Title: Immortal Convergence 
Author: Kay
Email: kaygrr@hotmail.com
Feedback: Do you really want to see me beg?  My happy dance is way more
entertaining. Website:  ssfdu.tripod.com/kay/journal.htm  (Sandy rocks)
Archive: Hey, just ask first <g> Series: Buffy the Vampire Slayer Pairing:
Xander/Wesley, Xander/Wesley/Spike, Duncan/Methos, Spike/Methos,
Giles/Richie...etc. Rating: PG 
Sequel:  None Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire
Slayer and the characters of the show don't belong to me in anyway
whatsoever. Mutant Enemy, I live in envy of you.  The same goes for
Highlander and Rysher - they may be your toys, but I'm going to play with
them.  Niener.  This story is written for enjoyment, not for profit.  This
whore only works for feedback.  Litigation would be a waste of time,
people. I'm a member of the Starving Student Sect. Summery:  A renegade
immortal on the Hellmouth puts Sunnydale in danger, and it's up to the
Scooby Gang and some visitors from Seacouver to put things right.
Warnings:  spoilers up to Graduation II...I think.  Xander returned from
his summer a month ago, but that's about it.  No Anya, no Tara (<sniff> I
*like* Tara).  There is Riley, though.  As for HL...say it with me people:
 Richie isn't dead!  Let's just pretend that in the next to last season,
Ahriman was vanquished without a certain never-to-be-mentioned incident
occurring, K?  And the final season of HL never happened, either.  Hell,
if I'm going to be messing about with the characters, why not mess around
with time, too? <g>

I know we've been through this before, but here's a quick rundown on the
characters from HL:

Immortals:  people who, after they die a violent death, come back to life.
 They cease to age, will recover from any injury or death except
beheading, and can sense when others like them are near.  They fight each
other to the death, and when one beheads another the winner absorbs the
loser's power, called the Quickening.  At the end of 'the Game', the final
Immortal remaining gets 'the Prize', some sort of immense power.  They
cannot fight on Holy Ground and they take challenges singly, fighting one
on one.

Richie Ryan:  died when he was in his early twenties; student of Duncan
MacLeod, he has been an immortal for only a few years.  He has a tendency
to be a hot-head, but he is a good guy over all.

Duncan MacLeod:  in his thirties, he died four hundred years ago in 
Scotland.  He holds to the ideals of chivalry and honor, earning him the
nickname of 'Boyscout'.

Adam Pierson:  the current alias of Methos, the oldest Immortal at five
thousand years.  He has been many things and holds to a code of survival
above all else, for himself and his friend.  I personally am in love with
this man.

Joe Dawson:  a mortal, he is a Watcher, a member of an organization 
dedicated to tracking the interactions of Immortals.  A Vietnam vet, he is
a close friend of Duncan's.  Also, he's pretty damn cute himself.

So I was reading all the HL crossovers that popped up a few months ago 
and I enjoyed the hell out of them.  I decided to try my hand at one, and
this is the result.

A word about the pairings...they are all James and Sandy's faults.  James,
because of an off-hand comment that sent my mind off in rapturous
contemplation of the possibilities of Wesley and Xander together.  Sandy,
because she put up with me rambling out ideas for this fic and came up
with quite a few of her own.  And I guess I can blame Karen too - she
didn't do anything to stop me, after all.

Thanks, y'all <g>

Part One/?

One hand rubbing at his forehead in small, soothing circles, Richie Ryan
squinted through the windshield, searching for a late-night dinner.  He
had been driving back up to Seacouver from a short vacation in Mexico,
touring through California on his way.  It had gotten late enough that he
wanted to pull over and get a hotel room for the night.  He'd gotten off
at the exit for Sunnydale, liking the name of the town and figuring he
could find a cheap place to stay.

Right now, all he wanted was a diner.  He had a raging headache, which he
figured was brought on by skipping lunch and dinner.  He wanted something
to eat and a Coke.  Maybe he could charm the waitress out of a couple of
Tylenols, too.

Richie frowned.  For a town off a major highway, there sure weren't many
places open.  He finally found a diner with a flickering neon open sign
still lit and pulled in.  Both hands rubbing at his temples, he entered
and claimed a table.

The waitress approached him warily.  Richie wasn't sure why - it wasn't as
though he looked intimidating.  He was always going to look the same as he
did at the time of his first death:  barely in his twenties, with curly
red hair and blue eyes, there were no lines on his face, nothing to
commemorate any of the trials he'd faced, the enemies he'd defeated, the
lessons he'd learned.  Except in his eyes, maybe - Duncan always said he
gave everything away with his eyes.

He smiled at the waitress and begged her for a hot meal, a Coke, and some
aspirin.  She looked him over carefully, then relaxed and smiled back at
him.  "Sure thing," she promised, heading back toward the kitchen.  She
came back right away with a tall glass and a few white pills.

Richie downed all the aspirin and the soda right away, but it did nothing
for the headache.  His head continued to throb, the pain almost enough to
kill his appetite.  He still smiled gratefully at the waitress when she
brought him a stack of pancakes.  As he was digging into the pile, the
door chimed and someone else entered the diner.  At the same moment, the
pain swelled nearly unbearably as he was hit with the awareness of another
Immortal's presence.  Dropping his fork, he squinted up at the newcomer,
hand inching toward his hidden sword.

The guy who had just entered the bar looked even younger than Richie: 
with dark hair that was just beginning to cover his ears and a long sleeve
shirt over baggy blue jeans, he looked just like any other teen-ager.  The
assessing look he threw at Richie told him that the stranger knew just
what they were.

The dark-haired man didn't approach Richie right away; first he took the
time to call out a greeting to the waitress and barely-visible cook. 
"Hey, Nancy, Lou.  How're things tonight?"

"Quiet," the waitress answered cheerfully, pouring a large cup of coffee
and stirring an obscene amount of sugar into it.  She handed the mug to
the stranger.  "You doing all right, Xan?"

"It's quiet out there, too," Xan answered.  He sipped at the coffee and
approached Richie, pausing a few feet away from him.  "Mind if I join you
for a sec?"

The redhead looked him over carefully.  He couldn't see how the other
Immortal could be concealing a sword, but he'd been fooled before.  Still,
Richie felt confident.  He'd been taught by the best.  "Take a seat," he
invited.

Xan nodded and sat down across from him.  "Just passing through?"

"Basically.  I was thinking of getting a hotel room."  He casually picked
up his fork and took another bite of his dinner.

"Are you looking for a fight?"  Xan looked curious, nothing more.

"Not especially."  Richie tried the trick Duncan always used on him, but
he couldn't read the other man's eyes.  The gaze that met his was merely
interested, giving nothing away.

"Good."  Xan took a drink.  "That always ruins a night.  If you're not
here for me, then I suggest moving on.  There are nice hotels up off the
next exit, only about twenty miles away."

"What is this, some sort of territory thing?  This is your town, and you
don't want anyone else in it?"

Xan laughed.  "Yeah, in a few minutes I'm going to go piss on the sidewalk
just to make my point.  No, I'm really thinking of you.  Sunnydale's not a
real good place for people like us."  He grinned.  "You know, those of us
with the extended warranty."

Richie couldn't help grinning back.  He liked this guy.  "What do you
mean?"

"That headache you've got?  It's not going to go away."

"How did you know?"

"Sunnydale does that to everyone of us that I've ever met.  Sucks, doesn't
it?  That's the main reason I'm suggesting you move on - it's going to
make sleeping a bitch."  Xan finished the rest of his coffee and stood up.
 "If you decide to stay, go to the inn about three miles up the road, the
one with the pirate sign.  It's on the outskirts, so you may actually get
some sleep."  He headed toward the door, calling out good-byes to the
others as he went.

Richie motioned the waitress over.  "Who was that guy?"

"Xander?  He's a nice guy.  A local."  Her tone was guarded, like she
wasn't telling him everything.  "He comes in a lot of nights, checking up
on us.  He's a good kid."

Richie nodded his thanks, then gathered up his things and paid the bill. 
He was going to trust his instincts:  he liked Xander and was going to try
the next town up the road.

*****

Once he reached Seacouver, Richie knew right where to head to find his
friends:  Joe's bar.  It didn't matter that it was eleven in the morning;
they'd be inside, he was sure.  He wanted to talk to all of them about the
guy he'd met in California.  He parked his car outside and banged on the
door until he heard the lock click open.

Joe Dawson jerked the door open.  "Jesus, Rich, what's the hurry?"  He
leaned forward on his cane, blinking in the sunlight.

Richie grinned at the older man.  Although he'd been creeped out by the
thought of Watchers, Joe had become a close friend.  "Are Mac and Adam
here?"

"They're in the bar.  What's up?"

"I've got a story and some questions for all of you.  Come on."  He led
the way back to the bar.  Sure enough, Duncan MacLeod and Adam Pierson
were sitting at the bar.  "Hey, guys!"

"Richie, I wasn't expecting you back so soon!"  Duncan's look of welcome
turned to one of concern.  "You look exhausted."

"I drove all night."

"What on earth for?"

"I didn't intend to.  I pulled off the highway last night to find a place
to sleep, but then the weirdest thing happened.  As soon as I got off the
road, my head started killing me.  I stopped at a diner and this guy
walked in.  He was one of us, and he told me that it was the place that
was giving me the headache, that it gave one to any Immortal who came to
town.  I decided to take him at his word and as soon as I got on the road,
the headache was gone.  It felt so good, I decided to just finish the
drive."  He looked expectantly at the other men.  "Have you ever heard of
anything like that before?"

Duncan shook his head, but Adam was up and off his chair.  "Where did you
pull over?"

"Some little town called Sunnydale."

"Shit," muttered the older man.

"Did you get this guy's name?" Joe asked, pulling out his cell.

"Let's not involve the Watchers just yet," Adam said, holding up his hand.
 "This might be something we want to take care of ourselves."  He pinned
Richie with an intense stare.  "This is very important, Richie.  We need
to know everything you can remember about this guy."

A little unnerved, Richie shrugged.  "I don't know...I was eating when he
walked in.  The waitress gave him a cup of coffee and called him Xan. 
They talked, and then he came over to me."  He repeated the conversation
they'd had.  "Then he left, and I asked the waitress about him.  She
didn't tell me much - I don't think she wanted to tell me a lot.  All she
said was that he was a nice local boy."

"Local boy?  No way."  Joe shook his head.  "No way could a pre-Immortal
last long enough on the Hellmouth to hit his teens before his first
death."

"Hellmouth?" Duncan asked.

"You want to do this or should I?" Joe asked, looking at Adam.

"I will.  I'm going to assume neither of you know nothing about the 
Hellmouth."  Adam sat back down and stretched out his legs.  "It's in
Sunnydale.  It's a not very imaginative name for the mouth of Hell."

"What?"  Duncan shook his head.  "Are you serious?"

"This from the man who recently defeated a demon that returns every
thousand years to end the world?"  Adam's smooth voice was thick with
sarcasm.  "There are more things than just demons wandering the earth,
although there are more than enough of them.  Monsters, ghosts, and the
Hellmouth are out there, too.  Most of these creatures are attracted to
the Hellmouth."

"If these monsters are all over the place, why haven't I run into any of
them before?"  Richie asked.

"You probably have and you just didn't know it.  Most of them avoid our
kind, anyway."

"Unless they're hunting you," Joe muttered.

"What?"  This time it was Richie's turn to ask.

"Some of these creatures are attracted to us.  To the power of the 
Quickening inside of us.  A few of them can even take that power from us."

"What would that do to an Immortal, to lose the Quickening without losing
his head?  Would we go back to be mortal?" Duncan asked.

"No.  We just die.  They can do the same to a pre-Immortal, although it is
more usual to kill the young ones, then take their Quickening after
they've revived."  Adam shook his head and drummed his fingers on the bar.
 "How the hell did this guy last so long?"

"We've got a Watcher in place down there to make sure that no one hangs
around there." Joe said.  "He hasn't reported any Immortal activity in
years."

"Is it the Hellmouth that caused the headache?" Richie asked, rubbing at
his forehead.

"Yeah."  Adam sighed.  "I'm too old for this.  I'll go home and pack. 
Meet you back here in an hour, Joe?"

"I'll be ready," the other man promised.

"What's going on?" Richie asked.

"We've got to Sunnydale and check this guy out.  If he's just living
there, than we need to explain the danger he's in and get him away from
there.  If he's there to cause trouble..."  Adam's voice trailed away.

"I'm coming," Duncan said.

"I would have thought you'd had your fill of battling demons, Highlander."

Duncan just shot him a flat look as he grabbed his coat.

"I'm coming, too."  Richie liked Xander; he wanted to think that the other
Immortal was just unknowingly in the wrong place and he wanted to help
him.  He yawned hugely.  "I'm not driving, though."

He took up Duncan's offer of a ride and followed him out of the bar. 
Demons, monsters, and Hellmouths.  What next?

*****




Xander leaned against the doorframe, hands shoved deep into his pockets. 
"Guess I'll be turning in now."

Willow twined her arm with Oz's.  "Are you sure?  We might still find a
few vampires to stake."

Buffy nodded, standing beside Riley.  "Come on.  You know you like it when
they go puff."

"Oh, I've had enough excitement to last me for tonight, I think."

Buffy wrinkled her nose.  "Are you sure?  I mean, you can't be wanting to
get back to your roommate."

"Ooh, maybe Xander wants to listen to him talk for a little while before
heading for bed.  One of his lectures usually puts me right to sleep,"
Willow giggled.

"More like puts you into a coma," Buffy laughed.

Xander pulled his hands out of his pockets.  "Good night."  He heard Buffy
call his name, but he let himself into the building and shut the door
firmly behind him, not bothering to answer.  He'd made it clear that he
was tired about the jokes about his roommate, that he resented the
constant insults to his friend, and they still continued to ignore him. 
He was through listening to it.

He walked up the stairs to the apartment that everyone knew about,
knocking lightly on the door as he opened.  "Honey, I'm home," he called.

"I'm in the library, Ricky," was the reply.

Xander ambled over to the room they'd filled with books and christened the
library and grinned as he watched the other man sort the all the
books...again.  Xander didn't know why he was allowed to put the books
away after a night of research; he never put them in the right place and
his roommate just ended up redoing it.

