Untitled

Title: New Light

Author: Lostgirl

E-mail address: lost_girl@cox.net

Pairing: Giles/Wesley

Rating: NC-17

Summary: There's a new Slayer in town, but neither Buffy nor Faith has died.

Disclaimer: All things BTVS (and ATS) belong to Joss and various corporate entities.

Note: AU after 'The Gift', Buffy was brought back, but Giles never left for England. I don't watch ATS so I have no idea what's supposed to be happening there at the time, so we'll just go with completely AU for that.

New Light
by Lostgirl

"The last time I saw it was on the third shelf," Willow offered from her seat on the floor where she and Tara were huddled over a book of their own.

"Well, it isn't there now," Rupert grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose before replacing his now-cleaned glasses. The book he was looking for had more than a few pictures in it and he only hoped Xander would return it in good condition. "I really must have a talk with that boy."

"I-i-i'm sure he'll b-bring it with him," Tara commented with a shy smile.

Giles nodded as he plopped into his chair picking up the book he'd been looking through. He found it hard to return Tara's optimism, but not because he doubted Xander. He'd been in a horrid mood lately, and nothing seemed to cheer him. Willow and Xander tried to pretend things were normal, but nothing had been normal for a long time, not since his Slayer's death. Her . . . 'resurrection' only heightened his mood, based mostly on his mixed emotions about it.

What Willow had done was wrong and he knew that. Every instinct in him cried out that such things were simply not meant to happen, beyond being terribly dangerous. Buffy should still be dead. His heart though, it wanted to rejoice at her return, even with the consequences still up in the air. Even with all the difficulty Buffy was going through. She thought she hid it well, but he was a Watcher, after all. He was her Watcher. His was not the only black mood pulling at the once tight-knit group.

Then there was the guilt. It was his fault really. Everything that Buffy was going through now could be laid squarely at his feet. He'd been too involved in his own grief and . . . other things. He'd let it take over his every waking moment and he hadn't seen what Willow and the others were up to. He hadn't even considered that the young, powerful, witch might attempt something.

I'm an old fool.

"That's probably him and Anya now." Willow hopped to her feet, going to answer a knock Giles hadn't even heard. "Oh . . . uh, hi."

Giles lifted his eyes from his book at that odd greeting. His brow furrowed, but he didn't rise. A moment later Willow returned, shrugging at Giles. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce followed her into the small condo, a young, dark haired woman on his heels. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her posture rigid.

"Uh, hello Wesley," Giles did rise then, going to shake the young ex-watcher's hand. "What brings you to Sunnydale? Vision? Impending apocalypse?" He tried to make his voice as cheerful as possible, aware of the young woman's discomfort.

"Actually," the young man responded, his eyes grim. "My reason for coming is Alicia." He turned to look at the young woman, but she didn't even look up at the sound of her name. She sent a quick glance at Willow and Tara, but seemed to be avoiding looking at him.

Giles raised his eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for Wesley to continue. He knew the man well enough to know that whatever this was, it wasn't a matter of life and death, and therefore they had time for Wesley to find the right words.

"Alicia is a Slayer," he eventually said, by way of explanation. "She was called two days ago." Giles opened his mouth to ask the obvious, but Wesley answered before he had a chance. "And no, Faith is not dead."

Silence filled the room, all eyes on Alicia, who shuffled uncomfortably.

"How?" Willow was the first to speak. Giles had no words and so poured himself a bit of Scotch as he waited to hear Wesley's answer.

"We're not sure," Wesley accepted the drink Giles handed to him, slumping onto the couch with a sigh. Alicia began to investigate the apartment, always keeping her eyes away from Giles' direction. Intrigued, but not about to push the girl, Giles sat back into his chair, leaning closer to Wesley. "Cordelia had a strange vision. It was fractured and 'not right' as she said. We narrowed it down to a particular area and searched the alleys there. We came upon Alicia."

"What happened?" Willow addressed her question to the apparently shy girl and Giles was relieved that he wouldn't have to be the first to talk to her. She was clearly avoiding him and he wanted to observe a bit longer before attempting to interact.

"I'm . . . I'm not sure," the girl spoke only after it was clear Wesley wasn't going to answer the question for her. "R--my Watcher . . . he told me what I was, when . . . when I was called and we were on our way to the Hellmouth. We were jumped going to see someone in LA, before we were to come here and . . . I . . ." Alicia's voice caught. She took a moment and Giles could see the deep breaths she was taking in order to calm herself. "There were a bunch of them. Not all were vampires either. My Watcher was killed and then . . . I don't know. I woke up in the alley and his body was . . . not three feet away and . . . then Wesley and the others showed up."

"Well," Giles said, nodding decisively. "Now we have a place to start. What was your Watcher's name? I'll contact the Council and see what I can find out about him."

"That won't help," Wesley interjected, biting his lip and shaking his head. He seemed reluctant to continue. Giles sighed at the apparent melodrama.

He wished Wesley would spit out whatever was bothering him. Only then would they be able to do something, learn what exactly was going on. While it was a shock to find a new Slayer suddenly appearing, it wasn't the first time and it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He certainly couldn't see this shy girl becoming another Faith.

"Why not? Do you know who he was?" Giles prompted when the young ex-Watcher didn't continue.

"Yes," the word seemed dragged from the man. When it was clearly Wesley was once again failing to finish, Giles lost his temper.

"Well? What was his name?" the Watcher demanded, more sharply than he'd meant to.

Alicia's head snapped up, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she'd arrived. The fear he saw in them made him regret shouting. She looked terrified, but when she spoke her voice held more sorrow than fear.

"Rupert Giles," she said softly. "His name was Rupert Giles."

PART 2

Giles couldn't have said how long they sat there, staring at her. Alicia shuffled from foot to foot, her eyes once again seeking anything but him. The door opening finally broke the hush. Giles stood, looking over Alicia's head to see Xander, Anya, and Buffy arrive.

"Dawn's gonna be at Janice's tonight--" Buffy began, only to stop in mid-sentence when she saw our guests. Her face scrunching in confusion, she asked, "What's he doing here?" There was no rancor in her words and for that, if nothing else so far, Giles was grateful.

No one wanted to add a territorial Slayer unto the heap of problems.

"Wesley's um . . . he's brought," Willow turned to Alicia again, her brow slightly furrowed. "What do you mean Giles was your Watcher? That's not possible, cause Giles hasn't been anywhere but here, unless someone split him in two. Did someone split you in two? I'm bettin' no, huh? Cause you would have said something, right? Well, unless you didn't know like when it happened to Xander and . . . I'm shutting up now."

"Watcher? She's a Slayer?" Xander asked, his eyes flicking to Giles for an answer. At least someone had been able to pick out the salient details; though considering Xander's own propensity for babble it wasn't surprising. "Is Faith . . ."

Giles couldn't help but echo the range of emotion he heard in that last question. It seemed no one was sure how to feel about that particular possibility.

"No," Wesley answered, once again taking the room's attention of Alicia, for which she seemed profoundly grateful. "However, Willow is referring to the fact that, when we found Alicia in the alley there was . . . a . . . a body that looked remarkably like . . . well, like Rupert."

"What?" Buffy stalked to his side, looking him up and down as if checking for mortal wounds before turning to Wesley. "Well, it obviously wasn't Giles. Alicia, is that you're name?" Buffy continued when the girl nodded, apparently oblivious to the fact that the other Slayer was now avoiding looking at her as well. "When did you meet this person?"

"Just a moment," Giles said before the girl could start, once again gaining control of the situation or, at least, telling himself he had. "We do need to discuss this, but it is hardly an apocalypse, which means hospitality has not been thrown out the window. Wesley, Alicia, would either you care for something to drink? Anyone else? Very well, I shall put on some tea while everyone else sits down and introduces themselves."

Before anyone could object, he'd made it to the kitchen, leaving them to stare at one another.

"I'm sorry to spring this on you," said Wesley's voice from the kitchen doorway, nearly a whisper compared to the riot of voices from the living room. Xander seemed to be trying to introduce everyone while Buffy demanded Willow tell her everything that had happened before she arrived.

"I don't see how else you could have done it," Giles responded with a sigh as he put the kettle on the burner, turning to the young man. "It isn't as if you had ample warning."

That comment drew a smile and a snicker from the ex-Watcher.

"And I suppose that surprises are fairly common in our line of business, still . . ." Wesley trailed off, shrugging his apology once more. "This is a bit personal for you. I . . . Giles you, we all thought . . . but then we realized that someone surely would have called and . . . Angel nearly came himself, but . . . well, he's needed, as is Cordelia, so . . ." This time his shrug was self-deprecating, as if to say, 'so, you get me.'

"Yes, I suppose it was a shock to all of you and I'm grateful that we didn't do this over the phone." Though, in truth, he still wondered why they hadn't. He couldn't imagine that Angel was more wiling to let one of his team go than give him a shock.

"That simply wasn't an option," Wesley explained, apparently hearing his confusion. "Beyond the personal nature, well . . . a new Slayer popping up is much more your area than ours and with you back with the Council . . ."

"You were a Watcher once yourself," Giles reminded with a tight-lipped smile.

"Yes," the young man heaved a sigh, turning back to the living room, his eyes seeking out Alicia, "but I think I've already proven I'm not someone one would desire to have looking after a Slayer."

Though Giles couldn't see his expression, the emotion in Wesley's voice was enough to tip him off. He understood what the man was feeling. Not only did he acknowledge his share of the responsibility when it came to Faith, but he'd been crushed after Buffy's death. All he'd been able to think was that if he'd just done something different, if he'd trained her better, searched harder, something, he could have kept it from happening.

It was pain he'd fought for a long time and he wanted Wesley to know he wasn't alone in fighting it. He moved to lay his hand on the younger man's shoulder, to offer the only comfort he could, when the kettle whistled and he had to tend to it.

By the time he'd turned back there was still something tense to Wesley's bearing, but the moment had passed. The ex-Watcher had hidden his pain away once again, his expression polite and a little nervous as he watched Giles deal with the kettle.

Rupert was a little surprised to find he regretted missing that moment.

PART 3

"I'm from New Orleans," Alicia was saying, ignoring the cup of tea in her hands and speaking directly to Tara.

Giles said nothing, watching. He couldn't blame the girl for her attention to the blonde witch, who had to seem the least intimidating of this new group into which she'd been foisted. It did aggravate him that she wouldn't as much as peek in his direction, but he understood her reluctance as well.

"I was pretty sure that someone was following me. Earlier I'd felt funny, so they'd sent me home from school, but I felt better once I got outside so . . . I went a movie. I . . . I was walking home and I just felt all creepy. I turned the corner and there was Rupert. I tried to walk past him, but he just followed me, talking about me being a Slayer, about vampires and . . . I thought he was insane." She did glance at Giles then, catching his brief, small smile.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded sagely, "I know all about that. Did he take you to a cemetery?"

"No . . ." Alicia shook her head, clasping her hands together and sighing. "We were walking and . . . this guy and two women just jumped us. I . . . I was more scared than ever and there was this weird feeling. Rupert staked one of the women and I . . . I almost got bitten." She sounded quite ashamed of that fact, refusing to look any of them in the eyes.

"Don't feel bad," Buffy patted the girl's clasped hands. "Being a Slayer is far from an easy gig. And it's hell on your shoes."

That drew a smile from the girl and Giles as well, though, as was often the case, he wasn't sure whether his Slayer was kidding or not.

"Anyway," Alicia continued, looking at Buffy now. "Rupert explained about the Hellmouth and . . ." the girl looked away from Buffy, once again staring at her feet. "He said the Slayer who had been there had died." There was a nervous shuffling at that comment. The young Slayer continued, her next words coming in a rush. "He said her name was Faith though, not Buffy."

"Now that's odd," Giles muttered, his eyebrows drawing in as he thought.

"Oh, yeah, cause nothing else about the situation is, right G-man?"

Giles didn't even bother asking the boy not to call him that. It never mattered. Instead, he shook his head and continued. "Why would someone go to all the trouble of pretending to be me--doing it well enough to fool Wesley, Angel, and Cordelia if only as a corpse--and yet not get such an easy detail correct?"

"Who's a corpse?" asked Spike's voice from the door, "and why's the Slayer all extra-tingling tonight?"

"Vampire!" Alicia shouted, jumping over the couch's back before any of them could stop her. Buffy was right on her heels, grabbing the younger Slayer's wrist as it came back. The girl had produced a stake from somewhere.

Spike had jumped back, wide eyed, slipping into a fighting stance though it would have done him any good.

"Uh, no, Alicia," Buffy tried to explain to the young girl, who looked as if she thought Buffy might have lost her mind. "This is . . . well. I can't say he's a 'friendly' vampire, but . . . we let him live . . . or not, whatever."

"Oi! Let me live? Not like I helped save the bloody world or anything. . ." Spike's rant became muttering as he skirted around Alicia and into the kitchen.

"Alicia," Giles spoke gently and still the girl flinched. There was no help for it though. It wasn't as if he were going to remain silent for the term of her visit. "Spike helps us out. He can't bite human, but he can still fight demons. He works with us."

"What the hell's another damn Slayer doing here anyway?" came the voice of the vampire in question, soon followed by the actually vampire, in game face, sipping blood from his 'kiss the librarian' mug.

Wesley stood, sighing. "No, Faith didn't die--" he began, only to have Spike interrupt.

"Who?"

"You remember," Anya threw in, "ride you at a gallop girl?"

"What?!" Giles wasn't the only one to shout the question, wasn't even the loudest.

"Just something she said to me," Spike muttered, rolling his eyes. "Okay, she's not dead. Too bad. So, what?"

Glaring at the smirking Vampire, Giles was the one to answer. "So, neither of the Slayers are dead and yet we have a third one, found in an alley with the corpse of someone claiming to be me. Now, Alicia," he turned back to find the young Slayer as far from Spike as she could get, stake still in hand, but at least she looked at him when he spoke, even if only for a few seconds. "Continue, please--"

"Before Dawn shows up and we have to start over," Xander muttered, slapping a hand over his mouth when Giles shot him a glare.

"Yeah," Alicia nodded, eyes wandering back to Spike. "Anyway, he said we were coming here, to the Hellmouth. We flew to LAX and we were going to see somebody before coming here."

"This doesn't make sense," Willow put in. "Not that I don't believe you," she quickly assured Alicia, "just that well, it doesn't sense. I mean, what would this person want to pretend to be you? Not that you're not great, Giles, but . . . you know. Why stop in LA? Who would he want to fool there?"

"That would have to be us," Wesley mused, "but we know that Buffy's . . . and that Faith's . . . well, why would this person bring Alicia along at all?"

"She is a Slayer," Spike commented, "S'not like this guy made that part up. Don't you think ya should be a little more curious about how she got called or whatnot?"

Several eyes turned to Spike and Giles suddenly felt an intense need to scrub his glasses. He should have thought of that, focused on Alicia since she was obviously at the center of . . . whatever this was.

"Very well," he said, replacing his glasses, "what news was there from Faith? I assume someone talked to her after Alicia's presence was discovered?"

"Yes," Wesley mumbled, covering a yawn, "please forgive me. It's been a long day."

"How rude of me," Giles felt immediately contrite, interrogating the pair before they'd even had time to settle in. Poor Wesley looked as if he might fall over, his forehead wrinkling with a second, large yawn. Giles had to fight a smile at the sight. "There's still much we need to discuss, but we aren't going to solve this puzzle in one night. You two should return to your hotel, get some sleep and we'll deal with this tomorrow."

"Damn," Wesley suddenly muttered, his fingers massaging his forehead as if to ease a sudden headache. Giles found himself watching those hands and forced himself stop.

"What's wrong?" Willow was the one to ask.

"All the hotels are likely closed by now, aren't they?" The ex-Watcher checked his watch with a sigh. "It's long after dark."

"Yup," Buffy nodded. "Who would they get to run the desk at night here?"

"Damn," Wesley said again.

"Don't worry. You two can bunk at my house," Buffy volunteered. "We'll go get you settled in and then I'll go patrol. You wanna come Alicia or are you tired out too?"

"I, ah, I'm kinda tired," Giles heard the girl murmur as Buffy ushered the pair to the door.

"Oh," Wesley said, as if he'd suddenly remembered something. "Rupert, I have that translation you wanted. If you would join me in the kitchen?"

Giles tried to keep his brow from wrinkling as he followed the younger man. He didn't remember asking for a translation and that was something he was sure he would have kept in mind. It was a diversion, of course. The confusing thing was that he had no idea what the ex-Watcher might wish to discuss with him that he wouldn't want the others to hear.

Wesley was jittery, pulling a plain, white envelope from his pocket.

"I . . . I didn't think you'd want to see this in front of . . . it was on the body and . . . I didn't read it . . . well, here."

Giles took the envelope, examining the handwriting that certainly looked like his own hurried scrawl. It said only, 'my love.' Giles quirked up an eyebrow, glancing at the younger man.

"Why give it to me?"

"Well, I . . . this man was pretending to be you and . . . perhaps you know someone in LA, or . . . I didn't want to read it and . . ." the man shrugged, his exhaustion clear.

His protective nature kicking in, Giles placed a hand on Wesley's shoulder and ushered him back into the living room, saying, "I'll take a look at it. Go on and get some sleep."

PART 4

Everyone else was gone when Giles next thought of the letter. It wasn't terribly late and there were too many questions running circles in his mind to allow for sleep. He'd made himself comfortable with a drink and a book, but the questions kept flinging themselves to the fore of his mind.

With a shake of his head, he put his book aside, and pulled the letter from the drawer where he'd put it. He had his reasons for being reluctant to open it. The first was that he had an idea about who might have written it. Ethan. Who else would pretend to be him? And, if Ethan had written it . . . if it had been his body in that alley . . . Giles wasn't sure he really wanted to know, especially if the letter was what it claimed to be.

Without much thought, his fingers slid along the words written on the envelope. It looked just like his writing. This wasn't the formal, flowing hand he used when writing correspondence or his reports to the Council. Whoever had written it had copied the way he wrote when taking research notes or scribbling a grocery list, that swift scrawl that took a moment of staring to become actual words. Who, but Ethan, knew him well enough to create such a forgery?

A shiver ran down his spine. His mind couldn't wrap around the thought that Ethan could be dead and that angered him a little. He'd spent so much time trying to get away from that man, from the person he'd been when they were together . . .

Cursing himself for a fool, Giles ripped open the envelope and drew out the letter. One way or another it would hold some answers, even if they were only cryptic bits in the form of taunts.

Dearest,

I'm sorry I won't be in LA long enough for us to have a real visit, but soon, I promise. I miss you terribly, but I truly need to get Alicia settled and at least see what the situation on the Hellmouth is like. I've been told it's getting worse. And here I feel I must say that I understand why you cannot come to visit me there; I honestly do, so stop feeling guilty. Now. What happened . . . it wasn't your fault, wasn't anyone's fault.

Things with Alicia went rather well, I believe. The girl's parents died three years ago and the Council had already arranged with the group home in which she was living. She'll be listed with child services as a runaway, but they have agreed to give us a month before reporting her disappearance. I believe they were told I was her mother's uncle.

She's a good girl and a quick study as well. You'd like her. It's only been two days, of course, but she's taking everything so well, curious and eager to learn. She'll make a wonderful Slayer. I have to stop writing now, dearest, but I promise to call as soon as we get to Sunnydale.

All my love,
Rupert

Staring at the page, he felt his eyebrows inching up toward his hairline. Nothing. It told him exactly nothing. Except . . . he couldn't imagine Ethan taking the charade so far.

After reading the letter again, Giles slipped it back into the envelope and then back into the drawer. Removing his glasses, he rubbed at tired eyes and tried to get the situation to make some sort of sense.

"Well," he spoke aloud, just to break the silence, "we have someone pretending to be me, and doing it frighteningly well apparently, who is now dead. His letter tells me nothing. We have also, a third Slayer, who was called just days ago. Faith is fine and the line runs through her now." Rupert chewed on the end of his glasses as he thought, gesturing with them as he continued. "Even if it didn't, she'd have been called much sooner had the catalyst been Buffy's . . ."

