spike hopped off the desk and opened the tube, squeezing a generous amount of gel onto his fingers before setting the tube back on the desk and squatting beside his friend. "Spread 'em." Oz gripped Blair's thighs for balance and spread his legs as far as he could while still entangled in his pants.

"Oz? Not that I don't appreciate what you're doing, but could you go ahead and suck me?" Blair asked.

"Just a minute. Wait till he gets inside me." As Oz spoke the blonde man spread Oz's cheeks and wiped the gel down his crack. Oz flinched strongly, and Blair was glad that his cock hadn't been in the boy's mouth at that moment. That was a jaw clencher if ever he saw one.

"Yeah," Blair sympathized. "That stuff can be cold. You should have warmed it a little in your hand first."

Spike shot him an amused look, and Oz said, "Wouldn't have helped, Blair. Trust me. He doest the best he can. Just another minute." Spike rubbed teasingly at the puckered skin of Oz's anus, then slowly pushed one greased finger deep into the boy's rectum.

Oz shivered again, and Blair said, "Look, can't you do something about that?" He hated to see his partners uncomfortable.

"Just one thing TO be done about it, mate, and that's not an option right now. Ozzy's all right." He moved his hand, sliding the digit in and out. "Ain't ya?"

"Yeah. Go on, Spike, gimme another."

"So soon?"

"Yeah. I can take it." He gasped as the blonde slid a second finger in beside the first and worked them, scissoring them apart to stretch the tight ring of muscle.

"Oz..." Blair started.

"No, really, I'm fine. Look, Blair, don't sweat it. This is just how it is, okay? I like it. Check it out." He leaned back a little, still gripping Blair's erection, and indicated his own crotch. Blair looked. Oz had a more than decent hard-on of his own. His cock was tapered, thicker at the base than at the crown, with a bullet shaped head. As Blair watched Oz stroked it, and a clear bead of pre-ejaculate oozed from the slit. Spike deepened his probe, strokeing upward, and Oz shuddered again, but for a different reason than before. "Ooh, damn, Spike! That feels good."

Oz leaned forward again, and this time he took the first few inches of Blair's cock into his mouth and started to suck. Blair sighed happily as he was engulfed by soft, wet heat. Oz worked, bobbing his head and taking in a little more on each pass. When he had half of the length in his mouth he tightened his fist around the base and stroked as he sucked. Blair moaned and pushed his hips forward gently, testing to see how much the boy would tolerate.

A great deal, apparently. Oz took hold of his hips and pulled him forward, pushing down at the same time, and managed to take Blair all the way in, relaxing his throat muscles to allow Blair's cock to slide deep. The moan became a whimper as he felt Oz's tongue working against the underside of his prick.

Looking down, Blair had an erotic visual feast. He could watch as Oz pulled off and began licking Blair's cock again, pink tongue flicking rapidly, or he could watch as Oz pumped his own prick, spreading the clear pre-come to make his flesh slick. Finally he could watch as Spike bunched a third finger with the first two and used them to further stretch Oz's back passage. He scarcely knew where to look first.

Finally he noticed that Oz was humping himself back to meet Spike's probes, and he said, "I think it's time to move on." In reply Oz pulled himself off Spike's impaling fingers and stood, crawling up Blair's body. He leaned into the vee of the older man's spread legs for a moment, humping their arousals together as he gave him a deep kiss. Blair felt the kiss of latex on his glans, and was puzzled for a moment. But he used his powers of deduction and realized that, since Oz had both hands buried in his hair, holding him as they kissed, that it had to be Spike who was rolling the
condom down on his hard-on.

With a final swipe of his tongue across Blair's lips, Oz moved to the side and draped his upper body on the desk. Lifting his feet one at a time out of his pants and kicking them away, he spread his legs invinging.

As Blair moved to stand behind him, Spike stood up and moved to resume his former seat on the desk. Before he sat he opened his fly and eased his prick out. As Blair had gathered from the conversation, he was uncircumsized. You didn't see that all too often these days, when the procedure was almost automatic in most hospitals. Spike was erect, his glans already peeking half out of his foreskin. He gripped himself and stroked up, pushing the skin till it almost closed over the head again, then down till it was again half revealed. Finally he wrapped his fingers around the
head and gently pulled the foreskin down till the entire head was revealed.

Blair was a little surprised at how pale it was. In his experience the cockhead usually darkened at this stage of the game, but Spike's was still almost pastel pink. But there was no doubting that he was aroused, though. He worked the foreskin up and down, and said, "Well, Sandburg? My mate's waiting to get fucked. Don't leave him frustrated, yeh?"

"I'm not used to taking directions," Blair commented.

"Just commentin', mate." Blair turned his attention back to the young man bending over before him. "But ya are a bit slow."

Blair sighed, stroking Oz's rump. "Is he always this medlesome?"

"Only when he's horny." Os wiggled his butt. "Take your time. I like to be teased. Then again, I like to get humped into next week, too."

"Okay. I can manage both." Blair pushed the broad head of his cock against Oz's slick, stretched opening and pressed it inside.

Oz squirmed and made a pleased noise. "Mm, nice. More, please." He sighed as Blair slowly slid into him, a fraction of an inch at a time.

"Bloody hell, slam it home, Sandburg."

"Shut up, Spike," he said good-naturedly. Actually, he was more than a little tempted to do just as Spike said. Oz was delightfully tight and hot. His flesh clung to Blair in a moist, intimate caress. Blair paused, then thrust hard, driving the last few inches in deep and fast. Oz lifted up on his toes with a surprised squeal. "You okay?"

"Ooh, yeah! Ya got the sweet spot, dude. Thank you. Do it again."

Blair pulled out just as slowly as he had entered, moving back till only the cock head was trapped. Then he repeated the act: the long, slow glide, then the short, sharp jab. Again Oz jumped, yelping happily. "Okay, I'd say that's about the right depth. Tilt yourself just a little, Oz." He pushed on the small of Oz's back, urging him to lift his butt a fraction. "Now." He pulled back to what he judged to be the proper depth and thrust the rest of the way in. Oz gave a deep shudder, and Blair said, "Yeah, that's it."

Oz's voice was breathless. "You damn betcha it is! You got it in both directions that time." His brows drew together, and he grunted in concentration. Blair grunted himself as he felt the smooth ripple of muscle as Oz bore down, deliberately squeezing at the firm flesh buried in his ass. There was a smile in the boy's voice as he said, "That was a thank you."

Blair jerked his hips hard. "That means 'you're welcome.' Now that Miss Manners has been satisfied, let's satisfy ourselves." He gripped the boy's hips and started to pump into him with a quick, hard rhythm.

Soon Oz was moaning quietly as he pushed back to meet each thrust. Blair paused for a moment and reached under the boy, feeling till he found the boy's stiff, weeping cock. He wrapped his hand around it and began to stroke him as he resumed his thrusts. Spike watched this, nodding his approval as he masturbated.

The blonde man reached out and stroked Oz's back, tracing the line of his spine. When he came to where the two bodies joined he slid his fingers in the lube that was smeared up to the top of Oz's ass crease. Then Blair shivered as Spike stroked his belly. No wonder Oz had reacted when Spike put a finger up his ass. The man's hands were like ice.

The cold hand crept up under Blair's T-shirt. He didn't slow his pace, but continued to fuck Oz vigorously. Dark blue eyes met light blue, and Spike grinned at him slowly. The hand crept higher, reaching his right nipple. The nipple already firm, hardened even further with the cold touch, puckering with cold as well as arousal. As cold natured as he was, Blair knew that this should have been uncomfortable, if not... well, deflating. Instead he found it strangely erotic. The hand slid over to the left.

"Well, now," Spike said softly as he encountered the ring. "What have we here?" One finger hooked in the ring, and Blair braced himself. He suddenly realized exactly how badly he could be hurt. But it didn't happen. There was the gentlest of tugs before the ring was released, bringing that nipple to tingling attention, also. Strange. He must have misjudged Spike. Blair had figured him for the roughest of rough trade, but he had passed up the chance to inflict erotic pain.

Spike stroked Oz's hair, whispering, "Ozzy, lend a bloke a hand, eh?"

Immediately Oz shifted, moving his head over into Spike's lap. He pushed the blonde's hands away from his erection and took it down his throat with one smooth plunge. Spike's head dropped back, and he made a sound almost like a snarl, his hips lifting. "Ah, damn, boy! Always so hot."

Oz worked enthusiastically, head bobbing and ass thrusting, enjoying one activity as much as the other. He gripped Spike's thighs, feeling the chill even through the denim of his jeans. It had been disconcerting the first few times they'd had sex, but it didn't bother him now. Spike might be a little cold, but he could get Oz hot enough to satisfy them both. The combination of Blair and Spike right now had him riding the edge. He felt his orgasm approaching, and he worked frantically to try to bring off his two partners.

Spike suddenly buried his face in his hands. From the way his body jerked and trembled, Blair knew he was climaxing. His own climax hit him, sending a burst of pleasure crackling through his body as he spilled himself into the condom. As the bursts began to diminish he felt the hot gush of Oz's sperm spilling over his hand. It wasn't quite simultaneous, but it was pretty damn close.

He was looking at Spike, who still had his hands covering his face. There was something... not right. Something odd. Something about his face. The contours he was covering didn't quite seem right. He thought that he saw ridged flesh where it should have been smooth. He reached toward Spike, touching his hands, "Spike? What's..."

The other man turned away abruptly. "Don't!"

The voice was wrong, too: thick, almost animalistic. Blair would normally have lingered, letting his cock remain in Oz's body as it softened, but now he was too concerned. "What's wrong? I know some first aid."

Spike hunched over, still turned away, his voice muffled by the covering hands. "Dammit, I'm all right."

"Blair." Oz straightened up, a bit stiffly, and put his hand on Blair's shoulders. "This just happens sometimes when he has sex. Give him a minute. No," he put his hand under Blair's chin, turning the older man back to look at him. "Don't look at him. It won't be long."

Blair sensed something else odd, but couldn't quite grasp what it was. He thought that he might have been sure if perhaps he wasn't quite so lust addled. Then there was a deep sigh, and Spike lowered his hands. Blair studied him closely, then decided doubtfully that he must have been wrong. He looked the same. He wasn't even flushed, or breathing hard.

Blair was distracted further when Oz stripped the rubber off him, tieing a knot in the end. He pulled up his pants, fastening them, and said, "I'm gonna go flush this. I'll bring back some wet paper towels." Before he left he gave both Blair and Spike a quick, but fervent kiss.

When he was gone, the two men examined each other. Spike cocked his head, then said, "Special little git, int he?" Blair nodded. "Ya gave him a good time."

"I've always believed the good times should flow both ways. Are you SURE..."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks for worrying, but there's no need. I just have... spells."

"I might be able to help you. I have a little experience with one type of spells."

Spike snorted. "Not this type, mate. Just let it go." He considered Blair for a moment, expression unreadable, then said slowly, "I might tell ya about it eventually. If we get any closer." He paused.
"Think ya might want to?"

Blair studied him closely, weighing the oddness against the attractiveness. Finally he said slowly, "Yeah. I think I'd like that."

Part 7

Blair listened to Dingos Ate My Baby's second set. He particularly liked the grunge version of the Mary Tyler Moore Show's theme song. Once again again Oz helped a stoned Devon into the van. He wasn't sure when Spike left. The guy seemed to have a talent for disappearing and reappearing at will.

Xander's apartment looked unoccupied, and his own was dark and quiet when he let himself in. He moved as quietly as possible. It was pretty impossible to go unheard with Jim around, unless he'd dialed his hearing back (and he probably wouldn't do that with Blair still out), but he didn't want to wake up Xander, if he was still here.

And judging from the two shirts dropped casually on the back of the sofa, he still was. Blair grinned at the discarded garments. *That's my Jim. Couldn't wait to get him into the bedroom before he started stripping him. And he must've been pretty excited, too. Neither of the things are folded.* Blair thought for a moment, then stripped in the living room, bundling his clothes with Jim's shirt, then padded naked into the bedroom.

Moonlight sifted through the bedroom window, casting a dim glow on the two men who lay twined together on the bed. Blair paused to admire the scene. Xander lay on his side, knees drawn up slightly to curve his body, and Jim was spooned up behind him. Anyone who didn't know Jim would be startled as hell to find out what a cuddler he was. Blair had been pleasantly surprised when their relationship had finally gone that final step into real intimacy. He had known Jim could be touchy-feely: witness all the back pats, arm rubs, and noogies he'd gotten during the initial phase of their partnership. He'd expected to have to break him into snuggling gradually, enduring stiff embraces when it obviously wasn't going to lead to sex. He'd been overjoyed when Jim had more or less WORN him the first couple of months. Blair's butt hadn't hit a chair seat for two solid weeks at home: he'd always ended up on Jim's lap.

As he stood there, Jim opened his eyes. They looked almost silver in the moonlight, Blair thought, going over to squat beside him. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey, yourself." Jim's nostrils flaired briefly, and he smiled. "I won't ask if you had a good time."

"You're not fun. It's almost impossible to surprise you." Blair peeked over Jim's shoulder. "I won't ask if you did, either."

The smile broadened. "First time for him. He's a little wiped out."

"You cad. Think he'll freak if I climb in? I'm a little wiped myself."

"Nah. Even if he wakes up, I think he'll be cool. Cheif, what have I told you about petting strays?"

Blair blinked. "Now THAT'S a non sequitur if I ever heard one. I haven't been petting any strays, Jim."

"No?" He looked puzzled. "There's a real strong doggy smell about you. Not really unpleasant, but... Actually, it isn't exactly dog, but it's canine."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jim lifted one shoulder. "Just what I said. It's doggy, but not quite dog."

"I'm not taking a shower at this time of night, Jim."

"I'm not asking you to, Darwin. I'm just commenting. It's kind of odd. First you come home with frog scent, now this."

Blair shook his head. "I hope your senses aren't going wonky. If this keeps up, we may have to do another round of tests." When Jim groaned quietly he said sternly, "Don't start complaining before you have to." He kissed Jim lightly, then went around to the other side of the bed and slipped in. He was pleased when Xander murmured in his sleep and snuggled against him. He went to sleep feeling pretty damn contented.

Xander came awake gradually. The first thing that occured to him was the bone deep satisfation of knowing that it was Saturday, and he didn't have to go to work. He had a whole day to laze around before he was due to go on patrol this evening. The second thought was occasioned by the slight ache in his ass, and that made him smile. *So THAT'S what it's like. I've been wasting my time.*

The third thought was that it was nice to wake up with someone again. There was a warm body lying right next to him. He threw a leg over Jim's legs and reached to stroke his chest. He let his fingers comb through the crisp chest hair, seeking out the nipples, and was rewarded with a small sound of pleasure.

Wait a minute: chest hair? He seemed to recall Jim being almost as smooth as a bodybuilder. Right about then his fingers encountered something he didn't recognize. He felt it carefully. Cool, hard, and circular, and it seemed to be attached. What the fuck...?

He opened his eyes cautiously. The eyes looking down at him, filled with amusement, were darker blue than they should have been. He blinked, pulling the world into focus. "Blair?"

"Uh-huh. So, I take it you LIKE the nipple ring?" Xander blushed, letting go, then realized that it was a little silly to be blushing over that when they were lying in bed together, naked. "No need to stop on my account."

Xander sat up. looking at him. "Man, I slept longer and deeper than I figured. Sorry."

"No problem. Jim can wear you out, I know from personal experience. There's been times after he got through lovin' me that I wouldn't have been able to haul myself upright if the loft was on fire."

Xander looked around. "Where is he?"

"Let's see... He had his shower, so he's not jogging. I'd say getting breakfast. He intends to rescue you from having me try to push one of my kelp shakes on you."

Xander stretched. "A shower sounds good. I better get back to my place and sluice down."

Blair sat up also. "You don't really want to put your clothes back on like that, do you? Why don't you wash here, and we can loan you some of Jim's sweats."

"He wouldn't mind?"

"No. You just have to accept the fact that if you're wearing his clothes he reserves the right to take them off you when the mood strikes him."

Xander grinned. "Cool with me. You sure you don't want to shower before me?"

Blair considered him. "How about with? I could wash your back. Or your front. Whichever."

"I'm not sure I've ever had my whichever washed by someone else. Sure. This is California, they keep TELLING us to conserve water."

In the shower Blair set the water to a bit better than warm, not quite hot, and pulled Xander in under the spray, handing him a cloth and a bar of soap. Xander sniffed it. "I've never seen this stuff before."

"You wouldn't unless you frequented a health store. It's all natural, very mild."

"It has a nice scent. Kind of reminds me of..." He sniffed againg. "The botanical gardens?"

"Herbal. Gimme a good scrub, Xander. Jim was saying that I smelled kinda doggy last night. Don't know why. I haven't been near a dog in days."

Xander was working the soap in the washrag, studying it. "Did you run into Oz last night?"

Blair smiled in rememberance. "Oh, yeah."

"Thought so." Xander started to give Blair a wash down.

His touch was quick and firm, and soon Blair's skin was tingling from the massage of the slightly rough terrycloth. Xander had worked his way down Blair's torso, then skipped the interesting parts to do his legs.

Blair spread them a little, grateful for the non-skid thingies on the shower floor (though he WOULD have to see if there was any way to pry them up and change them. Bright pink daisies were just a bit much). Xander started at his ankles and worked his way up, switching sides at the knees, then again at the upper thighs. That was where he finally slowed down.

Blair was a little hard already. Hey, being buck naked in a shower with a very delectable teenager who was ALSO buck naked would do that to a guy. "Okay, Blair, turn around. Time to get your back."

Blair did so, and Xander began to wash his back, the cloth moving in little cirlces. "Xander, you DO intend to wash the naughty bits, too, don't you?" The cloth was moving to his lower back. "I mean, Oz brought some damp papertowels from the men's room, but that just isn't strictly effective for clean up..."

The cloth had reached his ass. No, scratch that. The cloth was nowhere. Those were nice, soapy HANDS that were swirling the lather over his cheeks. Xander rested his chin on Blair's shoulder for a moment and murmured, "What was that?"

"Nevermind. Carry on. Please." In response one hand slid around to the front and lifted Blair's half hard cock. Blair sighed happily as Xander began to stroke slowly. A few pulls and Sandburg was fully erect. He was glad now that he hadn't awakened Xander last night. He might not have been able to perform after that scene at The Bronze, and he would have hated to lose an opertunity.

Xander said softly, "Blair? I'd like to have sex with you." He paused. "Well, more sex than we're having right now. But I'll tell you the truth. My ass is still a little sore from last night."

"Yeah, even the best first time is a little traumatic for the body. Eventhough your butt had a good time, it feels obligated to protest a little. But there's nothing wrong with MY butt, Xander."

The hand on his dick froze. "You mean you'd let me fuck you?"

"LET you? I'm encouraging you, man."

"We don't have any lube or condoms."

"Soap works just fine, and the medicine chest is two steps away. Any more excuses?"

"Jim?" Blair turned around to look at Xander.

The boy fidgeted. "It's a perfectly legitimate concern. He could kick my ass."

"Look, Xander, I told you this is an open relationship. Yeah, I know that with some people that means 'I screw around, you don't', but that isn't how it is with us. The only rule we have down is that if the other thinks that someone is a complete and total asshole, or a risk, then we lay off. Since we both have excellent taste, that's hardly an issue. You were good enough for Jim, you're certainly good enough for me."

Xander sighed, running his fingers through the wet curls on Blair's chest. "If you say so. Anyway, I figure you're worth at least a moderate butt kicking, even if he DID object."

"Thank you, kind sir. I'll be right back." Blair slipped out of the shower and returned in a moment with an unwrapped condom. "I opened it out there. It ticks Jim if wrappers are left in the shower." He set it on the soap shelf. "It's there when you're ready. Now, to GET you ready." Blair sank to his knees.

"Shit, Blair, isn't that hard on your knees? I could manage without."

"I'm not giving you a choice, all right? I want to see what you taste like." He lifted the boy's semi-hard cock, as if weighing it, then licked the very tip. Xander closed his eyes and grabbed the safety bar that was mounted on the wall. "Yeah, that's a good idea. I'm going to try to make you weak in the knees."

"You've got a good start," he said thickly.

Blair licked his glans a few more times, then lifted his cock and began to work his way down the underside to the base. When he reached the spot where it joined his balls he settled in and lapped steadily. The blood began pumping into his shaft in earnest.

Blair briefly sucked first one lightly furred ball, then the other, then moved up to take Xander into his mouth. The boy was hard already. He wanted to give him a nice suck, but he knew that he couldn't go too long or he'd cheat himself out of a good fuck, and he wasn't ABOUT to do that.