As he watched the other man work, his marveled at the circumstances that
had brought them together.  He'd headed out on his road trip almost before
the wreckage of the high school had stopped smoking.  Just past LA, a
tractor trailer had lost control on the freeway and jumped the median. 
He'd had no chance to avoid the other vehicle; the crash had been
horrific.  Xander didn't remember much of it, just sick helpless terror
and then blinding pain.  The next thing he'd been aware of was waking up
on the side of the rode, confused as hell by the fact that he was alive
and covered with a sheet.  He'd peered out and found a typical accident
scene, with cops and EMTs all over the place.  He was lying surrounded by
other white-sheeted bodies, but none of them were moving.

For once, Xander was grateful for having grown up in Sunnydale:  he was so
inured to weird that the whole situation barely phased him.  He'd made a
break for the woods after draping his sheet over the body next to him,
hoping that the rescue workers would figure that they'd just miscounted. 
Once safely away, he'd known that he'd have to find out why he wasn't
dead.  His clothes were torn and bloody, suggesting that he probably had
been at the very least badly injured.  He didn't feel possessed, but if he
were would he be in any state to notice?  He hadn't the last couple of
times it had happened, after all.  He decided to get to the closest help
he knew of and to leave his friends out of it until he was sure he wasn't
going to be a danger to them.

It was surprisingly easy for a dirty, bloody man torn clothing to flag
down a cab in LA.

Angel had been surprised and concerned when he'd turned up, while Cordelia
had immediately called dibs on taking him shopping for new clothes.  Angel
had sent her and a guy named Doyle home and had spent the rest of the day
testing Xander, making sure he wasn't possessed or a zombie or a
spontaneous vampire.  The answer finally came when Xander gave himself the
mother of all paper cuts while looking through a book.  Before he could
really get into swearing about it, the thin slice had stopped bleeding. 
Blue sparks had danced around the wound as it healed before their eyes. 
That had been the clue Angel had needed:  he told Xander that he was an
Immortal.  Angel hadn't known much about it, just that he could only die
by beheading, that he wasn't evil, and that he had to learn to defend
himself from other Immortals.

So instead of spending his summer cruising the open road and maybe
breaking a few hearts as he passed through towns, he'd begun to train with
Angel, learning how to fight with all kinds of weapons as well as with his
bare hands.  There had never been any doubt in his mind that he would
return to Sunnydale.  How could he not?  Now he could go and really be
useful, finally be able to protect his friends the way he'd always wanted
to.  He wasn't ready then to tell them what he was, and he still wasn't
now.  He wasn't sure how they'd react...besides, there was no good way to
bring it up in conversation.  "Funny you should mention shoe sales, Buffy.
 Did I mention I'm immortal?"  There were no good segues for it.

As summer had drawn to a close, Angel had fretted about letting Xander go
back to Sunnydale.  This had really amused Xander, first because the
master of all things broody was fretting, and second because he showed how
much he had changed.  He'd done some growing up over the summer, coming to
be Angel's friend rather than a snide rival.  Oh, he still kept up the
snide remarks, but he and Angel both knew it was more out of habit than
anything else.

Xander had been a little worried about leaving LA, too.  He knew he was
nowhere near done with what he had to learn in order to keep himself
alive; worse, he still knew way too little about what he was.  He'd run
into a few other Immortals in LA, but none of them had been interested in
talking to him.  They'd issued challenges and he'd met them; thanks to
Angel's training, he'd survived.  The freaky light show and spirit
absorption thing afterwards had both frightened and repelled him; it was
an incredible rush, but it felt way too much like vampirism for Xander to
ever be able to be comfortable with it, no matter how much Angel assured
him that it was the way things were supposed to happen.

Wesley turning up had been a godsend.  The former Watcher had been at
loose ends and doing his own tour of the United States at the time. 
Hearing of Angel's detective business, he'd come down to the office to
investigate and make certain that the vampire really was helping people. 
He'd known far more than Angel about Immortals and was able to explain the
rules that governed them to Xander.  He also sparred with Xander, giving
Xander some experience with a human opponent.  Oh sure, training with
Angel was great, but Xander seriously doubted that any Immortal would
suddenly shift features and start throwing him around with super-human
strength.  He hoped, at least.

Cordelia had suggested that Wesley go back to Sunnydale with Xander as a
joke, but Xander had jumped at the idea.  It would be nice to have some
there who knew his secret, who could help him train and figure out exactly
what was going on with his new life.  It was more than that, though. 
Oddly enough, dying had helped Xander to finish growing up.  He'd accepted
a lot about himself over the summer, including his purpose to continue to
protect his friends.  He'd stopped treating Angel as a rival and a pariah
and he did the same for Wesley, accepting the other man as a friend.

Thanks to Doyle, he'd also finally accepted the fact that he wasn't 
necessarily as straight as he'd been trying to convince himself he was.

He hadn't known if Wesley could come with him, though; neither he nor the
Englishman had any sort of employment waiting for them in Sunnydale, so
figuring out how to support themselves had been their first task.  They'd
found their answer in the shape of a billionaire with a penchant for
role-playing.  David Nabitt had been fascinated by the idea of an immortal
young man fighting against evil.  Once Xander had thrown in the
information about the blond young woman who was the first line of defense
against world destruction, the man had been hooked.  Xander had promised
to send him accounts of their exploits and a few pictures of Buffy and in
exchange David had rented out two apartments for them, one on top of the
other.

David had paid for the lower apartment to be converted into a large
practice area, with room for sparring and practicing anything they needed
to.  No one knew about that lower apartment; as far as Xander's friends
were aware, the one above it was the only one he had.  He and Wesley each
had their own bedroom and bath; the den had been converted into a library
for all the books David had supplied Wesley with.

Xander had been excited and nervous about Wesley coming with him.  Excited
because he didn't want to lose his new friend and teacher, but nervous
because of the way he was beginning to feel about him.  He'd also been
worried about how the Scooby Gang would react to Wesley:  they hadn't
exactly taken to him the last time around, although Xander had to admit
that a lot of that had been his fault.  In the month that he'd been back,
they'd gotten into the habit of making fun of Wesley but otherwise
ignoring him, something that Xander was rapidly beginning to hate.

Shaking those memories out of his mind, he watched with appreciation as
Wesley straightened and turned to face him.  Long legs encased in
well-worn jeans, a gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to
the elbows, and his every-present glasses in place, Wesley looked
comfortable.

Not to mention edible.  Xander grinned at him, letting a little of his
appreciation show.  "You ready to go out?"

He was delighted when Wesley grinned back at him almost identically.  He
loved the way the other man's eyes crinkled up at the corners when he
smiled.  Pierce Brosnan had nothing on Wesley's eyes.  "Why, Mr. Harris,
are you asking me out on a date?"

Xander laughed.  "Ooh, yeah, I'm Mr. Smooth.  C'mon Wes, we'll go out,
kill a few monsters.  It'll be really romantic."

"You've been taking relationship advice from Buffy again, haven't you?" 
Wesley shook his head sadly.

Xander raised his hands in surrender.  "If I ever start doing that,
please, for my own good, put me out of my misery."

"What, and miss the chance to see you try to pick up an undead farmer? 
Not for the world."

Xander sank back against the wall, laughing.  "You want to go?"

Catching up a few weapons and secreting them about himself, Wesley nodded.
 "I've got a line on a pair of Greshek demons in town to try to take out
the Slayer.  Shall we go dissuade them?"

"I love it when you talk British."  Xander gestured toward the door.  "I'm
right behind you."

"Incidentally, did you see that Immortal again?"

Xander knew the question was far from incidental for Wesley.  Sometimes he
thought the other man worried more about him encountering others like him
than he did.  "No sign of him.  I think he actually took my advice and
moved on."  He smiled softly at Wesley's relived nod.

As he followed Wesley out the door, Xander nodded to himself, pleased by
the way things were progressing.  He'd been flirting steadily with Wesley
for weeks and to his delight the Englishman had responded and flirted
back.  Sometimes he'd look up and catch Wesley looking at him, the
expression in his eyes making Xander flush and never want to look away. 
There was something growing between them, something that was getting
stronger and deeper and more necessary everyday.  Neither of them had any
inclination to rush it:  it was better to just let it grow on its own
time, to let it take its course.

Xander had rushed into relationships before, but he had no intention of
doing that this time.  He wanted to take his time and make sure it was
done right.  He didn't think he'd ever been in love before, but that
didn't matter.  All he needed to know was that when he was with Wesley, he
felt right.  Not just happy or horny or giddy or safe or comfortable,
although he felt all those things as well.  With Wesley, he felt right,
just as strongly as he felt wrong when he wasn't with him.

He wasn't going to take any chances with this.  He wasn't sure it was
love, but it was so close that he couldn't tell the difference.  As they
headed out onto the street he walked close beside Wesley, hyper-aware of
the way their shoulders brushed occasionally, of the small smiles the
other man gave him.

No, he was sure of it.  This was love.

*****




"Are those them?"  Xander leaned closer to Wesley and whispered his
question in his ear.

Wesley shivered a little at the feeling of warm air against his skin. 
"Yes," he whispered back.  "How do you want to do this?"

Xander grinned at him and pulled a notebook out of his back pocket as he
tucked a pen behind his ear.  "I think we'll go with Plan Nine."

"Which might as well be from outer space," Wesley muttered, shaking his
head.

"It's always worked before," Xander protested.

"Get going."  It was true; Xander's Plan Nine always worked.

"What, no kiss for luck?"

"No."  It was tempting...but no.  Wesley didn't want to start anything
right then.  It would be terribly embarrassing when they were unable to
stop and the Greshaks found them grappling in the bushes.

Xander pouted.  "It worked in Star Wars."

"Get going," Wesley repeated.  He smiled.  "If you finish this up quickly,
you might get your kiss then."

The way Xander scrambled out of the bushes was very gratifying.  Wesley
watched the other man approach the demons with a mixture of pride, worry,
and affection.  Xander had changed so much from the boy he'd been in high
school.  He was an adult now, a man.  He was no longer the gawky boy
Wesley had first met, ready with a constant stream of off-the-cuff jokes
and insults to hide a deep well of insecurity.  He still kept up a running
commentary no matter what he was doing, but now it was just an outgrowth
of Xander's special way of relating to life, rather than an adolescent
defense mechanism.  The way he had dedicated himself to protecting his
friends and keeping Sunnydale as safe as possible, the capable way in
which he handled himself; all this made Wesley almost feel like a Watcher
again as he helped Xander night after night.

He couldn't help worrying about Xander.  He knew that the other man was
Immortal, knew that he could recover from almost any injury.  While
Immortals hadn't been one of his main areas of study, he'd done some
research when he was in training.  Who wouldn't be interested in a race of
immortal beings indistinguishable from humans?  Wesley was sure that every
Watcher who read about them secretly fantasized about being one.  He knew
he wasn't; he'd brought it up to Xander, who'd assured him that he wasn't
like him.  Just because an Immortal couldn't be easily killed didn't mean
that he couldn't feel pain.  Wesley hated it that Xander could be hurt,
hated that the other man would take risks and get injured.  He'd been
horrified when he'd found out about the agonizing headaches Xander
suffered from being near the Hellmouth.  Although Xander had assured him
that he was used to the pain, Wesley had performed a spell to stop it.  It
wasn't easy; Wesley hadn't been in the habit of spell-casting, although he
was doing so regularly now.  It was worth the effort, though.  Knowing
that Xander wasn't hurting anymore was worth just about anything.

Watching Xander approach the demons, Wesley felt a smile tug irresistibly
at his lips.  He found himself smiling all the time now, and he knew that
it was due completely to Xander.  The younger man had helped to change
Wesley's outlook on life, his humor influencing Wesley's own attitude.

Of course, the fact that he was falling in love with Xander help quite a
bit, too.  He was rather enjoying the experience.  The growth of awareness
of each other, the tentative touches and fleeting glances, and the slow
burn of kindling desire:  they were all made new again in Xander's open
grins and teasing eyes.  He was sure Xander felt the same and the time was
almost right for them to take the next step.  They'd know when it was time
and until it came he was willing to wait and enjoy the ride.

Of course, they'd have to survive the Greshak before they could do any
real enjoying.  He leaned against the tree, ready to move if Xander needed
him.  From where he stood, he could see Xander's grin as the dark-haired
man approached the demons.

"Evening, fellas," Xander called, nodding pleasantly.  "New in town?"

"What do you want?" growled one of the pair.

"I'm on the Slayer's planning committee," was the easy answer.  He pulled
out the pen and held it to his pad of paper.  "I understand that you are
interested in killing her?"

The demons stared at him, utterly bemused as they nodded.

"Now, she's a busy lady, so we have to try to schedule these things in so
that everyone gets a fair shot at her.  If you're ready, we can do the
audition now."

"Audition?" one asked.

"Oh, yes.  You have to audition.  You didn't really think that you could
just come to town and jump her, did you?"  He laughed.  "No, you have to
audition first.  We have to make sure that you're up to her standards.  If
your attempt is going to be a joke, then she isn't going to waste her
time.  There are a lot of top-notch demons out there who deserve to have a
go at killing her."  He tucked away the pen and notebook.  "Are you
ready?"

As the demons exchanged confused glances, Xander struck.  He pulled a long
blade out of the back of his waistband and swung it hard, slicing through
the closest demon's arm in a single clean blow.  The Greshak howled, but
Xander was already moving on to the other, stabbing forward and catching
it in the gut.  A few more carefully controlled motions and both the
demons were down and Xander was barely breathing hard.

Wesley approached him.  "I hate Plan Nine."

"Yeah, but it always works," Xander said, wiping the blade clean and
putting it away.  "It confuses them..."  His voice trailed away as he
carefully turned around, scanning the area around them.  "Someone's
coming," he said shortly.  "I can feel them."

"Feel them?"  Shit.  Immortals.  Wesley looked around and spotted several
men coming toward them.  "Them?"

Xander nodded shortly.  Wesley moved closer to him, hands hanging loosely
by his sides.  He didn't know what to expect, but he would be ready.  He
had a gun tucked away at the small of his back and he wouldn't hesitate to
use it if it would save Xander.  He sized up the men that approached them:
 all of them looked dangerous, capable and ready for trouble.

The one with long hair held back in a tail stepped forward.  "What do you
think you're doing?  There's no killing on holy ground!"

Wesley realized with start that the man was right - the cemetery they were
in was technically holy ground.  They spent so much time hunting down
vampires and other creatures in Sunnydale's graveyards that he had
forgotten that.  After a while, it got hard to see a place of so much
death as holy.

Xander cocked his head to the side.  "Now, I'm not real clear on the rules
for our little club, but I'm pretty sure the no fighting thing only
applies to us, not to when we fight with others."  He shot a glare at the
red-haired man.  "I told you to leave town, not come back and bring
friends."