He couldn't bring himself to say the word aloud, but that was no surprise. Suddenly exhausted, Giles force himself to put the thoughts away. He wasn't going to get any answers just yet and the thought of beginning his research made his eyes ache.

It took only moments to set the downstairs in order and Giles made his eyes up to bed with a loud yawn. It felt good to slip into his flannel sleep pants and slip between the cool sheets. At least it did until he turned on his side and found himself staring at the empty side of the bed.

Feeling the silence like a weight against his skin, Rupert reached out a hand and slid it over the cool sheets next to him. He wanted them to be warm, to be empty only because their occupant was away for a moment.

Shaking his head as a few candidates for 'occupant' flashed through his mind, Giles rolled over. His mind's workings only rarely surprised him anymore, but the last mental picture in his head was of Wesley and Giles had to laugh at himself a little. The ex-watcher was young and still a bit shy, though it was clear he was not the same person who'd left Sunnydale two years ago. Rupert had always had a thing for vulnerable men, even if it was only an illusion.

Old fool, he though to himself, considering his list. Ethan was right out. That would not happen again, not after the last time. Jenny . . . was impossible, Xander was straight, happy with Anya and, just then, Giles couldn't bring himself to believe Wesley any more likely.

Forty-six years old, no one to share his life with. All his oldest friends were over the pond, his closest companions barely adults . . . it was nights like that when he missed Joyce the most. Her friendship had been a gift. He found himself envying the 'Giles' represented by that letter. Whoever its writer, at least they seemed to imagine his life a little more interesting than he currently found it.

A little less demanding, as well, whispered a small voice in his mind, throwing up images of a bleeding man with a hand clamped over his mouth and nose.

Rupert pushed away both the voice and the memory. That was one depression into which he refused to sink, and yet, it took a while for sleep to find him.

PART 5

"You all right Wes?" Alicia's voice was little more than a whisper from the other couch.

Wesley sighed, giving voice to his frustrations the only way he knew how.

"I'm fine," he replied, turning once more in search of a comfortable position. Sleep wasn't coming. His mind kept flitting from one thought to the next, though he willed it to quiet down.

He'd called Cordelia as soon as they'd reach Buffy's home, let her know they'd made it safely to Sunnydale. Angel had been too busy even to say hello. The letter was another distraction. He'd had it in his pocket all day and, as an inquisitive man, he'd felt its weight there as if it were Pandora's Box. Rupert hadn't said anything when he'd half-inquired as to whether there was someone to whom he might have written such a letter. Wes wasn't sure why that lack of answer kept niggling at him.

"Yeah, that's why you're tossing and turning and sighing every two minutes, right?" The slight smile in the young woman's voice pulled a snort of laughter from him. It wasn't particularly nice laughter, but it was something.

"Yes, of course," he replied, "I always sleep badly when I'm doing well. You'd be surprised what approaching evil does for insomnia."

Silence fell once again and he assumed the Slayer was finished with her questions. She was a curious girl and normally Wes didn't mind the stream of inquiries. In fact, he'd worried about how quiet she'd been. He wanted to ask her about it, see if there was anything he could do, but the small voice in his mind held him back by whispering that he shouldn't get too involved, too attached.

"Wes?" Alicia's voice was even softer now, much more serious.

"Yes?"

"Guess!"

"I have no idea Alicia."

The laughter from the other sofa had him sitting up, blinking owlishly as he tried to see the girl in the dark.

"It-it was a joke. They rhyme, you know? Wes, yes, and--" she stopped abruptly, apparently seeing his bemused expression. "Oookay, never mind."

Wesley lay back down, turning to face the back of the couch and shaking his head even as a smile tilted his lips. He waited, knowing that if he gave her time Alicia would continue with whatever she'd been about to say.

"What I was going to say . . . ask, was . . . how could they both be him?"

"I don't know that they are, were . . ." Wesley shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see it. He sat up, propping himself against the arm of the sofa. "I'm not sure that the man who came to you was Rupert Giles, but I know that the man we saw today is."

"But why would he lie to me?" She sat up, bunching the blanket up in her lap and picking at a loose thread. "He was so nice, Wes. He was training me and . . . I don't get it. Why would he lie to me about that? He told me I was a Slayer, not just . . . I . . . I was in a group home before he came and . . . I don't understand!" The girl sounded close to tears.

Wesley shifted in his seat, searching for the right words, hell, any words as long as they stopped the sniffling coming from the other couch. He had to do something, but had no clue how to handle a tearful . . . anything.

Sniffle. "I just really liked him, you know?" Sniffle. "I can't believe he'd lie to me. There has to be some other explanation." Sniffle.

"We'll find out what happened," Wesley said, keeping his voice soothing. "I . . . I promise you."

Stupid, an inner voice yelled at him. Never make promises like that! What if you can't keep them?

"I know," Alicia had stopped sniffling, but still sounded morose. "I'm sure you guys will. Just . . . I'm not sure I really . . . I don't know."

"You're not sure you want to know if . . . " if he intended to use you, Wesley thought, but instead finished, "if it was all a lie?"

"Yeah," came her response, spoken on a drawn out sigh as she lay down.

Silence fell, but he felt that something else was needed. The urge to say something, to finish things hung around him and finally Wes gave in.

"Sometimes . . ." Wesley let the words trail off. He'd been about to tell her that sometimes the truth was not what we'd want it to be, that sometimes it hurt and it made us see things we'd rather not. He couldn't though, couldn't let the words pass his lips to this young girl who was still so optimistic. He couldn't decide whether that was doing her a disservice or not. "I'm sure he was what he seemed to be, if not who."

He needn't have bothered coming up with something to fill the silence. Alicia snored softly and Wes shook his head. It had been a long day, but he doubted he'd find rest so easily as that.

Again, the letter popped into his mind. He could see it so clearly. Crumpled from its travels, the fine, scribbling words, 'my love' just sitting there for anyone to see. He fell into a light doze wondering what it said.

Buffy's arrival home woke him, though it didn't seem to disturb Alicia at all. Seeing a soft light from the kitchen, Wesley stood and then hesitated. Buffy had never appreciated his presence here and he wanted to disrupt things as little as possible. Alicia's needs outweighed his reluctance though and he padded into the kitchen.

Buffy sat at the island there, devouring a few, clearly cold slices of pizza.

"Oh, hey," she said when she noticed him. "Didn't mean to wake you guys. It's just there's nothing like Slaying to make a girl half-starved. You want?" The last she asked while holding out the pizza box.

Wesley shook his head, taking a deep breath as he crossed to sit opposite her. "No, no thank you. I . . . I wanted to discuss Alicia with you."

"Sure," Buffy nodded, looking at him expectantly.

"I was hoping you could . . . tell her what it's like to be a Slayer, what it means."

"Oh, yeah," there was a sad note in the woman's voice and Wesley immediately regretted his request. He knew what she'd gone through, knew this couldn't be a cheerful subject for her. Chiding himself for his inconsideration, he frantically sought a way to make it better.

"I . . . I'm sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have asked."

"No," Buffy murmured, picking at her pizza. "It's just . . . I don't know if anything I can say is gonna be inspirational or anything, but . . . well, she needs to hear though, doesn't she?"

The question seemed less directed at him than it was at herself and so Wesley didn't bother to answer. He'd been asking the very same question of himself. Would it be better to spell out the truth of it for Alicia now, or would that only weigh her down, break her spirit?

"Maybe," Buffy looked up then, her eyes a little wider than necessary. "Maybe I shouldn't. I mean . . . if I'd known back then . . . I don�t know. I'll think about it, okay?"

Wesley nodded.

"I'm sorry to be intruding here," he murmured after a long moment.

"It's not a problem," Buffy tried to smile. It didn't come out half-bad, if one had never seen her real one. "The guys sleep over all the time, or well, they used to. It's not like this house hasn't seen its share of sofa-guests."

"No, I meant in Sunnydale. I . . . I don't want to cause any problems."

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, then shut it, her face scrunching up in confusion. Finally, she looked him in the eye. "Look, I know we haven't gotten along, but that was . . . you were trying to take Giles' place then and . . ." Buffy shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips. "You're not now, so I'm okay with you. You don't seem so . . ." she trailed off, gesturing at him as if that would explain it.

"Prattish?" Wesley supplied with a small grin of his own.

"You know, I've never been sure what that exactly means, and I was gonna go with 'stuffy', but it'll do!"

PART 6

Giles was up early the next morning, even for someone who loved the quiet of those first hours of the day. Once it became clear sleep would not be returning, he made himself get up and shower. He made tea before settling down at his desk.

It took him only minutes to make the list, as he'd been thinking about it a lot before finally forcing himself from the cocoon of his blankets. There were only three items.

First, he would contact the Council. He didn't believe they were involved, at least not as a whole, but they might know something, have heard something. It was their job to keep a watch on the potential Slayer's, after all. One of them being called, apparently early, should have been big news. He couldn't understand why no one had called him. As soon as it had happened they should have noticed and it didn't seem 'Rupert Giles' was trying to hide himself at all.

Second, they needed to contact the group home in which Alicia had been living. It was his hope they'd be able to tell him about their contact with the man pretending to be him. Not only that, but since he doubted the Council's involvement, the group home would be able to tell him about those who had 'made the arrangements' for Alicia to go with 'Rupert Giles'.

Research was, of course, the next step. He'd read all the Watcher's journals he could get his hands on, even before he'd had a Slayer of his own, and while he couldn't remember any references to anything like this, the only way to know was to look.

Nodding, Giles quickly scribbled a few more questions before leaning back in his chair to ponder the list. He was determined to solve this, more disturbed than he wanted to admit by someone impersonating him. What had that group home, for which he still did not have a name, been thinking? Had they truly believed this man related to Alicia? While he hoped they were simply gullible, he couldn't still the other voices whispering in his head.

The door opening drew him out of his dark thoughts and, for that reason alone, Giles was glad none of the children knew how to knock. Buffy breezed past him, with a 'morning Giles,' as she set down the donut box she carried. Wesley and Alicia were soon to follow, the ex-Watcher carrying a take out tray with three styrofoam cups and the young Slayer trying not to look at him.

"Good morning, Rupert. Sorry to, ah, barge in." Wesley set his own burden on the island, turning an apologetic glance toward Giles.

"Quite all right," Giles assured, investigating the donuts.

"Cr�me filled on the right," Buffy commented after a quick glance up from his refrigerator.

"Yes, but your right or mine?"

"Mine."

"How was last night's patrol?"

"Uh, fine. Three vamps, all dust, one got away though. Ran while I was busy."

"Well, that's not surprising if all three--Wesley, are you actually drinking coffee? And you call yourself an Englishman." As he'd meant it to be a joke, Giles was quite surprised to see a becoming blush spread over the other man's face.

"It's Cordelia's fault," Wesley muttered, sipping from one of the styrofoam cups.

Giles was further surprised to hear a small chuckle from Alicia, who had reclaimed her own cup and was leaning against the wall at Wesley's side.

"Hey now," Buffy put in with a look of mock affront, "Coffee good! Coffee getting me through the morning after late Slayage!"

"I can see I'm outnumbered," Giles chuckled. It felt good to be bantering with Buffy again. She'd been, understandably, distant since . . . for a while now. He dearly hoped it wasn't just a front put up for Wesley and Alicia's benefit, but he'd have to wait to be sure. "And, like any good strategist, I know when to retreat." With a donut in one hand and a fresh cup of tea in the other, Giles returned to his desk.

"Yay! Go coffee team!" Buffy cheered, bringing her own breakfast into the living room. "So? What's on the agenda for today?"

Giles looked to Wesley, seeking permission to jump into the business at hand. At Wesley's weary nod, he turned back to Buffy. "Well, there are a number of things we need to check. I need to contact the Council, to see if they've heard anything that might relate to this imposter. I can't imagine what he thought he was up to, but . . . I'm afraid there will be research involved."

Buffy groaned theatrically. "You see? This is why I need coffee."

"Also, Alicia," he turned to look at the Slayer and unexpectedly found her looking straight at him. She flinched when their eyes met, quickly looking away. Giles kept his sigh in check, trying to make his voice as calming as possible. "We'll need to get in touch with the group home in which you lived."

Her eyes came up at that, clearly startled. She looked quickly to Wesley, who only shrugged. "How--how did you know I lived in a group home?" She didn't look to him to ask the question, but rather to the floor.

"Oh dear," Giles mumbled to himself. "There was a letter on the body. In it there was a brief mention of the place."

"What letter?" Alicia looked him square in the eye then, apparently too interested to be shy, if that were the word for it. Her gazed moved to Wesley. "Can I read it?"

"I haven't yet read it myself," Wesley said, looking to Giles.

"I don't see why not. It's in that drawer. Buffy, would you? Thank you." Buffy handed the letter over, raising an eyebrow in Giles' direction when she saw the writing on the envelope. "In fact," he continued, ignoring the look and handing the letter to Wesley, "perhaps you two can fill in some of what's missing."

Giles drank his tea, waiting for first Wesley, then Alicia, to finish.

"Can I read it?" It was Alicia that Buffy asked and Giles was glad of that. It should belong to the young Slayer, since she was the only one to know the man at all.

Alicia nodded, handing it over when she'd finished. She kept her eyes on the floor after that, so Giles couldn't even guess at her reaction.

"Also," he said, turning to Wesley, "I believe we should discuss the state in which you found the body and--"

"Rupert," Wesley cut him off, his eyes flicking to Alicia, "may I speak with you in the kitchen?"

Surprised by the hard tone in the ex-watcher's voice, and more than a little confused, Giles nodded and followed the younger man.

PART 7

Wesley had his fists clenched at his sides and when he turned there was anger burning in his eyes. His body was tense, as if he expected a fight.

"You're being bloody insensitive," the ex-watcher ground out.

"I'm sorry?" Giles' eyes widened, shaking his head "What did I do?"

"You keep referring to 'the body' and every time you do, Alicia flinches." Wesley kept his voice low and even, but it came out hoarse and Giles got the feeling the man wanted to shout, and would have, but for their audience in the other room. "Whoever that man was, he meant something to her. He gave her a destiny and she's not dealing well with his death. Regardless of his motives, the man was kind to her and, not three days after they met, he was murdered. We found her huddled next to his body sobbing, Rupert. For you to reduce him to 'the body' is callous and insensitive."

Giles opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded. "You're right. Regardless of my personal feelings toward him, Alicia is grieving and . . . you're absolutely right."

His easy capitulation seemed to take the sting from Wesley's anger and some part of Rupert thought that might just be too bad. Not that he enjoyed being dressed down, even if he did deserve it, but it was . . . nice to see the young man get passionate about something. From the moment he'd arrived Wesley had seemed weary, tired. Seeing the man like this made him want to get closer to the fire in Wesley's eyes.

To keep himself still, Giles removed his glasses and swiped furiously at the lens. "While we have a moment, there are a few other issues I'd like to discuss." He was gratified to find his voice was rock steady.

Wesley nodded, the tension flowing out of him. "Of course."

"I would like Alicia to call the group home. They may not speak to anyone else about it, but I see no reason why they wouldn't talk to her."

"Yes, but isn't it going to sound strange for her to be asking questions about someone she was supposed to have left with?"

"Of course. I only wish for her to ask about things to which she wasn't party, and more about what 'the Council' did than what . . . how exactly should I refer to him? I'm not about to call him by my own name." Giles sighed.

Wesley nodded, snorting. "So far I've been using 'he' and 'that man' to good effect."

Giles met the other man's eyes and a moment of understanding passed between them. There really was an element of the ridiculous involved in discussing one's dead self. While Rupert would deny finding it the least bit funny under most circumstances, he found himself enjoying the other man's smile too much not to join in.

Old fool, he chided himself. Stop it right now!

"Anyhow," Wesley went on after a moment, "I believe we should discuss that with Alicia, see if there is anyone with whom she feels comfortable speaking."

Giles nodded his agreement. "Also, I would much appreciate it if you could describe the . . . him. When you found him. Did . . . did he actually look like me?" The last question was more personal than Giles felt he should get, but he had to know. How close a replica was this person? Why had he chosen him to impersonate? That last did matter, but Rupert couldn't deny that his personal curiosity was running rampant.

"He . . . he looked exactly like you . . . except I believe one of his ears was pierced."

"Dear lord. Which one?"

"Umm . . . the left? I think. Does it matter?"

"Not in any real sense. It's just . . . strange. I don't like the idea of someone knowing so much about me." Giles shook his head, feeling gooseflesh rise on his arms.

"Is . . . is there anyone who would?" Wesley stepped closer, laying a hand on Giles' arm. Rupert closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting himself enjoy the touch.

He knew Wesley understood what he was asking. Whoever the man was, he was dead and if it was someone Giles knew, they . . . were now dead too.

"Yes, there is someone. This doesn't feel like his work though." Giles actually hoped he was right on that. Whatever his current relationship with Ethan, and it wasn't at its best, he didn't want him dead. Even the thought made his stomach knot.

"Who? Uh, if I may ask?" Wesley's hand remained on his arm, a comforting weight. Giles fought to not lean into the touch, fought to keep his mind on the conversation and ignore the firmness of the other man's grip. He honestly tried not to think about how Wesley's hand would feel in other places.

"Ethan Rayne." The name came easily. Mostly because he'd all but discounted him as a possibility.

"The man who enchanted the chocolate?"

Giles felt his brow furrow and Wesley apparently saw his question.

"Cordelia," he said and that one name could explain almost anything.

"Yes," Giles smiled bitterly. "That was Ethan's work. While I recognize that having two Giles' in Sunnydale could cause quite a bit of Chaos, I can't see him going to all the trouble of tracking down Alicia just for that. It doesn't explain why the Council isn't on my phone already either. A potential Slayer is missing, even if they somehow don't know she's been called."

"Yes," Wesley grimaced. "Someone is clearly laying down on the job."

"Which brings up another question. Have you checked to see if she's being affected by magic? It's the only explanation for the call, at least the only one I have at the moment."

"No," Wesley perked up, considering. "We hadn't considered that."

"That's the first thing we'll get Willow and Tara on, when they arrive. In the meantime, standing here discussing this is getting us nowhere," Giles said reluctantly, knowing that reminding Wesley of their duty would mean an end to the easy contact between them.

"You're right," the ex-watcher agreed, pulling his hand away and following Giles back into the living room.

PART 8

"Are you sure?"

Giles let himself smile because he knew Wesley wouldn't see it. That was at least the third time the ex-watcher had asked if Alicia wanted to go through with the telephone call. Alicia seemed to take the man's over-protective tendencies in stride. In fact, he rather thought she might be enjoying it. It was the first time he'd seen her smile since they'd met.

"Yeah. Ms. Delaware's cool. I trust her, you know? She won't say anything." With the young Slayer's assurance, Wesley nodded for her to dial.

"Can I speak to Ms. Delaware please?" After a moment of listening, the girl's face crinkled in confusion. "She's the cook there."

Whatever the other person on the phone was saying it clearly wasn't sitting well with Alicia. "That's not possible. She's worked there for like twenty years! Are you new? I don't recognize your voice."

Another pause as the other person spoke. Rupert watched Wesley shift in his seat, his forehead wrinkling with worry. Stifling the urge to brush his fingers over those wrinkles, and chiding himself for his horrendous lack of focus, Giles forced his eyes to Alicia, whose jaw had dropped as she listened.

"I was there not a week ago! Alicia Bensten! Fine. Whatever. Put Miss Alice on the phone." The young woman tapped her fingers on the table, turning to look at Wesley. "They're telling me Ms. Delaware hasn't worked there for ten years! Miss Alice? It's me, Alicia."

"You remember," the Slayer continued after a moment, "I wrote Shakespeare quotes all over the mirrors with lipstick? You lectured me for like . . . twenty minutes, made me clean it all up."