Xander groaned as the hot mouth gradually swallowed most of his cock. Then Blair pulled back, sucking, till only the head remained captured between his lips, and repeated the process. Xander hung on to the bar, only sheer will power keeping him from humping into Blair's mouth. Finally he said, "Blair, I need to be inside you, really, really soon."

Blair gave his cock a final kiss and stood up. "Fine by me. Let's switch places."

They did, and he turned to face the wall, holding on to the bar. "Do you know how to get me open, or do I need to do it?"

"No, this I can do." He was working the bar between his palms, creating a lather. "Anya was eclectic, she liked all kinds of sex, including anal." He set aside the soap, reached out, and slid his fingers down the crease of Blair's ass. "I have to tell you, Blair, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way. Your ass is prettier than hers."

Blair chuckled. "I can recognize a compliment when I hear it." He felt Xander spread his cheeks, then there was a careful, but firm, probe at his anus. He took a deep breath as the first finger slid in and Xander began to work it back and forth. "Yeah, I'd say you knew what you were doing."

"Thank you. Ready for another one?"

"Go for it." Xander pressed the second finger in beside the first. Blair hummed. "That's nice."

"Um, one thing I KNOW is different about doing this with a guy, girls don't have a prostate, not evey girls like Anya. (Blair would have thought that was an odd statement, if he had been capable of much coherent thought by now.) Should I try to touch yours?"

"Oh, YEAH. If you can do it, PLEASE do it."

"Okay, I'll try. Um, at the top, right?"

"Right. Just sort of feel around for a little bump, firmer than the rest of..."

Xander felt a little irregularity, and Blair made a crooning noise. "Oh. Um, I think I found it." He rubbed again.

"Ohh, yes. You found it, you clever little thing, you. Xander, I don't need much more."

"Okay, but I really think I should go three. Just a second." He bunched the fingers and pushed in. "I don't think I can get the prostate like this." He moved the fingers in and out a few times. "There. You ready now?"

"VERY ready." Xander took the condom and rolled it down over his erection, then moved up behind Blair, taking hold of his hips. Blair could feel the slight tremor in the boy's hands, and said softly, "Xander? It's going to be all right, kiddo."

"I just don't want to hurt you. I wasn't so worried with Anya, because she was... It's hard to explain, but she was tough in ways most people aren't."

"I'm tougher than I look. You'd pretty much have to TRY to be brutal, and I know you won't do that. Now, come on. We're both ready."

Xander took a breath and fitted himself against Blair's loosened opening, then slowly pressed inside. He didn't stop till his chest was flush against the shorter man's back, and his balls were nestled just below Blair's own. "Oh, man!" he breathed. "Oh man, oh man, oh man."

"Second the emotion," Blair said. He squeezed down, and Xander moaned. "Hook 'em up, cowboy. Let's ride."

Xander pulled back almost all the way. "I want to try something." He bent his knees slightly, so that he was entering Blair at a different angle.

Blair gasped, going up on his toes. "If you were trying to hit the sweet spot, you did it!"

"Cool." Xander started to fuck with a slow, steady rhythm.

Jim knew something was going on before he entered the apartment. The shower cut down the scent of pheromones, but the patter of the water didn't disguise the heavy, rapid heartbeats or deepened breathing. He smiled and put the bag of fast food into the oven to keep warm, then walked quietly to the bathroom.

He debated opening the door. Xander and Blair together would be a show worth watching, but he still wasn't sure if the Harris boy was ready to go for an audience, so he satisfied himself with leaning back against the wall by the door, cocking his head, and listening.

He could hear Blair's quiet gasps. Oh, he was getting it GOOD. He had that little hitch at the end of each breath he got when he was getting fucked really well. And those little grunts would be Xander. Mm. He must be putting his back into it.

Blair hung onto the bar as Xander pounded into him. DAMN, it was good! The kid wasn't kidding about having some experience with it. He started to push back into the thrusts, hoping to take another milimeter or two in.

Xander was throwing it to Blair as hard as he could now, plunging again and again into those hot, sweet depths. God, it was incredible. It had been good with Anya, but it was even better with Blair. With Anya he'd always had the thought that he might as well have been an animated dildo. He had the sense with Blair that he was more than just a cock with a body attached, and that made all the difference. Wanting to make it even better for the other man he let go of Blair's hips and reached around, finding his erection and beginning to stroke.

Blair groaned happily. A lot of boys his age were so fixated on their own pleasure that they neglected their partners, but Xander was showing remarkable maturity in that respect. He was being careful to take care of Blair's pleasure as well as his own. Now he had the lovely choice of whether to push forward into his hands or back onto his prick. He couldn't decide, so he did both.

"Blair," Xander panted. "I'm close, buddy. How 'bout you?"

"Just a little more... a little... Oh, damn!" Blair jerked as his climax hit him. Xander felt a wash of liquid hotter than the now tepid shower water as Blair's seed spilled over his hands. At the same moment the narrow channel he was buried in spasmed around him, clenching so tight that he howled. Three more thrusts and he let loose himself. His orgasme rocked him so hard that he reached past Blair to clutch at the balance bar himself, afraid that his knees were going to give out.

Blair felt the boy trembling against his back, and he squeezed again, wanting to give Xander that last little bit of pleasure. Finally the boy rested against him, his breath slowing to normal. He chuckled as he felt Harris kiss the back of his neck. "You're welcome."

Clean up was quick and easy in the shower. The filled condom went into the wastebasket, and they dried quickly. Jim's clothes fit fairly well, just a little loose. Blair plugged in the blow dryer as Xander opened the door and found Jim standing outside, smiling at him. "Oh. Uh... hi."

Jim was shaking his head. "Blair isn't usually that active in the morning after he's had a full night. You must inspire him." He watched the boy for a moment as his eyes darted around the room, then said gently, "Xander, why are you so nervous? Did you think I'd object to you being with Blair?"

"I... well..." He swallowed. "I guess not. It's just that if I was with someone like either one of you, I think I'd be kinda possessive."

Jim shrugged. "Our relationship IS a little unique, but it works for us. Now, are you hungry?"

"After you've known me awhile, you'll know what a silly question that is."

"Come on, then. I have breakfast burritos. It's going to take Hairboy a little while to finish up. I
love him, but he's high maintenance."

Part 8

Willow balanced one more book on the stack, then slid her hands under them and lifted carefully. *Oof. I should probably divide this pile in half. Either that, or get one of those back-brace belts. Eh, I can make it.* She carefully began to waddle back into the stacks, scanning the filing numbers on the labels taped to the spines of the shelved books.

She located the section she needed, then hesitated. *Drat. Someone moved that chair that was on this aisle an hour ago. NOW where am I going to set these things while I shelve them? There isn't enough space on any of the shelves...*

"You look kinda lost." The man who'd just turned into the far end of the aisle was coming toward her, smiling.

*Oo. No, I shouldn't... Hell, just because I'm with Tarah doesn't mean I can't appreciate a male booty now and then. Nice. Hair's just as red as mine is, and there's more of it. I'd say he was pretty if he wasn't so obviously a guy.* "No, I'm not lost. I'm where I'm supposed to be, but the chair I was planning on using has wandered off."

Blair cocked his head sideways and began reading the titles. "The Erotic Art of Pompeii, Positions: Sexual and Social, Hot Mamas and Cool Cats: Sex in the Twenties, The Joy of Gay Sex, Sexual Liberation in the Sixties, Beat Me Daddy: Sado/maschocism..." He smiled at her impishly. "Research?"

"Part-time job. This section ALWAYS has a lot of reshelving. You'd be surprised how many of them we find stashed in, like, the sports section."

"No, I wouldn't. Personally, I used to sneak them into the philosophy section. Can I help you with
those?"

"Oh, geez, thanks. Lassie."

The young man frowned as he carefully took the pile of books. "Look, I know the hair may be a bit much, but..."

"That's not why I called you Lassie." She took a copy of Victor's Secret: Confessions of a Crossdresser, and put it on the shelf. "Lassie, as in life saver. Besides, Lassie is always played by a boy dog."

"Lassie is a crossdresser?"

"So was Spuds McKenzie."

"Spuds was a bitch?"

"Actually, I hear she was very easy to work with. So, if you don't want to be called Lassie, what IS your name?"

"Blair Sandburg. I'd shake hands, but..." He lifted the books slightly.

"Oh, yes. I'd better get those put away before you have to file an insurance claim." She quickly started to shelve the books. "I'm Willow Rosenburg."

"Willow? Does your mom know MY mom? She says I barely escaped being named Starshine."

Willow smiled as she unloaded the books. "Hippie?"

"Not exactly. Mm... If I had to lable her I'd say she's a hippie/gypsy/free spirit hybrid. Hey, does that one about Pompeii have lots of big illustrations?"

Willow flipped it open. "Oo. Yep." She turned the book around and showed it to him.

He tilted his head, trying to look at it from a different angle. "Acrobatic little boogers, weren't they?"

"I think that some of these are the ancient equivalent of a letter to the editor in Penthouse--more wishful thinking than anything else." She shut it. "Shall I set it aside for you?"

"Please. Have you by any chance run across anything else about B.C. good times?"

"Let me guess--you're a history buff, and you're trying to combine your interests."

"Kinda. I figured that if I used one popular interest, I might actually succeed in cramming a little historic and social information into the slackers' brains."

She studied him curiously. "You're not part of the faculty. I know--the babe vine would have alerted me."

"Babe vine?"

"It's kind of like a grape vine, but it's used to alert all female students to the finer instructors, so they can sign up for their classes."

Blair's grin widened. "I'd qualify?"

"There would be cat fights over the last slots in your schedule. You could make extra income by selling tickets."

He laughed. "Thanks. No, I never quite made it to professor, though I might in the future. I DID do some teaching in Washington at Rainier. Anyway, I'm going to do a series of guest lectures that the needy can attend for extra credit."

"I have a hard time believing that they're paying you anything except maybe meal vouchers."

Blair dug in his pocket and extracted an ID card. "Not even that. They bought me for this."

"A library card?"

"I was desperate. Anyway, I can do these sort of talks in my sleep. Ask my lover."

*Drat.* "When and where are you going to do these talks?"

"Don't tell me YOU need extra credit?"

"Nope. But if you're going to be discussing things like THAT, I think I can make time."

"Nothing is set yet. I'm shooting for Wednesday evening, but I have no idea where. I might even have it at the rec room for my apartment complex. It looks pretty decent sized. Mm... but I don't suppose The Powers That Be would loan me an overhead projector."

"The Powers That...? Oh, you mean the administration."

He gave her a curious look. "Of course. Who else?"

"I think I can get you a projector. My friend Giles has one at the Magic Box, and I'm pretty sure he'll be willing to loan it."

"Would that happen to be Rupert Giles?"

*That interested him.* "Yes. Do you know him?" She slapped her forehead. "Of COURSE you know him! He would have had to approve the card."

"What's the Magic Box? He didn't look like a nightclub manager to me."

"The Magic Box is just what it sounds like--a magic store."

"Oh. Trick decks and top hats."

"No, REAL magic. Crystals, herbs... The real deal. Frequented by Wiccans."

"Oh." Blair nodded. "Pagans. Oh, hell, I'd have probably ended up there eventually anyway. Now I have an EXCUSE to be there. So he's, like, a warlock?"

"The more accepted term would be sorcerer, but not exactly."

"Could you give me the address?"

"Sure. Come on." She led him up front to one of the tables near the front. There was a tray of old catalogue cards for notes, and a few pencil stubs. Willow took a card and scribbled an address on it. "Here you are. I wrote you a reference, too."

"Aren't you a sweet little thing? I could just pinch your cheek."

"I don't think my girlfriend would approve."

Blair blinked, then shrugged. "While my boyfriend would have no problem with it whatsoever."

They exchanged a look of mutual understanding. "Do you ever go by The Bronze?"

"It has recently become one of my favorite places on earth."

"Great. I'll probably see you there."

"Looking forward to it." He flipped over the card that she'd written the address on and said, "Hey! Animals and Sexuality in Various Cultures. Do you suppose they still have this one on the shelves?" He started back into the stacks, scanning the books. "I'd like to see what they have to say about wolves and jaguars."

*****

Giles examined the puzzle box carefully. *Nasty little thing. Sort of a demonic Rubik's cube. I wonder how Barker ever got the idea? Judging from some of that man's prose, I wouldn't be at all surprised if he didn't dabble a bit. Some of his descriptions come very close to...*

The chimes over the front door tinkled. Giles put the box down gently, turning his gaze to see who'd entered, and felt his pulse speed up. Blair Sandburg was standing just inside the door, hands on hips, sweeping an interested look over the room. When his eyes lighted on Giles, the smile broadened, and Giles felt his heart rate go up again as the young man walked toward him.

Giles was unsure of his ability to speak until the words actually came out of his mouth. "Well, let's all sing a chorus of 'It's a Small, Small World', shall we?" He winced inwardly. *Oh, good show, Rupert. I think the appropriate American term is either 'dweeb' or 'nerd'.*

Blair rolled his eyes. "Look, if you must do Disney, try 'The Bear Necessities'. Baloo was cool, and Bagheera and Shere Khan were sexy." He presented a small card to Giles.

The older man took it, and read the printed information, eyebrows lifting. "Oh. Um, interesting sounding volume, but my reading stock is limited to..."

"Other side."

Giles flipped the card over and read the short message in the familiar looping hand. "Oh, you've met Willow. Marvelous."

"You'll notice that the trusting little thing has given me a glowing reference. She suggested that you might have an overhead projector that I could borrow for my lectures."

"I don't see why not. I don't get all that much use out of it." In truth, there hadn't been much need for the projector since the Slayerettes had graduated high school and begun to spread out. What briefings there were were usually more intimate, and he could easily pass around whatever material they needed to peruse. Other than that, he occasionally used the projector to throw a diagram on the wall or floor if he needed to be particularly meticulous in drawing symbols for a spell or summoning. He could usually accomplish what he needed to by hand, but in magical dealings it was always good to be as accurate as possible.

"Fantastic. Do you have it here?"

"Yes, it's just down in the basement... PUT THAT DOWN!"

Blair had picked up the puzzle box, and had been turning it over in his hands, examining it. At Giles's sharp exclamation he started, and the box began to slip from his grasp. He grabbed at it. His fingers scrabbled on the slick, black surface, where intricate patterns were etched in gold. There was a faint click as a section on one side depressed slightly, sliding forward to that there was a curving gap in the surface of that side, and a shallow wedge of veneer extended over the rim.

Blair thought he heard a very faint noise--something resembling the buzzing of many flies in a far off room. *The buzzing of flies NEVER means anything good,* he thought, at the exact moment he thought he saw a flicker of blue light through the crack, inside the cube. Giles snatched the box roughly from his grip, muttering under his breath. Gripping it flat between his palms, he wrenched his hands in opposite directions. There was a hiss, and a click as the tiny portion that had moved slide up and back.

Again Blair experienced what he assumed was an auditory hallucination. This time he thought he heard the muted thunk of a very heavy, metalic door swining shut somewhere in the distance, barely at the edge of his senses. It was accompanied by what could only be interpretted as a regretful sigh.

He noticed that Giles had turned pale, and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and upper lip. His voice strained, the Englishman said, "Please, Blair, don't go fiddling with things in here."

"I'm sorry. I didn't break it, did I?"

Giles set it under the counter. "No, no. No permanent damage."

"I saw one something like that advertised in a collector's catalogue. It's not one of the original
props, is it?"

"Oh, no. This one is genuine in a much different manner. Now," he came around from behind the counter, drawing a ring of keys from his pocket. "I was ready for a break, in any case. I'll just lock up." He locked the door and picked up a little sign that said 'Back in __ minutes'. Pulling a felt tip pen from his jacket pocket, he scrawled 30 in the slightly smeared blank space, then hung the sign on the tiny hook that dangled from a suction cup in the middle of the door glass. "There. Now, come along. I'm not entirely sure of where it is, and it isn't really the sort of thing that one person should be carting up a steep, narrow flight of stairs."

He led Blair to the back of the shop. The young man followed slowly, head swivelling constantly as he tried to take in the contents of the shelves. "Hey Giles, did I see something labeled 'toad powder' back there?"

"Yes." He offered no explanation.

"Do you ever have cause to use it, personally, I mean?"

"Occasionally."

"Mm."

"Mm, what?"

"Well, I may have just found an explanation for the froggy smell comment. I'm still not sure about the doggy smell comment, though."

"That makes perfect sense."

"Maybe I'll explain it, after I get to know you better."

Giles flipped on all the switches at the top of the stairs, illuminating all the sections of the basement, then started down. "Blair, please promise me that you will not handle anything down here. The projector is large enough so that we shouldn't have much trouble locating it. There are things down here that are dangerous to an expert, let alone a novice."

"What, have you got a bomb factory down here?"

"Nothing as harmless as that."

"I was joking, Giles."

"I wasn't."

"Oh-kay."

"It's nothing illegal, Blair. It's simply that there are things that shouldn't be used by someone who isn't well versed in their use and... potential."

"Gotcha."

*I wish.* "Why don't you try that section over there? I'll check in the back."

He hesitated, watching as Blair made his way over to the side of the basement. Well, watching Blair's butt, anyway. *I really ought to have given more thought to putting in a shower down here. A cold shower right now would be helpful. A hot one would be much more enjoyable, but a cold one would be more practical, I suppose.*

The projector wasn't too very hard to locate. It was on a middle shelf right in back. "Blair, I've found it."

"Cool." He bustled over and examined the machine. "But check out that bulb. Awful shadowy, dude. I think it may be kaput."

Giles opened the machine and unscrewed the bulb, then shook it gently. There was a faint, tinny scratching. "Yes, the filament is gone. However..." He scanned the upper shelves. "Ah, yes. There's a box of bulbs on the top shelf."

Giles reached up toward the box. His fingers waved several inches below the box. "Drat." He stood on tip-toe, straining, and still not reaching.

Blair watched the long sweep of the librarian's back. The tweeds of his trousers had pulled tight across the back of nicely muscular thighs, and when his jacket lifted Blair caught a glimpse of the bottom curves of a very presentable ass.

Giles looked at him ruefully. "I have absolutely no idea how we managed to get those up there in the first place. I suppose there's a step-ladder around here somewhere."

"No need. You can give me a leg up."

*I wouldn't mind giving you TWO legs up.* "How do you suggest?"

"Um, let's see... We could do piggy-back. You just squat a little, and bend over, and I'll kind of hop on." Giles felt as if his breath were thickening. The younger man sidled closer to him in the narrow aisle. "Or you could grab me around the waist and lift while I hop and grab."

"Would that be with you facing me, or...?"

"Up to you. We could try both."

"Uh... well..." Giles made a couple of awkward movements, like a gentleman trying to decide how to hold his prom date so that he didn't crush her taffeta.

"Just grab, man."

Giles dipped, sliding his arms around the smaller man's waist, tightened his hold, and lifted. Blair was plastered against him. When Giles stood, Blair rose, looking taller now than the Englishman. "Okay, hang on." Blair gripped Giles's shoulder with his left hand and leaned forward, stretching his right arm toward the box of bulbs.

Blair's T-shirt inched up, Blair leaned forward a bit more, and Giles found himself with his nose pressed just above Blair's bellybutton, with a line of soft hair tickling his chin. There was a flurry of motion, and Blair said, "Got it!" Giles breathed deeply. There was a spicy, musky smell, then a light tap on top of his head, "Giles? Got it."

"Mm? Yes. Just a moment."

"Oh." Giles could hear a smile in his voice. "Okay."

Giles twisted his head, rubbing his face across the warm skin of Blair's abdomen. "Are you in much of a hurry?"

"Feel about three or four inches south and find out for yourself."

"Thank you, dear boy. Don't mind if I do." Giles dipped his head. Blair was wearing jeans—tight jeans, made even tighter by the erection that had begun to burgen when he felt Giles's warm, moist breath on his abdomen. Blair caught his own breath as he felt the gentle pinch of Giles's teeth as they closed over the mound of his genitals.

"Giles..." Blair threaded his hands through the thick brown curls that were flecked with silver. "Buddy, you better put me down."

There was a sigh. "Yes, of course." He let Blair slide down his body, then reluctantly released him and stepped back. "Sorry."

Blair reached over and set the box of bulbs on a lower shelf, then grabbed Giles's arms and turned him, pushing him up against the back wall. "I'm not huge, but I'm not tiny, and we don't want you killing your back, do we? You may need it later. Now..." His hands moved inside Giles's jacket, then he lifted it and dragged it half down his arms, effectively trapping them. "Hold still."

Giles yelped as Blair laid a hand flat against his stomach and slid his fingers under his waistband. "Easy for you to say."

Blair grinned, pushing harder, and his fingertips brushed over the top of Gile's cock, skimming the sensitive skin just where the organ joined his body. "We don't need a lot of talk right now, do we? This is the Magic Box, right? Well, let's make magic."