The thin man shrugged, his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets.  "We
didn't give him a chance."  There was something about his voice that
tugged at Wesley's memory, as if he'd heard it once before.  The little
tickle of recognition refused to become anything more than a tickle so
Wesley pushed it to the back of his mind.  He'd give it time to develop on
its own.  The man continued speaking.  "We need to talk with you."  He
glanced over at Wesley.  "Privately."

"Are you looking for a fight?" Xander asked.

"No," the long-haired man said.  "Watch what you say - this is a private
matter.  For members of our club, as you put it."

"Wes stays."  Xander's chin poked out obstinately.

"Not this time.  This is important and it needs to stay quiet."

Wesley reached out and took Xander's hand in his own.  "We don't keep
secrets from each other," he said quietly.  Xander's hand tightened around
his, signifying Xander's acceptance of his plan.  Claming to be lovers
would cut down on the objections that the strangers would raise.  Now he
just had to concentrate on the situation instead of the feeling of the
callused fingers curled so warmly around his.

The strangers exchanged glances, clearly not certain of how to proceed. 
Xander sighed.  "If all you want is to talk, then let's get out of here. 
I really don't feel like fighting off every energy-sucker in town."

"What?" asked the redhead.

"Can we get going now and get talking later?"  Xander's voice was level,
but Wesley could feel his worry through the shifting of his fingers.  He
could feel nervousness rising in himself.  Demons were attracted to the
power within Xander, leading them to focus on him in a fight.  They rarely
sought him out on their own; he just didn't have enough power within in
him to draw their attention to that degree.  If Xander was worried about
the men around them attracting demons, then they must be powerful indeed. 
Wesley wasn't worried about the demons so much as he was wary of the
Immortals.  How powerful were they?  How much of a threat to Xander did
they pose?

"We really should be leaving town," the thin man said.

"What, because of the Hellmouth?" Wesley asked.  He raised an eyebrow at
the strangers' surprise.  "You're right; we need to talk.  Let's get off
the street."  He and Xander led the way back to their apartment in a
round-about fashion, walking off to the side of them so they could keep an
eye on them.

Wesley kept a hold of Xander's hand the entire time, fingers laced through
the other man's as they walked side by side through the night.

*****




Xander motioned toward the sofa and chair even as he sank down into his
favorite armchair.  He didn't miss the fact that the other Immortals
didn't sit down until he did.  Even the older man, the mortal, was careful
in sitting down, not letting down his guard for a moment.  That was fine;
Xander might be sprawled in his chair but that didn't mean he wasn't
holding himself ready.  Wes sat down on the arm of his chair, sitting
close to offer support and to hover protectively over him as he stared
suspiciously at the other men.

Xander decided to give into impulse and he reached out a hand and lightly
rested it on Wesley's thigh.  He caught the Englishman's surprised look
and grinned up at him.  Wes had surprised him with his claim to be lovers,
but he'd understood the other man's reasoning.  Now that they had
established the lie, there was no harm in acting the part, was there?  Wes
smiled back at him and Xander squeezed his leg gently before turning his
attention back to the men watching him.  "Let's get started.  I don't want
to draw this out too long."

"What, you've got plans we're keeping you from?" the mortal guy asked.

"There are some special hazards for our kind in Sunnydale.  I'd rather not
have to deal with them tonight."  Xander sighed.  "I'm Xander, this is
Wesley."  He nodded toward the redhead.  "You, I've met before, but I
didn't catch your name."

"I'm Richie," the other man answered.  "This is Joe," indicating the
bearded mortal, "Adam," the thin man, "and Mac."

Xander's gaze raked over each man as he was introduced.  Richie still came
across as good-natured, if somewhat guarded.  Judging by the way he talked
as well as by the buzz Xander could sense from him, he really wasn't that
much older than Xander.  Joe seemed intent, but Xander could see that most
of the lines around his eyes were from smiling rather than from pain.  He
gave off a solid 'good guy' vibe that Xander wanted to be able to trust. 
The other two men were harder to judge.  Adam gave off a buzz that
threatened to set Xander's head spinning:  it was full of seductive and
frightening power, a strange sensation to emanate from a man who slouched
unassumingly in a chair.  His face was blank, but his gaze was sharp.  Mac
gave off almost as powerful a feeling, but he was more obvious about it,
carrying himself like a warrior.

"Duncan McLeod of the McLeod," the long-haired man elaborated.

Xander considered whipping out his middle name as some sort of counter,
but decided against it.  He wasn't certain any of these guys had a sense
of humor.  He decided to settle for getting down to business.  "I'm
guessing you're in town because of the Hellmouth?"

Duncan shook his head.  "Who was your teacher?  You claim not to know the
rules that govern the Game, but you know about the Hellmouth?"

"My teacher wasn't an Immortal."  Not exactly.  He didn't want to dwell on
that, didn't want to drag Angel into this if he could help it.  "Besides,
I grew up in Sunnydale.  I went to high school right on top of the
Hellmouth.  Ate lunch with the Slayer almost every day, even."

"The Slayer?" Richie asked, obviously confused.

"A human who is called to fight vampires," Adam said quickly.

Wesley's hand covered Xander's, tightening gently in warning.  Xander
turned his hand over and laced his fingers through the other man's.  How
did Adam know so much?  What the hell were these guys doing in Sunnydale? 
He didn't want to sit here and exchange obscure supernatural trivia with
them all night - he was starting to get seriously worried about having
them in the apartment.  Wes had performed a spell of warding after they'd
moved in to help shield the sense of Xander's Quickening from anything
outside in attempt to avoid attacks by anything seeking his power.  Xander
trusted in Wesley's ability, but the combined power of Adam and Duncan was
making him nervous.  He didn't want the warding to fail; this was his home
and he didn't feel like having it targeted by demons because of these
guys.

Adam focused his attention on Xander, his gaze penetrating, forceful. 
"Who was your teacher?  How did a human teach you and let you fall in with
the Slayer?"

"I met the Slayer in high school, before I knew what I was.  We're
friends.  And I never said my teacher was a human."  Xander was ready to
try to babble his way around the question, but Wesley took over the
conversation for him.

"We need to hurry this up.  My warding won't be able to stand up to the
amount of power of all of you in the same room."

"What, we're going to start attracting vampires?"  Richie grinned. 
"They'll sit and swarm around outside, like moths?"

"Vampires won't much care," Xander said.  "It's the other ones you have to
watch out for.  The ones that will ambush you as a pack and tear your head
off so they can siphon off your Quickening for their own use.  And since I
have to live here, I'd rather not have them hanging around outside.  It
makes going to the grocery store a little more hazardous than fresh milk
is worth.  You guys have got to get out of town."

Duncan shook his head.  "I don't understand."

"The Quickening can be sensed by more than just Immortals," Adam said. 
"Some creatures, some demons, can sense it, as well.  Some of them are
able to take a Quickening.  They don't do it like we do, but they still
use the power for their own purposes and you end up just as dead."

"Beyond that, the Quickening just attracts a lot of demons.  They don't
even seem aware of it, but they are aware of you more than mortals and
that makes you way more likely to end up fighting for your life."  Xander
shrugged.  "Then there are the humans who will try to steal the power for
use in magic, although the guy we usually have to watch out for isn't in
town right now."

"If it's so dangerous, how did you last growing up here?" Duncan
challenged.

"I told you, I'm friends with the Slayer.  I'm usually with her when we
run into the bad guys so they end up being distracted by her."

"How do you deal with this headache?" Richie asked, rubbing at his
forehead.

"When you grow up with something, sometimes it's hard to even know it's
there."  He wasn't going to tell them he didn't feel it anymore, thanks to
Wes.  He didn't know these guys, so he was going to keep that little
advantage to himself, thanks.  Besides, it was true; before he left
Sunnydale on his road trip, he'd never actually left the Hellmouth before.
 It had taken him awhile to figure out why he felt so different on the
road:  he'd been living in pain for so long that he'd been unaware of it
until it was gone.  It had been hard, coming back to Sunnydale, knowing
that he was going to have to feel it again, but he'd been determined.  He
pulled Wesley's hand closer him.  Thank god for Wes.

Wesley stood up.  "I think it's time for you to go.  We can continue this
conversation later, if we have to."

Xander nodded as he glanced at the clock.  "The sun's going to be coming
up soon."

The other men reluctantly stood.  "The Hellmouth is a dangerous place for
an Immortal," Joe said.  "You shouldn't be here.  You shouldn't have come
back after you died your first death."

"No one knew I was dead," Xander said.  "And the Hellmouth is dangerous
for everyone."  He picked up his jacket.  "We'll walk you back to your
hotel."

Out on the street, Adam fell in step beside him.  "There are other dangers
for an Immortal on the Hellmouth," he said quietly.

"I know," Xander said simply.  He wondered which one the Immortal was
referring to.  "Like Quickenings refusing to settle?"  Yeah, that was it,
judging by Adam's startled look.  Xander had figured it out, based on his
past experiences with possession.  Quickenings didn't settle right on the
Hellmouth; it was like the other person fought the new possessor of the
Quickening, refusing to lie quiet even though they'd died.  It had taken a
lot of concentration and some guided meditation at Wesley's hands to help
him get the few Quickenings he'd taken in LA to finally settle.  Xander
knew he could never risk taking another Immortal's head on the Hellmouth: 
he wouldn't be sure of being able to maintain control, after.  "I know
it's dangerous.  I grew up here, remember?  I'm careful, I know how to
handle myself.  I can do a lot of good here."

"You shouldn't have come back.  After your first death, you should have
just moved on, made a new life for yourself.  People are going to notice
when you don't age.  And if you're involved with the Slayer, sooner or
later you're going to get hurt.  What will you tell them when you're
healed the next day?"

"You know, I'm not really worried about that.  The mayor turned into a
giant lizard demon in the middle of my high school graduation and I sort
of blew up the school in the process of killing him.  Didn't even make the
front page of the newspaper. I can't really see me not aging drawing all
that much attention."  Warm fingers crept around his and he smiled at
Wesley.  He was beginning to think that Wesley's hand in his was going to
be a required part of his walking from now on.  "My best friends are the
Slayer, a witch, and a werewolf.  We've got a former vengeance demon
hanging around with us and don't get me started on the women I've dated. 
I'm pretty sure my friends are going to be able to handle the fact that
I'm an Immortal."

"You haven't told them yet, then."  The other man's gaze was thoughtful,
as if he was weighing more than just Xander's words, was weighing his
thoughts and soul as well.

"Hasn't come up yet.  I'm not going to tell them until I have to.  I want
to enjoy being Normal Guy for a little while longer."  He lifted his chin
a little.  "And there's no way I'm going to leave here, not while people I
care about are out risking their lives every night.  Not when I can help
make sure that they make it through the night."

"The Hellmouth..."

"I know it's dangerous, all right?  I figured out life here wasn't going
be easy or safe when I watched my best friend turn to dust around the
stake I plunged into his chest!"  Xander took a deep breath.  "I'm not
stupid.  I know better than to take a Quickening here.  Immortals don't
come here, anyway.  The headache is enough to keep them away."

Adam didn't reply, apparently lost in thought.  That was fine with Xander.
 He'd rather just walk along and revel in the feeling of being so close to
Wes, anyway.  He shot a grateful look at the other man.  He'd let Xander
handle the conversation his own way, and the trust in him that revealed
warmed him to his core.

They passed a fairly large strip mall as they headed toward the hotel. 
Xander winced as they drew near the center of it.  His head began to ring
with the feeling of another Immortal's presence.  He shot an accusing
glare at the newcomers.  "You didn't mention bringing another friend."

"We didn't," Duncan protested.

"Then who the hell is over there?" Wesley asked, gun in his hand.  He let
go of Xander's hand but stepped closer to him.

"I don't know," Duncan ground out.

Xander stayed close to Wes as he scanned the center, searching for
movement. 
  "There."  He pointed to a man exiting one of the closed shops.

The stranger was short, with blond hair that tumbled down into his eyes as
he stepped out onto the sidewalk.  He wore a black shirt that laced up the
front and knee high leather boots.

"Any particular reason he's dressed like a pirate?" Xander muttered.

"Why don't you ask him?" Wesley suggested.

"K."  Xander raised his voice.  "Ahoy, there!"

The blond's head shot up and his eyes widened as he took in the men facing
him from across the street.  "No!"  he yelled.  "You cannot have me yet! 
Not when I am so close!"  He raised his hands and began to chant in a
hissing language.

"Spell," Wesley shouted.  "Move!"  He grabbed Xander's arm and began to
run for the other end of the building.

Xander didn't need to be told twice.  Whatever that guy was working on, he
didn't want to get his with it.  He threw a glance back over his shoulder
and saw the other Immortals just standing there.  Swearing, he turned
around and headed back toward them.  He could see flashes of light
swirling around the chanting man's hands and knew they were out of time. 
He barreled into Joe, figuring he was the most vulnerable.  "Get down!" he
yelled.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wesley knock Richie and Duncan over
with a flying tackle toward their legs.  Adam dropped to the ground as
stinking fire blast through the air where he had been standing a moment
before.  Xander shielded his eyes from the glare.  When it had past, he
looked back toward the blond man but he was gone, running off while they
were all distracted.

Xander shoved himself to his feet.  "What part of 'move' do you people not
understand?" he demanded, reaching out to help Joe stand.

"How were we supposed to know he'd do that?"  Richie asked.  "What the
hell was that?"

"A spell," Xander said shortly.  "You're on the Hellmouth.  If you don't
start expecting shit like that, you're not going to last long.  Another
good reason for you to go home."  He stalked over to where Wesley was
standing.  "Are you all right?"  He ran his hands over Wesley's arms, gaze
raking over his body to check for injuries.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

Wesley blinked.  "I beg your pardon?"

"What were you thinking?  You could've been hurt!"

"I could ask you the same thing!"  Wesley grabbed him by the shoulders. 
"You had no way of knowing what sort of spell that was.  He could have
killed you."  Pale eyes stared furiously into Xander's own.

Xander hated this.  He absolutely hated it, and there was nothing he could
do about it.  He hated that Wesley could be hurt, hated that he worried
the other man.  It was a part of living in Sunnydale, a part of the life
and fight they had chosen for themselves, and there was nothing he could
do to change it, but he hated it all the same.  He could read
understanding in Wesley's eyes, and knew that the other man felt the same
way.