Fear was starting to creep into Alicia's voice. Her hand was visibly trembling.

"Come on! I was there for two years! Alicia! Bensten!"

The trembling grew more intense, the phone now shaking in her hand. All the energy seemed to drain from the young woman, who'd become far too pale.

"Right . . . thank you." With that, she hung up, turning a lost look to Wesley, though her eyes were unfocused. "They . . . they don't know me. Miss Alice said she's never heard of Alicia Bensten."

It was clear the girl was on the verge of tears. Giles took a step toward her, but halted when she flinched away. Wesley stood, looking on with worried eyes, but making no move. Buffy finally broke the tableau, going to the girl and pulling her into a hug.

That seemed to break whatever control she'd had left. Alicia began to sob, standing still, but accepting the older girl's comfort.

"I . . . they don't know me. What . . . what's going on? I lived there for two years and . . . oh, god! It's not fair. I just want this over. Why? Why don't they know me?"

"I don't know," Buffy murmured, comforting the girl as she would have Dawn. "But everything's gonna be okay. We're gonna help you and find out what's happening, okay?"

Alicia showed no signs of hearing her. Her sobs were heartbreaking and Giles quickly grew uncomfortable, unable to do anything without further hurting the girl. He felt like a fool, just standing there.

"I'll get her something to drink," he finally said, making an escape into the kitchen. He didn't bother with the tea, instead pouring a glass of orange juice.

"I feel like an utter git," Wesley's voice startled him. Giles whirled around to find the young man standing just feet from him, trying to pace in what little room there was.

"It isn't your fault," Giles spoke automatically, setting the juice on the counter and taking the ex-watcher by the forearms. "Look at me."

Wesley stilled, meeting his eyes with a sigh.

"Neither of us could have even guessed something like this would happen. I know, it's hard to see her hurting, but the only way this is ever going to stop is if we figure it out and that means following all the leads we can."

Giles loosened his hold, but couldn't seem to make himself let go. He knew he should, knew the other man would think it odd if he didn't pull away soon, but Wesley's arms were so firm under his grip and Rupert could feel his warmth through the thin sleeves of the other man's button-up.

"Thank you," a small, tentative smile brushed Wesley's lips and he lowered his head a little while keeping eye contact. "But I meant that I feel like a git because I don't know what to do about a crying Slayer."

"Oh," Giles responded, smiling at his assumption. "Perhaps I was projecting a bit?"

"It wasn't your fault either, Rupert."

There was something in the way the other man said his name that took Giles' breath for a moment. He found himself leaning in, hands sliding up just a little, just enough to revel in feel. Their eyes were still locked. His breath was back, now coming faster than before. Wesley seemed to tilt his head, swallowing so hard his Adams apple bobbed.

Rupert nearly groaned when Wesley licked his lips.

"Hey," called Willow's voice and Wesley's eyes widened as he stepped back quickly enough that Rupert knew his thoughts had been none too innocent. Not that Giles' had been. In fact, he had to adjust his half-hard prick before following the ex-watcher's retreat into the living room.

It was the tongue that did it. Giles shivered at the memory, emerging from the kitchen to find Alicia sitting in his armchair, staring at the wall. Buffy shrugged at his inquiring look. She took the glass from him and he turned to greet Willow and Tara, who were speaking quietly to Wesley.

"Is she gonna be o-okay?" Tara glanced over Wesley's shoulder at the girl as Giles went to join them.

"I don't know." Wesley half turned, glancing at Alicia. His eyes caught Giles' as he did and there was a tentative smile upon his lips before he saw the young Slayer.

Rupert held tight to the lunatic grin trying to take over his face. He knew he was being silly. There was so much else to think about. Wesley was apparently interested, if only tentatively so. That should have been enough for the moment, but the image of the young man's tongue darting out, slipping over soft lips . . .

Focus, damnit! And you, stop that. Oh, god, Giles thought with an inward sigh. I've resorted to talking to my own dick. This isn't good.

"Wesley," Giles said, attempting to pull his mind out of the mire--sewer, more appropriately--and focus on the young woman who desperately needed them just then. "You should go and speak with her. She knows you."

The younger man looked at him as if he'd suggested running out into traffic.

"I . . ." he began, only to snap his mouth closed after a moment and nod sharply.

PART 9

Wesley straightened his shoulders, wishing he felt less as if he were going before a firing squad as he approached Alicia. If only he could think. It was all Rupert's fault. The look in the other man's eyes when they were in the kitchen, the way he'd leaned in ever so slightly.

Was he watching my lips?

Shaking off those thoughts, he knelt next to Buffy, taking one of Alicia's small hands in his. They were, as yet, smooth, un-calloused. He didn't want to think about how that would change.

Buffy shrugged at him, giving the other Slayer one last, worry-filled glance before giving them some privacy.

"Alicia? Look at me."

The young Slayer raised blank eyes to his. She seemed to be staring through him.

"I know this is confusing. I know it hurts." Wesley desperately sought the right words, something he'd never been good at, unless they were written in some demon language. He wanted to promise to make it better, anything to bring her back to the present, to shake the hurt look from her face.

"Why don't they know me? Am I . . . that easy to forget?"

"No!" Wesley shrugged, feeling helpless in the face of the confusion on the girl's face. "It's not you. It could be any number of things. To figure it out . . . we're going to need your help."

She nodded, too much, too quickly.

"I can help," she murmured, "I can."

"I know you can," he tried to sound soothing, but wasn't sure he'd gotten it right. In all honesty, he was scared and that made it hard for him to control his voice. Saying the wrong thing could send Alicia back into shock, or . . . he didn't want to think of all the ways he could make things worse.

"Alicia?" Tara's soft voice came from just behind him, unsurprising for all her sudden closeness. Her tone was the heart of comfort and Wesley silently thanked her with a glance. "You remember me? From y-yesterday?"

Alicia blinked twice and then nodded, her eyes a little more present.

"Willow and I want to do some . . . t-tests, I guess. It's all magical. We wanna see if we can find out what's happening. Is-is that okay?"

Alicia thought for a moment, eyes flicking back to Wesley. "Is that why they didn't remember?"

"It could be," the ex-watcher replied slowly. "We won't know until we try."

"Yeah, sure," Alicia replied to Tara, who gave the girl a small, shy smile in response. "I just really need to . . . I've got to understand this, you know?"

"We're going to set up at the Magic Box," Willow put in, coming over to stand with her lover. "That should give you guys time to get some rooms and then meet us. We'll be ready in about an hour, but you don't have to hurry or anything, okay?"

"Of course," Wesley shook his head at himself. "I'd almost forgotten about the rooms."

The sign on the Magic Box said 'closed' when they arrived. Wesley, of course, ignored the sign, ushering Alicia inside. She'd come out of whatever shock she'd retreated into, but remained quiet and distant. While he wanted to talk to her about it, he really had no idea where to start and was tired of feeling helpless. He hated that feeling more than anything.

Bloody hell, I'm so bad at this!

Rupert, Anya, and Buffy were in the main room of the shop. Their talking cut off as soon as they entered, all eyes turning to Alicia and him.

"Willow and Tara are in the back. Everything's all set," Buffy said, smiling reassuringly at the younger Slayer. "You kinda have to go back there by yourself. Too many people confuse things."

Alicia swallowed hard before giving a quiet, "yeah. I'm ready." She glanced at Wesley and he nodded his reassurances.

"We'll be right here when it's done," he said, faking a confident smile.

Taking in a deep breath, Alicia walked into the shop's back room.

"How is she?" asked Rupert the moment she was gone.

"Quiet, but . . . better, I think."

"Do you think it's about magic?" Anya asked, looking up from the cash register. "Cause it could be just about anything. Has she scorned anyone lately?"

"She's seventeen, Anya," Wesley began, his forehead wrinkling.

"Never too early to start," the ex-demon muttered, turning back to whatever she'd been doing.

"Actually," Rupert said slowly, his thoughtful gaze locked on one of the bookshelves, "she could have gotten sucked into some kind of wish. We should ask if she's made any wishes lately."

Wesley groaned, dropping into one of the chairs, hanging his head and scrubbing at his face with both hands. "This is all so complex. I can't even begin to imagine what the poor girl is going through."

"Yeah," Buffy chipped in. "It's hard enough finding out your 'The Chosen One'--although it's more like three now--but add all this other stuff on top of that and . . ." Shaking her head, she turned to Giles. "What did the Council say?"

Wesley looked up at that, his vague hopes dying when Rupert shook his head.

"All my contacts said the same things as the official channels. They have no idea. As far as they know, all the potentials are exactly where they're supposed to be . . . and there's no Alicia Bensten among them."

"This is insane," Wesley muttered. "It's as if she didn't exist before the alley!"

An odd look passed between Buffy and Giles. He was opening his lips to ask about it when a scream came from the back room. On his feet in seconds, Wesley made it into the training room in record time, the others on his heels.

Alicia sat cross-legged at the center of a circle of salt, candles at the four compass points. Willow and Tara sat to either side of her, eyes wide as they scrambled to the circle's edges. The young Slayer was glowing; her head thrown back, mouth open as if she were screaming though nothing came from her lips. Then she slumped to the ground, eyes staring sightless at the ceiling.

"Let me in!" Wesley shouted, trembling at the circle's edge. He knew too much to break the circle, but he nearly disregarded it all before Tara pulled her eyes from the crumpled Slayer and brought the circle down.

Wesley and Giles were the first to reach her, Tara and Willow apparently too stunned to move.

"What did you do to her?" Wesley found himself shouting, his fingers frantically searching for a pulse. A sigh of relief slipped from his mouth when he found one, steady and strong. "She's alive."

"I . . . we didn't do . . . I don't know." Willow was standing now, looking on with horrified eyes.

"Wesley, calm down." Rupert's voice made his eyes snap to the Watcher's face. They stared at one another for a moment. The strength in the older man's gaze calmed him a bit.

"Of course," Wesley whispered, looking back to Alicia. "What were you trying?" he asked Willow.

"It was nothing! Oh, God. It was just a little detection spell, meant to show us anything that touched her aura in the last week!"

"Dimension shift," came Anya's voice from the doorway, drawing all eyes. She looked back at them for a moment and then shrugged self-consciously. "The magic that it takes to push a person from one dimension to another, it . . . clings. It has to, in order to keep them there. It doesn't react well to other magics."

"W-will she be okay?" Tara came to kneel at Alicia's head, looking from Giles to Wesley to Anya and back again.

"She should be," Anya assured, though her voice was a little too uncertain for Wesley's peace of mind. "It was a shock to her system. If you mess with the spell it . . . it probably jolted her back to the other place for a minute."

"Wait," Buffy held up a hand, shaking her head. "Does that mean that . . . the Giles with her was actually Giles? Her Giles?"

"Yes," Rupert muttered, his eyebrows furrowing together. "Yes, I think it does."

PART 10

Wesley paced the room, his mind spinning. They'd moved Alicia back to Giles' apartment. The man had generously given up his bed to the sick girl. They weren't sure when she'd wake and they had a lot to discuss. Wesley didn't want to leave her alone and either of the motel rooms would have been cramped with all of them in there. Besides, as Rupert had argued, his flat was far more comfortable.

Though her eyes had fluttered shut on the ride over, that was the only sign that she was improving. Anya had tried to be comforting, assuring them that she'd never seen a person not wake up from the temporary coma, but somehow her words failed to calm him.

"You need to sit down," Rupert murmured, ushering him to the couch. Anya hadn't arrived yet, having stayed behind to help Willow and Tara clean up before closing the shop for the day. Buffy came down from the loft with a sigh.

"She's still out," the Slayer said when she saw Wesley's inquiring look. "I've gotta go pick Dawn up from school, but we'll be back in just a little while, okay?"

Giles nodded to her, Wesley saying nothing as he tapped his foot and glanced toward the loft.

"She's gonna be okay," Buffy stepped into his line of sight, offering a pale smile. "We're a tough bunch of girls."

Wesley tried to return her smile as she left, but got the feeling it was even less believable than hers. Giles handed him a cup of tea and Wesley drank it gratefully, letting the familiar flavor soothe his ragged nerves. Rupert had taken up the seat next to him on the couch, watching with worried eyes.

The ex-watcher felt compelled to speak.

"I don't know what to say," he muttered, half to himself.

"We should wait for the others before getting into a discussion. You don't have to say anything. She will be all right, Wes. She will." Giles laid a hand on his shoulder and Wesley found himself leaning into the touch.

He was silent for a moment, accepting the comfort he would normally deny needing. There was something about Rupert Giles that made it okay to be comforted, okay to not be all that strong now and again. Perhaps it was the sense that he would be there to help things along. Regardless, Wes felt his stiff muscles relax for the first time since he'd heard his Slayer's shout.

My Slayer? Wesley shook his head, sighing, suddenly tense again. "I'm getting too attached," he whispered.

"Why?" Giles laid a hand on his shoulder, rubbing as if to relieve the tension there.

"Why am I getting attached?" Wesley looked up, surprised by the question.

"No. Why is it 'too' attached?"

"Because! If I try to help I'm only going to fuck it up again! I might get her killed next time!" Wesley shot to his feet, the words flying out of his mouth before he could go over them. "If I hadn't called the Council on Faith . . . if I'd pulled my head out of the sand . . . I can't let that happen with Alicia! I can't fail again, not like that." He turned on Giles, thrusting a finger toward the older man. "You have to do this. I can't. You're a Watcher, she's a Slayer. I . . . I just hunt demons. That's it."

"So, you're what? Leaving?" Giles' voice was calm, but Wesley got the feeling he'd just stepped in something nasty.

"No . . . I . . . Maybe. It might be for the best." He looked away, unable to meet Giles' gaze.

"Yes," Giles answered in a tone Wesley remembered from his first days in Sunnydale, hard and biting. "Because the girl clearly hasn't lost enough people in the last week. Why not the one she's come to depend on most? I'm sure she won't even notice."

"That's the problem," Wesley muttered, trying to straighten his shoulders, pull himself together.

"Get over it," Giles' voice was marble, closer than before. "I know how it feels Wes, but you can't walk out on her. I can't walk out on Buffy. They need us. We can only do our best and trust that to be enough. We can only . . . do what needs to be done and trust that we've made the only decisions we can." Something dark and hurting flashed through Rupert's eyes but, before Wesley could comment, it was gone. "That's all there is . . . for any of us. So, get over it, for now, for her sake. Wallow in it later, let it consume you when we've got her home again, but right now, let it go."

Wesley slumped back onto the couch, rubbing his temples in an attempt to rid himself of his on-coming headache. There was a sigh next to him and he felt Giles shift closer a moment before larger, stronger fingers took the place of his own.

Wesley turned his head to give Giles better access, keeping his eyes firmly closed. If he opened them he'd see Giles' face and then all those thoughts would begin rioting again. He'd want to kiss him, to . . . do something. Of course, it would be the wrong thing and the comfortable atmosphere would shatter. He liked feeling at ease with the Watcher. Losing that would be too much to take just then.

Besides, that would end the small massage and it felt far too good to end so soon. He couldn't help the moan that slipped from his lips.

The pressure on his temples stopped. Wesley wanted to curse himself, his eyes snapping open. There was a small smile on Rupert's face, warm with just a hint of something . . . more. Giles' hands slid down to cup his cheeks and Wesley found his breath speeding at the feel of those calloused hands on his skin.

They stared at one another for a long moment. Wesley couldn't keep his eyes from slipping down to Giles' lips, over and over again. His mouth was suddenly dry as the Sahara.

You're gonna screw this up, a voice whispered in his head, even as he leaned forward, letting his lips brush lightly over the Watcher's. The kiss was gentle, sweet. He made to pull back, but Rupert wouldn't let him, holding his face and following that little distance between them.

A groan escaped one of them, though Wes wasn't sure from whom. He returned the pressure, reveling in the feel of firm, dry lips against his own. The tip of Giles' tongue slipped out, licking at him. Wesley opened under it, sliding his own out to tangle and dance.

One of Giles' hands dragged back until warm fingers cupped the back of his neck. Wesley knew he was the one who'd groaned then. He surged forward, thrusting his tongue eagerly into the older man's mouth, hands buried in Rupert's sweater. He could feel how fast Giles' breathing had become and a wave of arousal hit him, hardening his cock. Rupert's other hand slipped from his face and even through his clothing Wesley could feel the heat of it as it settled on his hip, fingers digging in, branding him.

Giles turned him so that they were facing one another, lips and tongues still thrashing, the pressure only building between them. Soon they were kissing so hard that Rupert's teeth were pressing his lips and Wesley whimpered, wanting to feel more, more lips, more skin, more teeth, more everything.

He pulled away, sliding his hands down to untuck Giles' shirt.

The older man's hand settled over his, putting a stop to that notion. He looked up into green eyes before he could wonder what he'd do if he saw rejection there.

"If we start this here the children will barge in. Likely at the worst possible time." There was a thread of amusement in Giles' hoarse voice, but the disappointment in his eyes more than made up for it.

"You're right," Wesley muttered as his brain threw up images of what that 'worst possible time' might be. He almost flinched at the sound of his own voice, so out of breath and needy.

Giles leaned forward, giving him a quick, firm kiss before he could say anything further.

"So," Rupert said as he pulled away, straightening his sweater and re-tucking the little bit Wesley had managed to pull out, "we won't start it until later. When they're gone. And the doors are locked."

PART 11

Giles tried to listen to what Anya was saying. It was important, he knew that, but Wesley kept licking his lips, casting furtive little glances in his direction. Those shy, lash-hidden looks were doing quite a bit to distract the Watcher.

"Giles?"

Rupert's gaze snapped to Dawn who was looking at him with a confused expression.

"Y-yes?"

"You didn't hear what Anya said?"

"Uh, no. I'm sorry, my mind wandered." Rupert was grateful he was long past the stage where he blushed easily.

"I was saying," Anya began, sighing at the need to repeat herself. This time Giles forced himself to pay attention, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Anya and, more importantly, off Wesley. "Sending her back to her home dimension is going to be tricky. The main problem is how much of a shock to her system it will be, because of the spell holding her here. The longer we wait, the worse it gets."

"Do you know how to get her back there?" Wesley's voice was soft and Giles had to look at him, had to see if the man were merely thoughtful or if there were other, more sentimental, reasons for that tone.

As Rupert had guessed he would, Wesley looked totally in control, but there were slight lines around his mouth that gave his worries away. They likely went unnoticed by the others. Giles wouldn't even have noticed had he not spent so much time staring at the ex-watcher's lips.

"If I had my powers . . ." Anya trailed off, shrugging. "It isn't something I really thought about, I just . . . did it. I don't know of any spells that do the same thing, but . . . I'm sure there are some."

"Then it's research," Willow chirped, bouncing a little in her place on the couch. "To the books!"

Buffy threw her arm over her forehead and groaned, but everyone accepted one of the books Giles handed out. Settling into his armchair with his own reading, he couldn't help but feel a moment of contentment. He closed his eyes, letting it wash over him. The gang was all together, except for Xander who would be over after he showered and changed out of his work clothes. Buffy had been much less distant, Willow more her old self, it almost felt as if things were back to normal after . . .

A scream shattered his peace and Giles was on his feet before the horrible sound ended. Buffy sprang over the back the couch and charged upstairs with him and Wesley quick on her heels.

Buffy skidded to a halt, Giles almost running into her as Wesley pushed past him. All three of them froze at the sight of Alicia sitting huddled in blankets at the head of his bed, sobbing and rocking back and forth. Wesley moved to her side seemingly without a thought, kneeling on the floor beside the bed.

"Alicia? What's wrong? Are you all right?" The ex-watcher took the girl's hand in his own, sending a desperate glance to Buffy.

"I was there again," she gasped between slowing sobs. "In the alley. I dreamt . . . the vampires were there and . . . my Rupert Giles. There was . . . chanting and he . . . he kept telling me to run, but . . . I couldn't. I couldn't move. I staked one of the vampires and it crumbled to dust, right in front of me, you know? Rupert was fighting and he was saying something strange. I think someone knocked me out. I woke up and . . . he was . . . Oh, god!" Her breath hitched, making it difficult to speak and she was squeezing Wes' hand in a way that had to be painful.