"Turn my arms loose and I'll show you some magic gestures you'll never forget."

"God, I love it when I find someone almost as smart ass as I am." He withdrew his hand. Giles started to groan till he realized that Blair had only done that so that he could get to Giles's fly.

Giles whimpered as Blair jerked his pants open and pushed them, underwear and all, down his hips. He wasn't a big man, but his hands seemed a little large for his size. They certainly cradled his dick and balls easily. It felt so good that he didn't understand what Blair said the first time. "Beg pardon?"

"I said 'Do you have any rubbers?'."

"Bloody hell! No, I don't."

"Crap. Spontanaity is a wonderful thing, but lack of planning can seriously fuck some things up. Never mind." Blair was opening his own pants. "We can do this. Bend your knees a little, and open your legs."

"Bossy little thing, aren't you?"

Blair grabbed a fistful of hair on either side of Giles's head and growled. "You have no idea. Do it."

"Yes, sir!" Giles spread his legs and bent his knees slightly. Blair moved into the space provided. With Giles having lowered himself that scant couple of inches, their groins were perfectly aligned. Blair pushed forward, and their arousals rubbed together. Giles sighed voluptuously. "Oh, YES, sir!"

Blair started to hump against him in a strong, steady rhythm. Giles twisted his torso a little, lifting his arms as far as he could. His fingertips barely managed to brush the back of Blair's arms, and the younger man went very still. He was motionless, except for his heavy breathing.

Giles whined and tried to squirm. His erection was trapped between their bodies. He could feel the light fur of the line of hair that ran down to Blair's pubis, the warmth of the skin of his belly, and the softer, hotter skin wrapped around the firm column of his hard prick. Giles tried to push his hips against Blair, but those long-fingered, capable hands moved to grip him, holding him tight against the wall. "Blair!" he whined.

"You don't move, Giles, hear me? If you move, I'm going to step away, shove my poor, hard cock back into my pants, zip up, and go exercise some more good-neighbor policy with that babe who lives across from me. Got it?"

"No, that's the fucking problem." He forced himself to drop his arms and go still. "All right, I'm being good. Now, YOU be good."

Blair was. Giles could only gasp and shiver as the younger man undulated against him, the slick pre-ejaculate fluid that oozed from the tip of his cockhead painting a warm swath across his belly, and his own prick. He began to wonder if he hadn't perhaps dozed off behind the counter, and if this wasn't a particularly vivid wet dream.

That notion blew away when Blair set his teeth against his throat and nipped him sharply. The small pain sent a hot jolt down his spine, straight to his cock, and he came with a yelp that would have been embarassing if Blair himself hadn't made a very similar noise at about the same time.

Blair sucked hard at the patch of skin he'd captured, his sound of pleasure muffled, as he shot his load against the long, elegant body he had pinned to the wall. *Oh, gawd, I LOVE being all primitive and aggressive! No wonder Jim ambushes me so often--it's fucking FUN.*

As he leaned against Giles, panting, the older man said breathlessly, "Blair, either let me straighten up, hold me up completely, or help me slide down to the floor, because I cannot remain like this."

Setting his hands under Giles's armpits, he helped him straighten back up into a full standing position. As he pulled Giles's jacket back into position, freeing his arms, he said, "Damn. I was hoping I'd made you speechless." He rubbed the pad of one thumb over the aristocratic jawline of the other man. "You're going to have to give me a rematch at a future date."

Giles plucked an immaculate, neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and wiped himself fastidiously. "While I do not claim to be a seer, I'd say that was a disitinct possibility." He took Blair's now softening cock in his hand and swabbed him, carefully removing every trace of sperm from the organ, and his belly and thighs.

Both men refastened their clothing, and Giles said briskly. "Right. I'd say that YOU are in the best shape to tote that swkward object up the stairs. I shall follow close behind to offer support and guidance."

They made their way carefully up the stairs, then Giles hurried ahead of Blair to open the door. He took charge of the projector while Blair unlocked his car, then loaded it into the back seat. "There. May I ask, at this belated point, what your lectures are going to be about?"

"Sex throughout history, pretty much." He turned so that his hip brushed against Giles's, and darted a smouldering glance up at him. "If I decide to do a section on the connection between sex and magic, can I count on you to help me with my research?"

Giles cleared his throat. "Always happy to help with... uh, academic activities."

When Blair was gone, Giles went back into the Magic Box, stopping to remove the little 'be back' sign, humming to himself, and generally feeling inordinately pleased with both himself, and the world in general.

He pulled the soiled handkerchief out of his pocket and regarded it for a moment. After a moment's thought, he slipped it into a baggie, then deposited it in the tiny freezer compartment of the store fridge. *After all,* he thought as he closed the door. *you never can tell when a bit of semen can come in handy with a bit of magik, or summoning, or some such.*

Part Nine: Patrol

"There."

"Where?"

"Over there--the bench."

"Oz, there isn't anyone on the bench. You been toking with Derek before you came on patrol?"

"UNDER the bench, Xander, and no, I haven't. This patrol business seriously cuts into my stoned time."

The two Slayerettes approached the bus stop bench cautiously. "Fuck," Xander muttered. "Why do the damn streetlamps always have to go out right in the places we need to look?"

"Probably because we always need to look in dark places. You see any movement?"

"Shit, YOU'RE the one with the preternatural night vision, YOU look."

Oz squinted. "Mmmm. Well, the chest is rising and falling--that's a good sign."

"Could be. It could also be a minion with enough working brain cells to remember to pretend to breathe while he's playing possum. One way to find out." Xander took aim with his super soaker and landed a spray of holy water on the prone figure's face. The man sputtered, wiping at his face, muttering something about neutering a damn dog if he got peed on again. "No sizzling or smoking. Guess it's just a wino."

They continued on. "So, Blair found you all right last night?"

"Actually, if I'm not being vain, I'd say that Blair found me excellent."

Xander smirked. "How'd you find him?"

"Please, Xander. I have another couple of nights before I have to start howling."

The smirk turned into a smile. "Yeah, he DO have that effect, don't he?"

"And how'd you make out with Officer Friendly?" There was a pause. "Fuck, Xander, are you BLUSHING? Details, details!"

"Let's just say that I've looked at life from both sides now, from top and bottom, and still somehow... The rest of the song is too bittersweet, man. I walked bowlegged for a little while, but it was worth it."

"Told ya." He shifted his supply bag to his other shoulder, then used his free hand to stroke Xander's ass. "So, when will you be ready for your sophomore effort?"

"Horny bastard."

"Xander, I'm part wolf, and that's pretty damn close to a dog. I'm just being true to my nature. Somethin' hot in the neighborhood..." he bumped his shoulder against Xander, "I gravitate."

Xander was looking off to the left, "Cool your jets, Houston. We have a problem." He pointed. "Shambler at ten-o'clock."

Oz was instantly alert, zeroing in on the slumping figure that was... Well, Xander had it right--shambling was the only word. His nostrils flared. "Kee-RIST!"

Xanger flinched as the funk reached him. "Shit, and I mean that literally! Zombie?"

"I think it's just a minion with really, really, really bad hygiene. I hope. Cause ya know, Xander, Giles never got around to covering zombies, and I'm not entirely sure we can rely on George Romero canon for killing techniques."

"Fuck, he's heading for the bum." Xander took off, with Oz in close pursuit. A small, but concentrated beam struck the creature as it began to squat down beside the bench. Xander, still running, saw that Oz had pulled a powerful flashlight from his bag and trained it on the creature. "NOW you use that?"

"So I like having you in the dark. Make a federal case out of it." The light had gotten the thing's attention away from its intended victim--it turned toward the approaching Slayerettes, and they got their first good look at it.

Or rather 'him'. Even though the head seemed to be a lump of charcoal, it had to be a guy, from what they were wearing--a singed prom suit in powder blue. "Back away from the snack, dude!" Xander called.

Xander would have compared the thing to an old fashioned minstral man except for two things--the eyes rolling toward them in the blackened face were yellow instead of white, and the smile wasn't ringed in white, and included a set of wicked fangs. Oz and Xander, slowing a little now that the thing was no longer fixated on the bum, exchanged glances and chorused, "Minion."

"Am not." The creature's voice was a rasp. "I'm an independent, you bogus geeks."

Oz blinked, and looked at Xander, "From the polyester playsuit I would have said seventies, but the speak sounds more eighties."

"Whatever. He hasn't had an honest pulse for some time."

The minion (never mind what he claimed) pointed a finger that looked like a charred chicken bone at Xander. "You! You're the one who burned down my crash pad! It's been over a month, and I STILL haven't grown my hair back, you skeazer! Do you know how long it took me to get it down to my shoulders?"

Oz shrugged. "Maybe it IS seventies. That would have been that lair you found last month, right Xan?"

"Yup. I thought I took out at least five--I guess it was only four. Hey, Crispy Critter, does it hurt?"

It snarled, blackened lips and gums splitting to give an unpleasant glimpse of raw meat below. "What the fuck do you THINK?"

"Right. Well, it's gonna hurt WORSE, but then it won't hurt at ALL." He blasted it in the face with the holy water.

This time there WAS sizzling and smoking. Oz wouldn't have thought that charcoaled flesh could have burned any more, but he managed it. The minion screamed, scrabbling at his bubbling face, tearing off hefty chunks in the process. Bone gleamed white in the moonlight.

"Urg! Squick! Oz, man, stake the sucker."

Oz was already reaching into his bag. He dropped in the flashlight and came up with a two foot ash wood stake, honed to a needle point at one end. He sprang forward and, with the skill of practise, slammed it deftly up under the creature's ribcage. It would have worked perfectly--if the minion hadn't chosen that moment to shift. As it was, the stake did not slam cleanly thorugh the thing's unbeating heart. It severed the aorta, but since there wasn't any blood pumping that didn't make a whole hell of a lot of difference. It DID piss the creature off, though.

The creature backhanded Oz, knocking him off his feet. It grabbed the butt of the stake, snarling, and jerked it out. It made a nasty, pulply, sucking sound as it came out, and it was smeared with... Well, you didn't really want to think too closely about the ichor clinging to the wood.

It threw the stake at Oz like a spear. The young muscician's wolfish reflexes served him well, and he managed to roll out of its way. A good thing, too, as it buried itself deep into the none-too-soft ground. Before Oz could scramble away, the thing landed on his back.

It clutched at the young man's hair, trying to drag his head back and stretch his neck enough for him to be able to sink his fangs in. "Xander!" Oz yelled, hunching his shoulders in a combined effort to shift the vampire and protect his neck. "Come ON, man! A little help, here!"

Xander wrenched the stake out of the ground and fell to his knees beside the struggling couple, raised it high, then hesitated. It wasn't easy to hit a vamp's heart from behind--fucking rib cage acted like a fence. Anyway, an immage from a couple of Friday the 13th movies came to mind--a copulating couple skewered together by some long, pointy object.

Cursing, he tossed down the stake and tried to peel the vampire off Oz. No luck. He managed to lift them both a couple of inches, but the vampire was clinging like a (apt comparison) leech.

"Shit! Hurry, Xan! He's DROOLING on me."

"Hang on!" Xander reached up his pant's leg and popped the strap on his calf sheath, pulling out the heavy hunting knife he'd taken to wearing on patrol. He grabbed the prom-date-from-Hell's right arm and brought it down on its wrist--hard. There was a crisp sound, followed by a meaty chunk as the blade chopped halfway through the wrist on the first thing. Xander tried to jerk it loose, but it was stuck, and the thrashing, shrieking vampire wasn't making the removal any easier, so he started to saw. The blade had a serrated edge, and in no time there was the set-your-teeth-on-edge squeal of metal against bone.

The knife came free when he cut all the way through the wrist, and Xander quickly repeated the process on the second wrist. This time it didn't get stuck, and he got the hand severed in three chops. Deprived of his anchor, the vampire's fierce tugging motion threw him back--off Oz. Xander dropped the knife and snatched up the super soaker again. He threw himself on the vampire, kneeling on its chest.

The minion waved its stumps, snarling and spitting. Xander shoved the muzzle of the water canon into its mouth and triggered a burst of holy water down its throat. Then he jumped away.

The creature went into convulsions, shrieking, its arms and legs drumming the ground. Smoke, or possibly steam, started to trickle from every orifice. Then there was a bang, and Xander and Oz ducked flying demonbits.

Xander knee-walked back over to where Oz was just sitting up. The smaller boy groaned, "Fuck! I almost became a skinhead involuntarily. Man, am I gonna have a headache."

"I don't doubt it. Hold still, bud." Xander gently pried loose the two disembodied, charred hands that were still tangled in Oz'z spiky red hair. Then he stamped on them. The result was a pile of greyish dust. "Shit, Oz, he must've been even older than we thought."

Oz got up and went to examine what remained of the creature's body. It, too, was quickly being reduced to something that looked like what you could sweep out of your fireplace. "What do you think? Couple of centuries old, but he went native during the disco era?"

"Who cares? One less to worry about." Xander retrieved Oz's supply bag.

Oz got the stake (waste not, want not) and Xander's knife. He exchanged the knife for the bag, slinging it over his shoulder again. "So, you've done the deed with both Blair the Bear and Jim the Giant?" He rummaged in the bag and pulled out a plastic, cinch tie garbage bag, shaking it open.

Xander sighed. "And I was going to be such a gentleman." He accepted the scoop from Oz as the werewolf took one of his own. They squatted and began emptying vampire-grit out of the limp prom suit. "I fucking HATE clean-up."

"Yeah, it wasn't in the job description when I signed on," Oz agreed, beginning to shovel the remains into the garbage bag. "I haven't dusted my place in..." He frowned thoughtfully. "I HAVEN'T dusted my place, so why should I clean up this shit?"

"Because dust kitties under your bed do not attract the attention of the law, demons, and other unsavory entities. Keep shoveling and we'll have this done in no time." For a moment there was only the crunch of their scoops biting into the pile of ashes and the rattle as they dumped them into the bag. "They're really cool together, you know?"

"Xander, you dog!" Oz grinned.

"No, not like THAT, Oz!" He thought, and his eyes grew distant. "Though they probably WOULD be. No, I mean together as a couple. They fit, you know? And there's, like, absolutely no jealousy. They're so sure of what they have together that it doesn't bother them if one or the other has a little physical fun on the side."

"Very rare," Oz commented, "but a humongous break for everyone else in the world." He started stuffing gritty pastel blue clothes into the sack. "Anyway, I'm glad I don't have to worry about Blair's significant other coming after my ass in anything but a friendly way." He paused. "Oh, man. Xander, we did the world a favor, killing this one." He held up a pair of the most butt ugly baggy boxers Xander had ever seen.

Xander shuddered. "The only way something like that can be forgiven is if the contents are fine enough, and I doubt if ol' Barbeque Bob would have qualified, even at his freshest."

"Isn't that enough? Can't we just sorta kick the rest of him around in the grass? Maybe it'll act as fertilizer."

"We could identify where we've made kills by the green patches. Just a couple more scoops, then we can try that." He scooped. "Oz? I'd rather you didn't tell Spike that I've... you know. He's been kind of pushy, and I'm not sure the chip's violence aversion would keep him from molesting me."

"Um, kinda too late for that, Xandman. Blair mentioned that you were staying over with Jim, and we both know Spike, being a full-fledged childe, is smarter than your average minion. I'm pretty sure he's figured out that someone's been into your picnic basket."

"Shit."

"I don't know what the problem is. He's mellowed out some, with the chip. I mean, he doesn't go ripping throats out or eviscerating people for minor irritations anymore. And he's fine, Xander. You could have a pretty good time with..."

"I'm not into antagonistic sex, Oz. Hopefully it'll be a few years before I need to spice things up to that extent." He poked a finger at the thin layer of grit still on the ground. "That should do it. You can close up the bag now."

As Oz cinched up the yellow plastic loops threaded through the plastic, closing the bag, and started to tie them in a knot. He and Xander looked up quickly as a truck turned the corner, less than a half block away. "Company."

"Damn! Let's book." Both boys jumped up and started for the park, about a hundred yards away.

"MotherFUCKER!" Xander (who had learned a long time ago how dangerous it was to try to run backwards) paused and turned to look back at Oz. The other boy ran up to him. Instead of a bag he was carrying a loop of yellow plastic, with a couple of dark plastic shreds clinging to it. "Sucker ripped! They SWEAR it won't do that! I'm gonna write a letter to the fucking CEO. I'll have the Better Business Bureau down on their ass. Consumer Reports. Channel Twelve Action."

Xander grabbed the outraged young man's shoulder. "Shut up and RUN!" The truck had sped up and was now screeching to a stop right before the scene of their latest triumph. Xander and Oz melted into the shadows.

*****

Jim slammed the truck into park and leaped out while Blair scrambled out the passenger side. Ellison would have gone in pursuit of the two fleeing figures, but he'd spotted the man lying under the bench, and his first duty was to be sure he was safe.

By the time he reached the victim, Blair had reached under the bench, gotten his hands under the man's arms, and dragged him out onto the grass. Jim dropped down on his knees beside the man and trained his senses on him. While he did this, Blair made a quick visual check of the man, searching for wounds or any other indications of trauma. "I don't see any blood, Jim, unless they got him in the back."

"I don't think so, Chief. Steady heartbeat, strong pulse, good breathing." *sniff* "Phew. Even if it IS a little ripe."

"You're telling me. He smells like he drank garlic-wine vinegar."

"I think maybe that half a sausage and empty MD 20/20 bottle under the bench might explain that, Chief. I think he's just drunk."

"Pretty DAMN drunk if he hasn't woke up yet." Blair slapped his face lightly. "Hey. Hey, old timer, wake up. It isn't safe to sleep out on the streets."

The bum mumbled, swatting at the Guide. "Gedda fuckaway. Keep yer dam dog 'way, too. He pee on me one more time, I tie a knot in his weiner."

"Oo, ouch. C'mon, get up."

The wino opened rheumy eyes and struggled into a sitting position. "Wha?"

"Are you all right?" Jim asked.

"Why shou'dn I be?"

"Well, we thought we saw a couple of men messing with you," Blair volunteered. "Were you robbed? Better check your valuables."

The man cursed, and began to dig through his pockets. He came up with sixty cents, a half-roll of lint covered breathmints, two cigarette butts (one with lipstick), a week old lottery ticked, and a wrapped condom. "Nope. All here."

"Great." Jim helped him to his feet. "Is there somewhere we can take you? You shouldn't be out in this state."

The bum blinked in confusion. "California?"

Blair looked at Jim. "Maybe we should take him in for public intoxication."

"Don' do that," the bum protested. "Look, there's a shelter jus' a few blocks away. I"ll go there, huh? I don' like it 'cause they won't let me smoke, but I'll go there if ya won't run me in."

They ran him over to the shelter and watched till the attendent led the sullen man back into the building, then drove back to the place they had found him. Again Jim parked, more sedately this time, and they got out.

"I thought it was just a robbery," Blair said as they began to examine the area. "Do you suppose he had something, and they stole it, and he just forgot?"

"It's possible. Then again, they might have just been going to bash him, or worse. You remember that rash of murders we had among the vagrants in Cascade a year ago."

"The ones that turned out to be gang initiations? Yeah. Bad business. I think I see something over there." Blair started toward what looked like a shiny lump about the size of a pillow.

Jim began to sift through the scents in the area, looking for clues. First he filtered out the smell of garlic, wine, and sour BO. *sniff* "Sandburg, do they have a picnic area closeby in that park?"

"Dunno, Big Guy. I haven't explored it yet."

"Well, it smells like someone's been barbequeing spoiled meat."

"Ugh, yeah, now that you mentioned it. Hey, there's a garbage sack here." He stooped to pick it up, then carried it back to his partner. "What is it?"

Jim was frowning. He looked like he'd found out something that he really didn't want to know. "Blair, one of those men was Xander Harris."

"Shit, Jim! Are you sure?"

Jim gave him a look. "As close as I got to him? Yeah, I'm sure."

"Maybe he was waiting for a bus earlier."

"I don't think so--it's too fresh."

"Xander wouldn't be doing anything malicious."

"I don't want to think so, either, but let's face it--we've slept with him, but we don't really KNOW him."

"Are you going to question him about this?"

"I don't know. Nothing really seems to have happened. Maybe we'll just keep close tabs on him for awhile." He drew in a lungful of air, closing his eyes in concentration. "We might not have seen much, but something went down here, Chief. The place REEKS of adrenaline. What's in the bag."

Blair spread it open. "They dropped this. I know the short one was carrying it when they ran." They both peered inside, then looked at each other. "I haven't a clue. What's your guess?"