He sighed and looked over at the others, not stepping away from Wesley's
warm hands.  "Any of you know that guy?"

"I think I do," Richie said.  "If he's the guy I think his is, I ran into
him a few years ago.  He was a little weird - heavily into the whole
Dungeons and Dragons scene, you know?  All knights and wizards and
fantasy.  I couldn't understand it; life is weird enough without trying to
bring all that into it."

"Looks like he's trying to make his fantasy a reality."  Wesley gestured
toward the store the Immortal had exited.  "The Magic Shop.  I think he's
trying to develop skills in magic."

"Trying?  It looked to me like he succeeded," Joe protested.

Wesley shook his head.  "That was rudimentary.  Anyone who can memorize
the chant can fling Kreslir's Fire around."

"Anyone can do magic?" Duncan asked skeptically.

"No," Adam answered, in unison with Wesley.  The thin man offered up a
half-smile.  "You have to have an innate affinity and talent for it to go
beyond a few simple incantations."

"Tossing spells around, breaking into the Magic Shop, the way he 
dresses...this guy is trouble," Xander said.

"Where should we look for him?" Duncan asked.

"We?  *We* aren't going to do anything.  You're going to go back to your
hotel, pack, and leave town.  This isn't a part of your Game.  This is
Hellmouth business."  He was tempted to declare that it was a job for the
Scooby Gang, but he wanted these men to take him seriously.

"No way am I leaving an out-of-control Immortal magician on the
Hellmouth," Joe said.

"Oh, the way is easy," Wesley said with that smooth British sarcasm that
Xander loved.  "Go back home.  This isn't your concern.  You don't know
enough to duck when someone throws a spell at you; you're only going to be
in the way here."

Xander took in the stubborn stares directed toward them and sighed. 
"Fine.  At least go back to your hotel and rest.  I'll go talk to the
professionals and when we have a plan, I'll give you a call and let you
know what's going on and how you can help."

"See you soon, then," Duncan said.

"Absolutely," Xander promised.  Like hell he'd call.  Hopefully, they'd be
able to take care of this wannabe the next night, and then he could call
these guys and tell them to go home.  He watched them walk away and looked
over at Wesley.

"Home?"

"Please," Wesley answered with a tired grin.

Xander reached out as they walked and caught Wesley's hand.  The smile on
the other man's face was beautiful:  Xander was going to try to make it
appear more often.  Once they were back home, Xander set himself to
putting away the weapons he'd taken out with him.  He looked up as he
finished and caught Wesley staring at him.  "What?"

A slight flush stained the other man's cheeks.  "You don't seem to mind
that I told them we were lovers."  A small smile quirked his lips.  "I was
hoping you wouldn't."

Xander straightened and crossed the room to stand in front of Wesley. 
"How could I mind?"  He reached out and gently brushed his fingers across
the line of Wesley's jaw.  "It actually isn't that far off from the
truth."  He leaned forward until his lips were only a fraction of an inch
from Wesley's. 
  "I do love you."  He smiled into Wesley's eyes before he pressed his
  lips 
to his mouth.

The first touch was hesitant, the merest brush of lips.  Wesley's warmth
and the elusive taste of him from that barely-there contact wasn't enough
for Xander.  He wanted more; he needed more.  He moved forward again,
seeking firmer contact.  Soft lips yielded against his, parting to admit
his questing tongue.  Wesley's tongue slid wetly against his own, sweet
friction that ignited a fire in Xander.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist as Wesley pulled him hard up against
his body.  Xander moaned happily into the kiss, sliding his fingers into
Wes's back pockets.  He thrust his hips forward against the other man's,
feeling Welsey's hard length against his hip.

Wesley pulled away from the kiss to lave a wet path to Xander's ear. 
"Love you, too," he husked into Xander's ear, nipping at the lobe.  "Love
you."

Xander shivered at the feel of damp breath on his skin, at the scent of
Wesley filling his senses, at the sound of the words.  He couldn't believe
they had waited so long for this:  Wesley felt so right in his arms, the
weight of him making Xander feel more whole than he could ever remember.

"Bedroom," Wesley suggested, hands sliding up under Xander's shirt.

"Yours is closer."

"Yours had a bigger bed."

Good point.  Xander refused to relinquish his hold on Wesley, preferring
to walk awkwardly to his room rather than let him go.  The other man
didn't mind at all:  his arms stayed around Xander for the entire journey
as well.  Once in the bedroom, he concentrated on stripping away Wesley's
clothes.  The Englishman wasn't one for bachelor guy lounging:  no
wandering around the apartment wearing nothing but a pair of boxers for
him.  Damn it.  Xander wanted to see what he was hiding under those
clothes, wanted to see for himself the body he had begun to map with his
hands.

He muttered impatiently when his own shirt was pulled up over his head;
sure, he wanted to be naked too, but it was blocking his view of Wesley. 
Long limbs, ropy with the muscles of a runner, winter pale skin, light
dusting of hair:  it was better than Xander had imagined.

After both their clothing had been tossed to the floor, Xander pushed
Wesley down onto the bed and crawled on top of him.  He leaned down and
scraped his teeth over the surface of a prominent collar bone.  Wesley
arched upward into the touch, fingers twining in Xander's hair to pull him
closer.

"No teasing, Xan.  Not this time," Wesley murmured, one hand snaking down
so he could rub his palm over Xander's erection.

Gasping his agreement, Xander settled himself on top of Wesley, stretching
out so that their erections were aligned as he began to thrust against his
lover.  Teasing could be fun, but not right now.  Not this time.  Wesley
pulled Xander's head down and caught his mouth in a consuming kiss that
tasted of love and need and growing desperation.  Both men moved faster
and faster, driving each other toward completion.  Xander shuddered as he
came, moaning Wesley's name into his mouth.  Beneath him, Wesley thrust up
a final time with convulsive power, bathing Xander in his seed.

Limbs tangled together, they lay panting on the bed.  Xander rolled to the
side of Wesley, one arm wrapped possessively around his waist.  Nuzzling
gently at a pale shoulder, he murmured, "We should get cleaned up."

"Not right now."  Wesley's arms tightened around Xander and he kissed him
lingeringly.

"Not right now," Xander agreed, settling himself down to enjoy the feeling
of finally holding the man he loved in his arms.

*****




Spike leaned closer to the open window, trampling flowers under his black
boots as he maneuvered for a better view.  He'd been away from Sunnydale
for months and had been out of contact with any being he knew here.  If he
was going to have any idea what to expect in town, his best chance of
getting the information was to get it here.

Why the watcher had never figured out that closing his windows would be a
good idea was beyond Spike.  Not that he was complaining.  Hang about the
window for an hour or so while the Slayer and her groupies had their
little meeting and he'd know what was going on in Sunnyhell.

Not much had changed over the summer.  Rupert was still looking at the
children surrounding him with that mixture of pride and anxiety, as if he
didn't know whether to cheer them on or lock them up in a closet.  Buffy
was as blond as ever...but hello, the guy she was cuddling with on the
couch was new.  Light hair, military bearing, open face.  Probably someone
she picked up at college.  Spike wondered briefly if Angel knew he'd been
replaced.  Maybe he'd find a way to make sure his Sire knew.  He sized up
the new man and dismissed him.  How dangerous could a guy willing to be
Buffy's pet be?  The witch was still snuggling with her boyfriend.  Red
hair and bright blue; the vampire had a sudden vision of the wolf dyeing
his hair green in December so he and his girlfriend could be walking,
talking Christmas decorations.

His gaze paused on the whelp; the boy was talking, describing some
encounter he'd had the other night.  Spike listened to him, but the rest
of his attention was focused on trying to figure out what was different
about the dark-haired man.  He *felt* different, even from outside the
house, but Spike couldn't remember what that new feeling should mean.  He
glanced at the man beside Xander and had to repress laughter.  Watcher
Jr.?  Since when did he get back?  And why the hell was he sitting so
close to Xander?

Spike shook his head as Giles and Buffy seemed unimpressed by Xander's
news. 
  It wouldn't be a good idea to ignore this; he'd seen the guy Xander was
talking about on his way over to the watcher's.  The guy was a loon and he
was going to be trouble.  He grinned.  Buffy was going to get knocked on
her ass and he wanted to be there to see it.  It would be a lovely little
welcome back gift.

The humans inside stood up, getting ready to split up for their patrols. 
Spike straightened as well; he wasn't done with them, yet.  The Hellmouth
was no place to chance walking around unaware and the Slayer and her
friends always tripped and fell right into the thick of it.  He glanced
down and saw that a single plant was standing untouched in front of the
window.  He deliberately ground it into the dirt.

Spike considered following Buffy; maybe he could snitch a camera from
somewhere and catch her and her new toy messing around in a secluded
camera. 
  He could send the prints to Angel one at a time.  His gaze became dreamy
  
as he imagined the other vampire's reaction.

Maybe he could steal a video camera.

When they all left the house, though, he hid in the shadows and trailed
along behind Xander and Wesley.  He wanted to figure out what was new
about Xander, where this odd awareness of the boy was coming from.  He
stayed far behind them, counting on vampiric sight and hearing to monitor
them.  When the pack of fledges jumped the pair as soon as they entered
the cemetery, Spike anticipated a 'what-not-to-do' routine of flailing
about and miracle escapes from the two men.

He stared as the two men smoothly moved to defend each other's backs,
stakes in both hands as they evaded grasping hands and gaping jaws. 
Defense flowed seamlessly into offense and ash showered the ground around
them, drifting through the night air and the fledges were destroyed one by
one.  Where the hell had the two men learned to move like that?  Spike
drifted closer; the two panting men were focused on each other, not him.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Xander gave Wesley's body a searching 
once-over.  "You OK?"

Wesley nodded.  "I'm fine."  He took a step closer to Xander.  "You've got
some ash on your face."  Xander made a face and raised a hand, but Wesley
caught it in his own.  "Let me."  With a half-grin playing on his lips, he
leaned in close and gently rubbed his thumb over the corner of Xander's
chin.

When Wesley's hand didn't release its hold on his chin, Xander raised an
eyebrow.  "Did you find more?"

"No.  Just something else I need to do."  With no more explanation, he
pressed his mouth to the other man's.

Spike closed his mouth.  What the hell?  He watched as the two men stole
heated kisses in the middle of the cemetery, hands wandering greedily
inside of jackets as they stood pressed so closely together they cast but
one shadow.  It was only as they regretfully separated that he realized
how close he'd come to them:  he'd kept on walking, wanting to see better,
wanting to see *more*.  He ducked behind a crypt with a muttered curse. 
Ducking down a bit, he peered around the corner.

"Where to now?" Xander asked, reaching up and straightening Wesley's
glasses.

"There's a Hlern hiding out in the Westfall family crypt, or another nest
of vampires over on Elm Street.  I'm personally leaning toward the
vampires."

Xander sighed.  "Elm Street's a mile away."

"Hlerns are notoriously nasty."

"There's a whole nest of vampires."

"Hlerns spew mucus."

"Exactly where on Elm Street is the nest?"  Xander grabbed Wesley's arms
and tugged him toward the cemetery exit, resolutely ignoring the other
man's laughter.

Spike was pulled after them.  He couldn't resist following.  How could he?
 He'd been gone for a few months and everything changed.  These two were
supposed to be jokes, the comic relief of the Slayer's merry little band. 
Hell, the English guy wasn't even deemed good enough to be in the group,
last he'd checked.  Wanker had been voted right off the island known as
Sunnyhell.

As he skulked through the shadows, he noticed a few things.  Xander and
Wesley weren't on patrol.  They weren't doing any of the aimless wandering
that was the usual tactic of the Slayer's gang for stumbling across
trouble. 
  Instead, they were hunting, moving through the night silently and
  lethally 
as they deliberately tracked down their prey.  In between battles they
laughed and teased each other and stole kisses and caresses.  It was
hypnotic, the way they shifted from deadly concentration to lustful mirth
and back again, never losing focus of their purpose.  They were gorgeous.

He should have brought a video camera for them.

His eyes traced over the line of muscle in Xander's shoulders, the elegant
slope of Wesley's back, wandering from one to another and back again. 
He'd dismissed them before, focussing instead on the Slayer, tormenting
them only as a way of getting to her.  How could he have never seen them
before?

Wesley was right; the Hlern was difficult to kill.  Spike's muscles tensed
as he watched them battle it, forcefully restraining himself from helping
them.  He didn't want to reveal himself yet, but he wasn't going to allow
them to die.  He shook his head as Xander pulled a sword out of nowhere
and took a chunk out of the Hlern's hide.  The dark-haired man's follow-up
stroke died before it was completed as he staggered, one hand half-rising
to clutch at his head.  Wesley stepped in, chanting low under his breath,
sending a shower of ominous violet sparks flooding over the demon.  As it
backed away roaring in pain, the two men glared behind them.

Spike's eyes widened as he saw the four men approaching.  The power 
radiating off two of them was enough to send him into a predatorial
crouch, shivering at the feel of it rolling off them in waves.  It hummed
through him, calling to him to take it, taste it on his tongue.  As the
men drew nearer, he realized that he recognized one of them.  He grinned
slowly.  That explained what was so different about Xander:  the boy was
one of them. 
  An Immortal.

He rose to his feet and watched as Xander and Wesley turned their
attention back to the Hlern.  As Wesley cast another spell, Xander
skewered the creature with his sword.  The Hlern thrashed about in a
frenzy of pain, roaring weakly as its life slowly drained away.  It turned
toward the four arriving men.

"Down!" Xander shouted, dropping to the ground beside Wesley.

The four men immediately fell to the ground, just before a gout of mucus
flew forth from the Hlern's snout.  It arced high over them, missing them
completely.  With a final convulsive thrash, the Hlern lay still.

"You're learning," Wesley said, climbing to his feet.  He stretched out
his hand and pulled Xander up to stand beside him.

The powerful one with long dark hair got to his feet.  "What the hell was
that?"

"Just one of the many joys of life on the Hellmouth," Xander said, wiping
the blade of his sword clean and hiding it away.  "Mucus-spewing demons."

Spike decided it was time to make his presence known.  He ambled out of
the shadows, hands swinging gently at his sides as he made his way around
the Hlern's carcass.  "Nicely done, that."

Xander turned to face him, eyes narrowing in recognition.  "Spike.  What
are you doing here?"

"Just passing through, really.  Was in the general area and got to missing
the old Hellmouth."  He lit a cigarette with exaggerated casualness. 
"Nice to see you again, Xander.  Wesley."  He gazed past them to the thin
man he remembered so well.  "Benjamin."