Then her eyes came up, glancing at Buffy before landing on him. Giles flinched at the sorrow that swept over that young face. Alicia turned, burying her face in Wesley's shoulder and weeping once again.

"I shouldn't be here," Giles whispered to Buffy. He couldn't force himself to go though. Wesley looked near panicked, laying an awkward arm across the girl's back, his eyes pleading with Rupert to do something. The sight was heartbreaking, but what could he do? His presence was only upsetting Alicia more and, as much as he wanted to be there for Wesley, he was torn.

"Giles," Buffy's soft voice brought his eyes back to her. "Go tell the others she's okay. Get them researching? I'll help Wes."

Giles nodded, more than glad to see her taking the lead. With an apologetic glance to Wesley, Rupert turned and descended the stairs. There he was greeted by four sets of worried eyes.

"She's . . . she's awake a-and all right," the image of the girl rocking herself, face buried against Wesley's shoulder flashed across his mind, "at least physically. Buffy and Wesley are trying to, to calm her. We should get back to researching."

The others nodded, some casting glances back up to the loft before resettling. Giles went back to his chair, back to his book, but the feel of the room had changed. All of them were tense now, listening to sounds of crying from the loft. Giles remembered the look in Wesley's eyes, the anguish of the young woman and had to force his eyes back to his research.

His mind didn't want to cooperate. Alicia's words thrashed in his mind. Had his double been the one to send her here? Had he been trying to protect her? It was possible, though not likely as the man had died . . . that would have been before the spell was cast. No, it had to be someone else who had sent both Alicia and . . .

me . . .

That had been him. He'd died in an LA alley. It was hard to wrap his thoughts around. That body had been him, but obviously it wasn't him . . . still. He could have been that person. What differences had there been in Alicia's world? What moment had changed all that he knew and had experienced into a corpse in an alley?

The sounds slowed and eventually stopped. Rupert looked up at the sound of footsteps and found Wesley, Buffy, and Alicia coming down the stairs. Alicia refused to look at any of them, instead staring at her feet.

"A-are you okay?" Dawn stood up, turning to the other girl. "I'm Dawn, Buffy's sister."

"I'll . . . I'll be fine," Alicia looked up at Dawn and Giles caught a glimpse of her pale, tear-streaked face. "I'm Alicia."

"Yeah, a Slayer from another dimension. That's so cool," Dawn smiled, but the expression wilted when Alicia looked away.

"Yeah, cool." The other girl's voice was flat, lifeless.

Giles glanced to Wesley, found the man's eyes already on him. The ex-watcher met his gaze and Rupert put all the sympathy he felt on his face, hoping Wes would understand. He got a small, sad smile in return.

PART 12

Their research had turned up some promising leads. Tomorrow Giles would look through the books at the Magic Box and order another, express, from one of his suppliers. There was a good chance they'd have a way to return Alicia to her home soon. He hoped it would be soon enough, but wished they could do more for her.

She'd been quite at first, listening to Dawn chatter but rarely responding. Then something the other girl said had caught her attention and Alicia perked up a bit.

Ah, the resilience of youth, Giles thought with a self-deprecating shake of his head. God, I sound as if I�m eighty.

"Well," Buffy said, stretching out of her cramped position on the floor, "it's patrol time. I'm meeting Spike by his crypt. You wanna come along Alicia?"

Giles watched Wesley's head shoot up at the last bit, but he said nothing. Rupert's eyes flicked to the younger Slayer who thought for a moment and then nodded her head solemnly.

"I guess I should get some experience, you know?" She sounded morose.

Wesley looked as if he might object, but then he closed his mouth, doing his best to smile encouragingly. Giles sent a questioning look to Xander, who nodded his understanding and then turned back to the gang.

"Hey, why don't I come with? In case you need somebody to clap." Xander volunteered after a look at Anya.

"We can give you a ride home Anya," Willow supplied. Plans made, Xander, Buffy and Alicia left, the young Slayer glancing at Wesley before she slipped out.

Wesley stood there staring at the door for a moment before asking, "Rupert? Could I speak with you?"

Giles nodded, standing and going to the kitchen, an occurrence with which he was getting a little too familiar. Wesley was leaning against the fridge, his posture slumped, head bowed.

"How're you doing?" Rupert kept his voice soft, calm.

"I . . . she's hurting and I can't do anything, Buffy's hurting and . . . I don't even know if I'm allowed to feel bad for not being able to do anything."

"Allowed to?" Giles felt one of his eyebrows crawl up toward his hairline.

"I just . . . how am I supposed to do this? I don't understand." Wesley sighed, shaking his head. "I've never been any good at this."

"You'll learn." Rupert reached out, laying his hand on Wesley's arm, half worried the younger man would shake him off. Instead, he looked up for the first time since they'd come into the kitchen, his blue eyes sad.

"Maybe, maybe we could, um," Wes glanced away, eyes flicking through the pass through, voice dropping, "put off our . . ."

"If you want to," Giles agreed, hiding his disappointment with worry.

Wesley's chest began to jerk with the soft, bitter laughter that trickled from his lips. Rupert caught the shine of tears in his eyes and didn't hesitate to pull the younger man into an embrace, laying a kiss on Wesley's head.

"You shouldn't be alone tonight," Rupert whispered, hoping he wasn't just being selfish. The feel of the man his arms was . . . distracting and he prayed he wasn't pushing too hard, for the wrong reasons.

"I'm used to it," came Wes' sour reply.

"But you don't have to be alone tonight."

Wesley pulled away and met his eyes. A small smile came to his lips and he glanced away again.

"Yeah. You're right. But not here. At the motel, in case . . ." He didn't finish, didn't need to because Giles understood. If Alicia needed him, Wesley wanted to be there.

"Of course," Rupert replied, smiling only half as brightly as he wanted. He was wary, worried that he'd scare Wesley away if he let his eagerness show through. A task made more difficult by the memories of his hands on the man's skin, their tongues dueling, the sounds Wesley made when they'd kissed. "I'll get the others on their way and meet you there in . . . an hour?"

"Perfect," Wesley replied, taking a deep breath. Quickly enough to take Giles by surprise, the younger man leaned in, pressing their lips together. Giles let his hands settle on Wesley's hips, but didn't deepen the kiss. There'd be time later.

Wes pulled away with a shy smile, searching Giles' face for something. Rupert let the heat into his eyes, pressed himself lightly against the other man. One of Wesley's hands lay on his stomach, rubbing back and forth and that small contact was driving Giles mad.

"An hour," Wesley whispered, moving past him, hand sliding over Giles' body. Rupert shuddered, listening to Wes gather his things as he stared at the wall, willing himself to calm down.

Giles chuckled as the door shut behind Wesley, a grin taking over his face. He had to list to himself the reasons he couldn't just walk out into the living room and shout, 'everybody out, I need to get laid!'

I might give them all heart attacks, for one.

PART 13

Wesley paced the room, his stomach knotting with the thought that Rupert would arrive soon. He was nervous and anxious and . . . he couldn't stand still. The motel wasn't the most elegant he'd ever been in, it was pretty much what one would expect from a roadside motel in a small town. It was clean. He could say that much.

Making one last check, unsure exactly what he was trying to accomplish by rearranging the pillows on the bed, his eyes landed on the bedside table and slipped quickly away. He'd stopped at the drugstore on the way back. Wesley wasn't sure . . . they hadn't talked about what each of them expected out of the night, so he'd been careful to hide the condoms and lube away. Don't want to come across as pushy.

A picture of he and Rupert, together, formed in his mind. He could all but see himself on all fours on the bed, Rupert's hands on his hips, Rupert's cock pounding into him. Wesley groaned, his dick hardening and tingling.

Taking deep breaths, he tried to will away the bulge in his slacks.

Oh no, that's not at all pushy, he thought with a sigh and a shake of his head. Rupert was going to think him desperate. As if you're not at this point, whispered a voice in the back of his head.

And it was true. He could, at least, admit it to himself. The thought of those rough hands on his skin, more than just his neck this time, made him shiver. He could almost feel them ghosting over his body, sliding, catching here and there

Lovely, he murmured to himself, his cock twitching now. He's not even here yet and I'm already losing it. God, it's been too damn long.

The knock on the door made him freeze, his heart jumping into his throat. Trying to keep himself under control, trying not to rush to the door and fling it open, he made his way across the room.

Rupert stood casually, his smile bringing an answering one to Wesley's lips, though he had to turn his eyes away. Giles' gaze was too intense, too frank. He couldn't know what might be showing in his own eyes, couldn't take the risk that it would change things. He needed this more than he'd have admitted just a few days ago.

"Come in," Wesley's wept his hand out to usher the Watcher inside. He shut the door without turning to look at Giles, trying to get his heartbeat under control first. "There's--" Wesley began as he turned, only to find himself pinned to the door, his words cut off as Giles' lips ground against his own.

He wasn't the only one already hard. Rupert's hands were frantic, as if desperate to touch all of him. Him. The last word was the most important to his hazy mind. This man was already hard, already worked up, for him.

That was his last, actually coherent, thought.

Rupert's body pressed into his, warm and solid, his hands roving everywhere. Wesley accepted the older man's tongue, thrusting his own into Giles' mouth, rubbing against him with his hands, his mouth, his hips, anything. Giles' hands dipped into his waistband, one brushing his upper ass, the other slipping over the wet head of his hard cock.

Wesley let out a choked shout, his knees going weak. He sagged against Giles, whose lips moved to his throat, nibbling and licking down to his collarbone before nuzzling into the crook of neck and shoulder. Rupert was all but holding him up. Wesley barely noticed, teeth catching on the upper portion of Giles' ear, hands franticly pulling the other man's sweater out of his pants and sliding under, finally, touching skin. He dug his fingers into Giles' back, knowing he was gripping hard enough to bruise and caring not a whit.

"Oh, god, Rupert . . . please!" Funny how Wesley no longer worried about how needy he sounded. The harsh panting of his breath gusted against Giles' ear and Wes felt him shudder.

Rupert pulled away and Wesley whined at the loss of contact.

"Hush now." Giles dragged his fingers across Wesley's stomach, sending shudders through him as he panted and leaned on the door for support. Rupert tugged at his shirt and Wesley held up his arms, letting the other man undress him. "Just getting rid of the clothes."

Giles went to his knees and Wesley moaned, fighting not to thrust his hips at him. When the Watcher looked up, the smile on his face made Wesley whimper. Rupert brushed a hand across the bulge in his slacks and Wesley threw his head back, barely noticing as it hit the door. Giles' fingers were crawled along his zipper, pressing the metal against his dripping erection.

"Please! " Wes begged, hands sliding into Rupert's hair. "Oh, god, please!"

And then his zipper was sliding down, too slow and yet perfect. The constriction on his swollen cock eased and Wesley found himself making little gasping noises as Giles pushed his hand inside to grip him through his boxers.

"Yes . . . oh fuck, yes!"

"Love the sounds you make," Giles said, stroking him long and slow, brushing his thumb over the head of his prick.

"Don't tease." Wesley squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled to keep control. "Please, don't . . . I can't . . . oh, god," the last was said on a groan as Giles ripped the button on his slacks undone and jerked both them and his boxers down to his ankles. Wesley's cock sprang free, hard as rock and desperate for attention. It slapped at his belly and Wes sucked in a gasp, feeling the air against his hot erection and the spot of pre-cum it left on his skin.

Then Rupert's hands were back, one on his hip, the other fisting his prick. Wesley opened his eyes, forcing his fingers to relax in the twisted mass of Giles' hair. He looked down in time to watch Giles' tongue flick against the head of his erection. Before his moan was even finished, Giles swallowed him to the root and hummed.

"Can't take much," Wes panted out, too close to the edge to worry about his lack of stamina. "If you don't stop, I'll--"

Rupert shook his head slowly, setting the sensitive underside of Wes' cock gliding along his tongue and bumping against his cheeks. Wesley gasped, hands seizing in Rupert's hair. Giles dragged his lips up and down the rigid shaft, head bobbing in a torturous rhythm, tongue arching against his foreskin. "Rupert, god, I'm gonna--"

The world went white. Every muscle in his body tightening, his back arching, his hips thrusting his cock deeper into Rupert's throat, he came, screaming. Wesley jerked and collapsed forward, bent double over the other man. Giles' hands on his hips were all that held him up.

Rupert stood, supporting Wes' weight as he came down.

When he finally found the strength to stand, though his legs still felt a little like rubber, Wes stepped out of his slacks and boxers. Smiling, he turned his head and brushed his lips against Giles'. It was a gentle kiss, so far from what they'd been doing that it felt like something entirely different.

Wesley swept his tongue over Rupert's lips and then inside the wet cavern of his mouth, one hand stroking down to undo the button on Rupert's jeans. The zipper came down easily and Wes wasted no time in wriggling his hand into Giles' boxers. They both moaned when his fingers wrapped around Rupert's erection.

Giles pulled back from the kiss long enough to mutter, "on the bed," and then their tongues met again and they staggered toward their goal. It was awkward, what with neither of them wanting to let go of the other and Giles' pants around his ankles. Wesley did his best to lead, but in the end they found the thing by running into it and falling.

Both of them wound up laughing, having to pull away from the kiss. Wesley didn't take his hand from Rupert's cock though, enjoying too much the way the other man's breath would hitch at his slightest move. Giles was so hard he had to be aching, the pre-cum dribbling in thin little rivers. He gasped when Wesley squeezed tighter, using his free hand to fondle Rupert's balls.

"Oh, oh yeah . . . just perfect, Wes . . ."

"You feel good in my hand," Wesley whispered against the other man's ear, stroking harder, faster. "Look good with your head thrown back that way."

"Stop, Wes, stop."

Surprised, and a little hurt, Wesley pulled his hand away, casting a questioning glance at Rupert.

"I'm sorry, I thought--"

Rupert cut him off once again, but the kiss was short this time. Giles rolled toward him so they were facing one another, Giles' still throbbing cock nudging Wesley's softened one.

"I don't wanna cum until I'm fucking you," Rupert licked his earlobe after those words, sending two totally separate shivers down Wes' spine. "Is that okay, Wes? Can I fuck you?"

That question, whispered in a husky, proper, voice, had Wesley's cock hardening again. His answer was to scramble to the bedside table and all but rip out the drawer as he grabbed for lube and condoms. He tossed them back on the bed, looking over his shoulder to find Rupert smiling at him, one eyebrow raised.

Wesley felt himself begin to blush and turned his face away, heart pounding double-time in anticipation. He stayed on his hands and knees, ass in the air . . . waiting. He felt Giles' weight shift on the bed and his stomach leapt, fluttering, his prick hard again, twitching.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather turn--"

"Like this . . . please," he whispered.

Hot hands slid from his ass to his shoulders before Rupert dug his nails in, dragging them down again. Wesley arched, groaning when the hands left his skin. Ears tuned to any sound from behind him, he heard the cap on the lube pop and his cock throbbed in response.

Cool liquid dribbled over his butt, running into the crease and over his pucker. Wesley hissed, thrusting his ass back.

More lube, cold against his overheated skin, a single finger sliding inside him.

"Oh God!" Wesley threw his head back at the feeling, pushing back. Giles worked him for a moment before sliding another finger inside, scratching over his prostate. "Ahh! Please, Rupert, just fuck me! "

Rupert groaned and withdrew his fingers. Wesley head the tearing of a foil package and his breath picked up its pace. Then Giles' cock pressed again his entrance.

"How do you like it Wes?" Giles rubbed the head of his cock against him, slow, even though there was an urgency in his voice that sent shudders up Wesley's spine.

"Hard," was all Wes could gather breath for before Rupert was inside him, pressing into his tight channel with several quick thrusts that left Wesley gasping. It burned a little, the ache only making his cock pulse and throb. Both of them moaned at the feel of it, Wesley bracing his hands against the headboard, snapping his hips back to get more. Then Rupert was buried in him and Wesley thought he might burst he felt so full. "Now!"

Giles didn't hold back, pulling almost all the way before hammering into him, hard and fast, and too perfect to be real. Giles' fingers dug into Wes' flanks, jerking him in rhythm to his strokes. Wesley pressed his hands flat against the wall, using them to slam his body back onto Rupert's dick. Giles slid a hand around to fist his dripping cock and Wesley almost choked on his groan.

"Feel so good," Rupert moaned, stroking Wesley. "Dear lord . . . so . . . so tight."

Wes bucked and arched, orgasm tingling through him, tightening his balls as Giles fucked him hard. The world was white noise around him, the only clear sound the slap of flesh against flesh. He closed his eyes, his cocking filling, and screamed as he came over Giles' hand.

Rupert thrust into him once, twice more before spasming, shouting his name. Wes didn't think he'd every heard his own name sound that good.

PART 14

"You all right?" Giles' words were muffled, given that his face was buried in Wesley's back. He'd taken the time to throw away the condom before collapsing next to the younger man, but other than that, had not moved. He didn't have the strength yet.

"Uh-huh," Wesley murmured, sounding sleepy.

Rupert smiled, reveling in the heavy, tingling feel that crept along his limbs. He slung his arm over Wes' sweaty back, pulling him closer. Wesley rolled toward him, looking up at him with bleary eyes. "I . . ."

"Shh," Giles urged, cupping the younger man's face and rubbing his thumb over Wes' swollen lips. "Enjoy it."

Wesley nodded, letting his eyes drift closed a little as he snuggled into Rupert's embrace. Giles hadn't felt so good in a long while. The tension he carried with him almost always had dropped away and the heat of the man in his arms only heightened the effect. He breathed in deep, holding in the scent, sweat and sex, skin and . . . Wesley.

Rupert sighed, for the first time in a long while he was content. It wasn't just the sex, though that had been spectacular. It was the feel of someone in his arms, the weight of someone against him, the happy little sound Wesley made, scooting closer into his embrace. He'd missed this more than he could say. He needed the sex too, but he could have lived a while longer without it. This, though, he might have found himself diving even farther into his scotch without this.

It won't last. A voice in his head warned him, but Giles ignored it for the moment, not about to let anything short of an apocalypse ruin the moment.

Someone knocked on the motel door.

"Buggering fucking hell," Giles muttered as the younger man all but jumped from his arms. Wes looked as if he'd dozed, the knock waking him.

"Who is it?" Wes' voice trembled. Rupert sighed, taking in the other man's wild appearance, his shifting eyes.

Lovely, Giles began to gather his clothes, watching with disgruntled regret as Wes threw on his own.

"Alicia. Can . . . can I talk to you?"

Rupert's annoyance melted away at the girl's soft tone. Then he saw the panicked expression on Wes' face.

"I'll just go hide in the bathroom, shall I?" Giles knew his tone was dry as he turned without waiting for an answer. Part of him understood Wes' reluctance to let Alicia find him there. He'd faced that moment with his own Slayer, and it hadn't been another man . . .

Still, another part of him felt vindicated in being annoyed. Wesley wasn't a boy, neither was he. He certainly shouldn't have to hide in the bathroom.

Yes, whispered the more rational bits of his mind, but the mere sight of Olivia didn't make Buffy flinch. Not in the same way at least.

Having thought himself out of his little tantrum, Rupert almost laughed at himself. Giles dressed, rubbed at his tired eyes and made himself comfortable on the floor near the door, where he could shamelessly eavesdrop. If he were going to be stuck in the bathroom for the duration of their conversation he might as well listen.

By the noises he heard, Giles guessed that Wes was frantically setting the room to rights.

Hope he remembers to hide the condoms and lube . . .

Giles rubbed at his eyes again, suddenly remembering that he'd laid his glasses on the nightstand before . . . well, all but attacking Wesley.

Damnit. He started to stand, to get them before it was too late.

The door hinges squeaked.

Too late.

"Alicia? What's the matter?"