Jim poked in the bag carefully. "I get the same bad barbeque smell from this." He pulled up a dusty, singed blue satin cummberbun. "Shit, that looks like what Stephen wore to his senior prom." He dropped it back, then fished again. This time he came up with a tiny, shriveled object on the end of a short, brittle stick

Blair examined it. "What is that?"

Jim sniffed it, and his eyebrows rose. "Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, it was a flower." He sniffed again. "A carnation, I think."

"This just gets weirder and weirder. Have you noticed that we seem to be standing in more of what's in the sack?" They both stepped back quickly.

Jim stooped and rubbed a little of the material through his fingers. "Odd. It feels both dry, and a little greasy." He wiped his hand on the grass. "Very unpleasant."

"Well, what do we do? What do we report?"

"I'm not sure there IS anything to report, Chief."

"Crap. I'm not easy with that, Jim, and you KNOW how I feel about paperwork." He held up the bag. "I at least want to know what this is."

"Me, too, but we can't very well ask the lab to process it if it isn't connected to some case or other."

"Yeah, I haven't had time to charm anyone to the point where they'd do us a few off-the-record favors." He thought. "Bloomfield would do it for us."

"Yes, but he's back in Cascade, Darwin."

"Ever hear of Federal Express, Jim? Marvelous invention--much more efficient than the pony express of your youth."

Jim cuffed him lightly on the side of the head, but he was smiling. "You're going up for Coniver of the Year, as soon as I get funding for the award. C'mon."

They went back to the truck. Blair climbed in, carefully storing the back in the space behind the front seat. He noticed that Jim was standing at the driver's side, hand on the open door, with a puzzled look on his face. "What?"

"Xander doesn't own a dog, does he?"

"You know the apartments are no pets. Well, yeah, like that stops people. But you would have heard or smelt one by now if he had one at his place. Why do you ask?"

Jim got into the truck and started the engine. "I got that doggy smell again."

Part 10: Givin' the Public What It Wants

"Oh, wow, it's a good thing we got here early." Willow stood on tiptoe, trying to peer over the heads of the people in front of her, and not having too much success.

Buffy sighed. "Tell me again why we're here instead of doing something more interesting, like vegging out in front of the tube with a diet Coke."

"Because you decided to take Social Anthropology. I have to agree that it might come in handy in your line, since it would give you incite into cultural mythologies that would be useful to a Slayer. But that D you're pulling down is NOT going to help your GPA, and your teacher is going to give you extra credit for attending these lectures."

"As much as I dislike dishonesty, wouldn't it be easier if I just SAID I came?"

"Yes, it would be easier... up to the point that you have to write the essay he's going to require."

Buffy made a face. "Teachers are so unreasonable." She suddenly looked a little less bored. "Hey, Xander. XANDER!" She waved her hand over her head. "Over here, Xand!"

Xander started to weave his way toward the girls, through the packed bodies in front of the lecture hall. When someone muttered about breaking in line, Xander said, "No line here, dude, and I don't think there IS such a thing as breaking in mob." When he reached the girls he offered Willow a grin. "Greetings. Where's Scarlett's Home?"

Buffy frowned. "I don't know anyone named Scarlett, much less where she lives."

"He means 'where's Tara?'," Willow informed him. "She promised to babysit for one of our friends."

"What are you doing here, Xander?" Buffy asked. "Lectures aren't usually your thing."

"There's a couple of jocks earning a little pocket money working part time with the crew. The buzz reached me about this little shindig, so I thought I'd drop by."

Buffy pointed at a bulge in Xander's jacket pocket. "Are you glad to see me, or what?"

Willow blinked. "Buffy, that really only works if the lump in in their PANT'S pocket."

Xander pulled out an apple and polished it on his shirt. "For the professor."

Buffy smirked. "Kissing up, Xander?"

Xander gave her a mysterious smile. "Kissing up to THIS teacher can be a WHOLE lot of fun."

"Scuse me, pardon me."

Xander looked up at the voice, smiling. He called, "It's not gonna be that easy, Sandburg. People don't shift around here, once they settle."

"Well, crap!" The voice rose. "Look, if I can't get in there, I can't open the doors, I can't do the
lecture." There was a ragged cheer.

Willow could barely make out the top of Blair's head over the crowd. "Blair, you HAVE to give the lecture. I've got a friend who really needs the credit."

There was a tall, handsome man with dark, receding hair next to Blair, and he laughed. "Looks like it's time for the Rangers." He started bulling a way throught the crowd, easily shouldering people aside, with Blair following in the cleared path. "C'mon, hot lecturer, comin' through."

"Yeah," Xander murmured. "REAL hot lecturer."

The pair passed near the trio, and Xander called, "Hey, Ellison! Hi!"

Jim located Xander. "Xander, good to see you." He veered slightly, coming over to them.

"Well." The single word was soft, and Willow and Xander looked at Buffy curiously. Their friend was giving her hair a quick finger comb, moistening her lips, and tugging her blouse down in front so that a hint of cleavage showed. Puzzled, Willow looked at Xander.

"Wills, we already know with Riley that Buff can go for the big, macho, para-military sort, so..." Xander pointed at the big, buff man who'd just come alongside them.

Willow pictured Jim Ellison in olive drab. "Oh."

Jim smiled at the young people. "Fall in behind Blair and we'll get you seats near the front." He pushed on by.

Blair, looking a little frazzled, was following close behind, his arms loaded down with thick volumes, and muttering, "I hate crowds, I hate crowds." He paused when a round, red apple thumped down on his top book. Looking up, he saw Xander ginning at me. Blair couldn't resist waggling his eyebrows. "Don't tempt me, Good Neighbor Xand."

"Sandburg, hurry up before the Red Sea fills back in," called Jim.

As the three young people followed Blair up to the doors, Buffy was saying, "Good neighbor Xand? The Red Sea?"

"Buffy, have you ever actually watched a movie that was made BEFORE your date of birth?" Xander asked.

"Sure. I've seen The Lost Boys, but of course that was before I moved here and totally lost the need to look at cool dressing vampires. No, wait. That was released in 1987--I was born in, um..." She pushed Willow and Xander on the shoulder. "Hurry up, or we'll lose our seats."

It was one of the larger lecture halls, and it filled up quickly. Willow, Xander, and Buffy got seats right down in front, thanks to polite words and long stares from Blair's companion.

Blair and Jim busied themselves setting up an overhead projector and arranging materials as the room filled up. The majority of the female attendees (and some of the male) followed their activities with a great deal of appreciation. Xander leaned over to Buffy and said, "Buff? Drool is NOT a good look for you."

Blair stepped to the front of the teaching dias, rubbing his hands together. "Hi! I'm Blair Sandburg, a cultural anthropologist, and I'm here to provide a chance for you fine folk to nudge your GPs a little higher. Hopefully you will also learn a little something, and you might even enjoy it." There were snorts. Blair didn't seem dismayed. He continued, "The subject of this lecture course will be Sex: Facts and Myths through the Ages." Now there was whistling and clapping. "And before you ask, no, there will not be a 'show and tell' section." There was laughter, and the atmosphere in the room relaxed significantly.

"Yeah, yeah. Now, it's not all gonna be fun. There WILL be a five page essay due at the end of the semester." Groans. "It gets worse. You'll have to do it like a regular test--no writing it, then handing it in." Moans. "Shut up, you babies," he said cheerfully. "I'll give you a choice of topics, and you'll have an hour. Grammer, spelling, and legibility WILL count. Quit acting like I just gave you all three months to live. I'm not going to be taking attendance, so if you can find someone you trust to share notes or tape the lectures, that's fine by me. If you can speak English and have an attention span greater than the average two year old you should do all right."

"Let's start with historical facts. There have always been male and female, since the first fish decided to try using those stiffened fins to crawl from one muddy pool to another. We won't worry about before that. I understand some creatures managed asexual reproduction, but I'm betting they didn't have much fun at it."

"Now, one of the earliest representations we have of a woman, indeed, of a human is the so-called Venus of Willendorf. I'm sure you're all familiar with the most widely known image of Venus, the Venus di Milo?"

A voice called from the back of the room, "Yeah, the babe who can't hug back." There were catcalls and whistles.

Buffy muttered, "I remember her. She could lose a few pounds."

"Well, this figurine, less than five inches high, was carved some time in the Paleolithic era of pre-history, and shows that there was a great difference in the two society's interpretation of a female form. Could someone in back get the lights?" Someone did. Blair laid a book face down on the projector, and Jim hit the switch. An image of an ovoid figure, consisting mostly of bulbous belly, breast, and buttocks, with head, arms, and legs that were almost afterthoughts, was projected on the screen. Someone made a gagging sound, and Blair said calmly, "There speaks ignorance." A very plump girl in the second row giggled, then sighed dreamily.

The lecture went well. There was often laughter. When the lights came up at the end several of the young men could be seen furtively adjusting lumps in their jeans, but nothing had been presented that couldn't be found in a dozen textbooks, worldwide. Xander had the feeling that this little lecture had given some of the jocks a whole new perspective on the learning experience.

Most of the crowd filed out right away, but a group came down and clustered around the lecturer. While Jim quietly restacked the materials, Blair dealt with a half dozen admiring, twittering girls. He charmed them, right and left, and gently turned aside a couple of invitations, both spoken and hinted.

When they finally drifted off, Xander introduced Willow to Jim, and Buffy to both of them. Xander watched Buffy's reaction to Jim, forcing himself to refrain from shaking his head. *Look at that. One shoulder lift, chin dip, gazing up through the lashes, slow smile. Did she...? Oh, no. No, no, no. She just wet her lips. AND SHE'S PLAYING WITH HER HAIR! Oh, Riley, m'man, you better not slack off or your Slayer will be slippin' around.*

Blair, while making conversation with Willow and Xander, watched in amusement as Buffy tried to put the moves on Jim. *Not a chance, babe. The last blonde Jim went for was Stanley*, and he let Jim screw his ass, then shave his pubes, right before jumping into an orgy. Somehow I doubt you'd be up for that.*

Buffy was telling Jim how fascinated she was by modern crime fighting techniques. Willow and Xander blinked at each other. Generally speaking, the height of Slayer weaponry technology consisted of crossbows, unless you wanted to count the SuperSoakers loaded with holy water (though Giles said that there were studies being conducted on the possibility of using portable UV ray lights as an effective sorce of portable, round-the-clock sunshine).

Xander finally had enough and said loudly, "Say, Buff, you really need to introduce Riley to Jim! Ex-ranger, paramilitary macho olive drab adddict--they could have some things in common."

"Shut up!" Buffy hissed, then smiled again at Jim. "Riley and I... uh... belong to a social club."

Xander tried not to choke. Willow just widened her eyes and said, "C'mon, Buffy. I promised Tara I'd write up notes for her on this lecture." They said their good-byes and walked up the aisle, Buffy putting just the tiniest bit of sway in her hips, and peeking back at the door for another wave.

Jim looked at Xander. "Is her name really Buffy?"

"Could it be anything else? You guys going right back to the apartment?"

Blair patted the projector. "I want to take this back to the library first. Giles said we can keep it in his office between lectures, so we don't have to haul it back and forth from the Magic Box."

"Can I bum a ride with you guys?"

"Sure." Jim shoved most of the stack of books into Xander's arms. "You just have to earn your way as a pack animal."

Blair took the rest of the stack, and Jim hefted the projector with little visible strain. Blair said, "Okay, yee-ha! Move 'em out, mule train." He led the way out of the lecture hall, then out of the Anthropology Building and across the small green to the campus library.

Inside Blair spotted Giles at one of the front work stations, patiently trying to explain the intricacies of using the computer instead of a card catalogue. "Hey, Giles!"

Giles looked up wearinly, and immediately felt energized when he saw Blair coming toward him. Blair seemed to either perk you up, or drain you--no real inbetweens. "Good evening, Blair. Xander. And...?"

"My partner--Jim Ellison," Blair introduced.

"Hi. I'd shake hands, but..." Jim lifted the projector minutely.

"Oh, yes, of course. Mm, I'll need to be here a bit longer. Why don't I give you the key to my office, and you can leave it there?"

While Giles fished out the key, Blair said, "Xander, why don't you take Jim down and show him where it is? I want to talk to Giles about the lecture series."

"Mm-hm," said Jim, and he and Xander walked toward the elevator. "He wants a chance to stand behind him and look at his butt."

"Do you blame him?" Xander punched the button, and the elevator doors slid closed.

"Nope. Actually, that was one of his better excuses." Xander slipped his hands in his pockets.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Cold?"

"Nope--horney. I can't risk grabbing your ass because if you drop that projector and break it, Giles will have mine."

"I can think of worse things than Giles having your ass."

"Giles?" Xander looked surprised, then considering. "Yeah, Giles."

"You mean to tell me you know him, and you HAVEN'T thought about him like that?"

"Give me a break, Ellison. It wasn't so long ago I admitted to myself that I look at guy's asses more than girls' asses. And Giles... He was librarian when I was in school. I had a hard time seeing him as the same species, much less a lust object." *Crap, Harris, you've gotten it on with Oz, what the fuck are you moaning about species for?*

The door slid open and they stepped out into the basement. Xander started leading Jim back to the cubbyhole of Giles's office. Jim waited patiently as Xander unlocked the door and stood aside. Jim carried the projector in and Xander followed him.

It took them a few moments to figure out where to park the projector so that Giles would be able to get around his desk and sit down. Finally Jim bent down and sort of wedged it into a corner. Before he could stand back up, hands grabbed his hips, and he felt a firm teenage crotch pressed against his ass. He chuckled. "We don't have time, Xander."

"Hey, I can be fast when I need to."

"We don't have condoms, either."

"Damn." Xander let go and stepped back far enough for Jim to stand back up and turn around.

Jim was thinking about laying a kiss on Xander, but he froze. There was someone standing in the office doorway, and he hadn't heard them come up. *Never mind heartbeat, I didn't hear footsteps. Are my senses going haywire in the opposite direction this time?*

He was a tall, pale young man with carefully coiffed dark hair. He was dressed in head to toe black, and Jim looked at him carefully. That style choice sometimes heralded trouble. "Can we help you?"

"Oops," Xander whispered. Then he heard the newcomer's voice.

"I was looking for Ruper Giles." Jim watched as Xander flinched, his expression tightening. He turned slowly. There was a pause as Xander and the stranger studied each other. Finally the stranger said, "Harris."

Xander's voice was cool. "Deadboy." A pause. "That IS you, isn't it?"

*Peculiar. I'd have sworn Xander recognized him right off,* Jim thought.

But the other young man nodded, and Xander visibly relaxed. "Jim, this is Angel. Angel, Jim Ellison. Giles is upstairs."

"Thanks."

As he started to turn Xander said quickly, "Buffy was here, but she left a little while ago."

Angel stopped and turned back. There was an unreadable expression in his eyes, but his voice was cool. "Thanks for telling me, Harris. By the way, Cordelia sends her regards." He left, disappearing into the clutter and shadows.

*There's some sort of history here,* Jim thought. Aloud he said, "Long lost friend?"

"Not exactly." *Shit, I forgot how hot he was. Thank God it wasn't Angelus. But what the hell is he doing back in Sunnydale?* "C'mon, Big Guy. Blair will be waiting."

Jim thought about how silently Angel moved, and decided that he it might be a good idea to hurry.

Part 11

The still utterly baffled freshman had given up for the evening, surrendering the work station to Giles. He had taken the seat before the computer and was tapping the keys busily. "Now, then, what time periods did you say you've covered so far?"

"I'm taking it slow. I did the pre-historic up to the classic era. Lots of snickers when I discussed the Greek take on older man/younger man relations and nude exercise, lots of whistles when I covered Roman orgies. Groans when I told them that they weren't as prevalent as most people think these days. I'm ready to move on to the middle ages, possibly the Renaissance if there isn't a lot of material for that."

"Well, you'll want to cover courtly love, and the class distinctions in chivalry."

Blair nodded. "Noble lady--protect to the death. Peasant wench--fair game."

"A concept that had a depressingly long survival."

They both looked up at the comment. Blair did a fast mental lip licking. *Ooo, boy! A leather jacket--and what's inside it is nice, too.* He had his hand on Giles's shoulder, and the muscles under his palm were suddenly tense.

"Angel?," Giles said quietly. Blair looked at Giles sharply. There had been a lift at the end of that word, making it a question. Blair noticed that the librarian's hand had left the keyboard, creeping toward his jacket pocket.

The dark-eyed young man smiled slightly, lifting his hands in a palms out 'no harm meant' gesture. "Hi, Giles. You're looking good."

"Thank you." There was a pause. Blair looked from one to the other, then squeezed Giles's shoulder. "Oh, where are my manners? Blair, this is an old friend--Angel. Angel, Blair Sandburg. He's a new member of the Sunnydale PD, and he's giving a series of lectures on campus."

They shook hands. Angel said, "Modern police procedures? Forensics? The policeman is your friend?"

Blair smiled. "Sex through the ages. I was an anthropologist before I joined the force." *Geez, his hand is cool, like Spike's. Is there something locally that screws up the circulation?* "So, Angel... Just Angel?" The other man nodded. "Just Oz. Just Spike. Is this a local tendency--just one name?"

Angel was giving him an amused look, but whatever he might have replied was lost when Jim and Xander came around the corner from the elevators. He noticed Giles zeroing in on Xander, and the teenager gave him the 'thumbs up' sign. Giles relaxed even more.

Blair also noticed that Jim was in 'detect' mode. He was giving Angel the laser going over, his nostrils flaring slightly as he sifted through the various scents that surrounded him, searching for the ones peculiar Angel.

Jim easily screened out the scents of Blair and Xander-he'd been intimate enough with them to be familiar with their personal smells. It was a little more difficult to isolate the librarians scent, but as he asked Angel what brought him back to Sunnydale, he picked through the aromas. *Tea and old books-not surprising. Hmm.* But there was subtle scent that Jim had come to recognize over the past few years that seemed very at odds with the man's bland appearance. He had the distinctive odor of an Alpha male. Taking in the man's tweeds and his soft, cultured voice, Jim thought, *There's more to that one than meets the eyes.*

Finally he thought he had managed to fix on Angel's personal scents.

"I'm here on a case, Giles. You know that Sunnydale is peculiarly suited to look into the type of matters I deal with." Angel was speaking to Giles, but he was looking at Blair. Jim thought he didn't like that.

*Hair gel.* Jim looked sardonically at Angel's carefully coiffed hair. *Lots of it. Leather...* His head came up alertly. *Blood. But he doesn't look injured.* Jim wished that Angel would take off the long leather coat, so he could get a good look at his clothes. There were no bloodstains on the visible parts of his garments, but the coppery smell of fresh blood was faint, but unmistakable. And there was one more scent. It seemed so out of place that at first he couldn't identify it.

Angel continued. "I don't know how long I'll be in town. Giles, I was wondering if you still have that couch in the basement of The Magic Box? It would help considerably if I had a place to crash."

When Giles looked hesitant, Blair said, "Jim? We have a good sized couch. Couldn't we let him flop there for a couple of days?"

*Oh, I don't THINK so. I don't know what it is, but something about this dude is making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.* "Well..."

"That won't be necessary," Giles broke in. "Yes, Angel, you can stay at the store while you conduct your business." His eyes held a warning. "I trust you'll do your best to see that there's no fallout from your business."

"Now Giles," he said, smiling slightly, "would you expect any less from me? You know that I try never to visit my personal problems on innocent bystanders." He glanced at Jim. "It's been a pleasure meeting you." Then he looked at Blair. "I hope we have a chance to get better acquainted before I leave." With a nod, he turned and left.

Jim muttered, "I'm not all that sure I WANT to get better acquainted with him."

Blair gave him a puzzled look. "Why, Jim? He seems inoffensive. I thought he was kinda... I don't know-intriguing."

Giles said dryly, "He is that, and you aren't the first to think so, but your partner may have the right of it, Blair. Angel... Angel is all right-now. But there are some very dark things in his past, and sometimes the past revisits us. It would be safer if you didn't pursue a friendship with him."

Blair noticed Xander's slight nod, and frowned mentally. *Is there something I'm not picking up on? Oh, well, he makes Jim feel hinky, so I guess he's out as a bed possibility.* Blair glanced at Xander and Giles. *Not that I'm feeling deprived.*

"We ought to go, too," Jim said. "Morning comes awful early these days."

"Right. Can we give you a lift, Xander?" Blair asked.

"Yeah, thanks. I came with Willow and Tara. I was gonna get Giles to drive me home, but this way I don't have to wait and he doesn't have to go out of his way." The three men strolled out toward the truck. As they got in Blair said, "So, Xander, tell me a little more about your friend."

Xander shifted uneasily. "He's not exactly my friend."

Blair looked at him curiously. "I didn't exactly get the 'enemy' vibe from him."