"You know him?" Xander asked.  He shot a glare at the other man.  "I
thought you said your name is Adam."

"It is Adam," the thin man said with a shrug.  "Right now, anyway.  I
don't insist on keeping the same name through the years, like some of our
more stubborn brethren.  I'm flexible."

"That you are, mate," Spike agreed with a dirty chuckle.

Adam frowned.  "I don't remember you.  And I haven't gone by 'Benjamin' in
a very long time."

"Yeah, about ninety years, isn't it?"

"Who are you?"

"What, you don't remember me?  I'm hurt."  Spike let himself slip into
demon visage.  "Does that jog your memory?"

Xander heaved a bored sigh and leaned back against Wesley, who pointedly
restrained a yawn himself.  The reactions of the four other men were more
gratifying.  The one with he long hair pulled a sword out of his coat and
held it low, at the ready.  The red-haired youngster stumbled backward
into the bearded older man, who was swearing under his breath.  Adam gaped
at him for a moment, then also drew his sword.  "William the Bloody."

He'd still been William the Bloody, a part of the Scourge of Europe, when
he'd met Benjamin.  Darla hadn't been all that interested in playing with
the Immortal, but among them Angelus, Spike and Dru had more than made up
for her absence.  It had been consensual, mostly.  Benjamin had enjoyed
the bloody games they'd played with him, enjoyed the painful and dangerous
position of favorite toy until Angelus and Dru had lost interest in him
and let him go.  It had been years, but Spike could never forget him,
never forget the taste of Immortal blood on his lips or the way he'd
pushed the other man beyond the limits of mortals.

Spike inclined his head.  "Most people call me Spike now."  He took a drag
on his cigarette.  "How've you been?"

"You know him?" the long-haired man asked.

Spike didn't miss the way he moved closer to Adam, taking on a stance that
was both protective and possessive.  This could be fun.  "Oh, Adam and I
know each other *very* well," he answered in a tone thick with innuendo.

Adam shot disgusted glare at him.  "You never could keep your mouth shut."

"Not true, pet.  As I recall, you were the one who had to wear the gag all
the time."

"That's only because your mouth was full of other things."

"Your still jealous that my technique is better than yours."

Adam shook his head.  "You're delusional."

"Yeah, but that didn't stop me from fucking you until you passed out again
and again, did it?  Didn't stop me from draining you and waiting for you
to recover only to begin again, the whole time with you begging and
screaming against the gag - only you weren't asking me to stop, isn't that
right?"  Spike kept half his attention on the long-haired man.  He didn't
know a person could turn that red without stroking out.

"As if you didn't do your share of groveling," Adam said.  He looked over
at his would-be protector.  "MacLeod, calm down.  It was a long time ago."

"What the hell is he?" ground out MacLeod.

"A vampire."  Xander's face brightened.  "They do this neat turn-to-ashes
thing when you kill them.  Wanna see?"  Despite his words, he made no move
toward Spike.

The blond man raised his hands, shifting back into his human features. 
"Hold on a minute, there.  You don't want to kill me.  Not when I can tell
you where to find the crazy man you're looking for."

"How do you know we're looking for someone?" Wesley asked.

"Keep my ears open, don't I?  Immortal like Xander here, and he wants to
be a bad-ass mojo-worker.  Does that sound like your boy?"

Xander took a step toward him, deliberately invading his space.  "You can
take us to him?"

Spike didn't back up an inch.  Staring up into the dark eyes, he smirked. 
"Am I going to have to blow in your ear, or will you follow me on your
own?" 
  He watched as Xander's eyes darkened.

"Lead the way."  Xander reached out and took Wesley's hand, not needing to
look back to know the other man was reaching for him.  "We'll be right
behind you."

Spike allowed his gaze to wander once more over the bodies of the two men
in front of him.  A package deal, were they?

He could get to like this.

*****


Wesley moved closer to Xander, fingers once again entangled with his
lover's.  Xander looked over at him with a flashing grin.  Leaning in
close, the young man murmured, "Vampires and Immortals and Watchers, oh
my."

Wesley chuckled.  "Does that make you Dorothy?"

"I always fancied myself as more a Scarecrow kinda guy, personally." 
Xander tilted his head and licked at Wesley's ear.  "Who did you want to
be?"

Wesley was saved from having to answer by MacLeod's irritated, "Would you
two like us to wait while you go get a room?"

Xander nipped at Wesley's ear, deliberately not pulling away for several
moments.  When he did, he shot an irritated look at the long-haired man. 
"We won't need a room.  I've got to go take care of something."  He jerked
his chin over toward the darkened street a block away.

Wesley nodded his comprehension.  "You'll catch up with us?"

"As long as Spike isn't lying to us, I know where you're going."

"Hey!" Spike objected.

"Don't even bother," Xander said.  "I won't be long," he promised Wesley.

"Have fun," Wesley said, before pressing his lips to Xander's.  After a
moment his lover was gone, disappearing down a side street.

"Where's he going?" Adam asked.

"Family business," Wesley said shortly.  It wasn't his job to explain it
to them.  He stared at Spike.  "Were you planning on getting us to our
quarry tonight?  Or perhaps you wished to wait until dawn and then light
the way with your flaming body?"

The vampire glared at him before his expression shifted into a speculative
smirk.  "Whatever you want, pet."  He started walking again.

Wesley shivered a little as he followed behind him.  He loved Xander, was
still surprised by the depth of the feelings he held for the other man,
but it was difficult not to be affected by Spike.  The vampire was a sexy
bastard and was well-aware of it.  Watching the blond man walk ahead of
him, he spared a glare for the enveloping leather duster that concealed
the body encased in tight jeans.  It just wasn't fair.

He ignored the mutterings of the Immortals and kept walking, keeping half
of his attention focused on the direction in which Xander had disappeared.
 He wasn't worried about Xander, not really:  he knew his lover could take
care of himself.  He just preferred having Xander's solid warmth beside
him, hearing him talk and breathe, being able to turn and see him smile.

He glanced behind him and caught Joe's eyes.  He slowed down and fell back
to walk beside the other man.  "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Joe looked at him speculatively.  "I'm not going to guarantee you any
answers."

Wesley smiled faintly.  "Fair enough."  He kept looking at the other man
from the corner of his eye.  "How long of you been a Watcher?"  He didn't
miss the startle jerk, or Joe's measuring stare.

"What do you know about Watchers?"  Joe's voice was low and controlled.

"I was one, once.  Oh, not your branch.  We...they...focus on more 
supernatural areas, rather than just Immortals.  Most attention is paid to
the Slayer, as well as various varieties of demons.  Ever hear of us?"

Joe shook his head.  "Bits and pieces, nothing definite.  Just that there
was another group of people out there keeping an eye on things even
weirder than the stuff we take care of."

"So that's how you heard of the Hellmouth?"

"I'm high enough up in the hierarchy that I know about the need to keep
Immortals out of here.  Immortals like your boyfriend."

Wesley grinned.  His boyfriend.  He had a boyfriend.  Xander was his
boyfriend.  He caught the line his thoughts were taking with a rueful
grin.  Next thing he knew he'd be writing 'Mr. Wesley Harris' on sheets of
paper and doodling hearts.  Dear Lord, he was acting like a teenager.

And he liked it.  Xander was such a bad influence.  He was looking forward
to seeing what other ways his lover would effect him.

He realized that he'd stopped paying attention to Joe and looked back at
the other man.  "Xander grew up here.  I believe we both know the dangers
of him being here better than you do.  He is careful and know the risks he
faces from demons.  He knows never to take a head here, not that Immortals
ever stay here."

"How does he handle the headache?  None of these three have stopped
bitching about the pain since we got here."

Wesley hesitated for a moment.  "He grew up here.  He's used to it."  He
wasn't going to tell them about the spell.  If things got ugly, he wanted
Xander to have every advantage possible over these men.  He didn't know
them, and while he might need to work with them he didn't have to trust
them.

Joe looked ready to press his point, but he was thwarted by Xander's
return. 
  The dark-haired man was grinning darkly and breathing hard.

"Did you have fun?" Wesley asked.

Xander's smile was viciously amused.  "He had a gun this time.  He waved
it at me until I told him all it would do was piss me off if he shot me."

"But he didn't?"

"I think he's beginning to give up.  I'm beginning to break the old 
bastard's spirit."

"Who are you talking about?" Joe asked.

"My father," Xander answered.  "I like to drop by the house every so often
and give him the chance to try to kill me.  I love the look on his face
when I show up the next day completely healed."

"You can't do that," MacLeod said sharply.  "It's dangerous!"

"No shit.  I mentioned the gun, right?"

"He could find out what you are.  You're not supposed to run around and
tell mortals about us.  Immortality isn't some sort of prank to pull on
people.  To pull on your *father*."

Wesley moved to stand between Xander and the long-haired man.  "You don't
know Xander's father," he said, voice low and quiet.  Xander had started
this game after his father pushed him down the basement stairs shortly
after his return to Sunnydale.  Xander hadn't expected the attack and had
fallen badly, breaking his neck and dying as he lay helpless in a crumpled
heap.  When he'd revived and climbed up the stairs an hour later, his
father had been terrified and Xander's game had begun.  If it was up to
Wesley, the man wouldn't just be harassed; he'd be dead.  "And you forget
this is the Hellmouth.  Here, the dead walk on a regular basis."

"Getting some of your own back, are you?" Spike asked.  There was a light
that looked very much like respect in his eyes.  "Good for you, pet."

Xander shrugged.  "It's always good for a laugh."  He shared a smirk with
Spike and then they were walking, hunting the renegade Immortal once more.

Wesley was surprised by Spike's support, but it did make a sort of sense. 
The vampire certainly held his own Sire in contempt.  He ignored the
disapproving glances from the other men, although Adam really didn't seem
to care what Xander did.  He caught Xander's hand in his once more,
drawing him close.  Xander came willingly and under Wesley's gaze his
smile became more natural, less dark.  He couldn't blame Xander for
harassing his father but he was always relieved when that smirk vanished
and his lover's easy smile came back.  He was distracted from his thoughts
when he saw that Spike had stopped walking.  "What is wrong?  Did you
forget where you were planning to ambush us?"

"Shh," the vampire hissed.  "Can't you hear that?  There's fighting up
ahead."

Wesley stilled and he could barely hear the sounds of conflict. 
"Definitely fighting."  He didn't look at Xander as he started running; he
didn't need to.  He knew that Xander would be right beside him.  Fighting
in Sunnydale almost always meant members of the Scooby Gang.

Running around the corner, Wesley slowed down as they turned the corner,
taking in what he was seeing.  Buffy was fiercely engaged in fighting with
a man dressed in long robes.  The reason for the Slayer's ferocity lay in
the street behind Buffy:  Willow was down.

"Willow!" Xander shouted, pulling his gun from the back of his waistband. 
With a quick glance toward Wesley he was gone, running toward the
fighting.

Wesley moved off to the side, intent on flanking the delusional Immortal. 
One part of him was caught up in horrified amusement:  the man had gone
out and found himself robes so he could dress up like a wizard.  It was
rather sad, in a completely laughable kind of way.

He flinched as he heard the robed Immortal begin chanting.  "He's going to
try throwing Kreslir's Fire again!"  He may have gotten a new wardrobe,
but he hadn't learned any new tricks.  Wesley's eyes widened in surprise
as MacLeod charged into the fray and tackled Buffy, knocking her to the
ground. 
  Kreslir's Fire missed them completely.   "What are you doing?" he
  yelled.

"At least he's got the rules down!" Xander shouted.

Buffy shoved MacLeod off of her, using her Slayer strength to send him
staggering back several steps.  "Xander, do you know this guy?"  She stood
and brushed herself off.

"That depends.  Will you kick my ass if I say yes?"

"Just keep him out of my way."

"This man was attacking you," MacLeod objected.

"Yeah.  I sorta noticed that.  Now could you just stay the hell out of my
way while I finish this?"  She glared at Xander.  "We'll be talking
later."  She turned and leapt at the robed Immortal, putting him back on a
physical defensive.

Xander grabbed MacLeod.  "I want you to stay with me and wait for my
signal to move in."  His voice was raised; Buffy was muttering her
irritation as she battered at the Immortal.

"I don't-" MacLeod began to object, but Xander didn't let him finish.

"Wes, you keep an eye on whatever magic this guy might try.  The rest of
you, stay out of this unless I tell you we need you."  He licked his lips.
 "And take care of Willow."  His gaze strayed over to his friend, who was
beginning to stir on the ground.

Wesley divided his attention between their enemy and Willow.  He trusted
Xander to take care of himself so he wanted to make sure the strangers
took care of Willow.  Fortunately, he didn't have to trust them long.  The
rest of the Scooby Gang showed up, probably drawn by the sounds of
fighting.  Oz and Giles immediately began to tend to the fallen woman,
while Riley immediate moved closer to Wesley, helping him to pen in the
Immortal.

Xander pulled MacLeod around to help him circle around the Immortal.  The
stranger realized what they were doing and threw Buffy away from him,
clearly looking to escape.  MacLeod pulled his sword, ignoring Xander's
furious objections.

"Xander!"  Wesley's shout came too late; distracted by MacLeod's sword,
Xander wasn't ready for the Immortal's break for freedom.  Wesley watched
as his lover was thrown sideways, slamming into MacLeod.

Slamming into MacLeod's sword.

Wesley scrambled over to Xander, letting Riley and Buffy try to chase the
fleeing man.  He dropped to his knees beside Xander.  "Are you all right?"

"He caught me," Xander said, breathing in tight, controlled gasps.  "Not
bad enough to kill me, but it hurts like a bitch."

Wesley checked the wound himself, sighing in relief.  He was bleeding, but
the wound wasn't deep.  "It'll heal quickly."  He shrugged out of his
jacket and helped Xander pull it on.  "You will pay for the cleaning."  He
knew Xander wasn't ready to tell his friends what he was so they were
going to have to hide the fact that he had been injured.

"Yeah, yeah."  Xander ran his fingers down the line of Wesley's jaw, then
groaned as he heaved himself to his feet.

"Xan, are you hurt?"  Buffy and Riley walked over to them.  The Slayer
looked her friend over in concern.

"I'm good.  Just twisted my side when I fell.  What are you two doing
back?"

"We lost him.  Slippery guy just vanished down an alley."  She raised her
eyebrows as she looked over the strangers.  "Friends of yours, Xander?"

"Uh, not exactly.  I ran into them tonight and I was bringing them to
Giles. 
  It turns out that this guy isn't exactly normal."