"Umm . . . nothing, just . . . I wanted to talk, you know? If you're busy though --"

"No, no. Please, come in. What can I do for you? Oh, lord, you're covered in dust."

There was rustling as the young woman moved into the room.

"Yeah. I'm fine though. I . . . I kinda freaked out."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I just sorta froze. Wes, it was horrible. I'm . . . I'm not a very good Slayer." The last was said with the tone of a confession, as if it had been pulled from her.

"And how long have you been a Slayer?"

"Has it been a week yet? No, what, maybe five days?"

"Exactly. I'm sure Buffy was less than perfect her first few times out." Wesley chuckled softly, the sound bringing a smile to Rupert's face. "You should have seen me the first time I went up against a vampire. Lord, I was a disgrace."

"Really?"

"Horrible. Tripped all over myself."

"How long did it take until you were good at it?"

"A while."

"And Buffy?"

Another chuckle, this one a bit self-deprecating.

"Not nearly as long, I'm sure, but . . . she's been through a lot, fought very hard to get where she is now."

"Yeah. I kinda got that from Dawn."

Silence again.

"So, how exactly did you get covered in vampire dust?"

"Vampire had me pinned, but Spike staked him. Which . . . is just too weird for words, you know?"

"A vampire, without a soul, joining forces with the Slayer? Yes, I'd say 'weird' is a good description, but the chip in his head . . . well, it changes things a little."

"Yeah. Doesn't hurt that he's head over heels for Buffy though."

There was silence. Giles wanted to groan.

"What?"

"You didn't know? I swear, those two are . . . well, they're odd."

"No, no, I didn't know. Is, is Buffy . . ."

"I don't know. She kinda seems to . . . hate him, but . . . who knows."

"Yes, quite."

Silence was all that reached Rupert for another little while.

"Do I have to go back?" Alicia's voice was so soft he almost didn�t catch the words. He could almost picture the expression on the girl's face.

Giles' heart broke.

PART 15

Wesley stared at the young Slayer, empty of words. She looked so sad, sitting cross-legged on the bed, picking at a loose thread and keeping her eyes on her hands. Vampire dust fell softly from her with every movement.

He opened his lips, wanting to say something helpful and all that came out was, "What?"

"Do I have to go back?"

"I . . ." Wes plopped onto the bed next to Alicia, heedless of the dust. His mind clicked and whirled over the thought, finally catching on something. "Without you . . . Without you in that dimension, there is no Slayer."

"Yeah," she sighed, finally meeting his eyes. "I kinda have to go back, huh?"

"I . . . hesitate to say yes, but I do believe it's the right thing to do."

There was silence between them for a long moment, neither completely sure what to say. Wes sat back on the bed, head in his hands, wishing this could be easier.

"Well, I should go. I'm tired, need to shower and get this stupid dust off me." Alicia stood with a deep breath, turning to look at him. "Thanks. For talking to me." Her eyes flicked to the bathroom door, a spark of laughter lighting on her face.

Oh, god,

The young Slayer said nothing until she reached the door. Then she turned, obviously trying to hold back laughter.

"I'm leaving, Mr. Giles. You can come out now."

There was a choked sound from the bathroom. Wesley felt his face go crimson and his jaw drop open though no words would come out. Rupert opened the bathroom door. Wes heard it, but couldn't bring himself to look, knowing he'd lose what composure he had if he did.

"Um, how, how did you . . ." Rupert asked and Wesley's eyes went to Alicia when the girl chuckled.

Alicia held up a finger, shaking her head. One. "It took Wes how long to answer the door?" Two. "I heard the bathroom door close just a second before he did answer the door." Three. "As if I didn't know my Rupert Giles was gay?" Four. "You're car is kinda parked outside."

Wesley did look to Giles then and found the man hanging his head; shoulders shaking with laughter, though no sound emerged.

"Perhaps," Wes said slowly, a smile coming to his own face at the ridiculousness of it all. Somehow, Alicia could look Rupert in the face without flinching, but now he couldn't look at her. It was . . . kinda funny actually. "Perhaps we should get you a job at Angel Investigations, in your dimension."

"Uh-huh," Alicia smiled, throwing back a, "have a good night guys," as the door closed.

"Oh dear," Giles muttered, collapsing onto the bed and stacking his hands beneath his head, chuckling. "I . . . I'm quite certain we're not half as smart as we believe ourselves to be."

"You parked right outside?" Wesley couldn't stop the laughter either. He lay back, stretching out next to Rupert, laying a hesitant hand on the other man's stomach.

"No . . . I parked a little ways down . . . but still in the motel's parking lot."

"Very clever." Wes turned on his side, the move bringing a slow death to the laughter as a quiet solemnity slipped in.

"Well, I wasn't actively trying to hide . . . this. Should I have been?"

"I don't know," Wesley answered the only way he could, his eyes fixed on his hand. "I, uh, you know the gang far better than I and, well . . ."

"Yes," Rupert murmured, more a quiet confirmation at the complexity of it all than an actual comment. "It isn't their reaction of which I'm . . . uncertain. They're my family, they'll . . . they would deal with it."

"I . . . I have to got back to LA, after all this is finished." Wes felt suddenly hesitant. He wanted to look at Giles' face, wanted to see what the other man was thinking, but he was afraid his own thoughts would show in his eyes. He'd been so . . . alone in LA. Not that he didn't have Cordelia as a friend, and Gunn . . . and Angel, but it wasn't enough. Still, would this . . . this thing with Giles--because he had no doubt what they were discussing, whether either of them used the word 'relationship' or not--would it be any better?

They were attracted to one another, but . . . Wes wasn't sure there was any more to it.

"I know you will," Rupert replied, laying his own hand over Wesley's, intertwining their fingers. "It would be more than either of us had, even if it's never . . . more."

Wesley nodded, his eyes moving up Rupert's body until he found himself staring into the other man's eyes. "Can, can I think about it?"

"Of course you can," Giles leaned forward, laying a quick kiss on his lips. "Think all you like."

Wesley shifted closer to Rupert, wanting some sort of contact to banish the thoughts of loneliness. He didn't have to think about that right now. Unfortunately, that only led to other things, things from which he couldn't hide.

"You heard? The conversation with Alicia?"

"All of it," Rupert replied, his thumb rubbing softly over the space between Wes' thumb and forefinger.

"Someone sent her here on purpose," Wesley whispered, beginning to doze. "There's no Slayer in her home dimension now, no one to fight."

"Yes, but . . . we'll deal with that tomorrow," Giles turned toward him, wrapping Wesley in his arms. "Sleep now."

PART 16

Giles was awakened by soft puffs of breath against his neck. Sometime during the night he'd turned over and Wesley had cuddled up close. Rupert lay still for moment, letting the memories of the night before replay themselves in his head. It felt good to wake up with someone, to be warm and held.

It was only when his bladder wouldn't wait a moment longer that Giles got up. After taking care of that problem, Rupert stopped to look at himself in the mirror and shook his head. He hadn't thought to bring even his toothbrush. He really should have known better, though he had been rather . . . eager the night before. They'd have to stop back at his flat before meeting the children at the Magic Box.

Not even a change of clothes, he chided himself, looking down at the rumbled sweater and jeans in which he'd slept. A lucky thing he'd been so exhausted or he might not have been able to sleep.

That thought propelled his eyes to Wesley, who'd rolled onto his back in the spot Giles had left, one arm flung out, the other covering his eyes. A little smirk came to Rupert's lips as he slipped into the bed with Wes, rolling the covers back carefully so he wouldn't wake the man. Neither of them had had the energy to get undressed again after Alicia left and Giles wasn't sure he could actually get the man's pants open before Wes woke up, but it was worth a shot.

Unbuttoning was easy, quick, it was the unzipping that had Wesley shooting up into a sitting position, eyes blinking as he tried to figure out whose hand was wrapped around his cock. He relaxed when he saw Giles, laughing at himself. His chuckles turned into a moan when Rupert rubbed his thumb firmly up the underside of his prick. Wes arched into the touch and Rupert took it all in with greedy eyes, only wishing the other man was naked.

"Strip," Giles demanded, surprised at how hoarse he sounded. Wesley was quick to do as he'd asked, flinging his shirt away in under a quarter minute before shucking his pants. All the while Rupert had to force himself not watch and instead focus on getting rid of his own clothes.

Naked, Rupert crawled up Wes' body, pausing to nuzzle against the man's growing erection before licking up to his navel and biting up to his neck. Wesley lay, gasping, moaning, thrusting his hips again Giles to get more friction. Giles smiled against Wes' skin, moving up to nibble on an earlobe.

"We don't have much time," he whispered, licking along the edge of Wesley's ear. "Think you can come quick for me?"

"Just don't stop what you're doing and I'll come any way you want me to," Wes panted out, whimpering when Rupert reached between them to tweak a nipple.

Rupert licked his way to Wesley's mouth, grinding his cock against Wes'. Soon they were both thrusting madly, hips rocking with frantic speed, tongues tangling. Pre-cum soothed the almost painful friction, creating a slick glide that had Giles groaning as he all but rode Wes' body, fucking the younger man's mouth with his tongue.

Growling into the other man's mouth before pulling away from it entirely, Rupert grabbed Wes' wrists and pinned them above his head. Leaning his weight against them, he snapped his hips with abandon as Wes writhed beneath him.

"Oh, sweet Shiva!" Giles tried to hold out, but the feel of Wes under him, the man's wrists in hands, the sound of his name emerging on half-gasped-whimpers . . . it all combined to throw him over the edge. He came shouting Wesley's name, the other man not far behind, both of them striping the younger man's body with ejaculate.

Giles rode out his orgasm, trying to catch his breath, before collapsing onto Wesley with a grunt.

"We're going to need a shower," Wes observed, the smile not only on his face but also in his voice.

"Uh-huh," Giles answered, rolling onto his back to take his weight off the other man.

"Um, I don't know if I have any clothes that will fit you."

"I'll put mine back on. We'll need to stop at my flat first anyway."

"So, let's get to it," Wesley sighed.

Neither of them moved, instead lying there, side-by-side, staring up at the ceiling.

"Any moment now," Giles commented, a grin twitching at his lips.

"Yes. Any moment."

Ten minutes later Rupert finally brought himself to movement. Wes groaned, but followed suit, looking down at his chest and stomach with an odd expression.

"Feeling sticky?" Giles asked as he took Wesley's arm and steered him toward the bathroom.

"No," Wes shook his head, his tone puzzled. "Just . . . I've never had anyone else's . . . "

"Come," Giles supplied, turning on the water in the shower before turning to look at Wes. "You can say it. I'm certainly in no position to run screaming from your motel room." Giles gestured to his own messy chest.

Wesley's face cleared of that odd look and he laughed, a sound Rupert was sure he didn't hear often enough. Then he looked to the shower and back to Rupert.

"You do realize, don't you, that if both of us get into that shower we'll be even later than we're already going to be."

Giles tested the water's temperature, saying, "Speak for yourself. I, at least, have some self-control." Then he paused and glanced at Wesley over his shoulder, eyes traveling slowly up the other man. Finally, he shook his head. "So, you first?"

"Well," Wesley smiled, slipping past him and into the warm water. "It is my shower."

Rupert only chuckled, reaching for a washcloth.

"And I�m willing to take the risk of sharing."

Giles met the other man's eyes and smiled, waggling his eyebrows. "You're not afraid I'll seduce you?"

"Frankly, Rupert, I don't think I have another seduction in me just yet," Wesley looked a little sheepish at saying that, but the expression died when Giles slid into the shower behind him, rubbing skin against skin more than necessary. Wes groaned.

"I'll try to keep myself from taking that as a challenge."

They showered quickly, mostly due to the fact that if they hadn't Giles knew he'd take Wes up against the wall. It was a near thing anyway, what with all that naked flesh so close and . . . soapy. Rupert shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it of those pictures, turning his mind to the more serious topics at hand.

"How do you want to handle this?" Rupert asked as they dressed. "I . . . I prefer not to keep secrets from the children if I don't have to, but if you . . . if you'd rather they didn't know about this, about us . . ." Giles let the words stop, unsure of himself, or rather, of Wesley. Beyond that, he had little idea of what to call the 'thing' they had. As he'd rather cut out his tongue than say 'orgasm friends' aloud and he wasn't sure how Wes would take being called his lover . . . well, that only made things more difficult.

The younger man paused in buttoning his shirt, and then turned to Giles, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

"I . . . I don't mind them knowing. I'm certainly not ashamed," he met Rupert's eyes for once, letting the truth of that statement show. "I just don't want to . . . to come between you and them, not again. I, I don't want to cause a scene."

"I'd rather we were upfront with them, Wes." Giles laid his hands on Wesley's arms, rubbing up and down, just enjoying the feel of him. It was good to finally be able to touch him and not worry Wes would be put off by it.

"Well, then let's collect Alicia and be on our way." The man tried to force a bright tone, but it came out a little choked. He didn't move away either, instead stepping in, brushing his fingers over Rupert's cheek. "Just one last kiss?"

Rupert smiled, pressed his lips to Wesley's and nearly lost track of what they were supposed to be doing. It was all Wes' fault. The man just had to close his eyes, tilt his head back, moan, his hands crawling along Giles' back.

Rupert pulled away, found his hands on Wesley's hips and forced himself to let go.

PART 17

Alicia answered her door, already awake and dressed, apparently ready for some time.

"You guys did say we'd meet at the Magic Box for ten, yeah?" she asked as she put away the journal in which she'd apparently been writing and threw her bag over her shoulder.

Wesley flushed, clearing his throat.

"Don't sweat it," she giggled as they piled into Rupert's car. She seemed to find it easier to look at the Watcher today and Wesley wanted to ask her what had changed, but was afraid of the answer he'd get.

"So . . . what do I do once I'm . . . back home?" Alicia's question drew Wesley from his thoughts and he glanced back to find her staring out the window. "I'll be all alone there."

"That's tricky," Rupert answered with a sigh. "We'll figure it out when we get there."

Wesley's eyes snapped to Giles and he was relatively sure Alicia's had done the same.

"We?" Alicia was the one to ask, her voice tinged with tentative excitement.

"It's clear that someone, something, had plans for you. We're not just going to send you back and wash our hands of you." Rupert looked to him after saying that and Wesley couldn't stop the smile that lit his face. "Wes and I will go with you. We'll contact the Council, perhaps find that friend of your Rupert."

"How are Buffy and the others going to take this?" Wesley asked, unsure how to feel. He was certainly going, now that he thought about it, there wasn't any other option. There was no chance of him abandoning Alicia. He'd have liked to have the Watcher along . . . it would make things easier. Still, he wasn't sure how Buffy would feel about losing her Watcher for a time and her needs had to come first, both he and Rupert understood that.

"I think they'll be fine without me for a while and she'll want to know that Alicia's safe. That will be easier with two of us. We know I . . . Alicia's Rupert is . . . was, a Watcher."

"If our dimensions are similar," Alicia began, a little hesitantly, but with excitement in her voice, "wouldn't there be another Wesley there too?"

"Why, yes, I suppose there would be," Wesley smiled, though he wasn't sure why, exactly. It helped to know that she would want to meet this other 'Wesley'.

"I wonder what he's doing. I wonder . . . do you think he's a Watcher? I know you aren't anymore, but maybe he still is, you know?"

"It's possible," he allowed, trying to imagine how this 'other him' would be and failing utterly.

"You guys think that . . . someone's really out to get me?" She sounded sad again. Wesley turned as much as he could, thrusting a hand into the backseat to take hold of hers. He worried for a moment that it was the wrong thing to do, but when Alicia squeezed his fingers, he relaxed.

"Yes," he finally answered. "If they'd killed you another Slayer would have been Called, but . . . with you here, in this dimension, there's no Slayer in your own, but you still live and so . . ."

"So, until I die, no one else will ever be called? Huh," Alicia shook her head, sighing. "You think they'd have put me somewhere safer."

"Perhaps," Wesley granted with a sideways nod, "but we don't know what effect your death would have here." Now that he looked at it as a problem, without truly thinking of Alicia, it made sense. "It could Call a new Slayer here, or not at all. We can't know." The ex-watcher turned, catching the girl's forlorn expression. "And we're *not* going to find out."

They were more than an hour late. There had been a message on Rupert's answering machine, but he didn't bother to call the gang back given they'd see them in only fifteen minutes. Wesley straightened his shoulders as he got out of the car, preparing himself. He trusted Giles to know his friends, his family, but still he worried.

Alicia stopped him before he went into the shop.

"I just wanted to say that . . . I, uh, I think you guys are really good for each other." She slipped past him before he could gather breath to speak. Her reassurance helped, let him know that someone, at least, was on his side.

Which was a silly thought to have really. He knew that the children weren't his enemies, that Rupert wasn't going to . . . wasn't going to break things off if they were . . . disapproving. Still, some part of him, a part that sounded strangely like his father, insisted on reminding him how much more important to Rupert the children were.

The Scoobies weren't happy when they got there.

"Where have you been?" Buffy asked Giles, clearly worried. "We called your house twice and there was no answer!" She seemed to be checking Giles for injuries while trying not to be obvious.

"I wasn't home," Rupert replied with a smile, meeting Buffy's gaze head on. Wesley took the other path and began flipping through a book, knowing what would come next and grabbing his courage in both hands.

"Where were you?" Now the Slayer sounded more curious than angry, satisfied that Giles was in one piece and not . . . demon food or whatever it was she worried over.

"My motel room," Wesley replied without taking his eyes from the book, though he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be reading.

Silence greeted his reply.

Giles chuckled, coming to stand next to him.

"You don't really think we're going to find answers in there, do you?" The question was whispered and Wesley looked over to meet Rupert's reassuring gaze before looking at the cover of the book. Wuthering Heights.

"Certainly," he answered in the same soft tone. "I'm sure Heathcliff knows a thing or two about inter-dimensional travel."

"Um . . . what?" That came from Dawn, who moved to face the Giles and himself, her eyes flicking back and forth between them. Wesley looked to Rupert for a clue how to handle this situation. He hadn't expected the girl to be there or he'd never have been so . . . bald about it. Shouldn't she be in school?

"Told ya," Alicia said from her place on the stairs. "That'll be five dollars."

"Damn," Dawn muttered, digging in her pocket.

Wesley looked back and forth between the two girls, mouth hanging open.

"Why didn't someone tell me they were orgasm friends?" came Anya's voice from behind the register. Wesley closed his eyes, trying to pretend he hadn't heard that.

"Dawn, language," Buffy snapped. Wesley could almost feel her eyes on him and he tried not to blush, returning to his inspection of Wuthering Heights. "Wait, you two are orga--nope, can't say it. Giles?"

"Yes?"

Wesley glanced at the Watcher, saw the smile on his face and braved a peek at the Slayer who was looking from him to Giles and back again.

"Umm, well?"

"Yes, Buffy." While the answer was more or less open, there wasn't a person in the room who didn't take Giles' meaning. Anya shrugged and went back to taking stock and Dawn and Alicia were whispering furiously over by the stairs, which Wesley found quite worrisome.

"Oh . . . oookay." Buffy looked as if she were processing this for a moment. Then her nose scrunched up before a small, slightly confused, smile came to here lips. "Umm. So, do I need to get Willow for the shovel speech?"

"I, uh, I think that can, um, wait," Rupert replied, clearly trying not to laugh.

PART 18

"We have it," Willow announced, holding a book above her head and waving it as she entered the Magic Box.

They'd been researching for a little over an hour and while they'd found some important cautionary tales, they'd not found scale nor claw of the spell itself.

"Already?" Alicia's voice wavered a little and Giles was gratified to see Wesley lay a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder.

"I express ordered it," Giles saw the girl's dubious glance and smiled. "From a demon," he added to clarify.

"And that makes it get here faster?" She raised one eyebrow at him before turning her eyes back to the book.

"Well, yes. You see--"

"Never mind," she said, an amused smile flickering across her face, followed by only a little sorrow. "If that wasn't the most just-asking-for-a-lecture thing I've ever said then I'm a golden retriever."