"Not exactly an enemy, either. At least, not now. It's more of a guarded truce type thing. Well, let's see... What can I tell you about Angel? Um, he's from Ireland, originally."

"Really?" Jim spoke up. "I didn't hear an accent."

"He hasn't lived there in a long, long..." he paused, "LONG time. He's older than he looks," he explained. "He's been a lot of places. Right now he's living in L.A., running a sort of detective agency/aid station."

"What does he do?" Blair asked.

"Whatever is necessary." Xander shrugged. "People come to him with unique problems, and he solves them. He's teamed with a couple of others, other ex-Sunnydales. There's Wesley--he's sort of a colleague of Giles, and there's Cordelia." He made a face. "Ex-girlfriend."

"Uh-huh." Jim nodded. "You sure that isn't what keeps this a truce instead of a peace."

"No, I can safely say that there are bigger and badder issues involved here, but I'm not going into them right now."

There was silence for a moment, then Jim said casually, "I thought that he must work in a hospital,
or maybe a mortuary."

Xander stared at him. "Interesting choice of career possibilities. What suggested those to you?"

Jim glanced at Blair, then said, "I have a very well developed sense of smell, and I caught a whiff of what I've come to associate with death. Or rather with decay, not fresh death."

Xander stared at him. "You sure, man? Cologne I could easily believe, or even styling mousse with him."

Jim shook his head, "No. The aroma of something dead was there. I'm not making this up, Xander."

"He's not," Blair assured him. "I've seen evidence of his scenting abilities before."

"I didn't say I didn't believe you. Hell, you live in Sunnydale all your life and your threshold of disbelief is set REAL low, believe me. But maybe there was, like, a dead mouse or something around."

"It's possible, I suppose, but I don't think so. And I've noticed that I run into that scent a good deal around here, in places where it shouldn't be. I caught a trace of it at The Bronze, but I ignored it. Then I got it again the other night when we saw that suspicious activity out by the park." *Let's see how you react to that, Xander.*

"Suspicious?" Xander asked nonchalantly.

"Odd as hell," Blair contributed. "We thought we'd stumbled onto a robbery or mugging, but the bum laid out on the ground was all right, just drunk. The only thing strange about the situation was the bag of stuff we found nearby." He wrinkled his nose. "It was like someone had cleaned out a crematorium, then stuffed a very bad pastel formal suit in with it."

"Weird, but to the best of my knowledge not illegal," Xander said.

"Still, I think that the two guys we saw running away had to be up to SOMETHING not kosher," Blair stated. "Otherwise why would they have jetted?"

"I told you, you need to be kinda wary out here at night."

"Then what were you doing there after dark, Xander?" Jim asked.

Xander stared at him blankly, thinking, *Shitshitshit. He DID see me. What do you do now, Harris? I don't wanna lie to the guys, but they'll think I'm nuts.* Finally he said, "Okay, it was me. But I had a good reason to be there."

"And that would be?"

Xander studied them again, then said slowly, "Nothing illegal, or even unethical. Look, guys, I WANT to tell you. In fact, I think I SHOULD tell you, but I'm not the only one involved in this. Other people need to be consulted before I lay out the situation to outsiders.

"Are you in trouble, Xander?" Jim asked quietly.

"Not me personally."

"If it's a gang, I've dealt with them before.

"Mmm, and it's not exactly a gang--they're not that organized. Look, give me a little while to talk to the others and see what they say. I should be able to give you an answer tomorrow."

"Fair enough," Jim agreed. "But I warn you--if you decide not to talk, I WILL still look into it. I've been having odd feelings ever since we came here, and I'd like an explanation."

"Besides," Blair put one arm around Jim's shoulders and the other around Xander. "We are both as curious as a clowder of cats."

At the apartment complex, Blair rubbed Xander's back as they got out of the car. "Care to come over for a while?"

Xander bit his lip. "Tempting, but like I said, I have people to talk to, and I ought to get started right now, so I'll take a rain check." He waved goodnight and started for his battered car as Jim and Blair made their way to their apartment.

Once inside, Blair said, "What do you think?"

"He was nervous, but not afraid. I think it's probably like he said--nothing really illegal. But from the way he talks about it and the secrecy, I'd say it's probably dangerous. I haven't a clue as to what it could be."

Blair frowned in thought. "If they weren't out there to attack anyone, could it be the opposite? You know what a sky-high violent crime rate they have here. Maybe he's part of a neighborhood patrol."

"If that was all it is, why not just tell us? No, if it's anything like that, I'm afraid it might be a vigilante group, and we can't have that."

"Don't spring to judgment, man. Let's just wait and see what he tells us."

"If he tells us anything, and I hope he does. I hate using my senses to snoop on someone I like. I feel like such a prying bastard."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Xander sat across from Giles at the older man's kitchen table. He took a sip of beer and said, "So he knows something is up, he just hasn't figured out WHAT yet. What do you think?"

Giles shook his head. "It's an awful risk, Xander. Even if they don't just think you're insane... WE'RE insane, if they aren't prepared to deal with what Sunnydale actually IS, then the knowledge could endanger them."

"Yeah, but I get the feeling that they could be a real asset if they can handle it."

Giles thought for a moment, then said slowly, "I'm a bit surprised to find that I'm in favor of it. I'll want to run this by the others. Let me give them a call. If there are no objections that can't be answered, then bring them here tomorrow evening. It would be best if we were all present. Perhaps when they see how many of us are involved they'll be less likely to believe this is a cult."

"Cults are generally more financially successful." They both looked up, startled, to find Angel standing in the doorway.

"Damn, man, don't DO that!" Xander snapped. "I HATE that 'silent as a ghost' shit!"

"Sorry, next time I'll stomp. So, you're going to be trusting those two with the real nature of Sunnydale? You aren't afraid they'll call in the National Guard? Or perhaps the World Weekly News?"

"No. I think they're going to listen, and then I think they're going to believe."

"Somehow I never pictured you as Pollyanna, Xander. Well, I wish you luck. I think I'll turn in early." Angel left.

Xander looked at Giles. "I know he's ensouled and all that, but I just don't feel comfortable with having him back, especially having him here, this close to you."

"Thank you, Xander, but don't worry. I have my bedroom so protected that a vampire shouldn't be able to get within ten feet of it." He gazed at the door Angel had just disappeared through. "I do wish I knew, though, why he's here. I seriously doubt that it's to renew old acquaintances."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Angel, just out of sight at the head of the stairs leading down to The Magic Shop, heard the last exchange, then went downstairs. He spend a little while prowling the shop, looking at the merchandise. Most of it was simple stuff, very little actual power involved. Giles must keep the REAL articles locked away. Sensible. You didn't want someone window shopping to get their hands on something that might vaporize them.

Finally he went to the fridge behind the counter on the off chance that Giles had a bag or two of blood stored there in case Spike wanted a snack. Bottled water, a half eaten sandwich wrapped in clingwrap, a Snickers candybar... Angel smiled. *Probably Xander's. The boy has a sweet tooth. I do, too,* he glanced up at the ceiling, and a rather nasty smirk curled his lips. *Of course, I like a DIFFERENT kind of sweet, and little Xander would do me just fine.*

There WAS a bag in the freezer compartment, but it didn't hold blood. Angel took it out and examined it, curious. It looked like it was some sort of cloth. He opened the baggie and pulled out the cloth. It felt stiff. Something had frozen on it, but what? It was something white, because there were no visible stains. He held it up and sniffed.

*That smells familiar.* He sniffed again. *Familiar, but not quite right. It's the cold. Let's see, imagine it warm.* He sniffed. *Mm, not just warm, almost steamy.* Another deep whiff, the cloth almost touching his nose, and he suddenly grinned. *Oh, ho! What have you been up to, Giles? Is this just yours? No, I don't think so. There'd be no reason to save it. In fact, in your profession it could be downright dangerous. Another magik user could get hold of it and do all KINDS of nasty things.*

He laughed softly, putting the handkerchief back in the bag and tucking it away in the freezer. As he descended to the basement he was still chuckling. *So I'll just have to try and decide what nasty thing I'm going to do with it.*

Alone in the dark, the vampire's face shifted slightly, the demon inside briefly showing itself. Angel... or more properly this time Angelus, settled down on the couch, happily contemplating the cat and mouse games that had already begun.

Part 12
Breaking the Silence

The Scooby Gang started arriving at the Magic Box just before Giles closed it up for the evening. Willow and Tara arrived together, as usual. Oz came by just after them, and Giles was gratified to see that things seemed to have smoothed out between the three. Oz had been a little disgruntled when he'd returned to Sunnydale and found that his ex-girlfriend was in a serious, committed relationship with another girl. But in Giles' opinion, the boy showed remarkable maturity for someone his age. He didn't make a single remark about 'well, THAT explains why we didn't work out.'

Xander and Buffy arrived together, Xander letting himself in with the key Gules had given him when he started helping on the weekend. The other members of the group heard them coming up the stairs, mostly because of Buffy. She had apparently learned WHY they were meeting, and was in the process of stating her opinion early and often.

"I can't believe you're even suggesting this, Xander. Of all the pea brained schemes you've come up with, this has to be the prize winner." As they entered the room she continued, "I can't believe that anyone half a brain would even consider it."

Giles said dryly, "Perhaps people with half a brain WOULDN'T, but I, having a full and fully functioning brain, happen to think it's a excellent idea."

Buffy blushed, but continued, "Look, Giles, this place is hectic enough without risking..."

"If you don't mind, I'd prefer to wait discussion until the full compliment of this company has arrived."

Buffy, Willow, and Oz looked around curiously. Oz said, "If everyone will forgive me for this statement, I'll bite. Whom are we waiting on?"

Giles said, "Well, actually, it's more of a member emeritus, but since he's here, I thought it would be politic to include him."

"Particularly since he would crash the party anyway." Angel stood in the doorway. "Hello, everybody. Read any good runes lately?"

Buffy had stiffened. "What's HE doing here?"

"Wondering if you're really rude enough to talk ABOUT me instead of TO me. Hello, Buffy." He nodded to the others. "Willow, Oz." He cocked his head toward Tara. "And friend?"

Willow put her arm around Tara. "Tara."

Angel's eyebrows rose. "Ah. Witch-in-arms?"

Tara gave him a friendly smile, and embraced Willow briefly. "Witch in her arms. No need to introduce him, anyone. It would be hard to NOT recognize you, Angel."

"Now that the Miss Manners bit is over with, can we get down to why we're here?" asked Xander.

"Not yet, Xander. We're still waiting for..."

"Start the party, ducks. The life of is here." Spike sauntered in, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his jeans. He nodded at Spike. "Hullo, Broody."

"Spike. You're looking good."

"Course I am, mate." He turned cool eyes on Giles. "Now, what was it that required my presence on the one night I have to meself?"

Giles nodded at Xander. "Xander, since you've had the greatest contact, I think you should explain the situation."

"Okay. By now you've all met the two police officers on loan from Cascade--Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg."

Buffy frowned. "You mean that those two hotties are COPS? Ew."

Xander, Willow, and Tara gave her disapproving looks. "Just because a good bit of our former police force were trying to open the Hellmouth and unleash Hell on Earth doesn't mean that all lawmen are nasty, Buffy," scolded Willow. "I talked with Blair before, and he seems like a really nice guy."

Oz nodded agreement. "Very nice." Spike smirked.

"I agree, but the whole point of it is that they know something not quite kosher is going on in Sunnydale, and they know I'm involved in it. They asked me about it instead of just hauling my butt in and sticking me under a bright light and grilling my ass. I'm of the opinion that if we DON'T bring them in they'll either figure it out on their own and be pissed with us for not trusting them, or get killed. Personally, I'd rather not see them get killed. I'm rather fond of them."

Buffy scowled. "The last thing we need are some amateurs hanging around, distracting us and needing to be protected."

"Listen, Buff," Xander retorted, "I think that both of them are a hell of a lot more on the ball than I was when I started helping you kick demonic butt, and..." he trailed off. "That didn't come out right, but you know what I mean. What do the rest of you say?"

Willow said, "I'm for it. I mean, things are so strange around here that it doesn't take much to increase your risk factor, so we won't be endangering them all that much. And besides, they could prove an asset. Blair is an anthropologist, so he may have some insights on ancient mystic beliefs. If nothing else, he should be a real help in the research department. And Jim..." She shrugged. "He's got muscle, and he looks like he knows how to use it." She wondered about the rather dreamy smile that flitted across Xander's face.

Giles looked at Tara. "Tara?"

She shrugged. "I trust Willow's instincts."

Spike spoke up. "I'm for it. The long haired lad was around when there was a bit of an incident." He made a face. "The game face slips in a bit unexpectedly some times. He didn't see much, but it would have been enough to send some blokes running for the hills. He doesn't spook easily."

Giles looked at Angel. "Angel?"

Angel started to speak, but Buffy broke in. "I don't think he should have any say in this. He isn't really a part of the group anymore--if he ever truly was."

"Cold, Buff," Angel said calmly. "I don't exactly disagree with you, but it's still cold. Anyway, I vote for them. Greater numbers are very seldom a bad thing."

Giles stared at Buffy's belligerent expression and sighed. "Do I even need to ask your vote, Buffy?"

"I say no. We don't know these people, we don't know if we can trust them. What if we explain things and they take off to the government or something. The last thing we need is guys in uniforms running all over the place."

There was silence. Finally Giles said, "Oh, all right, if no one else will say it, I will. Initiative." Buffy winced. "In any case, we have a majority vote. Xander, please call your friends and ask if it would be convenient for them to drop by."

"Right."

**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

Jim hung up the phone. "Get your jacket, Einstein. We have a date at the Magic Box."

Blair shrugged into his jacket. "I had a date at the Magic Box. It was fuuuuun."

On the way over, he studied a sheet of paper. "Hopefully they're going to tell us exactly our neighbor and a contestant as yet to be named were trotting through the park with a bag of what appears to be crematorium sweepings."

Jim glanced both ways at a stop sign. "I guess we should have been made suspicious by the prom suit."

"Why? If they cremated him, it would have gone up in a poof of smoke. I mean, not even polyester can survive cremation. And if he was buried in it, where does the cremation come in. No, I still haven't figured out how that monstrosity fits in."

Jim pulled up in front of the store. "He, don't dis the suit. It was the height of fashion back when I was in high school."

Blair shook his head. "Gawd, TELL me you didn't wear one of those."

Jim rapped on the door. "Mine was more subdued. Navy blue and sapphire. It brought out my eyes, or so my prom date said."

"I can't believe you wore polyester."

"It got me laid." Someone was coming through the gloom of the interior.

"You dog. Losing your virginity on prom night. How clichéd."

Jim arched an eyebrow. "Who said anything about virginity?"

"Was she good?"

"HE was excellent. I haven't been able to looked at a school janitor the same way since."

The door opened and Xander waved him in. "Hi, guys. Thank you for your prompt and courteous response. Everyone is upstairs." He relocked the door and began to lead them toward the back stairs. "Buffy was a little resistant to the idea, but I was expecting that. We all have our trust issues around here, but Buff is a special case."

The small living room was crowded. Xander made quick introductions to everyone who hadn't yet met then sat down. "Giles, I guess you ought to do the honors."

Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, well... Xander has mentioned that you two noticed him when he was conducting a bit of business the other night." Buffy tossed her hair angrily, glaring at Xander accusingly. Blair and Jim both found themselves glaring back, feeling protective. Giles sighed. "Perhaps I should start with a broad overview rather than specifics." He cleared his throat again. "Gentlemen, we are living at the entrance to Hell."

There was silence. Everyone was watching the two police officers expectantly. Jim and Blair exchanged glances. Finally Blair said, "Okay, granted that there's a dearth of good delivery restaurants and it's almost impossible to get a hot new release video on the weekend, I still wouldn't say it was all that bad."

"We're not joking, dude," said Xander. "It's called the Hellmouth, and it is a real value killer to real-estate. It's sort of a creepiness magnet. It attracts all sorts of colorful and interesting creatures, ones that are never featured on Wild Kingdom or the Crocodile Hunter."

"As usual, Xander states things in a bit more flippancy than I would, but he's correct. We're talking about the creatures that are popular to most folk lore, such as vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and succubae."

Willow piped up, "But we're also talking about a wide assortment beings that are so arcane that they've scarcely been noticed by humankind, but have preyed on them through the ages. We also get interdimensional drop ins from time to time."

Tara nodded. "Those are the tough ones. Boy, it's hard to figure out how to kill something without reference material."

Jim said mildly, "I usually find my service revolver to be pretty efficient. Giles, do you have a dog?"

"Holy non sequitur, Batman," murmured Xander.

"No, I don't keep pets," Giles answered. "I'm afraid they are targets for the type of creature we deal with."

Oz nodded. "Yep. Any pet in a horror movie that isn't needed to save the day at the end usually snuffs it."

"Do any of you have a dog?" Jim continued. His nostrils flared briefly. "A BIG dog, possibly a wolf hybrid? Buffy, why are you looking at Oz?"

She blinked rapidly. "He... uh... New earring, Oz?"

"Okay, no dogs. Giles, don't think I'm crazy, but do you have a dead body around here?"

Silence again, and more significant looks. Finally Giles said, "Not... as such. Why do you ask?"

"Because ever since I've come to Cascade I've been running into those two smells--doggy-wolf and dead, and it's particularly thick here tonight."

Xander deadpanned, "Told ya you should have changed the plug-ins, Giles."

Oz said, "Okay, I'll go first." He stood up. "Hi. My name is Oz, and I'm a lycanthrope." He looked at Blair. "Sorta explains my preference for doggie style, doesn't it?"

"My spirit guide is a wolf," said Blair.

"Are you trying to humor us, or are you serious?" asked Willow.

"A little of both, I guess. I really do have a spirit guide. I'm a shaman. Well, a rookie shaman, but I'm working on it."

"Really?" Giles looked interested. "Another magic user could be a great benefit."

"Whoa. I haven't reached the casting spells stage."

"Would you like to?"

Blair stared at him. "You're serious." He looked at Jim. "He's serious. I'm thinking that they're all serious."

"Crazies can be serious, too, Chief," Jim answered.

Giles explained briefly about Watchers and Slayers. Blair gave Buffy a sympathetic look. "And I thought MY youth was dysfunctional."

"I'll need a little more than an interesting story and someone claiming to be a werewolf to be convinced," said Jim.

"Fair enough," said Giles. "One moment." He left the room, and returned a moment later carrying a small mirror, which he handed to Jim. "Jim, would you please turn your back and scan the room with this?"

Jim turned his back to the room, lifted the mirror, and examined the room's reflection, tilting it to pan the entire area. He made one sweep, then paused, frowning, and did it again. He slowly lowered the mirror and said softly, "Chief, get behind me."

Blair didn't hesitate to obey. When Jim used that tone of voice some serious shit was about to go down. "What is it, Big Guy?" Jim turned back and advanced a few steps toward Spike and Angel, concentrating. Then his eyes went wide and he backed up just as slowly. "Jim?"

"No reflection. No heartbeat," Jim said hoarsely. "None. And they're not breathing."

Spike smirked. "I try to remember, since it makes you lot more comfortable, but it's a bleedin' nuisance."

Blair snatched the mirror and repeated Jim's actions. When he turned back to the group, his face was pale, but calm. "I don't know why I'm surprised. Vampire and shape shifter legends are almost universal, right behind creation stories."

"They're taking this very well," commented Angel. He looked at Giles, "Don't you think they're taking this well? I mean, they're both police. I'd have expected Ellison there to have drawn down on us by now."

"If your intentions were immediately hostile, I don't think we'd have made it far past the truck," Jim answered.

"I can explain why we take this sort of news better than your average tourist," said Blair. "Why doesn't everyone have a seat and I'll give you the Reader's Digest condensed version of Sentinels and Guides." He explained quickly.

Buffy eyed Jim. "So you're, like, some sort of freak?"

Blair's voice was cold. "No more than you, Miss Kicker of Supernatural Ass."

"What worries me about this," Jim said, "is that I'm not going to have the usual information to work on," he indicated Spike and Angel, "from you two. When I'm not sure of someone I can tell a lot from listening to heart and breathing rates, and scenting changes in hormones, like adrenaline."

"You don't have to worry about Spike," Xander assured him, ignoring the vampire's silent snarl. "He's basically fangless. That chip the Initiative put in his skull keeps him from harming humans."

"Okay, that smacks upsettingly of fascism," said Blair. "And how's he supposed to protect himself from hostile humans?"

"He isn't supposed to," explained Buffy. "He's a vampire." Everyone stared at her. "Don't look at me--it wasn't my idea."

"Don't worry about me, pet," Spike assured Blair. "There aren't too many of you bleedin' mortals I'd break a sweat over--given that I could still sweat."

"What about him?" Jim indicated Angel.