"The robes and Fire o' Stench was kind of a tip off."

"Kreslir's Fire," Willow muttered, letting Oz help her to her feet.  "It
was Kreslir's Fire."

"Yeah," Xander said.  "You ok, Wills?"  After her nod, he turned his
attention back to Buffy.  "No, I mean weird beyond the wizard
wannabe-ness.  These guys are tracking him."  He looked over at Wesley.

Wesley nodded quickly, catching Xander's ploy.  "Yes.  They are members of
a group not dissimilar to that of the Watchers.  Rather than being
concerned with the Slayer, they monitor a group of people known as
Immortals."

"Hey!"  Joe made his way forward.  "What do you think you're doing?"

Xander held his hands up.  "I know, I know, you're a secret society.  But
they need to know what we're up against, Joe.  I'm not going to let them
go into this blind."

"It's too dangerous."  Wesley took up the narrative immediately, not
giving anyone else a chance to speak.  "Joe and his assistants came to
Sunnydale tracking this man down.  He's one of the Immortals, and they are
qualified to take care of him.  He's gone quite mad and they need our
assistance."  He glared at the Immortals, willing them to go along with
the story.  It protected the truth about their natures, after all.  More
importantly, it protected the truth about Xander's.

Adam sighed.  "Fine.  I guess you all do need to know.  We're here to get
this man under control before he causes anymore chaos."

Giles nodded slowly.  "I've heard of Immortals and of another group of
Watchers.  If this man really is an Immortal, we'll need their help."

Wesley sighed in relief.  They were going to go along with it.  No one's
secret was going to be revealed.  They'd be able to take care of this
without any major problems.  A voice from the shadows destroyed his
complacency.

"Yeah, Buffy.  We're just here to help."  Spike took drag on his cigarette
as he approached them.

"Spike," Buffy hissed, pulling out a stake.  "The only thing you're here
to do is die."

Shit!  Wesley exchanged a frantic look with Xander.  How were they going
to explain the vampire?  They could just let Buffy kill him, but the
Englishman was reluctant to allow that to happen.

"Buffy, wait!"  Xander held out a hand to her.  "Don't stake him yet. 
He's...ah...he's got a grudge against this Immortal.  Think about it,
Buff.  An Immortal.  A vampire is going to be useful."

"We don't need him," she said, hefting the stake.

"But we might.  He's agreed not to cause any trouble while he's hunting
this guy.  Hey, he even said that he'll drink bagged blood instead of
hunting."  Xander's fierce glare silenced any objection Spike might have
made.

Buffy glared at the vampire.  "One misstep and it's over.  So much as
sniff at someone's neck and you're dust."

"Got it, Slayer."  He took another drag.  "So what next?"

This time it was Wesley's turn to jump in with an idea.  "It will be dawn
in a few hours.  I suggest that we return home to rest and meet tomorrow
to form a plan."

Buffy yawned hugely as she nodded.  "Fine.  Giles's house at five.  I'm
going to want real answers by then."  She pointed at Spike.  "Who's going
to babysit him?"

Wesley caught Xander's gaze and saw the distinct 'what the hell' look in
his lover's eyes.  "We will.  If all else fails, I can always lock him in
a room with wards."  He caught the skeptical look on the Scooby Gang's
faces, knowing that they doubted his abilities.  That was fine.  That
didn't matter so long as Xander stared at him with absolute trust and
belief - just as he was doing then.  The group began to break up.  Wesley
gave directions to Giles's house to Adam and bid him good night, then
walked after Xander to join him at Willow's side.

Xander looked his friend over with concern.  "You sure you're all right?"

She nodded, but winced a little.  "He just surprised me.  He started
yelling about needing what I had and just rushed me.  I didn't have time
to try to do anything before he knocked me over.  It's a good thing Buffy
was with me."

Xander briefly touched Oz's arm.  "Take her home and take care of her,
man." 
  Oz nodded and wordlessly wrapped his arm around Willow's shoulder and
shepherded her away.

Wesley reached out to touch Xander's shoulder.  They were careful not to
touch too much in front of the Scooby Gang.  Neither of them were ashamed
of what they had, but Wesley especially was reluctant to tell the others. 
He wasn't ready to deal with questions and jokes.  For right now, he just
wanted to keep what they had private, to treasure and enjoy it for a
little while longer.

Xander smiled at him wearily and flexed his shoulders experimentally,
stretching out his side.  "Healed," he said quietly.

"Good," Wesley said, pulling Xander into his arms.  He slid his arms
around his lover's waist, pressing their bodies close together.  "I can't
wait any longer for this."  He lowered his mouth to Xander's, drinking in
the taste of his lover, reveling in the sweet play of tongue against
tongue.  He jerked a little as Xander nipped at his lips.  He mock-glared.
 "If you don't stop that, we might not make it home."

"I'll stand look out."  Spike's offer reminded Wesley that they weren't
alone.  With a rueful smile, he kissed Xander once more before stepping
away from him.

"Time to head home," Xander said.  "We wouldn't want you to flame away in
the sunlight after we had all the fun of stopping Buffy from killing you,
now would we?"

"I can take her," Spike said.

Xander snorted and looked at Wesley.  "Want to call for take-out for him?"

Wesley nodded and pulled out his cellphone.  He dialed a familiar number
and began to walk back toward the apartment.  He smiled when his hand was
caught in Xander's.  He squeezed his lover's hand as he began to talk on
the phone. 
  "Lreel?  It's Wyndem-Pryce.  I need a cooler of blood bags delivered to
  my 
place about twenty minutes ago."  He ignored Lreel's protests and looked
over at Spike.  "Any preference for blood-type?"

Spike shook his head.  "So long as it's human, type doesn't actually make
any difference."

Wesley spoke over Lreel.  "I don't think I'm being unreasonable.  I'm not
even asking for a specific blood-type.  All I expect is that a delivery
boy will be waiting for me at my door with a cooler of human blood.  And
Lreel?  I'll be home in ten minutes."  He hung up on the shrieked curses
coming from the other end of the line.

"Your boy didn't sound happy," Spike said.  "I'm not going to get any
supper.  And whose bright idea was it to tell the Slayer that I wouldn't
be hunting?"  He glared at Xander.

"Oh, that bright idea?  It came from the same guy who stopped her from
staking your ass.  The same guy that's giving you a place out of the sun
that doesn't involve shacking up with a corpse."

"Nothing wrong with staying in a crypt.  I'm a vampire, for fuck's sake."

Xander ignored Spike's mutterings and grinned at Wesley.  "Someday you're
going to have to tell me what you did to Lreel."

"I didn't do anything to him," Wesley said with grave dignity.  "I am
merely a highly valued customer."

Xander laughed.  As they neared the apartment, he pointed out ahead of
them. 
  "Delivery boy as requested, sir."

Wesley fought down a burst of arousal at Xander's words and focused on
where his lover had pointed.  He was right.  A nervous Henta demon was
fidgeting in front of the door to their apartment building, standing watch
over a cooler by its feet.  Its fidgeting grew worse as they approached.

Wesley moved away from Xander to stand in front of the Henta.  He faced it
with his arms crossed and no smile on his face.  "Is this my order?"

The Henta nodded violently.

"Is it correct?"

The demon nodded so vehemently that Wesley worried it would do itself an
injury.

"Then you may go."  He watched the Henta scurry away down the street.  As
he unlocked the door, he glanced over his shoulder.  Xander was right
behind him and Spike was picking up the cooler.  As the vampire
straightened, there was a look of something like respect on his face.

Wesley smirked to himself as he walked up the stairs.  It was nice to see
that his skills in intimidation were beginning to pay off.  He opened the
door to the upper apartment and stepped back to allow Xander to enter in
front of him.  His smirk grew.  Chivalry?  Nope.  He just wanted to check
out Xander's ass in jeans one last time before he removed them.  An
irritated throat clearing drew his attention back to the hallway.

Spike raised an eyebrow.  "Should I just camp out in the hallway, then?"

"If you like.  If that gets boring, you are welcome to come inside."

Spike snarled at him but there was no real malice behind it.  The vampire
wandered into the kitchen and began to stow his blood in the fridge.

"Where are we going to stick our little ray of darkness?" Xander asked.

"My room."  Wesley grinned at Xander.  They'd tried out both beds and he
definitely preferred the extra space in Xander's.  He looked over at
Spike.  "You can stay in the bedroom on the left.  I'm going to set a
ward.  If you try to leave the apartment before I've removed it..." he let
his voice trail away.

"Oh, don't be coy, pet.  What'll happen to me?"  Spike tore open one of
the blood packets and poured it into a saucepan.

"If it survives you imploding, can I have your duster?" Xander asked,
putting on his begging face.

Wesley watched the superior look slide off of Spike's face as he was faced
with the full force of Xander's attention and pleading.  The smirk was
back in moments, but Wesley had seen it disappear.  He wrapped an arm
around Xander and led him over to the bedroom on the right.  "Sleep well."
 He shut the door firmly behind them.

"What was that about?" Xander asked.  He sat down on the bed and pulled
off his shoes.

Wesley tried to look innocent but Xander was unmoved.  He decided to just
be honest.  "I didn't like how he was looking at you."

Xander smiled gently at him.  "You should probably be more worried about
the way I look at him," he confessed.  "Spike is..."  He shook his head
helplessly.  "Spike is Spike."

Wesley nodded.  "I know what you mean.  He's awfully hard to resist, isn't
he?"  He shared a conspiratorial grin with Xander.  "He's got the walk and
the attitude..."

"The ass and the accent..."

"And just what is so seductive about his accent?" Wesley demanded.

"Nothing," Xander said, sinking to his knees to untie Wesley's shoes. 
"I'm just a sucker for accents, I guess."

Wesley swallowed hard, the arousal he'd felt outside returning full force.
 "Xander..."  His voice was hoarse.

Xander looked up at him.  "Wes?  You OK?"

"I won't be if I don't get out of my jeans soon."

Xander blinked and seemed to realize how his position could be viewed.  He
was kneeling in front of Wesley.  His eyes darkened.  "Does this have
anything to do with the fact that you almost crushed my hand outside?"

"Right after you called me 'sir'."  Wesley's embarrassment disappeared
under the heat of Xander's gaze.

"Well," Xander said speculatively.  Staying on his knees, he reached up
and unbuttoned Wesley's jeans, gently pulling them down his legs to pool
at his ankles.  Xander raised one foot in his hands and removed shoes,
socks, and pants.

Wesley braced himself with a hand on Xander's shoulder as he raised the
other foot.  He reached up and pulled off his own shirt, then reached down
and fingered the collar of his jacket as it lay against the warm skin of
Xander neck.  "Take this off."

Xander nodded mutely, shrugging out of the jacket.  As Wesley continued to
stare at him, he pulled off his ruined and shirt and tossed it on top of
the jacket.  He stared up at Wesley, breath coming faster than before.

The blue-eyed man reached down and cradled Xander's face in his hand.  He
murmured in pleasure when his lover turned his head to nuzzle at his palm
and press a soft kiss in the center of it.  Holding Xander's gaze, he
pulled the kneeling man's face toward him.  Xander came easily, lips
parting as his tongue snaked out to lick at the tip of Wesley's erection. 
Wesley gasped at the feel of moist heat curling around him in teasing
licks.  He couldn't help the forward thrust of his hips.  Xander
immediately stopped his teasing and opened his mouth, allowing Wesley's
hardness to slide inside as he raised his hands to rest them on Wesley's
hips.  At the feel of Xander's mouth around him and his tongue playing
along the underside of his erection Wesley moaned out loud and sank his
hands into Xander's hair.  He looked down as he began to thrust lazily
into Xander's mouth, so he caught the sudden glint of amusement in
Xander's eyes just before the younger man began to hum.  Gasping at the
feel of it, Wesley stepped back.

"What's wrong?" Xander asked, hands moving in soothing circles on Wesley's
skin.

"Nothing," Wesley reassured him, stroking his fingers through Xander's
hair. 
  "It was good.  Too good, and I didn't plan on coming in your mouth."  He
  
waited for Xander's reaction.

The dark-eyed man stared up at him for a moment, then leaned forward to
place a sucking kiss on the tip of Wesley's erection.  "Please," he
whispered.

Wesley reached down and pulled Xander to his feet, leaning down to
unfasten his jeans.  Xander helped and soon he was naked as well.  Wesley
grabbed his upper arms and jerked him forward, kissing him thoroughly as
he backed him up to the bed.  He tumbled Xander back onto the bed, landing
on top of him.  He felt his lover's erection press up against him and
Xander arched up, seeking friction.  Wesley grabbed Xander's hands as they
began to wander down between their bodies and pinned his wrists to the
mattress on either side of his head.  Panting, he stared down into
Xander's eyes.  "Do you have anything?"

"I just got tested a month ago, Wes, and it came back clean."

Wesley ducked his head and bit Xander's nipple.

"Ow!"  Xander's breathing sped up.  "In the drawer.  Wes, please!"

Wesley licked the abused nipple, soothing it even as he jerked open the
drawer and began to feel around inside of it.  He grabbed the tube of
lubricant and opened it one-handed, yet another skill of which he couldn't
boast.  Switching over to Xander's other nipple, he coated one of his
fingers and slowly slid it inside of Xander.

Beneath him, Xander bucked and moaned.  The dark-haired man's face was
strained with pleasure, mouth open as he panted wetly for breath, head
thrown back as he fought to keep his eyes open.  When Wesley reached up to
trace his finger over the line of Xander's lips, Xander leaned forward,
closing his lips around the finger.  He sucked frantically at it, mutely
demonstrating his need.  Wesley rewarded him with a second finger inside,
speeding up his preparation.  Sure that Xander was ready, Wesley slicked
his erection and then began to slowly press himself inside his lover.

"More," Xander begged.  "Faster."

Wesley shook his head, not wanting to risk hurting him.  Xander groaned in
frustration, then hooked his ankles around Wesley's waist and pulled,
forcing Wesley deeper within himself.  Wesley gasped and gave in, burying
himself completely within his lover.  He held himself still for a moment,
treasuring the first moment of being totally joined to Xander.  He looked
down into eyes so dark they were almost black, seeing passion and need and
love, all so strong that he wouldn't have been able to believe that they
were meant for him without the knowledge that Xander could see the very
same things in his own gaze.

Xander was still for a moment as well, then he reached up one hand in
order lay his hand over Wesley's heart.  "I love you," he said softly.