Giles opened his mouth to sputter, saw that even Wesley was trying not to smile and let it go with a polishing of his glasses.

"Wow with the lecture predicting," Buffy commented as she came over to look at the book.

"Hey, I did spend two days with my Rupert."

No one responded to that and Giles was grateful. Alicia seemed to be opening up and the last thing she needed were reminders of the grief. He had to wonder what had prompted the mood change, but he'd ask later, when there weren't so many people about. For the moment, finding a way to get her home was the most important thing.

"Wes, would you mind going through it?" Giles nodded toward the book. "If I recall correctly for you previous time here, your talent with Bergal far outweighs my own."

"Not that you ever would have admitted it then," Wesley teased, surprising Rupert into an unguarded smile.

"You were a prat then," Giles chuckled.

"You know, that's exactly what Wes said," Buffy put in with a smile as Wesley shook his head and began his study of the book.

Research continued, broken now and then by the rapid-fire banter and babble of the children. Giles glanced up at Wes, most often finding him scribbling notes or chewing on the end of his pen. Once, when he was concentrating particularly hard, Wesley slid the pen into his mouth, sucking on it in a way that hollowed his cheeks. Giles' cock jumped to attention and he spent a few, long, moments convincing himself it would be a bad idea to drag Wes to the basement and screw him over a pile of empty crates.

"I've got it!" Wes crowed, jerking Rupert from the lovely visual he'd created.

"The spell?" Willow was by the ex-watcher's side in a moment, looking over his shoulder though she couldn't actually read the text.

"Yes. It details not only how one forces a dimension shift, but also how it can be reversed." Wesley read on, silent, for a moment. "It's . . . it's not going to be pleasant." The last he said with a worried look to Alicia.

"Why?" The young Slayer was gripping the table so hard her knuckles were white. Giles reached over, laying his hand atop hers, his eyes flicking back to Wesley. Alicia didn't pull away, didn't give any sign that she'd noticed his attempt at comfort. Still, it was better than the flinch he'd half-expected. "Is it gonna hurt? Like last time?"

"I . . . I don't know. It says that a dimension shift, at all, is hard on the body and . . . well, there's a chance, a very small one with you being a Slayer, that it could cause internal damage. It shouldn't be so hard on you this time. The main problem with the last one was that you were sent home and then quickly jerked back here. I'm actually more worried about Rupert and myself."

"Why?" Buffy sent a confused glance to Giles and Rupert groaned. He'd wanted to tell her privately that he and Wes would be going along with Alicia, wanted to reassure her. He knew how jumpy she was about losing any of them, how she became antsy if any of them was late. He was fairly certain it was a symptom of her emotional vulnerability, after the . . . resurrection, but that wasn't going to make things any easier.

"Wesley and I will be going with Alicia." He watched as Buffy's eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open. "Someone is, clearly, working against her and we can't simply send her back alone."

"I-I agree," Buffy hurried to say, sending a smile to the younger Slayer, "but it doesn't have to be you! Wes can go! Why can't Wes go?"

Wesley opened his mouth, but Giles cut him off with a sharp, "no."

He knew the ex-watcher and with the younger man's fear of coming between Rupert and the children, he knew Wesley would volunteer to go alone. Giles wasn't about to let him. It wasn't that he didn't trust Wes to be able to handle the situation. He had faith in him, but Wesley had too little faith in himself and that could lead him to hesitate. Rupert couldn't stand the thought of either of them being hurt and he wasn't needed here, not at the moment.

"We know for a fact that her Rupert was a Watcher. That will get us quite far with the Council. We don't know who or what Wesley is there, whether or not he'd be able to arrange things. Therefore, I must go."

Buffy looked panicked, opening her mouth to protest, then saw Alicia fiddling with her pencil with a forlorn expression on her face. She snapped her mouth shut, but sent pleading eyes to Giles.

"It's the best way Buffy." He tried to express his regret with his eyes, though he kept his tone even. He didn't want Alicia and Wesley to feel they were causing him pain.

Buffy closed her eyes, taking two deep breaths before opening them and nodding. Her expression was much older than her years should have allowed, tired. "You're right. It's the best way."

Giles smiled at her, knowing his pride in her maturity was clear upon his face. Then he turned to Wes, smiling at his lover as well. "All right. Tell us why you're worried."

Wes swallowed hard before nodding.

"You and I, as we're not blessed with the resilience of Slayers, will have to be shielded. As it will be impossible to create, and hold, the shield and cast the spell at the same time, we'll need at least four people."

"That's no problem," Willow put in. "Tara and I . . . oh, but we won't be on the other side to do the spell so you guys can come back."

"Exactly," Wesley sighed.

"We'll just have to find people over there that can help us. I'm sure the Council will be able to provide two such people, as well as a new Watcher."

"Well, then let's get started," Alicia was clearly trying to sound bright, but her reluctance showed on her face.

"Don't worry," Wesley caught her eyes and smiled. "Everything will work out." A strange look came over the other man's face, ending with something close to Willow's 'resolve face'. "I promise."

PART 19

Wes had been over the spell three times and had made Giles, Tara, and Willow go over it, both separately and together, before he was satisfied that everything was workable. It was created for only one person, which meant there had to be changes to make it powerful enough to shift two. The reversal, which would be the easiest part as it required no alteration, would be first. Then Wesley and Rupert would shield themselves while Willow and Tara cast the shift on them.

He wouldn't admit to being nervous about Tara's and Willow's abilities. He knew what Willow had accomplished Buffy's resurrection, but the spell was difficult, requiring much fine control to get them to the exact place they needed to be. Which was why Alicia had to be sent first. Her . . . energy, for lack of a better term, was already tuned to that of her home dimension. Once she was across, they could use her as a homing beacon of sorts.

At least, that was how it was supposed to work. Wesley wasn't going to think about it going any other way.

While the two Wiccas set up for the spell, Giles pulled Buffy to the side to talk to her and Wesley made his way to Alicia in order to give the Watcher and Slayer some privacy. Alicia and Dawn were sitting on the stairs once again, whispering.

He found it no less worrisome this time around.

"Hello," he began before getting into eavesdropping range, quite sure that, whatever they were discussing, he didn't want to know. "Dawn? Why aren't you in school?"

"Rats in the ventilation system," the teenager replied with a shrug. "It smells more like someone shoved a dead body in there though."

"I see," Wesley shook his head. "The joys of going to school right above the Hellmouth?"

Dawn nodded, turning to Alicia. "So, in an hour or so, you'll be home."

"Yeah," Alicia breathed in deep, trying to smile. "I'm, I'm gonna miss it here."

"Well, you can always look us all up in your world!" Dawn smiled, but there was something in her eyes that Wesley couldn�t interpret. "I'm sure we all exist there too."

"But you could all be completely different, you know?" Alicia sighed. "I mean . . . oh god. If . . . if I'm the Slayer there . . ."

"Buffy," Dawn nodded, and then looked to Wesley. "I . . . I don't wanna know about that, okay?"

He went to speak, but then decided against it, simply nodding his understanding. After all, Wes wasn't sure he wanted to know, not about himself, not about . . .

For the first time in long time, Wesley thoughts really turned to LA. He hadn't called Cordelia since his first night there and she hadn't called him. He knew they must be busy with work, but it rankled. He should tell them what was happening, call and fill them in. He sighed at the thought, finding himself reluctant. Still, he went up the stairs and pulled out his cell phone.

"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless." Cordelia sounded tried, stressed.

"It's me," he said, a smile coming to his lips now that he was actually on the phone.

"Oh! Guys! It's Wes!" She cheered a little and his smile widened. While he couldn't say he missed them exactly, he could say that it did a great deal for him to hear the excitement in Cordy's voice. "So? What's going on? How's Alicia? How're you?"

"She's fine." Wesley filled Cordelia in on the dimension shift, on the spell. He didn't mention Rupert, but wasn't sure why. While his sexual orientation wasn't a secret, it had simply never . . . actually come up. He was all but certain the news that he was . . . seeing another man would be greeted with the same aplomb as the news that he was seeing Virginia had been. Still, something stilled his tongue. "Rupert and I will be going with her. To make sure she's settled in."

"What?" Cordelia, who had put him on speakerphone, was the only one not to shout that exclamation.

"Wes, are you sure that's safe, bro?" Gunn's worry came through loud and clear, but with emphasis on the loud.

"We're taking every precaution--"

"Which means it isn't all that safe, but he doesn't want us to worry," Cordelia put in.

"--and I have every confidence in Willow and Tara." He did. Really. "They'll get us there."

Angel noticed his phrasing and commented.

"And who's going to get you back?"

"It will be fine," Wesley assured. "I, I have to do this. I can't just leave her to face it alone."

"Don't get yourself hurt," Cordelia began.

"Wes? We're ready," came Buffy's voice from below.

"I . . . I have to go. It's time for the spell."

"Already?" Both Angel and Cordelia asked.

"Yes. It has to be done quickly. I . . . I have to go. I'll see you all soon."

There was a chorus of well wishes and Wesley was still smiling when he descended the stairs and entered the training room. Some part of him had been sure they wouldn't miss him, been sure they didn't even care that he was gone.

"Checking in?" Rupert asked with a nod toward his phone. Before he had the chance to answer, Giles stepped up and laid a quick, firm kiss against his lips. "Nice smile."

"Uh, y-yes. About the checking in," Wes clarified; surprised by contact, especially given that the others were in the room. "Is, is everything in place?"

"That's why I called ya," Buffy mumbled with a smile.

"Oh, yes. Right." Wesley couldn't meet the girl's eyes, which made him feel like a complete fool. To cover the embarrassment, he used the business at hand as a shield. "Alicia? Are you ready?"

The young Slayer nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders.

"So when do I start clicking my heels together?"

PART 20

Giles stood at Wes' side, keeping a comforting hand on the small of the other man's back. He knew how worried Wesley was about this and he couldn't blame him. Either way, it had to be done. While it wasn't their own world, there was a place out there that needed its Slayer and none of them would damn a world full of people.

Alicia held Wesley's gaze the entire time, standing in the circle of salt and sage, her jaw clenched. Giles was proud of the younger man. He smiled, kept his expression confident, reassuring, until, in a flash of light that seemed to burn around the Slayer, she was gone.

"Oh, god, tell me she made it," were the first words of Wes' mouth. Willow and Tara had already started the spell they would use to direct Wesley and himself to the correct dimension. When Willow gave a firm nod in answer, Wes slumped against him for a moment.

"Um, guys?" Dawn tapped his shoulder, her brow crinkled. "I know Alicia took her bag with her, but do you guys have . . . luggage or something?"

Wes opened his mouth to answer, and then snapped it closed, a perplexed expression on his face. "You know," he finally said, "that's . . . that's a good question."

Giles put a hand to his forehead, smiling. Leave it to Dawn to think of that when no one else had. "Well, I have nothing packed and I believe Wes' belongs are still at the motel. I don't know how long we'll be there, but it could be a couple days."

"I, uh, I guess we could send it along later. Don't want to leave Alicia just standing there, right?" Dawn glanced at the two witches, who had nearly completed the homing spell and would soon be ready for them.

"That would be extremely helpful," Wes put in. He blushed lightly before adding, "umm, just don't go near the nightstand."

Giles chuckled, leaning over to whisper in Wesley's ear. "Yes, because mentioning it will guarantee she'll listen."

Wes blushed darker, closing his eyes.

"Don't worry," Giles continued softly, rubbing circles against the man's back. "I doubt condoms and lube are going to permanently scar her. As long as she doesn't look under my bed, she'll be fine."

"What's under your bed?" Wesley looked both intrigued and a little worried.

"You'll see. When we get back." Giles grinned, quirking an eyebrow when Wes made to comment and then seemed to think better of it.

"We're r-ready for you guys," Tara announced, cutting a gate into the circle to allow them entrance.

Thoroughly distracted from the upcoming spell, Wes had relaxed against his hand, but stiffened now, taking a deep breath. Once inside the circle, they both began a soft chant, shielding their bodies. Willow and Tara would have to work around it, but it shouldn't be a problem.

The girls began the spell and the feel of their power made it harder for Giles to concentrate on his own efforts. He had to block everything else to keep his focus, which annoyed him. While he trusted Wesley to shield himself, trusted both Willow and Tara with this kind of magic, he hated not knowing what was going on.

Dizziness assailed him, breaking Rupert's concentration. It felt as if he spun on a carnival ride, his stomach heaving at the effect. He swallowed the bile, desperate to steady himself. Eyes closed against the swirling vista of gray light and shadow, he crashed against something hard, a groan ripped from him.

"Rupert?" Two voices called to him, Alicia and Wesley, but they sounded distant to his ringing ears. Prying his eyes open, he found two slightly fuzzy visages staring down at him.

"That was unpleasant," he murmured, realizing the fuzziness was due to a lack of glasses, which Wesley carefully slipped on him. He thanked the other man with a queasy smile at tried to sit up, which only made the room spin, but at least he wasn't lying on the floor of the training room any longer. His head ached abominably and his shoulder wasn't much better. Still, it seemed he was the only one to suffer.

"What happened?" Wesley knelt in front of him, clearly checking his pupils for signs of concussion.

"Too busy worrying about everybody else," Rupert grumbled, accepting Wes' hand as he stood, wobbling only slightly, for which he was grateful.

Wes only smiled, watching him for a moment before daring a quick kiss to his lips. Alicia giggled somewhere off to his right. Giles ignored her, smiling his approval at Wesley who looked away to examine the room.

"Well, we seem to have been right in assuming we'd 'land' in this dimension's version of where we left. Only . . . this doesn't look like your shop at all."

Instead of the training room Giles was familiar with, he found himself in the same room filled with boxes and cluttered bookshelves.

"Did anyone consider what we'd do if I didn't own the shop in this dimension?" Giles only now thought to worry. He had no video cameras, no alarms, but things were not necessarily the same here.

"Nope," Alicia supplied, poking at one of the open boxes. "That ones all herbs and stuff, but this one has weapons in it."

"Herbs and weapons? Sounds as if things aren't so different after all," Rupert mumbled, bracing himself to enter the front room. This could go badly. The last thing he needed was to wind up in jail for apparent breaking and entry. "You two stay--"

"No," Wesley interrupted, catching his arm. "You need to stay with Alicia. You have the Watcher contacts. I'll go and check things out."

Giles nodded, ushering the other man through the door. Waiting, anxious, he and Alicia listened for any noise from the front of the shop.

"It's empty," Wesley called back, "and dusty."

The shop looked much as it had when Giles had first bought it, the stock still in boxes, the shelves empty, and no phone.

"Well, what shall we do? If Dawn's going to send our belongings along, one of us will need to stay here. Still, we'll need a motel before it gets dark."

"Why don't Wes and I go get the motel, pick up some take-out and then meet you here? By then your guys' stuff should be through."

"I don't like splitting up," Wes put in with a sigh, "but it seems we have no choice. Just, be careful?"

"Of course," Giles responded with a forced smile, settling himself on the stairs to wait. He met Wesley's eyes. "Please, both of you, do the same."

PART 21

"Well," Giles began, blinking at the motel room, "this is . . . um--"

"Horrible," Wesley put in with a shake of his head, setting the bags of greasy Chinese take-out on the bed.

"It's not so bad," Alicia tried to insist, though even her smile was wilted around the edges. The young Slayer eyed the room before plopping down on the bed to sort out their dinner. "Well, okay, so it sucks. Still, it's all there is and we'll just have to make the best of it. At least there were two rooms!"

"Yes, that's . . . something," Giles murmured close to Wes' ear. Wesley ignored the remark, knowing that now would be a bad time to think about it. Once they'd eaten and sent Alicia off to her own room, then he'd . . . well, hopefully then he'd do more than think about it.

"You're quite right," Wesley settled himself near the headboard, leaving the desk for Rupert. The Watcher ignored the seat and slid onto the bed next to Wes. "We shouldn't be here long anyway."

"My question is," Alicia spoke around a mouthful of egg roll, "if we need to, how are we getting to LA? I mean, without a car, you know?"

Wesley snorted, looking to Rupert who simply shook his head. "I . . . I suppose we'll see if we can wrangle enough money out of the Council's tight little fists to rent one. Or . . . well, maybe we could call Angel?"

"You guys didn't think of that, huh?"

Wesley was surprised that Rupert looked at sheepish as he felt.

"Why don't I put in that call now and begin to get things worked out." Giles went to the phone and Wesley watched him, worried. While it was their best option, Wes wasn't exactly thrilled with involving the Council. He knew nothing about their practices here, but he couldn't see them being all that different than in their own world.

I'll have to have a talk with Alicia before we go.

"Yes, this is Rupert Giles. May I speak to Eliza please?" Giles nodded twice and then hit the speakerphone button, holding up a hand to warn him and Alicia to silence.

"Rupert?" asked a rather strident voice, continuing before Giles could do more than confirm his identity. "Thank god! Where have you been? Is the Slayer with you? How is she?"

"Yes, Alicia is with me. As for the rest . . . it's a rather long story and one I'd prefer not to go into over the phone."

"Lovely," the woman muttered. "That bad, huh? No, no, don't answer that. I'll just connect you to Travers, shall I?"

"Ah, actually, would you connect me to Stevens instead?"

"Uh, sure, if . . . if that's what you want." The uncertainty in the woman's voice made everyone sit up and take notice. Giles glanced at Wesley, who could only shrug. Neither of them had any real idea of this Council's setup, who the main players were.

"Go for it," Wesley mouthed.

"Yes, I'm sure," Giles finally answered, rubbing at his forehead.

"Okay."

A few rings later a more masculine voice answered, way too cheerfully given that it was near midnight in London.

"Stevens."

"This is Rupert Giles." There the Watcher paused and Wes held his breath wondering what reaction they would get.

"Hey, Old Man. We've been worried. I suppose this means you finally got your sorry ass to Sunnydale?" The man's tone was completely friendly. Wesley nearly choked on his fried rice. Rupert looked at the phone as if it had just transmogrified into a hydra and Alicia tried to stifle laughter.

"Er, yes, quite. I need a favor though."

"Ookay," Stevens sounded dubious and surprised, not a good sign at all. "Uh, I'll do whatever I can, but . . . what's going on? Where have you been?"

"Well, uh, that's a long story." Giles shook his head, looking to Wes with a shrug. "In fact, a story I'd rather not go into on the phone. I'm going to need you to send someone out here."

"Uh, I can't do that, Rupert. Travers would kill me for going behind his back that way." Stevens sounded less confused and more suspicious now. "Why didn't you just talk to Travers anyway?"

"I didn't think he'd been in so late, actually." Giles shook his head and Wesley just sighed. While he couldn't see Travers being anything but a prick, one never knew. Besides, the man would have to respond, wouldn't he? Knowing that the Slayer was involved.

"Oh, no, he's in. I'll transfer you to him. Kay?"

"Yes, that's fine."

More rings.

"Quentin Travers."

"This is Rupert Giles."

Wesley was pretty sure that Alicia was the only one in the room not holding her breath as they waited for a reaction.

"And? I'm glad to see you've not completely forgotten your duties, but that doesn't mean I have time to waste. What do you want Giles?"

"I need for you to send at least one Watcher here. It's important, Travers, but I'd rather not talk about it over the phone."

"Does this have something to do with you going missing for three days and not calling?"

Wes could almost feel the three of them sinking into some mire they didn't know existed. Giles' connections, while good at home, could mean next to nothing here and they hadn't even considered that. Travers was the Head of the Council here as well and normally they would have known how to work around him, but now they didn't even know if such tactics were needed.

"Yes, actually. It has everything to do with that."

"Right. I'll send some people to you."

"Not my flat," Giles put in quickly and Wesley stared at the phone as silence followed.

"Where?" That simple reply was given in a rough, suspicious tone that had Wesley worried. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on what.

"There's a shop, The Magic Box--"

"Yes, Rupert, of course I know it. You want us to meet you there?"

"Tomorrow, afternoon."