"He can speak for himself, thank you," said Angel dryly. "And I have my soul. You'd be surprised at what a difference in attitude that can make, especially for someone who's already been to Hell."

Blair blinked. "Okay, I'll want to hear about that later."

"No, you don't," said Xander. "Trust me."

Angel smiled at the tall brunette boy. "How would you know, Harris? I never had a chance to discuss it with you." He spoke to Blair and Jim. "You'll have to take his attitude toward me with a grain of salt. Xander's past experiences with vampires tends to color his opinions."

"Almost being chomped, drained of blood, and turned into a possessed undead creature of evil will do that to a person."

"Just out of curiosity, are all those cross, garlic, sunlight, moving water, stakes, beheading things true?" asked Blair.

"All but the belief that we can't cross moving water. I'd still be stuck in Ireland if that was true," said Angel.

"Okay," said Jim. "Let's say that we believe in vampires, werewolves, ghosties and ghoulies and long leggity beasties, and you folks believe in Sentinels and Guides. Now what?"

"All we ask is that you don't interfere with our patrols or demon control activities. We would be happy, however, to have you join in our efforts."

Jim crossed his arms, tapping his fingers on his elbows. He said slowly, "All these creatures and beings that you're eliminating--there's no doubt that they're a danger to the citizens?"

"They're a danger to anything mortal," Giles assured him. "I promise you, Detective Ellison, that we do not wipe out creatures because they might, perhaps, possibly become something of a hazard somewhere down the line."

"Excuse us a second." Jim and Blair put their heads close together and whispered, but it didn't take long. Finally Jim said, "We won't do anything to hinder you, and we'll take extra care and be on the look-out. We'll even help you with your patrols." He shrugged. "Neighborhood patrols are usually a good thing. But we can't take any actions that wouldn't be sanctioned by the law. We're officers--we have to follow the book, or we won't be ALLOWED to do our jobs."

"Fair enough," said Giles.

The others expressed agreement. "Just not having to try to keep the secret will be a relief," Xander sighed.

"Is there anything particular right now that's worrying you?" Blair asked.

"No, nothing right now," Giles assured him. "We even seem to be making some headway. The local demonic population seems to be at an all time low. Things are relatively quiet."

Angel smiled, dark eyes fastened on Xander, who was trying to ignore him. "Of course, that can change at any moment."

Part 13

Blair was talking with Giles, discussing certain myths and legends that Blair was now learning were more along the lines of history. Jim had been surrounded by Buffy, Tara, and Willow, who were questioning him about his Sentinel senses. For once Buffy was interested in Jim more for his abilities than his bod. Xander and Oz, deciding that they'd had enough of responsible conversation, were debating the similarities and differences of grunge vs. garage band rock.

Spike leaned against the wall by Angel. "Well, you're a bit of a surprise. Decided to take a holiday?"

Angel regarded him with a neutral expression. "Things were a little slow in Los Angeles, too, so I decided to come back and touch bases."

"Yeah? But I thought that your business there was a sort of spontaneous thing. You know, Cordy clutches her head, flash flash, and yer off."

"She had an intimation that there wasn't going to be any activity for a few days."

Spike frowned. "She can do that? I mean, get visions that NOTHING is going to happen, as well as when something IS going to happen?"

"Apparently so."

Spike shook his head. "That's a bitch."

"Isn't it? So, how's your love life, Spike? Last I heard you were interested in my ex." Angel tipped his head toward Buffy.

Spike winced, "I think that was a side effect of the bleedin' chip. I've recovered now. As for love," he shrugged. "Sex life is pretty good, though."

"Really? Do tell." Spike eyed Angel suspiciously. He hadn't tried to pry into his private life for a long time. Not since... "C'mon, you aren't afraid I'll try to beat your time, are you? Since you've pretty much settled here, I'm thinking that you've gotten yourself a more-or-less steady. After Dru, I think you'd shy away from another vamp, at least for a century or so, and it would most likely be someone you knew. It's not Buffy, Giles isn't into vamps, the witches strike me as a very monogamous couple, so that leaves..." He looked at Oz and Xander, then back at Spike, "Brunette, or redhead?"

"Nosy git, aren't you?"

"If I remember correctly, Harris has a bit of a prejudice where the cold blooded are concerned." He pointed at Spike. "You're getting some fuzzy nooky, aren't you?"

"Christ, crude much, Angel?"

Angel raised his hands, palms out, "Hey, I'm happy for you. Is Harris still hooked up with that ex-vengeance demon?"

"Anya buggered off some time ago. She's most likely shagging some poor unsuspecting sod to death." He shook his head. "The woman hasn't figured out that if she insists on keeping a man's balls in her pocket, he isn't likely to stay potent for long."

"So, Harris is stag again. The boy has really lousy luck with women." Angel studied the teenager. Xander happened to glance away from Oz for a moment, and caught Angel's look. He flushed a little and quickly looked back at his friend. "Wonder if he's ready to try something different to change his luck?"

Spike chuckled darkly. "You're late there, mate. Ozzy helped him get over that prejudice awhile back, and I think he's more than a little friendly with the new members of our happy little band."

"Really? Ah, well. There's something to be said for experience, I suppose." His eyes narrowed. *And I have a feeling that there still isn't all THAT much mileage on his butt.*

"So," Oz was saying, "what do you call them?"

"Hm?" Xander blinked at him.

Oz rolled his eyes. "Pay attention, man. What do you call an 'alternative band' when they've become successful? I mean, the whole thing about being 'alternative' is that they're not mainstream, right? They aren't top 40, they play grungy clubs, the fans can feel superior because THEY know about them, and the great unwashed masses do not. What do you call the alternative band that suddenly is being written up in People Magazine?"

Xander blinked again. "Rich bastards?" Oz rubbed his eyes. "C'mon, Oz--you know my salary. I bust my hump for that. I'm not going to feel too broken up over some guy who's experiencing angst because he's no longer an obscure pauper. I mean, big checks, magazine covers, and screaming, damp-pantied groupies don't seem like all that big a burden to me."

"Bitter much, Xander?"

Xander sighed. "Sorry. I'm feeling a little distracted here."

"Wow, I never would have known. What's up?"

Xander lowered his voice. "You don't find it odd that Mister Broody has just showed up out of the clear blue sky?" He frowned. "Okay--vampire, no clear blue. Midnight blue?"

"Sure, it's a little odd. But Xander--hello? Hellmouth? On the oddness scale, it's barely a blip. I know you have issues with the guy, but aren't you over reacting a bit?"

Xander patted Oz's shoulder. "We can't all do the laid back like you, Oz. Some of us are just nature's worriers. Without us, where would the insurance industry be, right?"

The group started to break up a little later. Buffy, Tara, and Willow left together. Oz, Spike, and Angel left together for The Bronze. Spike had a supply of blood there, the bags kept in the vegetable crisper of one of the refrigerators. The drawers were clearly marked TOUCH AT RISK OF LOSING YOUR FAVORITE ORGAN, INTERNAL OR EXTERNAL.

That left Jim, Blair, Giles, and Xander. Giles offered a choice of tea, soda, or brandy, and expressed very little surprise when brandy was chosen all around. As he handed Blair his glass he said, "I thought this would be the most popular option, but since this is America I felt obligated to include the carbonated beverage, and since I'm English, the tea is required."

"Hey, I'm a big tea fan, but after what I've learned tonight, I can do with a little fortification," Blair assured him, sipping the amber liquid.

"I'm gonna have to apply for a government grant to fund a study on the rate of alcoholism here in Sunnydale," muttered Xander. "Betcha we could give Skid Row a run for their money."

"I don't think I'd be surprised," Jim replied. "Considering what you have going on here, there HAVE to be a lot of people looking to alter their perception of this particular reality, rather than
deal with it."

"Speaking of reality," said Xander, slumping back on the sofa between Jim and Blair, "you guys need to start taking extra precautions, now that you're officially part of the Scoobies."

Jim grimaced. "Scoobies?"

Blair chuckled. "Well, I guess I'm Shaggy, but you're not blonde enough to be Fred, Jim. You don't have enough hair to be Daphne, so I guess that leaves you as Velma." Jim tried to smack him across Xander's body, but Blair had a lot of experience in dodging. "Hey, it could fit. I mean, you're always coming up with some plan, you're bossy..."

"While Velma wasn't the most dainty of women, she still wasn't nearly masculine enough for you to associate her with Jim." Everyone looked at Giles, who cleared his throat.

Xander said, "G Man?"

"It was late, I couldn't sleep, and there was a marathon on the Cartoon Network, Xander. Let's say no more about it. But Xander is correct. The nastier supernatural elements often seem able to focus in on our group, and you need to be prepared. Before you leave, I'll provide you with some of the basic materials needed to set up wards, and Xander can help you perform the spells when you return to your residence."

"And guys? Be real, real careful about who you ask into your apartment, 'kay?" said Xander. His voice was unusually sober, catching Jim and Blair's attention. "Yeah, I'm being serious here. Vampires can't enter without an express invitation."

"But Angel just sort of showed up at the library," observed Jim. "I know you seemed sort of startled."

"It wouldn't apply at the library," Giles explained. "That's a public building. The same would apply to such places as hotels or," he frowned, "um, homeless shelters, that sort of thing. The place has to be a private residence for the stricture to apply."

"What about, say, a frat house?" Blair asked.

Giles and Xander exchanged looks. "You know," said Giles, "I'm not sure. We haven't tested that one yet."

Xander nodded. "That's a boogery proposition. The common rooms are public, the bedrooms are private. I mean, they're RESIDENCES, considering the length of time the frat rats stay there. But ya know, it might be open to individual interpretation. You know--for some of them it's just a crash pad, others make it into a home, and why the hell are we discussing this?" He waggled his glass. "Refill?"

Jim took away the glass, handing it to Giles. "Don't think so."

"What are you--my father? If that's what you're aiming for, I have to tell you that Dad is a raging lush, and would see my getting plastered as a step in the right direction."

"I want to meet your father some day." Jim's tone was a little grim. "No, I'm not your father, but I AM you're friend. You just got through telling me how we need to be more cautious and aware of what's going on around us. So, no inviting vamps in."

"Except Spike," Xander corrected him. "Though believe me, you could probably do better in the company department."

"Why not Spike?" asked Blair, curious.

"He's chipped."

Blair bit his lip. "Granted I haven't had a look at the full package yet, Xander, but I haven't noticed
any..."

Xander waved his hand. "Not like..." He made a motion of using a hammer and chisel, then tapped the back of his head. "As in micro chipped. Pulled his fangs as far as mortals are concerned."

Blair raised his eyebrows. "How?"

Xander shrugged, saying, "Super secret government sponsored screwing around--ordinary stuff. It was an experiment to see if they could sort of tame down vamps to be used for various," he saluted, "patriotic purposes, but it crapped out. Branch closed. Spike is a one off. Actually, what they accomplished is pretty impressive, when you consider his history. Remind me to tell you sometime when your stomachs are particularly steady."

"It's that bad?" asked Jim.

"His nickname was William the Bloody."

Blair winced, remembering how vulnerable he'd allowed himself to be with the blonde vampire. "Can I hope that the 'bloody' is used in the sense of the Cockney vernacular, and just means he's an asshole?"

"He's that, too, but no--it means what bloody usually means. I hear he was pretty mild before he turned, but those demons..." He shook his head. "I get the feeling that they're all hanging around hell for centuries, waiting their turn to take over a mortal, and they spend the time thinking up fun and gruesome things to do. Spike's demon must've had a LOT of time on his hands. But nothing compared to Angelus." There was a moment of silence, while Jim and Blair looked at him expectantly. "Oh, right--Angelus. Giles, you take this one, huh? Talking about him leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

Giles settled in a nearby chair, sighing. "Angelus is Angel's demon. Angelus sired Spike, and believe me--Spike tried hard, but couldn't quite fill Daddy's footprints. Angelus was the Scourge of Europe. His violence, cruelty, and slaughter is legendary. The only reason he doesn't quite rival Vlad Tepes Draculea, the Impaler, is that he couldn't amass as many minions as Dracula had subjects. Angelus isn't just known among vampires and Watchers, or other cognizati. You can find references to him in mainstream historical accounts. Of course they didn't know what he was. They thought he was a HUMAN monster."

Jim had tensed slightly. "I knew I got strange vibes..." He hesitated. "Well, even stranger than usual for here... off him. Giles, you let him IN?"

Giles rubbed his mouth. "It's complicated, Jim." He explained about the curse, the ensoulment, Angel's search for redemption. Then he had to relate the entire saga of Buffy and Angel. Jim's attitude toward the seemingly-flighty blonde softened a little. She'd been through a lot of pain and stress in her short life. He glanced at a (for once) quiet Sandburg, and tried to imagine having to kill his love to save the world. He decided that he didn't want to think about that.

"...so he's been operating out of Los Angeles for the last year or so," Giles continued. "He has his own small cadre there--Cordelia, Wesley, Fred, Gunn, and a very nice demonic chap named Lorne." Giles shook his head. "He has the most extraordinary taste in apparel, but he's invaluable when it comes to reading auras."

"And he's here because they're having a slow period?" said Blair. "Call me crazy, but I have the feeling that, while Los Angeles couldn't rival Sunnydale, it still qualifies as a weirdness magnet that should give a demon fighter plenty of action."

Giles frowned. "Yes--I'd think that, too. Perhaps I ought to call Cordelia tomorrow." Xander made a small noise, and Giles said, "I thought you'd come to terms with your relationship with her, Xander."

"Well, if you mean she gave me my balls back before she split, yeah, I guess that qualifies."

"I believe she's changed. You can't deal with the responsibilities she does WITHOUT changing, Xander."

"Yes, of course, right, how shallow of me. Sorry, Giles. It's just that when I picture Cordie having to decide between saving the world and taking a screen test, it's hard to imagine her not having to think REAL hard."

*From the sound of his previous relationships,* Blair thought, *discovering he was bi must've been more relief than angst.*

Xander was fidgetting. "I REALLY want another drink."

Jim considered. He considered how intimate both he and Blair had become to Xander. He considered how intimate Blair had become with Giles. He considered the fact that everyone in the room was aware of everyone else's sexuality, and no one seemed to have any problems with it. He gripped the back of Xander's head, turning the surprised boy to face him, leaned over, and kissed him firmly. When he pulled back, he said, "Does that work as a nerve soother, instead of a drink?"

Xander nodded. "Tastes better, too. You know, you were right about not letting me drink any more, because I just realized that I'm drunk enough to let a guy kiss me in front of Giles, and not spaz out." He cocked his head at Giles. "And I'm curious as to why YOU aren't spazzing, Giles. I mean, I know that with you it would be a restrained and dignified spaz, but you ARE capable of them, and I'm not seeing it right now."

Giles removed his glasses and polished them. "It's happening, Xander--it's just internal. At this very moment I am mentally blithering like an idiot. I knew about Oz--the wolf is quite open about his needs, but I hadn't thought... I mean... Willow, Buffy, Cordelia, your science teacher, the mummy..." Jim and Blair exchanged looks, then shrugged. It was going to take a long time for them to catch up on the history of their new friends. "...then Anya."

"Notice anything similar about those entanglements and near misses?" Xander drawled.

"Um... Disaster?"

"Bingo." Xander snuggled against Blair, who put an arm around his shoulders. "Having a lot better luck on the other side of the street lately. Lot more fun, too." He watched Giles with half-closed eyes. "G Man, I know about Miss Calander, and I know that was real for you. But I always got the feeling that you and Ethan Rayne had something more than mutual demon summoning going on."

Giles was quiet for a moment, the laid his glasses aside on a small table. "Yes. It was during my rebellion, when I was doing everything that I knew would enrage the Council. It was supposed to be part of that defiance, but it turned into something more." He shrugged. "I set out to discover my true self, and I did--and I'm comfortable with it." He smiled faintly. "You've been a sore trial to me, Xander Harris." Xander made his eyes wide, spreading a hand on his chest in a 'who, me?' gesture. "Yes, you have. Though you'll always be just a bit of a geek, you are also what is most appropriately termed a 'hottie'."

Xander's mouth dropped open, eyes wide, and Jim smiled. "Congratulation, Giles--you've struck him speechless. I have a feeling that's as great a feat as managing the same with Sandburg."

Xander was smiling slowly. "Giles? You've had the hots for me? Never noticed anything."

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. "When I met you, you were seventeen. There was a point in my life when I wouldn't have viewed that as a problem, but that time is long past." He smiled back at the boy. "I will confess that you featured rather prominently in a few very pleasant daydreams. Um, and... night fantasies."

Xander's gaze was direct. "Do I still?"

A slight flush rose in Giles cheeks, but he said quietly, "It's never stopped. Watching you with Anya was quite a trial sometimes." He looked at Jim and Blair. "Anya is a former vengeance demon. She's a great believer in sex in it's many and varied forms, and is more forthcoming about her carnal activities than, say, Xavierra Hollander." He looked at Xander. "Have you any idea of the number of times I had to walk away from her when she wanted to discuss your previous night's activities? I wasn't quick enough once, and she detected my erection. She suggested a threesome." Xander's jaw dropped another quarter of an inch. "She just assumed that I was becoming aroused thinking about her, and I was quite happy to allow her to continue with the misconception. She never mentioned this to you?" Xander shook his head. "Well, there IS a God."

Xander's expression was interested. "So Rupert, are you saying that threesomes, or moresomes, don't interest you?" As he spoke, he settled a hand on the thigh of the men who bracketted him.

Again there was a pause, while Giles studied the other three men. Blair and Jim looked back calmly. They could see where Xander was going, and neither one had any objections. The pair found both Xander and Giles attractive, and, more importantly, they LIKED them. This had the possibility of a spectacular menage, but they were only interested in partners who were not only willing, but ENTHUSIASTIC.

Finally Giles spoke. "No, I'm not saying that. I'm open to, shall we say, group activities--at a future date." Jim and Blair relaxed. The door was open, but they wouldn't be walking through it tonight. "I'm saying that you were in love with Anya, you were obviously monogamous, and I have never considered myself a, er, home wrecker."

"Well," Xander got up and made the few steps to Giles' chair, standing before him. "The wrecking ball came down on that little house of cards a long time ago, and I'm not seventeen anymore." He moved closer, till his knee bumped Giles' thigh. He smiled down at the older man. "My apartment is seeming an awful long way off, Giles. Can I spend the night?"

Giles looked up at him, studying his face. "You'd have to sleep in my room. I'm afraid the guest bedroom isn't made up."

Xander's smile was slow, sensual, and humorous. "Giles, we're friends." He leaned down and kissed the older man, tongue flicking out to dab at his lips. Giles' mouth opened swiftly, and there was a moment of moist, flickering activity. When Xander stood back up, it didn't take Jim's Sentinel senses to notice that the Englishman's rate of breathing had speeded up. Xander murmured, "No need to fix up the guest bed. I wouldn't dream of making you go through all
the bother."

Part Fourteen: Long Standing Lust Fulfilled

"Well, if I've ever heard an exit cue, that's it," said Jim. "C'mon, Chief." They said their good-byes and left. Giles followed them down to lock up behind them. When he came back, he paused with his hands on the rail of the staircase, gazing up.

Xander was leaning against the wall at the landing, looking down at him. He smiled, and slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. Giles started quickly up the stairs. He half expected the boy to turn and disappear into the apartment, perhaps with a teasing laugh, but he didn't. When he stood on the landing with him, Xander said, "You were expecting me to make you chase me, right?"

"It had occurred to me."

Xander slipped off his shirt. "Nah. You're not the only one who's been waiting for this." He hung the shirt over Giles face. "Don't expect sobriety, though."

Giles found he was smiling as he pulled off the shirt. "Perish the thought." He reached out and finally, finally touched the boy. He spread his hand flat on Xander's chest, just between the copper nipples. He flexed his fingers, and scratched very lightly. "I'd think you were ill if you were serious for too long."

"Well, I can be serious when I need to be." Xander kept his eyes fixed on Giles' face as he reached down. The older man closed his eyes, sighing as a firm hand cupped over his fly, squeezing. "And I think that this is in need of some serious attention, but," he leaned forward and kissed Giles, lips moving lazily against his mouth, "Giles, old friend, the rug on this landing is too damn thin for me to contemplate kneeling on it for any length of time. Which room are we in?"

"The one on the left," Giles said hoarsely.

"Okay." He turned away, then wiggled his ass. "Follow the bouncing butt."

"With the greatest of pleasure," Giles murmured as the followed Xander into the bedroom. Once they were inside, though, he stopped abruptly, putting a hand to his forehead. "Oh, God."

Xander, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked up from unlacing his boots. "If you tell me that you'll lose your soul if you have sex with me and become a ravening, violent psychopath, I have to tell you--I'm so horny that the trade-off isn't all that intimidating."