Wesley leaned down and caught Xander's lips in a gentle kiss.  "I love
you," he replied, feeling the truth of the answer in the core of his soul.
 One more kiss and then he began to thrust slowly, long gentle glides back
and forth, pulling out almost all the way before completely sheathing
himself once more inside Xander.

Xander's hands traced random patterns of fire over his skin, fingers
bestowing lingering caresses and firmer touches in an sensual rhythm that
Wesley couldn't resist.  He began to quicken his thrusts, needing release,
needing to watch Xander's face as he came.  He reached down between them
to curl his fist around Xander's erection, pumping the hard flesh in time
with his own thrusts.  He heard Xander begin to cry out as his pleasure
built and was vaguely aware of his own needy sounds.  His orgasm caught
him by surprise, so powerful that he only had time to slam himself home
inside of Xander, triggering his lover's own release.

He tried to keep his weight off of Xander but his lover pulled him down. 
"I want to feel you," the younger man murmured.

Wesley sank down on top of him, Xander's flesh a perfect mattress the
boneless mass that had once been Wesley's body.  Withdrawing regretfully
from his lover, he nuzzled Xander's temple, inhaling the warm scent of him
as he kissed the fragile skin.  He hovered on the edge of sleep, too sated
and content to move.

Then he heard the door snick close.

Wesley sat up, staring hard at the door.  He was sure he had closed it. 
He'd been having his slight fit of jealousy and he'd wanted to separate
Xander from Spike.  There way no way that he'd not closed the door.

Xander propped himself up on his elbows.  "Undead voyeur," he muttered.

"That bleached bastard was watching us," Wesley hissed.  He started to get
up, but Xander wrapped his arms around him and held him still.  "Xander!"

"Let him be.  He's probably jerking off in the bathroom.  Do you really
want to walk in on that?"

Wesley groaned as a jolt of arousal shook him.  He could feel a blush
mounting on his cheeks as he met Xander's eyes.

Xander grinned and thrust up gently against him.  "Or maybe I should let
you go?"

He shook his head.  "I couldn't."

"Too in love with me?"

"No."  Wesley kept his expression absolutely serious.  "You waited too
long to go get a cloth and now I'm stuck to you.  Otherwise I'd be out
that door-"  His words trailed off into laughter as Xander growled at him
and bit his shoulder.

"Just for that, *you* can go get the towel," Xander said, fingers skating
across Wesley's flesh, seeking and finding ticklish spots.

Wesley would get a cloth and use it to clean both himself and Xander up. 
Then they would talk about Spike and what his interest in them could mean,
how their interest in him could develop.  Finally they would sleep and he
would have Xander in his arms and need nothing else in the world.

But first, he was going to win this tickle war.

*****




Xander got to his feet as soon as Joe was done explaining what Immortals
were and what he believed the crazy one was doing in Sunnydale.  Again. 
If Buffy wasn't demanding more information, then it was Giles or Riley or
Willow.  To be fair, the other Immortals had spent over an hour trying to
get a handle on what exactly the members of the Scooby Gang were.  Willow
being a witch went over fairly easily, as did Giles's status as a Watcher.
 Xander wasn't sure that they believed Oz was a werewolf, but since the
moon wouldn't be full for another two weeks there really was no way to
prove it to them.

And if Duncan said, '*you're* the Slayer?!' to Buffy one more time, Xander
was going to dope slap him.  Adam had muttered something about taking
chivalry too far and he was right.  If Duncan didn't watch himself, Willow
or Buffy were going to lose their patience and unleash some
Hellmouth-style girl power on his ass and make him shut up with the
incredulous comments.

Xander cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself.  Time to end
the meeting.  He didn't want to give Giles or Willow a chance to start
asking too many questions.  The sooner he got the two groups separated,
the better, or else all the secrets he'd been working so hard to conceal
would be found out.  "So now that we know what we're up against, let's get
going."

Buffy stared at him.  "Since when are you Gung-ho Boy?"  She stood as
well.  "But you're right.  I don't want this guy running around my town."

Xander shook his head in concern as he watched Willow get ready to leave. 
"Wills, maybe you should stay here.  He did go after you last time,
remember?"

"If he's messing around with magic, you're going to need me out there." 
She smiled at him.  "I've got Buffy and Oz looking out for me.  I'll be
fine."

Xander nodded reluctantly.  He wanted to be looking out for her too, but
he had to keep his eye on the other Immortals.  He and Wes would be
canvassing Sunnydale with them, while the Scooby Gang looked over the rest
of town.  The two groups should be able to handle both the Immortal and
anything else Sunnydale decided to throw at them.

Buffy cast a dubious look over at the silent vampire standing in the
corner. 
  "Are you sure you want to take him with you?"

Xander could feel both Wes and Spike's eyes on him.  He and his lover
hadn't confronted Spike about his peek into their bedroom the night
before.  Of course, Spike hadn't said much of anything to them, either. 
Xander wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say.  'So, Spike, did you like
what you saw?'  'Do you have any advice that you'd like to offer?' 'How
about coming on over here and joining us.?'

He forced his wandering thoughts back on track.  Hoping he wasn't blushing
as much as the heat on his face told him he was, he settled with, "Yeah,
we can keep watching him.  You guys get a Vampire Slayer, we get a
vampire.  It doesn't even things up, but it's better than nothing."

As they began to split up, Richie hesitated before speaking up.  "I think
maybe I should go with Giles.  And his group."  He didn't give anyone a
chance to react before hurrying on with his explanation.  "That way
they'll have someone with first hand experience with Immortals with them. 
Plus, I can get in contact with Joe right away by his cell.  Just so we've
got all the bases covered."

Buffy shrugged.  Xander couldn't come up with any reason to object.  "I'm
good with it.  G-man, do you have a problem with it?"

"Xander..." Giles sighed and stopped his usual objection.  He just shook
his head.  "No, it sounds like a good idea to me."  He took of his glasses
and wiped at the lenses.

That settled, they left Giles's house, splitting up to search for their
quarry.  Xander watched his friends disappear down a street, then turned
to face the men he was with.  "They're taking the areas of town that tend
to be more monster-prone.  We've got the more populated areas, so let's
try to keep a low profile."  Not that a low profile was all that necessary
in Sunnydale.  So long as Spike didn't drain anyone in the middle of the
street and Adam and Duncan didn't square off with their swords, they'd be
fine.  They shouldn't attract too much attention.

As they walked, Xander briefly outlined the set up of the town, describing
its geography and what to expect.  As he was winding down, he caught Joe
staring at him, an odd look on his bearded face.  "What?"

"You said you died your first death last summer.  You can't be more than
twenty, so when did you find time to do a turn in the military?"  Joe
raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

Xander blinked.  "What makes you think I was ever in the military?"

"The way you just laid out the town for us.  It sounded like the briefings
I'd get from my CO back in the bad old days."

"I was never in the military."

"Could've fooled me the first time we met," Spike said.  "You were acting
the part then."

"Oh, the Halloween thing.  Well, yeah, if you count that, I was in it, but
only for six hours max."  Wesley nodded; he'd heard the story before. 
Everyone else looked confused.  Xander sighed.  "More of the hilarity that
comes with growing up on the Hellmouth.  A few Halloweens back, a guy cast
a spell that made me and my friends turn into our costumes.  I was wearing
an army guy outfit, so I spent that night thinking I was in the army. 
Eventually we all came out of it, but I've still got some of the army
guy's know-how floating around in my head."

Wesley nodded and came closer, moving to stand close enough to Xander that
their shoulders brushed.  "I believe it may have something to do with
Xander being an Immortal.  He has always been susceptible to possessions
of that nature and the effects of them linger in him when they should not.
 I wonder if the Quickening within him functions as a sort of beacon for
possessing forces."

"And since he absorbs other Immortals' Quickenings and holds them within
himself, maybe that causes him to hold onto the possessions longer?" Adam
chimed in with his own speculations.  "That could be."

"You're being remarkably blase about the idea of this guy being
possessed."  Duncan jaw was set in a hard line.  "No offense, Xander, but
maybe this Immortal we're looking for isn't the only one who's not
completely sane."

"Now why would I take offense at that?"  Xander shook his head.  "You
didn't grow up here.  You wouldn't understand.  No one lives here without
having their lives brushed by darkness.  If they're lucky, a brush is all
they experience."  He met the long-haired man's gaze steadily.  "My
graduating class started out with a little over five hundred students.  By
the time four years had passed and graduation services were over, there
were just over three hundred and fifty of us left."

"Kids drop out, move away -"

"Get drained by vampires, get turned, are used by black magic workers in
spells, get turned into fish monsters, are dragged into cults, or are
turned into zombies."  Xander stopped walking and faced Duncan squarely. 
"Without Buffy and Giles and Willow, the casualties would've been worse. 
So we're going to find this guy, no matter what you think of my sanity,
and we're going to take him out so he can't hurt any of them."  He waited
until Duncan nodded and then started walking again.  Wesley was a warm
presence at his side and Xander leaned into him, needing to feel him and
drawing comfort from him just being there.

He looked up as he felt someone approach them.  "What do you want, Spike?"

"Just wondering if you wanted me to drain him for you, pet."  The vampire
grinned.  "We can leave him in an alley and he can catch up with us after
he recovers."

Xander grinned and heard Wesley laugh.  "I don't think you want to do
that."

"I'm feeling a mite peckish," Spike persisted.  "It won't do any permanent
damage."

"He'd probably taste like Angel," Wesley muttered.

Xander cracked up.  "They do have the same attitude of broody indignation
and righteousness, don't they?"

Spike laughed.  "Think of it!  I'd have to bite him," he pointed at Adam,
"just to get the taste out of my mouth."

"What does he taste like?"  Xander heard himself as the question and
couldn't believe that he let it slip.

Spike moved closer to him, so Xander was closely hemmed in by Wes on one
side and Spike on the other.  His blue eyes seemed very dark as he stared
at Xander.  "He tastes like beer, actually.  Beer and power and age and
under all that the thick sweetness of life."  His tongue swept briefly
across his lips.  "It's like human, but more.  Heightened, in a way. 
Those blue sparks that come when you heal?  It's like I can taste them in
the blood, feel them sparking across my tongue, sparking through my
veins."

Wesley's hand brushed across the small of Xander's back.  That small touch
was enough to break the spell Spike had cast over him.  He started
slightly and leaned back into his lover's touch.  "No biting Duncan," he
said firmly.

Spike shrugged and moved back a bit.  "Fine."  That wicked grin came back
to his face.  "Is he the only one off-limits?  There's something to be
said for the clean purity of human, you know."  His gaze drifted over to
Wesley.

Xander felt Wesley's hand flex on his back.  "You should have eaten before
we left," Wesley said firmly, sliding his hand down until his fingers slid
beneath the waist of Xander's jeans.  Xander shifted a little, placing
himself more firmly between the two men.

Spike sulked for a moment and stepped away, leaving them to themselves. 
As they looked around the streets, searching for sign on the Immortal they
hunted, Wesley's hand remained tucked in Xander's jeans.

"Feeling possessive?"  Xander breathed his question into Wesley's ear.

"A bit," Wesley admitted.

"So was I."  Xander bumped his nose against Wesley's cheek.  "Hard not to
be when he's hitting on you.  I don't want to lose you."

Wesley pulled him closer.  "You're not going to lose me," he said 
vehemently.  "And I'm not going to lose you, you understand?  Not even
Spike can do anything to us.  I love you."

"And I love you," Xander said, not savoring the rush of warmth he felt
each time he heard and said those words.  "But Spike..."

"Spike is a sexy bastard and you're right, he is difficult to resist.  But
I can.  I've got you."  Wesley blinked.  "Did I just quote Sunny and
Cher?"

Xander laughed and kissed his jaw.  "You did.  I'll pretend I didn't
notice, though."  He hesitated for a moment.  "But you do want him, don't
you?"

"I'm English, Xander.  I'm not dead.  But I don't *need* him.  I need
you."  Wesley stopped walking and pulled Xander into a tight embrace
before claiming his mouth.  After a moment, he pulled away.  "I love you."
 They grinned at each other, then continued walking.

Xander glanced over at Wesley.  "You know, you can't always get what you
want, but sometimes you can get what you want *and* what you need."

"Now you're quoting the Stones?"  Wesley's tone was joking, but there was
definitely a speculative gleam in his eyes.

Xander's reply was interrupted by Duncan's approach, so he let the topic
go. 
  He knew Wes would be thinking about it, though.  Spike was obviously
interested...and then he had no more time for thought as the long-haired
man began to speak.

"I was wondering about your teacher," Duncan said.  "Not an Immortal, but
not human, either.  You know what you're doing when you fight."

Xander nodded a little.  He recognize the conciliatory tone and knew that
Duncan was trying to smooth over their earlier argument.  He realized that
everyone was listening in, Spike and Immortals both.  He glanced at Adam. 
"If you knew Spike, then you probably knew my teacher.  Do you remember
Angelus?"

"Angelus?"  Adam stopped walking.  "That psychotic was your teacher?"  His
hand darted inside his coat.  "He taught you to use a sword?"

Spike froze as well.  "You were with Angel?  You went to him?"  His hand
clenched into fists at his sides."

"Who is this guy?" Duncan asked.  "Angelus?  Angel?  What's his name?"

"Angelus is a vampire," Adam said tightly.  "He's even more insane than
Spike.  Amazing in bed, but he's still a vampire.  He exists only for
killing and torment."

"And sex," Spike chimed in.

"And sex," Adam agreed, sharing a nasty smirk with the vampire.

"Angel is Angelus," Wesley said.  "Angelus was cursed by a group of
gypsies and his soul was restored to him.  He is now a fighter on the side
of right."

"And a great brooding ponce," Spike said.  "All guilt and remorse over
things he can't change."

"I know the type," Adam said.

Xander watched as Duncan glared at Adam.  He wasn't sure what the history
between them was, but he didn't want to get caught between them.  With
that much heat in Duncan's eyes, he'd either get skewered on their swords
or end up pinned on the ground as they tore at each other's clothing.

Spike was still glaring at him.  "Angel was your teacher?  I suppose you
spent all your training months with him?"

What the hell was this?  Spike was acting as though he was upset by Xander
spending time with Angel.  It was as though he was jealous.  Xander hid a
grin.  Spike *was* jealous.  "Of course, Spike.  After the car accident I
was in, I knew I should have been dead.  I knew Angel was in LA and that
he could help me.  Once he figured out just what I was, he trained me.  I
had to learn to protect myself.  I spent all summer with him.  He taught
me a lot."  He let a little innuendo seep into his tone.