"That's cutting it close with the travel times. Is it really that important?"

"It is."

"Fine," Travers half-sighed, half-growled. "I expect a full report, you realize, and soon."

"Of course." His reply was cut off as Travers hung up. Rupert hit the end button with a look of puzzlement, turning to them. "I didn't like that at all."

"Far too easy," Wes replied, holding out a container of moo shu pork to the Watcher.

"What? You expected him to tell you to 'sod off' or something?"

Both Wesley and Giles turned eyebrow-arched looks to the young Slayer.

"What?"

Giles shook his head and Wes decided to let it slip, hiding a smile by starting on his egg roll.

"Something like that," Rupert said, settling himself against the headboard. Wesley felt the brush of the older man's body against him and suddenly couldn't wait to finish dinner, such as it was.

PART 22

You're still sore," Wesley commented as he watched Rupert clear away the take-out containers. "Your shoulder, probably your head too."

Giles turned, giving him that smile that seemed to gather to one side of his face. It wasn't quite amusement, more . . . contentment . . .

"Nothing a very hot shower won't fix," there was a glimmer in Rupert's eyes and Wes couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

"Let me give a massage first, then, if you still feel up to it," Wesley directed Giles to sit on the floor, slinging his leg over so that he sat on the edge of the bed with a leg to either side of Rupert, "we'll take that shower."

"Oh, I'll still be up for it." Giles tipped his head back, rubbing it against Wes' wakening erection.

"Shirt. Off." Wesley felt a shiver along his skin when Rupert growled, undoing his shirt buttons slowly. Wes watched the other man's hands for a moment before leaning down to lick along Giles' lips.

It didn't work out as he'd planned. As soon as he touched the other man, Rupert's hands came up, tangling in his hair. Their tongues rubbed together like two purring cats, before curling around each other. The angle made things . . . interesting. Giles jerked up a little, catching Wesley's tongue between his lips before sucking.

Wes moaned, hips sliding forward to press against Rupert's head. He pulled away with a little sigh of regret, smiling down at his . . . Good lord, what do I call this man? My . . . lover? My . . . Wes hid his sudden confusion by pushing Rupert's head up and slipping his hands into the loosened collar of the man's shirt.

"You're far too tense," he murmured, watching over Giles' shoulder as the other man finished unbuttoning.

"Well, the conversation with Travers didn't help anything," Rupert snorted, sounding as if he were admitting something he'd rather not have.

"That man's enough to put anyone on edge," Wesley tried to reassure, digging his thumbs into the knotted muscles just under Giles' neck.

"That's the thing--ahh, yeah, right there--he didn't really do anything to put me on edge. Why not? Our Travers would have."

"Can we not talk about this for a little while?" Wes hated to ask, but it was distracting him and that was the last thing he wanted. For just a little while, he wanted to pretend there was no uncertainty, no danger. Just the two of them enjoying an evening together. He wanted to savor what time they had like this.

"Hmmm, that's the best plan I've heard all sodding day," Rupert chuckled, his hands slipping over Wes'. "Still up for that shower?"

"If you're feeling less stiff, yes."

"Oh, don't worry," Rupert turned, kneeling and placing warm, wet kisses along Wesley's jaw. "I'll work all my kinks out in there."

"Oh?" Wes accepted the hand offered when Giles stood, sliding his fingers up Rupert's arms and removing his shirt. "All of them? In one shower? Do you think we'll have enough hot water?"

Giles laughed, really laughed, throwing his head back, his chest rumbling. Wesley had to run his hands through the salt and pepper hair there, just to feel the vibrations. He didn't see Rupert laugh often enough, not like that. When the laughter stopped, Giles looked him in the eyes, giving him another one-sided smile.

"I just don't think you'll be in any condition to notice if the water goes cold."

Wesley sucked in a breath, his heart rate picking up and his cock twitching. It was the voice Giles had used--low and gravelly--more than the words themselves.

"Why are we still dressed?" Wes' comment led to them both scrambling to remedy the situation, each of them occasionally taking a break from their tasks to run a hand over the other's newly revealed skin.

"Shit!" Wes pulled away, cursing himself for not thinking to pack a bag. "No condoms. No lube."

Rupert smiled, picking up his jacket from the desk chair and pulling the requisite items from his pocket.

Wes felt one of his eyebrows crawl up his forehead. "You're just carrying those around because . . ."

"I ran to the drugstore while you and Alicia went to get the rooms."

"I like the way you think!"

Hands and eyes both focused on one another, Wes nearly ran into a wall as they all but fell into the bathroom. He turned to get the shower going, Giles' hands running over his back, down to his ass, squeezing. Wesley's groan almost covered the noise behind him as he felt Giles go to his knees. He nearly shouted as strong, calloused fingers parted his cheeks, a wet tongue sliding down his crease. He did shout when Rupert reached his pucker, tongue circling far too slowly before dipping in, wriggling against the tight ring of muscle.

"Fuck, Rupert!" Wesley leaned forward, palms flat on the shower wall, feet not even in the tub, unbalanced, only half-aware of the words and sounds that poured from his lips. Giles licked over his twitching hole, tongue flat, before sucking, almost sending Wesley crashing to his knees. The rough tongue kept him on the edge of falling, his breath coming in shallow pants as Rupert licked and wriggled against him, inside him.

He was whimper when Giles drew away, hands on Wes' hips to keep him standing as the older man kissed his way along Wesley's spine.

"Mmm," Rupert mumbled into his ear, pressing his swollen cock hard against Wes' back. "So, sweet."

Wesley sighed as he pushed back, regaining his balance before pressing his hips against Rupert's straining erection, his own cock jolting with his arousal. Giles' hands skimmed over his skin, tangling in pubic hair before fisting Wes' prick.

"We're not even in the shower yet," Wesley murmured, letting his head lull back onto Giles' shoulder.

"I suppose," Rupert stroked him, just once, his grip loose. Wesley whimpered, thrusting into a grip that held almost no friction. "I could let you go long enough to get in."

Then his fist was gone and Wesley scrabbled into the shower, turning as Rupert followed him. Wes didn't give the other man a moment, instead jumping him as soon as both feet were planted. Giles chuckled and Wesley all but attack his throat, biting down to his shoulder before stooping a little to pull one, tight, nipple between his lips. The chuckle became a ragged groan. Water poured down Rupert's body as he leaned back, arching into Wes' mouth.

With a grin at the older man, Wes began to lap at the streams. Giles' hands landed on Wes' hips, pulling them together, dicks grinding. Twin moans filled the small bathroom and Wesley wriggled a hand between them, taking both their erections in hand, stroking slowly.

"Oh, hell, Wes," Giles panted, head thrown back to lean against the cool tile, chest catching the brunt of the shower's spray. Wesley stroked faster, captivated by the sight.

"Fuck me," the words were out before he even realized what he was going to say. Rupert reacted as if someone had thrown a live wire into the shower, straightening with a jerk, his mouth covering Wes' in a hard, tongue-thrusting kiss.

"Love it when you say that," he whispered as he pulled away, guiding Wes to turn around.

"What? When I ask you to fuck me?"

"Mmm-hmm," Giles took one of Wesley's hands into each of his own, planting them against the shower wall once more. At least Wes wasn't in danger of falling this time.

"And if I said that I couldn't wait to have your cock inside me, that I wanted to feel you slamming into me, slick and hard."

"God, Wes--" Giles hands slid down his arms, pushing Wesley's thighs apart. Then those fingers were gone. First, there was the sound of ripping foil and then Wes heard a cap pop. He shuddered in anticipation, wriggling his backside and turning his head to watch Rupert slick himself. "Keep talking," Rupert leaned in to whisper as his slid two fingers into Wes' tight channel.

"F-feels . . . oh, God, yes. I want to-to feel you, have you pressed against me while you fuck me. Just like this. Please, oh . . . fucking god, please!"

The last he shouted when Giles scraped his prostate, fingers writhing inside him. Then, once again, they were gone, replaced my Rupert's cock, pressing against him.

"You ready, Wes? Just-just say the words," Giles murmured, the strain making him hoarse.

"Please, Rupert. Fuck me."

Wesley howled as Giles filled him with one thrust, pressing him almost tight against the tiled wall. Rupert paused for a moment, but Wes wouldn't let him stay still for long. He snapped his hips back, grinding into the other man until Giles gave in with a growl and withdrew until just the head of cock remained in Wesley's ass before pounding forward again.

Wes groaned and whimpered, pressing himself back to take more of Giles' shaft. He couldn't be completely certain, but he thought he might be chanting 'please'. Rupert's coarse fingers glided over his wet body before tightly fisting his cock. Wesley thrust himself into the grip, jerked himself back onto Rupert's cock, losing himself to the feel of it all. His orgasm hit like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. He screamed, muscles melting, his channel clenching tight around Rupert's prick.

Giles took a little longer, hammering frantically, rhythm a distant memory, before shuddering out his own orgasm against Wes' back.

Neither of them moved for a long moment. Wesley reveled in the feel of Giles' weight against him, holding him up. Rupert pulled out all too soon, both of them groaning at the loss. Wesley didn't bother to move, leaning against the cool tiles as he struggled to get his breath back. He heard the condom hit the trashcan. It was just a small, silly thing, but it made him smile that Rupert had been thinking ahead, had run out to get lube and condoms.

Rupert's hands settled on his shoulders, rubbing and kneading, working his muscles. Then Giles' lips were at his ear, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, his weight once more pressing Wesley.

Rupert hummed against his skin and Wesley turned in Giles' grip.

"I don't think that went very far toward getting us clean."

Giles opened his mouth to reply, but the frantic banging on the motel door cut him off.

PART 23

"Alicia," the two said together. Rupert was the first out of the shower, grabbing his pants from where they lay just outside the bathroom door.

Wes caught the pants Giles threw to him, stepping back into the bathroom to pull them on before all but running to see what was wrong. His mind kept picturing Alicia, scared or hurt.

He skidded to a halt when he saw Rupert, staring at the door with a shocked look on his face. Giles looked over at him, eyes skimming from head to toe, before turning back to whoever was at the door and ushering them in.

Wesley stared as . . . he walked into the room. Obviously, it was this dimension's Wesley, but . . . standing there, staring at himself. The two of them froze, examining one another.

Wes took in the leather pants, the t-shirt and jacket and felt his eyes widen. His counterpart had a similar reaction, apparently to finding Rupert and he in the same motel room, half-naked, both wet. In fact, he kept looking from one of them to the other, all but sputtering.

"Well," Giles began, picking his own shirt up off the floor and tossing Wes his. "This isn't at all awkward."

"Um . . . I . . . Rupert?" Wesley, the new one, turned to the Watcher with creases forming on his forehead, his voice a little shaky. "What's going on here?"

"First of all," Giles said, once dressed, his tone turning less dry and more comforting. "I'm not your Rupert. Your . . . Your Rupert is . . . um, he's . . ."

"Holy shit," came Alicia's soft voice from the doorway. Wes turned to her. Her face was slack, jaw open and she looked . . . horrified.

"Alicia! Are, are you all right?"

"I heard the banging," she commented, moving to his side and staring at this new Wesley.

"Alicia? You're the Slayer?" The new Wesley's eyes snapped back to Giles then. "And what do you mean you're not my Rupert? What's going on? Who in hell is he?"

"All right," Wesley stepped in, watching the other 'him' flinch at his voice. "We all need to sit down and explain things. This . . . this is going to take a while, so . . . please, sit." He gestured toward the desk chair, trying to organize his thoughts. It was just . . . bizarre to see himself, or rather someone . . . well, clearly not someone just like him . . .

Wes shook his head, unable to grasp fully the path his own thoughts were taking.

"Okay," Alicia murmured, her eyes still too wide for her thin face, "My Wes . . . wait, I'm not even sure which one that is . . ."

"Do you mean the native Wesley or . . ." Giles shook his head, removing his glasses to rub at his eyes and the bridge of his nose. "Yes, well, I see the first thing we're going to have to do is find a way to distinguish between you too."

"Native?" The leather-clad Wesley had taken a seat, but his tense posture didn't speak well of their soothing abilities. Neither did the hand he kept on his thigh, where he could easily reach the bulge Wes was almost certain was a gun.

"We're from a parallel dimension," Giles put in quickly. "Well, actually, Alicia's not, she's from here, but . . . just, let's find a way to distinguish, shall we?"

"Umm, how about leather-Wes and non-leather-Wes," Alicia laughed, the sound bordering on the hysterical. "You know, I kinda knew this was coming, but . . . it's just so weird, you know?"

Wesley put his arm around the girl, keeping his eyes on . . . his counterpart. "I'd much prefer it if we just called him Mr. Wyndam-Pryce."

"Right," Giles nodded. "Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, there is a reasonable explanation for all this and I'm sure that you'll--"

"Cut to it, Ripper."

Giles' eyes widened and Wesley nearly choked. Alicia looked between the two of them, a question written on her face. Before she could asked, Rupert regained his composure, nodding.

"We're returning Alicia to her home dimension. We're not sure who shifted her. We've called the Council. Your turn."

"Shit!" Wyndam-Pryce stood, cursing a bit more colorfully before turning to stare at the three of them. "What possessed you to call the bloody Council?"

"That's not good," Alicia murmured, leaning a little more into his side.

"There's a reason we shouldn't have? We needed to make sure Alicia would be safe here--"

"Look, Wesley," his counterpart spat, eyes narrowing. "I don't know about where you come from, maybe that would have been a good option there, but here? It was the bloody stupidest thing you could have done! Where's Rupe--where's my Rupert? Where's Ripper?"

"I'm . . . I'm afraid he's, he's dead." Giles sent an apologetic glance to Alicia and Wesley was thrilled to see the girl didn't flinch, but met the Watcher's eyes.

"No . . . oh, god." Mr. Wyndam-Pryce collapsed into a chair, head in his hands. "We'll all be dead by morning."

PART 24

"What?" Giles was the only one who didn't ask. Alicia and Wes were both boggling at the man and Rupert couldn't be sure he wasn't.

Wyndam-Pryce took in a deep breath before standing, staring at them all with desolate eyes. "You're not safe here. Alicia, go pack your things, and you two as well."

There was a tone of command the man's voice. Giles looked to Wesley, seeing the annoyance flash across the man's face when Alicia straightened and headed for the door.

"No, Alicia, stop. Don't go anywhere." Wesley turned to his counterpart, advancing on him. "I don't know what's going on here, but I haven't seen any reason why we should believe you. How do we know you're not the one who set up Alicia? Why should we trust you?"

The two of them stood almost nose to nose, Giles keeping a close eye on Wyndam-Pryce's hands, just in case the man decided to go for the gun in his shoulder holster. The tension was thick for a long moment, Rupert running through every spell he knew, that he could do quickly, in case Wes needed his help.

"This wasn't about Alicia, but now--"

"What do you mean?" Giles jumped on that statement, trying to diffuse the tension that rode the air between the men. "Why else would they send her to another dimension, if not to get rid of the Slayer?"

"Is that what you thought?" Wyndam-Pryce sighed, shaking his head, taking a step away from Wes. His shoulders slumped, head hanging. "They were after Rupert. Either they didn't care that Alicia was there or she just got caught up in it."

Rupert glanced over to find Alicia entranced by the conversation.

"How can you be so sure?" Wesley asked, though he didn't approach the man again. "How do we know we can trust you?"

"I . . . I don't know how I can prove myself." Wyndam-Pryce collapsed into the desk chair once again. "I don't know why you should trust me. You can't verify anything I say and if you're set against me . . ."

Giles stepped up then, laying a hand on the small of Wesley's back. "Tell us why you think the Council will want us dead. Tell us what's going on and we'll judge for ourselves."

"Right." The man sighed, nodding. "There's a traitor working in the Watcher's Council. We're not sure who. All we've been able to find are some records, which indicate embezzlement, but it's being routed to a Swiss bank account. We know the money's being funneled into a group called The Red Hand because we . . . ah, talked, to one of the runners, a demon. Angel Investigations has been running into them a lot. We think it's a pseudonym for Wolfram & Hart."

At that, Wes perked up. "Someone on the Watcher's Council is giving money to Wolfram & Hart?"

"Then you know of them?" Wyndam-Pryce examined Wes a little more closely, his eyes slightly narrowed.

"Unfortunately, yes." Wesley looked to Giles, explaining. "They've been giving Angel, and the rest of us, some trouble. Evil lawyers."

His counterpart snorted. "If that's all they've been doing you're damn lucky."

"Yes, well, you and your Rupert were trying to find out who the turncoat was?" Giles asked mainly to turn their minds back to the problem at hand. He hadn't failed to notice the tension in Wes every time . . . Wyndam-Pryce spoke. It worried him.

"Yes. When Alicia was called, Ripper and I pulled all the strings we could in an attempt to get him assigned to her. We couldn't trust her with anyone else and . . . there was no way I'd ever be assigned a Slayer again."

"Faith," Wes hissed.

"You know her?" A smile came to the man's lips. "Is . . . is she still alive in your world?"

"Unfortunately," Wes growled.

"She was the best Slayer this world ever saw!" Wyndam-Pryce stood, fists clenching. There was rage in his eyes and a sorrow Giles was afraid he recognized all too well. He'd seen that look on his own face, in the months before Buffy's resurrection.

"Where we come from she's a homicidal lunatic," Wes sneered. Giles pressed harder on his back, trying to get him to look at the other man's reactions. It would do no good to make an enemy of this man, if he wasn't one already, of course.

"Guys, cut the macho crap for like, two seconds? Please?" Alicia came to stand at Wesley's other side and though her words were for everyone, she was glaring at Wyndam-Pryce.

"Right." Rupert sighed. "This only goes to illustrate that things did not take the same course here, but it does nothing to get us to the point of the matter. Do you honestly believe someone on the Watcher's Council will try to have us killed?"

There was a screech of tires outside and suddenly all eyes turned to the motel door. Tension twisted inside Rupert, his stomach knotting as he waited, certain . . . but long moments past and he turned back to Wyndam-Pryce, only to find the man had his gun in hand, eyes still fixed on the door.

"Put. That. Away." Rupert's voice brooked no argument and received none. Wyndam-Pryce slipped his gun away, shrugging a little sheepishly.

"I suppose we're all a little too wound up, but it doesn't change the fact that we need to get out of here." He smiled at Alicia, who offered a tentative smile in return. Wesley's arm slipped around the girl and Giles felt the tension ratchet up again.

"You believe they'll find us so soon?" Wes asked on a sigh.

"There are two motels in Sunnydale. As soon as they figure out you're not at Ripper's flat and you're not at the Magic Box, where else are they going to look?"

"That's how you found us." It was a guess, but Giles was certain it was correct. Wyndam-Pryce was right, assuming he was telling the truth.

Bugger this!

"I . . . I've been looking for days. I thought maybe . . . maybe Ripper got here and he and Alicia were holed up somewhere. The motels were a last resort. Guess now I know why the clerk thought I'd forgotten which room I was in." Wyndam-Pryce turned his eyes to the desk.

"Give me your gun," Rupert held out his hand, using the voice he'd actually learned as a librarian. It worked just as well on this man as it had on the children, which was to say, not at all.

"Why?"

"Because we haven't decided whether or not to trust you and we certainly don't want you that well armed while we're deciding." He stood there, hand out, making his face hard and certain. That always worked. Wyndam-Pryce pulled out his gun, popped the clip and handed that to Rupert.

"You can have the bullets, for now, but you're not getting my gun."

Deciding that was the best he'd get, Rupert slipped the clip into his pocket. "Alicia? Would you be so kind as to keep an eye on our guest?" With the young Slayer's nod, Giles motioned for Wesley to join him over in the corner.

"Well?" Wes cast a nervous glance back at his counterpart, clearly not happy with the situation.

"I'm not sure. I don't trust him either, but if he's right . . ." Rupert sighed, laying a hand on Wes' shoulder to draw his eyes back. "I, uh . . . I'm fairly certain he and his Rupert, Ripper, were involved."