"No, no. It's just that I don't have any, er, prophylactics. And I'm afraid that the only thing I can think of that I have for lubrication would be butter."

"How very Last Tango In Paris. I'm not quite advanced enough in sex play to be into using foodstuffs right now, Giles. However, show me a can of Redi-Whip in about a week, and I may surprise you." He reached out and snagged Giles' belt, dragging him over to stand between his spread legs. "Any way, there are a lot more things to do than actual taxidermy."

"Excuse me--taxidermy?"

"Stuffing and mounting."

Giles started laughing. He couldn't even stop when Xander slid his hands up under Giles' shirt and found his nipples. The giggles slowed, then faded into a small moan as Xander's slightly rough fingertips caressed him, bringing his nipples to rigid attention. Xander started unbuttoning Giles' shirt from the bottom. When he had it undone halfway, he stuck his head up under it. "Xander, what are you...? Oh, that's NICE." A warm, damp tongue was circling his navel. Then it flicked into the shallow cup, making the muscles of Giles' abdomen twitch with the sensation. "Xander, are you going to..."

Xander didn't pull back, keeping his face pressed against Giles' belly, and the long, soft, "Shhhhhh," tickled. But Xander was blindly working at his belt, so Giles happily bit his lip and remained quiet. Xander opened the button, then put his palm flat against Giles' belly, fingers pointed down, and slid his hand down under the waistband. He moved down slowly, and the back of his hand pushed the zipper open as he went. This time there was only a thin layer of cotton between Xander's hand and Giles' increasingly hard prick.

Xander pulled the pants down Giles' thighs, then leaned forward and rubbed his face against the other man's crotch. Giles could feel the warm breath teasing him, and had to resist the urge to just throw Xander over on his back and climb on top of him, but he DID resist. Giles had realized, to his pleased surprise, that they weren't just having sex--he was being seduced--and he liked that idea.

The boy hooked his fingers in the stretch band of Giles' boxers and slowly worked them lower, an inch at a time. When he had them low on the Watcher's hips, with the first line of crisp, brown pubic hair showing at the top, he moved his hands around to the back, then slid them down under the boxers to cup Giles' ass. While he kneaded the firm globes, he began a leisurely tour of the area he'd exposed, nipping at the curve of the hips, and tugging with his teeth at the pubic hair.

Giles' cock continued to stiffen, and began to ooze pre-seminal fluid. Before long there was a widening damp patch on the front of his underwear. He breathed, "Xander, I'm a patient man, but if you don't get down to brass tacks, I may very well be forced to molest you."

"Eek. Well, the best defense is a good offence, so..."

In one smooth move Xander skinned down the boxers and bent and captured the head of Giles' prick in his mouth, all in one smooth motion. "Oh, bloody hell!" Giles breathed.

Xander snorted (a very odd sensation, but not entirely unpleasant), and pulled back a little. "Giles, man, if you make me laugh, this is going to be difficult."

"Xander, I can't guaranty that I won't be making noises or faces that you will find amusing. It's been awhile."

Xander grinned. "I said difficult, I didn't say impossible. You make all the noise you want, and I'll use them as auditory clues."

"Such as?"

"Well, for instance, 'suck my cock' would probably indicate that you wanted your cock sucked." Giles groaned. He lunged forward, hands on Xander's shoulders, and shoved him back onto the mattress falling on top of him. "Hey!"

"You are still semi-clothed, while I am naked, and..."

"Uh-uh. You still have your skivvies around your knees."

Giles kicked. "As I was saying, I'm naked, and you, my friend," his hands slid between their bodies, finding Xander's fly, "are vastly overdressed."

"How rude of my. Please, oh arbiter of social correctness, assist me in my compliance with the rules of being a good guest. Jerk those puppies off."

Giles bent his head, nipping at Xander's throat. "And risk that thing dreaded by all men--skin in the zipper?" There was a purring sound as the zipper was slowly drawn down, then a pop as the snap was opened. "Lift your ass."

"I would, but I'm sort of weighted down, here. I seem to have a librarian on top of me."

"Well, the librarian isn't going anywhere, but he will consent to rearrange himself." Giles shifted till he was on his knees, straddling Xander's thighs. "Now, lift." Xander obeyed, and Giles skinned the jeans down over his hips. "Oh, my."

Xander wiggled his eyebrows. "It's called 'commando'."

Giles reached down, cupping his hand over the boy's erection, squeezing gently. "Did you learn this from Riley?"

Xander chuckled. "Mister Olive Drab? Nah. But I tell ya, Giles," he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Buffy aside, I think that ol' Riley might not be entirely unfamiliar with, shall we say, non-regulation maneuvers." He thought a second. "Though I suppose some of that could be wishful thinking." He glanced down his body. "Just an observation, but if you leaned forward, some serious groin contact could be achieved."

"Like this?" Giles lowered himself, bracing his hands on either side of Xander to keep some of his weight off the boy.

Despite this considerate action, a very nice, firm contact was accomplished. Xander sighed voluptuously. "Ooo, I'd say EXACTLY like that." He reached up and grabbed Giles' ass, pulling. Giles' obligingly rocked with the motion, and their hard-ons slid together. They began moving together. Giles' humped against the boy under him in a slow, steady rhythm, and Xander pushed up to meet him. He buried his hands in Giles' hair, pulling him down for a kiss that turned into a prolonged, thorough oral exploration. The older man's breathing had speeded up considerably by the time that Xander let him pull up for air. "Talk to me, G-man."

Giles groaned. "What do you want me to do--recite the bloody Pledge of Allegiance? I'm British, Xander."

"I want you to tell me some of those nice, nasty fantasies you used to have about me."

"You're a vain little bugger, aren't you?" Xander just smiled. "Christ, just when I really need my breath. All right, then. I've lost count of the number of times I've imagined hauling you into the stacks and fucking you against a bookcase until we were both in danger of having our brains bashed out by falling tomes. Then there was that summer you helped with my lawn care, and insisted on wearing nothing but those obscene cut-offs--the ones that looked like they'd been painted on, and were so short that I was certain you weren't wearing underwear. I kept hoping you'd squat down to do something. I was sure that a ball would escape..."

Xander laughed in surprise, and now HE was sounding a little ragged. "My mom walloped me for daring to be seen in public in those. Said I'd make the whole town thing they neglected me. I said why would they think that just because I had to wear shit that was basically a size too small and ready to fall apart? She walloped me again for that, but she gave me a few bucks to buy a new pair of jeans."

"Damn the woman. I nearly cried when you showed up in those crisp new Levis." His thrusts became stronger and faster. He let his full weight rest on Xander *He's a sturdy boy, he won't mind*, and grabbed Xander's hips, pressing his ass down to the mattress.

Xander now couldn't move--he had to just lie there and experience. As Giles had expected, it drove him crazy. "Leggo, Giles! Dammit, I wanna move!"

"You were shirtless, and I thought about asking you inside to rest, for a soda, or something. I thought about how your nipples would probably pucker when the air-conditioning cooled the sweat on your skin. Then I could offer to let you use my shower, wait until you were under the spray, then strip off and join you."

Xander was staring up at him, round-eyed. "Oh, damn--that old saw about it's always the quiet ones who are wild inside is TRUE!"

Giles grunted, pushing against Xander sharply, and came. His balls drew up tight, and he spilled jets of warm come on the boy's heaving belly. The moment his ejaculation died to a dribble, Giles slid off Xander's body, down until he was kneeling between Xander's widespread, dangling legs. He bent forward and swallowed Xander's rigid prick, sucking strongly. Xander whooped and tried to sit up, but his hips were bucking helplessly, and he couldn't quite achieve the necessary co-ordination.

Sex with Cordelia and Anya had been fine, with Oz it had been really good, and with Jim and Blair it had been great, wonderful, terrific--but THIS... This was abso-fucking-lutely mind blowing. He's sort of fallen into his other sexual relations, but he'd been thinking about Giles for a long time--practically since he had first seen the cool, handsome Englishman in the Sunnydale High Library. The possibility of ever having sexual contact with him had never occurred to the teenager--Giles just seemed completely out of reach--and he'd been happy to have him as a sort-of mentor and friend. He'd told himself that was enough--that was plenty. But after tonight, he knew damn good and well he wasn't going to be able to think that any more. He wouldn't be able to be around Giles without remembering the hot, wet suction enveloping his throbbing cock, the flick of a wickedly knowledgeable tongue against his sensitive glans, and OH, DEAR GOD HE WAS -SWALLOWING-! Xander came with a howl that would have been worthy of Oz under a full moon.

Giles didn't immediately release his prize. Swallowing was a rather moot point, considering how deeply Xander's prick was in his throat when the boy came. When the warm pulse of liquid died, Giles eased the softening cock to a more shallow position, but didn't give it up. He continued to nurse and lick, enjoying the variety of flavors and textures, while Xander's gasps slowed to normal breathing. When Giles was done, Xander's once again limp prick was clean and damp.

Giles crawled back on the bed, snagging several tissues from the box on his nightstand, and wiped the cooling spunk off Xander's abdomen. The boy lay quietly, watching him. Giles tossed the soiled tissues into the wastebasket and said, "If you're anything like me, you'd rather not move, but I think we'd both like to get INTO the bed, rather than on it."

"Okay, but if my legs don't hold me, be ready to catch."

"Flatterer." Xander got up, and Giles pulled down the cover, and the sheets.

They got back in, and Xander moved up close beside him. "Mind? I've discovered that I like to snuggle after sex. Cordelia and Anya were touch-me-nots in bed if there wasn't actual sex involved, and Oz... That dude has some SERIOUSLY sharp toenails, even when he isn't moving into his phase."

"I don't mind at all." Giles pulled Xander into his arms, settling the boy's head on his shoulder. Giles hadn't been close to that many people in his life--the Council did not encourage intimate relations--and he'd found that he craved intimacy on all it's many levels--both emotional, and physical. With Xander he could have the latter, and who knew? Perhaps the former, as well.

*****

Angelus stood staring at the door, listening to the soft murmur of voices, then turned and moved silently back down the hall. Sex was apparently over for the night, and he had no interest in listening to pillow talk in the afterglow. It might have provided him with information that would be useful later, but he already had plenty of emotional blackmail material, and besides--the main reason he'd come upstairs had been to be amused, and he'd certainly accomplished that.

He concentrated on getting down to the ground floor noislessly, but once he was there he was fairly confident that he wouldn't be detected by the sex sated pair upstairs. He paused, gazing back up the staircase, and reached down to give the bulge in his fly a thoughtful squeeze. He'd always been sure that Harris could be a hot little slut, given the right incentive, but he had to admit that the Watcher had rather surprised him. *I think that Ripper is a little closer to the surface than Giles would like to believe,* he thought, amused. *Harris would certainly be his meat.* Angelus smiled, teeth glinting in the dim streetlight that filtered through the shop's windows. *Mine, too.*

The temptation to go back, kick in the door, break the Watcher's back, and then rape the boy right beside him on the bed was strong. Wouldn't that be rich? It was obvious from what he'd heard that Giles was at least half in love with Xander already, and violating and torturing a loved one in front of a victim afforded such a variety of pleasures.

He shook his head. No, not tonight--but he'd keep it in mind. He was enjoying the cat-and-mouse game far too much to end it prematurely. But that reminded him--if he wanted a little more time, precautions had to be taken.

He rummaged in the office supplies and located a tube of Superglue. He'd managed to slip away undetected earlier in the evening, and had sabotaged the upstairs telephone by removing the plastic casing from the wall plug-in and ripping up the wires before replacing it. The phone wouldn't work, but there was no obvious reason why. Now, humming to himself, he unplugged the jack from the back of the phone. He squirted a dab of glue into the socket, then plugged the jack back in and held it a moment. He depressed the clip, and tugged experimentally. It stayed stuck firm. He lifted the receiver and listened. No dial tone. Nodding in satisfaction, he hung up and put away the glue. That took care of here.

He'd probably have to cut the wires at the pole at Buffy's but that wasn't really a problem. Neither was Oz, since he didn't HAVE a telephone. As for Spike--he seriously doubted that anyone would bother to notify his childe of anything out of the ordinary. Spike still wasn't fully accepted as 'one of them'. Pity for the Scoobies--Spike was the one person outside the Slayer herself that Angelus considered a real obstacle.

He debated whether or not he should bother with the witches, but decided against it. He knew that they kept an unlisted number, and he'd been very careful to destroy all records of it before he'd left Los Angelas. Cordelia was the only one who might have it memorized. He chuckled nastily. *And SHE isn't going to be in any shape to do anything about it for a long time.* He sauntered down to the basement, anticipating a nice, leisurely session of jerking off while he considered the vast range of opportuinities laid out before him.

Part Fifteen: Meanwhile, Back in LA

"Mister Price."

The voice was distant. Wesley wondered why voices in a dream always seemed faint or muted.

"Mister Price, if you can hear me, try to respond. We're very worried about you."

*Are they? Really, that's odd. No one's been worried about me for a very long time. Well, except in a rather annoyed way...*

"Mister Price?"

"Whydhan-Price."

"Doctor, he's conscious!"

There was another voice. "Can you open your eyes?"

Wesley noticed how faint and rough his own voice was. "I'd rather not."

There was a pause, then the doctor spoke again, a tinge of reluctant amusement in his voice. "Please try, or I'll have to peel your eyelids up to check your pupil response."

Wesley managed to slit his eyes open, then immediately shut them again. "It's bloody bright in here."

"Nurse, turn off the overhead." There was a click. "Try now."

This time the room was dimly lit, and Wesley was able to pry his eyes open and keep them open. There was a man in a lab coat standing over him, and he leaned over, holding a penlight. Wesley glanced around, noting that he was, indeed, in a hospital room. "Mister Price..." Wesley started to speak, and the doctor said, "Wyndham-Price, please, look straight up." Wesley obliged, and the doctor flicked the light back and forth across his eyes. "Well, thank goodness they're even and responsive. How do you feel?"

"Quite frankly, like shit."

"I'm not surprised. You've been rather badly beaten. There are some police who want to speak to you."

"What am I supposed to have done?"

The doctor regarded him in surprise. "They want to find out who did this to you, and your friends."

Wesley sat up suddenly. It was as if a bolt of lightening had struck him. He clutched at his head, crying out softly. The doctor gripped his shoulders, easing him back onto the bed. "Please! You need to be careful sitting up, and on no account are you to try to stand without help. You have a concussion, and two broken ribs."

"I'm surprised. I would have thought he'd have done more than that."

"Then you DO know who did it."

Wesley rested back on the pillows. His eyes were enigmatic as he gazed at the doctor. "How are Cordelia and Doyle?"

The doctor heard the dread in his voice. "You don't know?"

The doctor was a little surprised at the snarl in the patient's voice, "Don't play games with me! They were both battered but alive, the last I remember. I know damn good and well that them might be dead, or just as bad, so don't try to spare me anything. Give me the truth."

The doctor took a deep breath. "They're alive. The young lady is still unconscious, I'm afraid, but I think she'll pull out of it. Her brain waves and her vital signs are good and strong. Given your state, and that of the other man, the police were rather surprised that she didn't have any other visible injuries."

"That's because Doyle was knocked unconscious when he tried to protect her. He didn't see any point in beating her any more since Doyle wasn't awake to see her suffer. What about Doyle?"

"Lots of bruises, and a nasty bite mark. He had regained consciousness when the paramedics arrived. He'd lost quite a bit of blood, but he's out of danger. He'll be all right physically, but..." He trailed off.

"But?"

"I'm worried about his mental state. He's had several... episodes."

"Don't worry about those. It's just something that happens to him."

The doctor stared. "Is there some sort of medication we should get for him?"

"He wouldn't turn down a good, stiff whiskey, and neither would I, for that matter. I need to see him."

"Oh, that won't be possible for awhile. I'm afraid that he's been taken to the psych ward for observation. He was talking about vampires, demons, and out-of-body experiences."

"Christ. He must be suffering." Wesley muttered to himself. "Damn Powers That Be. You'd think they'd give the poor git a little respite. It isn't as if he can do anything right now."

"Excuse me, but are you familiar with these hallucinations?"

"Not as much as I might be, thank God." Wesley gave the doctor a hard look. "Please get that speculative look out of your eyes, doctor. While I am consummately fucked up in my own way, I'm not a danger to myself, or to..." he paused, "society in general. I need a telephone."

"If you'll give me the number, I'll call..."

"No, thank you. My finer motor skills may not be up to par, but I'll manage." He took the phone, then gave the doctor, and the nurse who'd been hovering nearby, a hard look. "Thank you."

"I'll tell the police that they can see you tomorrow."

Wesley hummed non-commitally as they left. Then he quickly tapped in the number for Carita's. A bright, cheerful voice answered. "I'm sure you're a sweetheart, but your timing stinks. We open at..."

"Lorne, it's Wesley."

"Well, one of my favorite English exports, right up there with Rupert Everet! What can I..."

"Lorne, please!"

The voice was instantly sober. "What is it, Wes? You aren't even singing, and I can still hear the trouble."

"We made dreadful cock-up, Lorne. Doyle tried to tell us how dangerous it was, but Angel and I didn't think there was time for any more precautions." He closed his eyes. "Oh, God. We've fucked things up worse than that bint Pandora."

"Tell me, Wes."

"Doyle had one of his visions--a BAD one. I've never seen anyone in that much pain who wasn't losing massive amounts of blood. He was barely coherent, and he thought he was blind for a couple of moments. Have you ever heard of Die Grausigkeit?"

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Lorne said quietly, "Wes, The Terror is what the more vicious demons use to scare their demonettes when they're bad. But I thought that the last of them had been stuffed back into their own grubby little dimension, and safely sealed there."

"That's what we thought, too. But Doyle got a vision that they were about to breach the seal--but we had less than an hour's notice, and the breach was to occur at Stonehenge."

"Oh, oo, ow. You'd need one of those sweet little port keys that that Rowlings babe invented. Boy, if those really existed, SOMEONE would be pulling down some serious loot. So tell me, why am I not currently being strangled with my own intestines? I'm not complaining, mind you, but I'm curious. There was no way anyone could make that trip in that amount of time."

"Physically."

"Ah. That would explain a lot. You sent someone over on the astral plane."

"Yes. The wrong person, it turns out. I should have gone. It would have been a simple spell to reseal the weak spot, and brace it so that we wouldn't have to worry about it in the future, but Angel..." He trailed off.

Lorne sighed. "Angel was being Angel--more guts than caution."

"Precisely. And there WAS something to the argument that he should be the one to go. If one of them managed to slip through, I suppose he WOULD have had a better chance of beating it back. He DOES have more experience in things like that. I very well might have gotten my vaporous ass kicked, but..." He sighed. "I honestly believe that what we unleashed might be able to give Die Grausigkeit a run for their money."

"Don't keep me in suspense, Wes."

"Angelus." There was a long silence. "Lorne, I said that Angelus is..."

"I heard you. Give a person a minute of stunned horror, will you? How did that happen? I thought that Angel would have to experience a moment of pure, unshadowed joy."

"So did we. None of us took into account another perfectly logical way he could gain control of Angel's body. The son of a bitch simply waited till Angel was involved over in England, then slipped into his empty, unconscious body and took over. Even then we might have been able to contain him and figure something out, but we didn't KNOW. Duplicity is in his nature, and he had us fooled for the first few moments. We erased the magic circle that would have contained him, because we simply thought that it had been an easier job than we'd expected." Wesley's voice caught. "The look on his face when the barrier came down... the SMILE. There was no doubt then, but it was too late."

Lorne hissed. "How bad is it? Tell me I'm not going to be a pall bearer."

"We're all alive--more or less. Cordie's still unconscious, and Doyle..." Wesley made a sound of exasperation. "Sod it! I didn't even ask the doctor. Lorne, what time is it?"

"It's just after eleven."

"AM or PM?"

"That's about twelve hours, and Angelus wouldn't have been able to be out and about for at least half of that. Of course, knowing the damage he could inflict in that amount of time..."

"Wes? Kid, what day of the week that Angel took his little twilights zone jaunt?"

"Wednesday."

"Oh, dear."

"Christ, Lorne, you can put as much dread into 'oh, dear' as Giles can."

"That's because it is now Friday."

"Fuck."

"Yes, indeed."

"Look, can't that wait for a moment?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Not you, Lorne. There's a nurse here who wants to draw blood."

"Well, LET her, Jeeves. Let them do all the little tests their hearts desire. You're going to be at your best when you..."

"OW!"

"Well, some have the technique, some don't."

"I've got to get to Sunnydale as quickly as possible."

"You're sure that's where he'll head, what with the whole, wide world of throats

laid out before him?"