Spike took a step forward.  "Did he, now?"

"It was sort of a life changing summer.  I found out I was Immortal,
learned to fight, figured out I was bi..."

"All thanks to Angel?"  Spike's features rippled a little before he got
himself under control.  "And you met up with Wesley there?"  He glared at
Wesley, too.  "How long were you in LA?"

Xander was amazed.  Now Spike had himself convinced that Wesley had slept
with Angel, too.  He really was jealous at the thought of them being with
Angel.  It was a sign of how much he really did want them.  While watching
the blond man snarl was fairly entertaining, he didn't want to waste
hunting time on taunting Spike.

They could save that for after they took care of the Immortal.

"I didn't have sex with Angel," he said.  He was aware that everyone was
listening in, but he didn't let it bother him.  "I did not have sexual
relations with that vampire!"  The joke didn't work; Spike was still
looking ready to kill something...well, more than he usually did.  Xander
needed to get Spike calmed down so they could move past that.  "Can you
imagine it?"  He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, leaning back
harder against Wesley.  He exhaled heavily once, then again, hastening his
breathing.  He moaned softly, gradually increasing the volume as he
continued to pant.  "Harder," he murmured, rolling his hips gently. 
"Harder, please, more..." he panted each word out, leaning harder against
Wesley.  He moaned louder, then caught his breath and cried out in a
strangled tone, "Deadboy!"

Xander brushed his fingers through his hair as he opened his eyes.  "Kind
of ruins the moment, doesn't it?"  He tried to straighten up, but Wesley
wrapped his arms around his waist and refused to release him.  Xander
blinked, then took a closer look at the men facing him.  All of their eyes
were rather wide, and Spike's features were rippling once more.

He'd gotten more of a reaction than he'd expected.  He craned his neck so
he could look back at Wesley.  His lover's gray eyes were dark and hungry.
 Wesley ducked his head and spoke directly into Xander's ear.  "You are
going to be punished for teasing me when we get home."

Xander shivered at the feeling of warm air moving over his skin.  He
smirked.  "Yes, sir."

Wesley's arms tightened around him, and then he was pushed away.  "Let's
get going," Wesley said, tucking his hand back into Xander's jeans in a
blatantly teasing and proprietary gesture.

Xander wriggled a little into the touch, ignoring Duncan's irritation and
Joe and Adam's amusement.  He liked teasing Wes, and loved it when Wes
teased back.  He glanced over at Spike and found that the vampire had
regained control once more.

Spike stared at him, then glanced over at Wesley and back to him once
more.  "So if Angel didn't help you figure out you like it both ways, who
did?"

Xander sighed.  It looked like tonight was Relive Your Sexual History
Night. 
  Of course, Wesley was going to punish him for it later, so it was worth
it.  "A man who works with Angel.  His name's Doyle."

"Doyle?" Wesley asked.  He'd met Doyle when he'd come to LA, but that had
been after Xander and the Irishman had ended their brief relationship. 
They hadn't been in love with each other; Doyle had been too fixated on
Angel for anything to really develop between them.  Besides, his feelings
weren't unrequited; Angel had gotten progressively more twitchy the longer
Xander and Doyle had been involved.

Xander shrugged.  "I told you I can't resist an accent."  He grinned a
fondly to himself as he thought about Doyle.  He'd initially be drawn to
the Irishman because Doyle loved to tease Cordelia and would team up with
Xander to make her furious and make her laugh.  That had extended to
hanging out during downtimes between training and battling the evil in LA.
 After a night when the weather was very drunk out, they had ended up in
bed together.  It could have been wierd, it could have been frightening,
but it was Doyle.  It was laughing green eyes and long clever fingers and
teasing comments in a lilt, all of which gave him nothing but pleasure and
laughter. 
  They'd parted as friends and Xander missed him, talking to him on the
phone on a regular basis.

The subject was dropped after that, but as they walked through the
streets, Spike was a constant presence beside and behind Xander and
Wesley, never straying more than a few feet from them.  Xander exchanged a
pleased glance with his lover.

Spike was hooked.

Xander was looking forward to getting rid of the wizard-wannabe more than
ever.  His town would be safe, his secret would be kept, and he and Wes
would get a chance to see if Spike had anything to back up his attitude
and reputation.

Xander started to walk faster.

***********

Interlude One

Author:  Sandy

Feedback:  ssfdu@hotmail.com  <please tell her you loved this so she'll
write more!>


Richie sauntered along the dark tree lined streets of Sunnydale, almost
tempted to whistle. He wasn't particularly worried about being separated
from Mac and the others because surely a little moonlight stroll around
town couldn't be as dangerous as the residents implied.

Besides it wasn't as though they could kill him.

Vampires, monsters and demons oh my!

The immortal snickered quietly to himself, but not quietly enough if the
puzzled looks thrown his way were any indication.

If they thought *he* was a bit strange or something they obviously hadn't
looked at themselves in the mirror lately.

Take Buffy for example. Classic blond, gorgeous valley girl type. But he
could already see she needed to lighten up. Okay, so she had super powers,
was the chosen one or something like that but not everything was the world
is going to end next Thursday right after lunch and she has to battle The
Forces of Evil <tm> to stop it. Or maybe it was and he just didn't know
about it before. All the more reason to lighten up and live a little.

Then there was Riley, Buffy's boyfriend. He didn't really look old enough
but something about him screamed Military...and hick. And from what he had
seen already, the way those two carried on you would think he was some
sort of living extension of her, joined at the hip...or was that lips?
Anyway he didn't think she was attracted to him for his IQ level.

They were so cute together it was almost enough to send you into a
diabetic coma from too much sugar, and he had only known them a few hours.

The next in the motley bunch known as the Scoobies... Richie paused to
roll his eyes at that...was the little redhead.

Willow seemed really nice, and bubbly, and a little...for lack of a better
term kooky.

Guess it was all the witch stuff.

He started humming the Addams Family theme, earning himself more strange
looks. He just smiled blandly at them and continued humming.

Of course he didn't get a strange look from Oz, just a carefully raised
eyebrow. Oz appeared to be a man of few words, and even fewer expressions.
Between her steady stream of babble and his silence maybe they managed to
balance things up.

Maybe it was a werewolf thing? He wasn't quite sure he believed that one
though.

This was turning out to be one strange town.

And last, but not least there was Rupert Giles, the one person in the
group he didn't feel he had figured out yet.

The kind of person Adam would call an enigma.

An enigma with cruel parents.

Rupert? What were they thinking?

But strangely enough it kinda suited him.

It wasn't just that Giles was older that made him seem more interesting,
the way the others were bickering during the meeting, Richie even felt
old.

There was just something about Giles that was different. He reminded Ryan
a lot of Adam. Casual and harmless on the outside, but with untold depths.
In Adam's case, dangerous, very old depths, and Richie wanted to find out
if there were more than just the obvious similarities.

He wouldn't admit it out loud but he really quite liked Adam. The man had
a wicked sense of humour and an interesting view of the world and people.

Another thing the two men had in common was their appearance.

Not attractive in the usual sense, but...

Giles was rather cute, okay more than cute, if you went for the older,
cultured English type, even if from the way he talked you would expect
tweed rather than jeans, a pullover and a battered leather jacket. Richie
had to admit it was a good look on him though.

A damn good look.

The Immortal wondered if he was easily flustered as the bookish types he
had met before, deciding that it would be a lot of fun to find out. There
were much worse ways to fill in his spare time.

Casually, he moved to the older man's side. Ignoring the others he asked,
"So is there anything interesting to do around here, besides killing nasty
looking things? Y'know fun, like clubs or bars or something?"

"Fun?" was the incredulous reply.

The Immortal was impressed, it took real talent to imply so much in one
simple word. That one seemed to say 'You are kidding, aren't you? We are
on an important mission here, one that cannot fail because it may mean
death, destruction and untold havoc.'

"Fun. The concept of doing an activity that is enjoyable. You do know that
one don't you?"

He had been watching the changing expressions on Giles' face, mentally
rubbing his hands together gleefully. The brief flash of something
dangerous and almost predatory caught him by surprise, and intrigued him.
Perhaps there was more to the other man than he thought. Besides he'd
always loved a good mystery.

Giles rolled his eyes a little. "Yes I am quite aware of what fun is, I'm
just not sure this is the time or place to discuss it."

"Well if I am to believe all the doom and gloom around here we might be in
for some trouble, so wouldn't it be better to make plans now before
possibly getting fried be the would-be Merlin?"

"Well if you concentrated more on the danger at hand, instead of looking
for *fun* perhaps you wouldn't get 'fried' as you so delicately put it."

Strike one for the older guy.

Richie thought to himself that this really was turning out to be 
entertaining. Almost enough to distract him from the killer headache he
had for a while.

"Don't center on your anxiety Obi-Wan, keep your concentration on the here
and now where it belongs." Richie stated solemnly, but with a devilish
twinkle in his eyes.

"Obi-Wan?" Rupert frowned, looking rather confused.

Oz had apparently been listening to them because he turned and raised an
eyebrow inquiringly at Richie and then answered Giles' question.

"Recent Pop Culture reference."

"Ah." But it was clear that he didn't get it. The others continues
walking.

"Haven't seen the Star Wars movies? What planet are you from?"

He ignored the indignant mutter directed his way.

"Looks like I need to expand your horizons a little more than
anticipated."

"Expand my horizons?" The older man spluttered incredulously. "Now listen
here Mr. Ryan, I can assure you that my horizons do not need expanding and
if they did you would not be the person to do so. I hardly know you."

"Say the words and I can change that."

"And what words would those be..."

Before Richie could answer they were attacked.

They hadn't realised that they had slowed their pace and lost sight of the
others around a corner until they were jumped by three men.

Giles spun around and hit out at his attacker and Richie followed suit,
gasping in surprise at their ridged features and sharp teeth.

"They're vampires!" He called out.

With a grunt and a long suffering sigh the ex-Watcher responded, "I can
see that."

Reaching into his jacket the older man withdrew a stake and went on the
offensive. Taking the vampire by surprise he quickly staked him.

"Here, catch!" He yelled at Richie, throwing the piece of wood in his
direction and grabbing another from his pocket.

Twisting around while knocking his attacker back, the young immortal
managed to catch the stake.

"Through the heart, right?" he asked loudly.

"Yes!"

By now the others had heard the fighting and had come to their aid. Buffy
quickly dispatched the one fighting with Giles as the others helped Richie
out.

Soon they were all dust and the group caught their breath.

Edging over to Rupert once more, Richie proclaimed, "Well that was 
exciting."

Buffy shot him a look and muttered something about always attracting the
crazy ones.

"Exciting? You do realise that if I hadn't been with you, you would most
likely have been killed?"

"Well, yeah. But you were here and I wasn't killed," Richie batted his
eyelashes and simpered. "My Hero!"

Giles muttered something about foolish, ignorant children.

"So about broadening your horizons..."

"Argh!" Rupert threw his hands up into the air and stormed of to join
Buffy at the head of the group.

Richie enjoyed the view immensely.

*****

After a few minutes of quite conversation as they led the group, Buffy's
voice grew louder.  "I think you should go keep an eye on Boy Wonder back
there. I don't think his friends would like it if we let him get himself
killed."

"Do I have to?" Was the reply from her companion, sounding suspiciously
like a whiney child. "Besides I don't even own a cape so why does it have
to be me?"

"Because you are the adult of this bunch and you are always telling me
that being an adult means responsibilities," the Slayer replied a touch
smugly.

Willow appeared to be stifling a giggle.

"If you insist." With a put upon sigh, Giles turned and walked back
towards Richie.

"You don't love me any more." Ryan sniffed.

"Oh shut up, you." The ex-Watcher glared at him balefully.

The younger man's lips twitched suspiciously but remained silent.

Quiet descended for a few minutes as they continued walking.

Just long enough to lull Rupert into a false sense of security, Richie
decided evilly.

He went in for the kill.

"Is it true what that say about English men?"

Giles frowned slightly, then gave him a faintly warning look. "What is it
that *they* say?" he asked disdainfully.

"That if you can manage to make them lose control... under all that tea
drinking and tweed they can be real tigers in bed"

The older man came to abrupt stop, looking like he either was going to
choke or strangle him.

Taking a few deep breaths he tried to regain his composure.

Unsuccessfully.

Ladies and Gentleman, we have a winner, Richie thought to himself smugly.

"Oh well...um.. That is to say... Oh for god's sake man you are starting
to sound like Wesley..." The last part was muttered to himself, but
audible as he studied something near his feet.

Flushed, he took another deep breath and pasting on a Classic Stern 
Librarian Face <tm>, looked up.

Straight into the blatantly flirtatious expression on the younger man's
face.

Giles raised a eyebrow and replied dryly. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Richie smiled at the tone and answered. "Well that was the general idea.
So?" He mirrored the faintly mocking expression.

"I am English, not easy. I'm sure even one of such tender years as
yourself can understand the difference, even if they do start with the
same letter," Giles retorted primly.

"I never said anything about being easy, only being great in bed. There's
a difference and I know that, so should you. Well?..."

"Well, what?" Rupert asked irritably.

"I asked a simple question, you're an intelligent man so I'm sure it isn't
that difficult to answer."

With a weary sigh, Giles faced him. "Look Mr. Ryan, I'm sure this...this
casual flirtation is amusing you, but I would ask that if you are only
toying with me for lack of better entertainment that you stop it now."

Richie gave him a considering look. "If you let me get to know you better,
maybe we could turn it into a serious flirtation."

"Mr. Ryan..."

"Richie, please," The Immortal asked.

"Alright then, Richie..."

He gave Giles a lopsided grin and held a hand up to stop whatever the
other man had planned to say.

"Okay so maybe I started this as something to do, but what can I say? I
like you, you're interesting. It isn't a crime to show your appreciation
if you like someone now is it?"

"Well...no." Giles looked rather startled.

"Good then, because I'm enjoying myself, but I'm not trying to be cruel or
hurt you or anything. I don't do that," Richie told him seriously.

"Oh."

Ryan had reduced the man to single words. That was interesting.

"If it really bothers you, I'll stop. But then I would be forced to use my
famous puppy dog eyes on you until I was allowed to continue, or the
others noticed and asked why I was doing that. Whichever comes first."

Richie could have sworn Giles' lips twitched.

"That's emotional blackmail!" The older man accused him. "I don't want the
Buffy/Willow inquisition."

He was definitely fighting a small smile now.

"He