"Buffy's there, and the other Scoobies. It's the demon's first instinct to destroy anyone cared for by its host. Frankly, I'm fucking shocked that any of us are still alive. It can only mean that he was in a fucking HURRY to get to Buffy and the others. Lorne, I'd appreciate it if you could come down here, and bring me a change of clothing."

"Here's a suggestion. There's this little device called a telephone. In fact, you're using one right now. Why don't I give Giles a call and bring him up to speed on this?"

There was a pause. "All right."

Lorne blinked. "You mean that you're going to give up, just like that?"

"I'm being influenced by the fact that I'll be passing out in a moment. That wasn't a blood test, it was a bloody sedative." He raised his voice. "Don't you EVER do that to me again!"

Lorne heard a nurse's voice. "Calm down, or you can room with your friend up on psych."

"Wes, chill out. I'll burn up the wires, I promise. You just let go and rest up."

"Not like I have any say in the matter, is it?"

"Wesley, before you pass out... Sing something for me, real quick."

"Lorne..."

"Do it for the man with the horns, kiddo."

Wesley's voice was faint, as if he was falling away. " I can feel it coming in the air tonight, Oh Lord. I've been waiting for this moment, all my life, Oh Lord." Lorne closed his eyes, concentrating, letting the music bring the truth. "But I don't know if you know who I am. Well, I was there and I saw what you did, I saw it with my own two eyes..." Lorne could see it, too, the pure evil shining from a familiar/unfamiliar face. The complete, vicious delight as Angelus reached for the horror stricken Cordelia.

There was the soft sound of something landing on cloth. A woman said, "I'm sorry, sir. You'll have to call back later, but please consider waiting till tomorrow. He really DOES need his rest."

"I understand."

"I've never heard a patient singing over the phone. I love Phil Collins. Now, sir, can I have your name, and a number where the police can reach you? These patients all referenced each other to call in case of emergency, and..."

"Oops! There goes the timer on the oven. Scuse me, or I'll scorch my sugar balls, and you know how painful that can be." He hung up, concentrated for a moment, then began to dial. He knew the number for the Magic Box by heart. He frowned when he heard the shrill beeping. "That's not right." He tried again, and got exactly the same sound. *It isn't busy, and there's no recording about 'this number has been changed' or 'please hang up and try again'. It COULD mean that the lines are down. Except that we've been having weather so fine lately that it's borderline freakish.* Another possibility occurred to him. "No, no, no," he said as he dialed one more time. "The Powers That Be wouldn't do that to us." *beepbeepbeep* He hung up and stared at the ceiling. "Or would you, you devious bastards?"

He tried to think of who else he could call. He couldn't remember Buffy's number, so he tried directory assistance, and learned that the number was unlisted. *What the fuck?! She's a Slayer. Aren't they required to be available--like... I don't know--911?* He couldn't remember Willow's number, and assistance had a slew of numbers for Rosenburgs, but no Willow Rosenburg, and he had no idea what her parents' names were. Oz was out, because Oz hadn't had a phone since... Well, since forever, as far as he knew. He almost didn't get Xander's number, till he remembered to try 'Alexander'.

An answering machine picked up. //Hello, you've reached Xander. Well, really you haven't, since you're listening to a recording, but you know that already. The beep's coming up, so leave a message.//

*beep*

"Hi, Xander. You don't know me, but... Lord, that sounds like the start of a stalking, or an obscene phone call. This is neither. My name is Lorne, and I'm calling on behalf of Wesley Wyndham-Price." He hesitated. How much should he say over the phone? "Something has happened here in LA--something rather nasty. Don't panic. Wesley's not in terrific shape, but everything is still attached and functional, and he'll be there as soon as he wakes up from the drugs..." *wince* "And that sounds like he's been on a binge weekend. Lord, it's true--people trying to relay vital information DO babble. This isn't something that needs to be discussed over the phone. "We'll probably be there sometime tomorrow, but in the meantime, if Angel shows up--it very well may not be Angel, if you know what I mean--and I think you do. I can't get hold of anyone else down there, so please pass this along. Bye."

He hung up, and found that he was trembling slightly. He was also sweating, and, *Tension is so bad for the complexion. I'd better do something to keep me occupied.* He got up. *First order of business--clothes for Wesley.* He clapped a hand over his eyes. "Yes, Lorne, and how do we plan to do this, given the fact that we do not have a key to his place of residence?" He briefly considered breaking in (you could learn all kinds of interesting skills when you ran a bar), but decided that with his luck, this would be one time when the LA police would be johnny-on-the-spot. "And my own clothes would probably burst at the seams if he tried to wear them. Unless... There ARE those clothes that cousin Raynak gave me for my birthday. It isn't surprising that he got the wrong sizes, given the fact that we haven't seen each other for over a decade. And judging from the sizes he picked, Raynak figured that I was going to shoot up and out. They should just about fit.*

He went up to his room and opened the closet, reaching far into the back to pull out the clothes. He tilted his head at them. It was a nice suit--burnt orange with a forest green shirt. *A little conservative, but not bad. What else? I suppose I should bring everything.* He dug out forest green socks to match the shirt, then opened his underwear drawer and peered inside. *Oh, I don't think so. I'm sure Wesley would not appreciate having the flow of blood shut off to his privates. Well, I just couldn't force myself to wear boxers.* He shrugged. "Well, Wesley, my friend, I hope you don't have a problem with the concept of 'commando'."

Chapter Sixteen

"Well, it makes a weird sort of sense."

Jim sighed, opening his eyes to glance over at Blair. His Sentinel sight easily made out his lover's face, despite the darkness of the room. Blair was staring up at the ceiling, expression intent. "Vampires and werewolves? C'mon, Chief."

Blair turned on his side, bracing his elbow, and propping his head in his hand. "You're not doubting your senses now, are you?"

Jim frowned, matching his pose, so that they were face to face. "No," he admitted. "There's no way of denying it. There were absolutely no sounds of respiration or heartbeat from Angel or Spike, and they were room temperature. Oz..." He shrugged. "He'd have had to have been wrapped in a wolf skin to get that scent if he isn't a werewolf. So, okay--they exist. But to say it makes sense..."

"I mean from an anthropological point of view, man. Every society..." he gestured emphatically, voice rising a little, "EVERY society has tales of shape shifters, and there aren't many who don't have legends of corpses returning to drink the blood of the living. For it to be THAT widespread--ya have to think there must be a core of truth."

Jim grunted. "If I find Nessie swimming around in the toilet bowl, we are SO out of here."

"I don't think the water around here is cold enough."

"Fuck, you took that SERIOUSLY?"

"You took THAT seriously?"

"Oh, excuse me. For a moment there I forgot who I was dealing with. Look, it bothers me a little that you seem so enthusiastic about all this."

"It's a chance to observe up close and personal creatures that are usually considered myths. Why wouldn't I be enthusiastic?"

Jim sighed, rubbing his face. "Okay, I kind of like Oz--and judging from that grin I KNOW you like him--and so far there's been no threatening moves from Spike or Angel, but... But the danger is still THERE. I dunno, maybe it's a Sentinel thing, but when I was with them tonight, I felt like the hair was standing up on the back of my neck."

"Not a hard thing to accomplish, considering how short you keep it buzzed."

"Seriously, Blair. I think it would be a good idea if both of us avoided being alone with either of the vampires, at least for the time being, and before you start to protest, you KNOW that's a reasonable request."

"Yeah, I guess so." He raked a hand through his hair, pushing it back behind his ears. "But Jim, try and tell me that this doesn't excite you, too. Haven't you ever fantasized about..." He trailed off.

"About what? About having my throat or intestines ripped out? Yeah, but I call it 'nightmares' rather than fantasies."

"You never daydreamed about a sexy vampire flying into your room at night and seducing you?"

Jim grinned slyly. "I'll admit to thinking about some sucking going on, but it wasn't blood."

Blair slapped his shoulder. "I guess you ARE a little old for the whole Interview With the Vampire obsession." He made a woofing sound. "Antonio Banderas, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, Steven Rhea..."

"I know. You rented the tape when I asked you to get Die Hard III: With a Vengeance, remember?"

"You liked it."

"You can make me like things I never thought I would. I'll admit there was a lot of subtle..." he snorted, "not so subtle homoerotic imagery. And if you EVER tell anyone I used the term 'homoerotic imagery'..."

"If they'd put as much on the screen as they had in the book, they probably wouldn't have been able to get the R rating."

"Anyway, if you're going to be talking sexy vampires, you don't have to wait till Tom Cruise."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Please don't say Bela Lugosi. I'll admit that Bela was cool, but as for sexy..."

"Two words: Christopher Lee."

Blair frowned. "You mean the guy who played Saruman?"

"Oh, lord. We are renting The Horror of Dracula."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Spike examined the aluminum foil taped over the single window of the small room. Oz was standing by the bed, pulling his shirt over his head. "Broiler and freezer strength, dude--triple layer. And I used duct tape instead of masking or cellophane, so you shouldn't have to worry about it peeling off."

Spike nodded. "You can learn a lot of odd skills, living in Sunnydale." He turned his head to look at Oz quizzically. "Neighbors don't find it strange?"

Oz shrugged. "In this neighborhood? Half of them live like vamps, even without the bite. It makes perfect sense to them that I'd want to screen out the sunlight."

Spike took off his duster, tossing it on the room's chair, then sat on the edge of the bed. "Still, all the care you've taken, a person might think you were EXPECTING a cold blooded visitor."

Oz sat beside him. "I figured the chance was worth the effort. I couldn't very well ask you to stay the day if the place wasn't secured."

"Thoughtful little bugger." Spike got up again and went to his coat, digging a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the pocket. He lit up, took a drag, then leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms, and squinted at Oz through the smoke. There was a moment of silence. Oz gazed back at Spike calmly. *That's one thing that's different about Oz,* Spike thought. *Most people alone in a room with a vamp would be babbling a mile a minute out of sheer nerves. Not Ozzy. That's fucking refreshing.* "So, I'm to sleep over, then?"

Oz nodded. "If you want to. But I gotta tell you, if you're headed for your place, you better make it fast. Sun up isn't far off." There was another silence, and Oz said, "If you don't want to, I could drive you in the van."

Spike considered for a moment, then said slowly, "It's not that I don't want to. I'm just a bit confused. We haven't, ya know." Oz raised an eyebrow suggestively. Spike smirked. "Well, yeah, we have THAT. I mean, we've slept together, but we haven't actually SLEPT together. That's a bit of a step... for some people. I haven't slept with anyone since Dru buggered off." He shrugged. "I'm just lucky Miss Edith didn't tell the crazy bint to see what I'd look like with a stake in my chest. Y'see, unless you're daft, you only sleep with people you trust, and I didn't trust Dru, but I loved her."

Oz nodded, feeling resigned. "I understand."

"Good. I hope this ends the discussion for now." Spike started to strip.

Oz quirked an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Does this mean you...?"

Spike had just pulled his T-shirt over his head, and he paused with his arms still trapped inside to scowl at Oz. "Said the discussion was over, didn't I?" Oz made a zipping motion across his lips. "Good."

Oz got up and started to undress also, thinking, *So, this is how it is. There's something here between us, but I'm not sure just what, and we're not going to talk about it. At least not now. Trust--or love... of some sort. Hell, he probably doesn't know either.* Spike had finished stripping. Now he came to Oz, pushed the other man's hands away from his jeans, and began to unzip his fly. *But I can live with postponing the 'relationship talk' for awhile.* He almost sighed. When Spike looked at him, he turned it into something approaching a moan, since the vampire had just wrapped his hand around Oz's dick. Spike smirked, and started stroking slowly. *On the other hand,* Oz thought as he was pushed back on the bed, *sometimes the whole guy tendency to avoid discussing emotions can be pretty damn convenient.*

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The receptionist looked up from her paperwork and smiled reflexively. Well, when something THIS good looking was standing in front of you, you smiled automatically. He had dark hair and blue eyes, and he was handsome in an open, boyish way. The suit he was wearing was far from boyish, though. Even the more successful doctors couldn't afford suits like that. Nope, you only saw drapery like that on hospital patrons--the ones who donated or arranged donations of large sums. Her smile brightened a notch. Catch the eye of someone like this, and you were set. "Can I help you?"

"You sure can, sweetie."

She managed not to wince at the breezy tone, but mentally scrapped her plans to become the next Mrs. Whoever. Maybe is she saw him again she could set him up with her younger brother. Baby brother wasn't gay, but for a chance to hook up with something like that he could probably be persuaded to be flexible. "What can I do for you?"

"I need the room number of a patient here--Wesley Whyndham-Price."

She started typing on her keyboard. "Could you spell that?"

"Not on your nellie. Just try something that seems likely. There can't be too many Wesleys with a hyphenated last name in residence."

She tried what seemed like the most logical spelling, then tried the NEXT most logical spelling, then gave up and tried a Boolean with +Wesley. Two names popped up. "I have two."

"Oh, good. It shouldn't be hard to check both."

"I don't think you'll need to. One of them is Wesley Schwartz, and he's in neo-natal, so I'm pretty sure the one you're looking for is in room 365-B. Take that elevator to three, turn right as you get off, and it should be in the third corridor. Just ask at the nurse's station if you get lost."

"Will do, kiddo. You've been a peach." He handed her a small piece of pasteboard. "Here ya go. That'll comp you for a free drink on any Vanilla Night at Caritas." He wiggled a finger at her admonishingly. "Third Thursdays only, kitten, or you might get a surprise." He strolled off.

She stared at the brightly colored slip of paper for a moment, decided that she wasn't in the mood to visit a gay bar, even for a free drink, and started to throw away the coupon. After a moment's thought she grinned evilly and slipped it into her purse. This would make a great present for that new ER doctor. When she'd offered him a home-cooked meal, he'd said great--as long as that was all she expected to be cookin' if he came over.

She couldn't understand two months later when he gave her a hug and thanked her profusely for sending him to Caritas. She'd asked suspiciously if he'd met anyone special there, and he'd smiled and said he'd met someone 'out of this world'.

The nurses on the third floor didn't even look up when the good-looking man carrying the paper sack breezed past. He strolled down the hall, carefully checking numbers, till he came to 365. Actually there were two 365s--A, and B. He pursed his lips. "Ooo, crap. That'll teach me to write down information when I'm agitated." He tried the door on the left first.

The woman in the bed was in traction, her right leg strung to a complicated looking set of ropes and pulleys. She looked at him, then said hopefully, "I don't suppose you're here to give me physical therapy?"

"Sorry--wrong room." As he shut the door he heard a faint, heartfelt 'damn'. There was a 'No Visitors Allowed' sign on the right side door. He snorted. "Yeah, right. Translation: shut the door after yourself so no one notices."

Wesley was stretched out on the bed, snoring slightly. He'd have looked peaceful enough to give someone warm fuzzies, if not for the bruises darkening his face. His visitor stepped over to the bed softly, and stood looking down at him. *He looks awful young without his glasses. And hot, too. Stop that! The man is injured. I really need to cut back on reading hurt/comfort slash on the Internet. Well, I'd better wake him up." He started to reach for Wesley's arm. At that moment Wesley's mouth dropped open slightly. The visitor blinked, then murmured, "What the hell. I may never get another chance." He bent over and kissed Wesley--with tongue. "Wakey, wakey, Princess Briar Rose."

Wesley sighed, and licked his lips, thinking that this was a much more pleasant awakening than anyone in a hospital had a right to expect. Then it occurred to him to wonder exactly who it was kissing him. He rather hoped it was the male nurse who'd taken his temperature the last time he woke up. He opened his eyes.

Wesley jerked back against the pillow, clutching at his sheet and jerking it up under his chin. "McDONALD! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

Lindsey made shushing motions. "Keep it down--I'm not supposed to be in here."

"I should say not!" Wesley was reaching for his call button. "So, Wolfram and Hart had something to do with this cock up, did they? I shouldn't be surprised... Hey!"

Lindsey snatched the buzzer out of his reach. "Stop that, Wes! Damn, I'm going to have to go ahead and let Brundilatte run a tab at the bar, if her work is good enough to fool an old demon hunter like you." He thought for a moment. "Of course you HAVE had a recent head injury, and drugs." Wesley was staring at him. Lindsey sighed. "Listen to the voice, sugar."

"Sugar?" Wesley blinked. "Lorne?"

"The one and only."

Wesley squinted at him hard. "Damn. I know I need my glasses to drive, but I didn't think my vision had gotten this bad."

"It's a glamour, hon. I needed it quick, strong, and dirty, so I had a witch I know throw it up for me. She does good work."

"But... why? And why Lindsey McDonald?"

"Why? Wesley, while I have a healthy appreciation of my own physical charms, I can only get away with 'I'm just off the set of a horror movie and didn't have time to change' so often. As to why Lindsey--why not? He's damn cute. Besides, for something like this you need a little physical bit of whoever you want to look like. You know--hair, nail clippings, skin..." he cleared his throat, "basically anything a forensic lab would like to get their hands on."

Wesley stared at him. "But what did you have from Lindsey that..." he trailed off. "And how did you get..." He trailed off again. "You know, I don't think I want to hear about that right now."

"We'll save the story for some night when you've done a few tequila shooters. You'll like it--believe me. Now, isn't it time we got you up and dressed? It would be easier if you could help, but I'm willing to treat you like a life-sized Ken doll if I must."

Wesley flipped the sheet down. "I can manage."

"Pity. I'm sure you're anatomically correct." Lorne opened the bag and handed it to him. Wesley reached inside and pulled out a shirt. "That green is going to make your eyes look turquoise." Wesley pulled out the jacket. "I'm afraid the burnt orange won't be exactly right for your skin tone. It's an Autumn color, and you're a Winter, right?"

Wesley was staring at it. "I'm going to look like a seventies pimp."

"If you're going to be picky..."

"Lorne, Huggie Bear dressed more conservatively."

"Look, sweetie, it's either that or that open-back toga you're wearing, and believe me, if you wear that on the street you will attract attention that you do not want--if waking up being kissed by another man startles you so badly."

Wesley rummaged in the bag. "No underwear?"

"Picky, picky, picky."

"Never mind." Wesley pulled the trousers out of the bag and shook them open.

Lorne said, "You're not going to run into the bathroom, or tell me to turn my head, or something?"

"Why?" Wesley sat down, stepped into the pants legs, then stood up and pulled them on, drawing them under his gown.

Lorne sighed. "Rats. I should have remembered that growing up in English boarding schools you'd have mastered the art of stealth dressing at an early age."

"You did if you didn't want your Y-fronts hiked up around your throat on a regular basis." Wesley had been fiddling with fastenings, and now he pulled off the gown. He started to slip on the shirt, and froze, wincing.

Lorne was immediately alert. "What is it?"

"Angelus cracked two of my ribs. They're taped up, but I'm afraid that reaching, or twisting, or lifting my arms... Pretty much anything is going to hurt a bit for awhile."

"Let me help."

"There's no need."

"You're an Englishman--having a valet should be in your blood. If it's hard, just role-play. You be Uncle Bill, and I'll be Mister French." Lorne helped Wesley into the shirt, his touch efficient, and gently.

Wesley muttered his thanks, then began to don the rest of the clothes. "Shoes?"

Lorne looked into the nearby closet, and plucked a pair off a shelf. "I figured you'd still have yours somewhere nearby. After all, they don't have to cut them off. Good job, too, because guessing someone else's shoe size is like trying to choose the right shade of panty hose for a woman--damn near impossible unless you're intimately acquainted, or have been given specific written instructions."

Wesley accepted the shoes, sitting down to put them on. "You're a very handy fellow to have around, Lorne. Why haven't we worked with you more?"

"Because though I have a noble heart, I prefer not to put my ass in jeopardy unnecessarily--unless it's the FUN kind of jeopardy. Hurry up. They figure you're sleeping, but in a place like this there's no telling when they'll come in to wake you up and give you a sedative." Wesley had slipped his feet into his shoes and was beginning to bend down. He froze with a pained moan. "Oh, for goodness... Will you TELL me when you need help? Sit up." Lorne knelt before Wesley and began to tie his laces. "Next time--loafers."

"Can't. They might slip off during demon fighting. I'd be a right idiot trying to kick demon ass in my socks, wouldn't I?"

Lorne chuckled as he finished tying a bow. "Sugar, the mere act of demon fighting qualifies you as reckless, if not suicidal, for most people. Done." He stood up. "Let's make like the Concord."

"Pardon? What's grape jelly got to...?"

Lorne rolled his eyes. "Either you're not as British as I thought, or the drugs were pretty damn strong. Let's jet, handsome."

"Oh. Right. Not just yet, though." He started toward the door, his step very firm for a man who had recently narrowly escaped being messily and painfully killed. "First we have to get Doyle."

"And he is?"

"In the psychiatric ward."

Lorne sighed. "Why did I even ask?"

END PART 16