"What?" That did catch Wesley's attention and Giles could almost see the man's mind clicking back over the sputtering and suspicion with which he'd been greeted by Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. "Why do you think that?"

"Um," Giles didn't want to answer, but he wasn't about to lie. "When I answered the door, before you came out of the bathroom. He, uh, asked if I'd been expecting him and he, uh, he kissed me."

PART 25

Wesley went still, blinking, unsure if he'd heard correctly. His mind replayed the words, a continuous loop that only seemed to confuse him further.

"What?" he asked, voice suspiciously soft.

"He, uh, thought I-I was . . . Ripper and . . . he kissed me. N-nothing extreme, of course, but . . . Wesley? Are you . . . all right?" Rupert's voice sounded a little far away and, at first, Wes couldn't think how to respond.

"I, uh, I see . . . He and . . . Ripper were involved. Well, that . . . yes. It seems unlikely he'd set the man up then. Do you . . . trust him?"

"I . . . I'm not sure." Rupert squeezed his shoulder, watching his face in a way that made Wes nervous. "Are you all right?"

"Of course," Wesley assured with the best smile he had and a shrug. "Do you remember the Tacathi Charm?"

"Uh, yes. It compels people to speak. I've often wondered if perhaps Willow had somehow inadvertently cast one on Xander."

Wesley offered a small smile at the joke, mind already moving on. "We might be able to use it to--"

There was a crash and pain ripped through Wesley's shoulder. Next he found himself being tackled, hitting the ground with bruising force, the air knocked from his desperate lungs. Gasping for air that refused to be breathable, Wes found that it was Rupert who had tackled him, carrying them both to the floor beside the bed.

Then Giles climbed to his knees, digging in his pocket and sending something flying across the room, shouting, "Wes, catch!"

Wesley struggled to get up, eye catching his counterpart's hand reaching into the air to catch his clip. Six vampires stood in the room, all in game face, all growling. Alicia stood next to Wyndam-Pryce, eyes wide and saucers, clutching a stake in one hand.

"His gun isn't going to do much," Wesley shuttered out, climbing to his feet and reaching for a shred of door that lay across the bed. His shoulder ached, but he ignored the pain. Only two things mattered now. Alicia and Rupert were his only concerns.

Breathing somewhat regulated, Wesley jumped onto the bed, kicking one vampire in the jaw before dropping and rolling off the other side. The maneuver sent agony flaring down his left arm and back, like fire searing the underside of his skin.

Fighting the pain, Wes stood. Alicia scrambled to his side as Wyndam-Pryce put another bullet in the nearest vampire. It didn't kill him, but he'd have to regenerate his kneecaps before he'd be coming at them again. Giles was attacking from the other side, swinging a large piece of the door as if it were the best of swords. Even as Wesley glanced to check on him, Rupert dusted one vampire, but the next was quick to step up.

Wesley looked to Alicia and, nodding to one another, they charged in, side by side. Alicia kicked at one of the vampires, but missed. She ducked its punch, but the thing grabbed her as she straightened. Wesley was there in a flash, stabbing his makeshift stake into its arm. The vampire screamed, throwing Alicia away and jerking Wes' weapon from of his hands at it flailed.

Alicia flew into Wyndam-Pryce, knocking them both into the desk, which promptly creaked and gave way beneath them. The sight distracted Wesley and the vampire grabbed him, roaring in his face as it lifted him off the ground. Choking, his shoulder screaming, Wes bashed his head against the vampire's nose. He had a brief moment to feel satisfied when the thing let go, only to hit the floor and find that he was too dizzy to stand on his own. It took him longer than it should have to get his feet under him and then he stumbling back to the wall, grabbing another piece of wood. He was ready when the vampire charged him. His aim proved true and the creature dusted with a rather surprised look on its face.

There were three vampires left. Giles, sweating and swearing, was keeping one quite busy, but it allowed him no leeway to help the Slayer. Alicia stood against two, frantically kicking and punching in an attempt to protect Wyndam-Pryce, who was only now waking after his bout with the desk. A snicker rose to Wesley's lips, quickly regretted when he tried to move away from the wall and the room spun.

Steadying himself, he dove at one of the vampire's attacking his Slayer, dragging it to the ground, pummeling at it with all his meager human strength. The thing was grinning at him, a fact which only made him angrier, only made him hit harder. His fists were red, with his blood and the borrowed blood of the creature.

His mind didn't really have time to process what happened next. There was a scream and then suddenly Wes was on his back, staring up the vampire's bloodied game face. It chuckled, pinning his arms as it moved in for his neck.

Two voices screamed his name, but a pair of malicious golden eyes had become his world and Wesley stared up as his death closed in.

PART 26

Giles' eyes caught on Wesley as the man was flipped onto his back. The sight distracted Rupert and his opponent took the opportunity to close in, landing a blow that sent him spinning to the floor. Desperate, he wrapped his legs between the vampire's ankles, tripping the creature.

Seizing the nearest shard of door, he rammed it through the creature's heart without a second thought. His eyes were already back on his lover, shouting the man's name even as he struggled to his feet.

His heart wrenched in his chest as he realized that he just wasn't going to make it.

Alicia got to him first.

Using one of the rails from the broken desk chair, she impaled the vampire and the dust settled on a wide-eyed Wesley. Makeshift weapon shaking in her hands, the young Slayer stared at her Watcher, too shocked to remember the enemy at her back. The vampire only got a step closer before it too disintegrated, revealing an unsteady Wyndam-Pryce.

"Is, is everyone all right?" the man asked, eyes checking each of them over even as his knees seemed to give out and he sat heavily on the bed.

Alicia helped Wes to his feet and Rupert didn't waste any time pulling him into a quick embrace, ignoring the vampire dust that clung to him. There lips found each other for a moment, not nearly long enough by Giles' standards.

"I . . . I think everybody's fine," Alicia sounded shaky, her eyes still too wide for her thin face. "Everybody is fine, right?"

"Well, my shoulder is killing me," Wesley muttered, sending a wobbly, apologetic smile to Rupert as he pulled away.

"Oh, dear! I'm sorry. Let me look at it," Giles let go, his hands gentle as he indicated Wes should turn. Nodding, the younger man did so, flinching away a bit at Rupert's tender probing. There was a rent in his button-up, over the right shoulder blade. The edges of the gash were red and sticking to Wes' skin. Giles didn't want to pull at it and cause his lover any more pain. "I need to get your shirt off. This might hurt."

Wes nodded, unbuttoning quickly. He hissed as Rupert pulled the fabric away from his wound.

"Alicia and I should go to get her things," Wyndam-Pryce mumbled, glancing away from the two of them.

"No," both Wesley and Rupert responded together, heads snapping up.

"Look," the man said, shaking his head. "I know you don't trust me and I can't really blame you, but . . . Rupert, you have your hands full with him and we have to get out of here quick. They're probably watching the place and there's no telling--"

"Which is just another reason why you two should stay with us," Giles replied without a further glance to the man. He kept his attention on the three inches of splintered wood that had been jammed into Wesley's back by the door's demise. Wes had gone tense under his hands when Wyndam-Pryce called him 'Rupert' and Giles was, frankly, a little worried about what was going on in his lover's mind.

"I'm not going anywhere," Alicia supplied, sitting gently on the bed behind Giles. "Don't take it personal," she said to Wyndam-Pryce when looked to her. "I'm not leaving their sides, you know?"

After a moment, the man nodded, taking up a position by the door with his hand on his holstered gun. "Fine. Just . . . please, hurry. We need to get somewhere safe . . . I need to call Angel and the others. See if I can figure out what . . . Ripper," the man's voice broke a little over the name, "what he'd found out. Never did get his letter."

Rupert, Wesley, and Alicia all looked up, glancing at each other and then back to Wyndam-Pryce.

"Letter?" Alicia was the first to break the silence. Wyndam-Pryce turned, he eyes flicking to each of their faces.

"Yes . . . he was supposed to drop a letter by the office when . . . do you have it?" He took a step toward them, face serious.

"Oh, yes! Of course," Giles shook his head, ashamed he hadn't though to tell the man about it. Especially if they'd been involved. The letter had been addressed to 'my love,' after all. "Alicia, is it with your things?"

"Yeah! I kept it . . . he . . . he said such nice things about . . ." She couldn't finish the sentence, but both Rupert and Wesley heard her sniffle. Wesley waved for her to come sit by his side, the left, putting his arm around her while Giles continued to work on getting the splinters out of his opposite shoulder.

Rupert cast a quick glance to Wyndam-Pryce and found the man watching him, his jaw clenched tight, eyes shimmering with what Giles guessed to be unshed tears. Unable to look at that expression for long, the Watcher turned back to his lover's wound.

"That's . . . that's good," Wyndam-Pryce turned away from them, once again staring out into the night. "We'll need . . . we'll need the information . . . I . . . I hope he . . . learned something before . . ."

Wesley and Rupert shared a glance, but said nothing, unsure how to address the pain of this strange yet familiar man. Wes' eyes settled on his counterpart as Giles pulled the last of the splinters free.

"It'll need to be cleaned, but we don't have anything for that. Besides," Rupert glanced out into the night, "we had best be going. Even if we're not being watched, the police will eventually decide the violence is over and check up on us."

Receiving several nods, Wes and he made a quick grab for what possessions they'd unpacked, stuffed them into their duffels, and followed Alicia to her room next door.

PART 27

Wyndam-Pryce's van was parked a few blocks away. After they'd collected Alicia's things, the man had talked them into sneaking out her bathroom window. If Wolfram & Hart were involved it was likely being watched as well, but Wesley couldn't argue that it was better than just strolling out the front door.

Wyndam-Pryce drove, of course. They'd discussed going to the old mansion, but they all agreed that it was likely being watched as well. There were few other options in Sunnydale. Ripper's flat, the Magic Box, both would be under surveillance. There was, however, a place not far outside the city limits, an old house, set off from the road in a patch of woods. It was their best bet.

Alicia was adamant that she sit in the front seat, which left Giles and he to sit in the back. Wes wasn't thrilled with that, not wanting her any nearer to Wyndam-Pryce than she had to be, but Rupert had talked him into it. She would, after all, have to get to know the man if he was to be her Watcher after they left.

That thought twisted things inside him, but Wesley did his best to ignore that, as well as the way his jaw would begin to clench every time he looked at the man. It was silly, the way his stomach knotted at the thought of his counterpart's lips against Rupert's, but he couldn't shake the sick feeling in his gut.

Rationally, he knew it was nothing, a mistake, but . . . somehow he wasn't sure he could be completely rational about it.

in the name of all that's good is wrong with me? The poor man is grieving . . . He was beating himself up over those emotions, even as he refused to name them. After all, he was a logical man, but . . . it was hard to look at his own face and see . . . so much more than he saw in the mirror.

Giles' hand on his fist distracted him and it was only then that he realized his hands were clenched at all.

"Wes, please, talk to me." Rupert's voice was soft, close to his ear. "I know something's wrong."

"It's nothing, Rupert, really."

"That's bullshit," Giles answered on a sigh. "I can see that it's something. I'm surprised your teeth haven't begun to crumble."

Wesley looked to his lover, sighing. "I don't . . . I don't even know where to begin. It's . . ." he shrugged, lost for words.

"Is it Alicia? I know . . . I know it's going to be hard, leaving her here, trusting someone else to see she's trained well, taught well . . ."

"That's . . . some of it . . . I . . . Rupert, this isn't easy for me. I . . . I don't know how to explain, I just . . . I don't know how." He knew his voice was growing a little sharp, maybe even frantic, but just talking about it was tugging all his tumbling emotions to the foreground, whipping them into a frenzy he wasn't sure how to deal with.

"Wes, you can tell me anything. Maybe . . . maybe now's not the best time, but . . . promise me, when we're alone, that we'll talk?"

Grateful for the reprieve, Wes nodded, swallowing the panic that had risen. Rupert offered a smile and Wesley let the older man pull his fist open. Giles swept his fingertips over Wesley's palm and the younger man shivered, closing his eyes and reveling in the gentle touch.

"We're here," Wyndam-Pryce announced as the van pulled to a stop on a narrow gravel driveway.

The house was small and not in the best repair. The door shut and locked firmly though and, at the moment, that was Wesley's main requirement. There were a few bits of furniture in the living room; a battered chair, a small table, but nothing he'd have felt comfortable putting his weight on.

"What do we do first?" Alicia asked, ambling from room to room.

"I should call Angel and the others, but I also need to see that letter." Wyndam-Pryce already had his cell phone out, fingers moving. "Uh, Alicia you can have one bedroom and . . . you two should have the other." He glanced at them for only a moment before turning his eyes back to the phone.

Wes watched his counterpart, his curiosity beginning to peek through the other layers of emotion. What had created the differences between them? What path had Wyndam-Pryce's life taken that Wesley's had not?

The feel of Rupert's hand on his shoulder drew him from his contemplation. He turned to the older man, plastering a smile he didn't feel upon his lips.

"How's the shoulder?"

"As well as can be expected. Doesn't hurt so much now."

"Angel?" came Wyndam-Pryce's voice, once again drawing Wes' regard. "I'm fine! I swear. I know. I know. Uh, no . . . " the man left the room, his voice cut off by the shutting of a door.

"Makes you want to hand out questionnaires, doesn't it?"

Wesley turned to his lover, feeling his forehead furrow at Giles' statement.

"What?"

"To find out how this place is different," Rupert explained with a small smile. "We'll interrogate--"

"Damn it all to Hell and gone!" Wyndam-Pryce came storming from the other room, face set in frustrated lines.

"What's wrong?" Alicia asked from where she knelt, searching through her bag to find the letter.

"Cordy had a vision and Angel had to go. It doesn't look like we're going to be getting much help, tonight anyway. He's going to call me as soon as he can." Wyndam-Pryce kicked at the bag he'd brought in with him before turning to the young Slayer. "Did you find it?"

"Yeah, but . . . I don't know if it's going to be much help. He doesn't say much about the Council."

"Yes," Wesley added. "He only mentions them in passing really."

"The information's there," Wyndam-Pryce took the letter with visibly trembling hands. "It's in code."

PART 28

Giles couldn't keep his eyes off Wesley. Though, that seemed to be the normal state of affairs anymore, this was for an entirely different reason. Wes had been distant since Rupert had told him about the kiss. The Watcher almost regretted it now.

He'd tried to get Wesley alone, but that hadn't worked at all. He already suspected Wes was avoiding him and he knew it had everything to do with the promise to talk he'd made Wesley give him. The man was going so far as to putter around in the cupboards, poking into everything he found, just to have an excuse to stay in the kitchen. Wyndam-Pryce sat at the table, staring at the letter as if it was an Ancient Sumerian tablet and he couldn't quite decipher it. Alicia sat at the table as well, doing little more than fidgeting.

Giles himself leaned against the counter, tracking Wes' every move. Sometimes the other man would look over, give him a nervous smile, and continue on as if nothing were wrong. Rupert wasn't fooled.

"How exactly is the letter coded?" He finally asked, once he was certain Wesley wasn't going to follow him into the living room for their talk.

Wyndam-Pryce looked up from the letter, running a hand over his face and through his hair. It was a gesture Giles had seen Wes perform and for a moment, Rupert felt disoriented by the similarities. Wyndam-Pryce was a stranger and he'd have to be careful to remember that, not to fall into familiar patterns.

"It's rather interesting actually," he motioned Giles to come to his side, but Rupert instead took the chair across the table from the man, well aware that Wes was watching them. "How many numbers, or spans of time, are mentioned?"

Rupert read over the letter quickly, counting. "Three."

"Right," Wyndam-Pryce agreed. "What are they?"

"'Three years', 'a month', and 'two days'."

Wesley came to stand beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he examined the letter. Alicia sat up a little, trying to see the words without actually getting up.

"Exactly. Here," Wyndam-Pryce pushed his notepad and pencil to Alicia. "Would you mind writing down a few things when I tell you to?"

"Go on," Alicia shrugged, eyes still on the letter.

"Each of those needs to be reduced down to numbers. The message is always in the third paragraph, never more than a word or three and these numbers will tell us which words."

"How do you reduce them?" Alicia asked before Giles could form the words. Though, granted, she didn't have Wesley's hand on her shoulder as a distraction. The man didn't even seem aware of the way his thumb kept rubbing along Rupert's collar.

"Three years, so three times three-hundred-sixty-five. Which gives us one-thousand-ninety-five. Then we reduce that down by adding the numbers together. One plus zero, plus nine, plus five."

"Fifteen," Alicia shrugged. "Does that mean we take thirty and reduce it to three?"

"Thirty?"

"A month," Giles supplied and Wyndam-Pryce's confused look.

"Oh, no. For the purpose of the code, a month is twenty-eight days."

"Why?" Alicia and Wesley asked together.

"Because it's confusing," Wyndam-Pryce smiled, but the edges wilted quickly and he looked back to the letter. "And we don't reduce two digit numbers. There is one other factor though."

"'two'," Giles put in with a nod.

"Right. The last number is what . . . what Ripper called a confusion factor. It makes no sense unless one knows the rules. Which are that it is always added to the first number, and always subtracted from the second. Which gives us--"

"Seventeen and twenty-six," Wes supplied. "What does that mean?"

"It means we count seventeen words into the third paragraph."

"The seventeenth word is 'two'," Giles told Alicia, who wrote it down.

"Then, starting with the word after the seventeenth, so 'days', we count to the twenty-sixth word." There was a catch in Wyndam-Pryce's voice and Giles realized why when he came to the right word.

He couldn't bring himself to say it aloud.

"Dearest," Wes whispered, his eyes darting to his counterpart. Wyndam-Pryce nodded, his head sinking into his hands.

"It makes no sense," he shouted, standing so violently he knocked his chair to the floor. Without bending to set it upright, Wyndam-Pryce paced, shaking his head. "It has to mean something. Ripper . . . he never used endearments in the letters themselves. It has to mean something!"

Giles saw Alicia glance back at the notepad, her eyes brimming. Wesley had stiffened, but it seemed he couldn't stand to see the other man's grief either and he quickly turned his eyes to the letter. Even Rupert had a hard time looking at Wyndam-Pryce's obvious pain. It would have bothered him anyway, he knew what the other man was feeling, the pain of a lost loved one. It upset him all the more because this man wore his lover's face. It was like watching Wes hurting, unable to help.

"Could it refer to someone?" Giles finally made himself ask, comforted by Wes' reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. "Perhaps he was trying to tell who this traitor is?"

"No," Wyndam-Pryce stopped his pacing, his back to them. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he turned, righting his chair and dropping into it in one graceful move. "He wouldn't accuse anyone without proof. If he had a name, or an idea, he'd have given me a hint at the proof."

"Why go to all this trouble?" Wes asked after Giles handed him the letter to examine. "Why not just tell you."

"We weren't going to be able to meet. I had to go out of town and he couldn't stay long. Neither of us felt comfortable simply writing it down. We still hoped that the Council didn't know of our investigation."

"Uh . . . guys?" Alicia was staring at the notepad, forehead wrinkled.

"Yes?" Wes went to her side, leaning over to see what had her so interested.

"Deer Street." The two said together, leaving Giles and Wyndam-Pryce to glance at one another and shrug. Then a light seemed to dawn in the other man's eyes and Rupert was left as the only one completely lost.

"And that means?" he asked.

"Two dearest. Could it be an address? Two Deer St.?" Wesley looked to Wyndam-Pryce, eyes shining with excitement. "There is a Deer St. in LA here isn't there?"

"Yes, but . . . how . . . why did you think of that?" Wyndam-Pryce glanced at the notepad, then back to Alicia.

"Um, Rupert . . . he said that we needed to drop off this letter, then stop by Deer St. and then we'd rent a car."

"I vaguely remember something about that," Wesley nodded, handing the notepad to Giles. "You didn't mention it more than once or twice though."

"And I was supposed to know it mattered how?" Alicia shook her head, turning to Wyndam-Pryce. "So? Could it be an address?"

"I . . . I don't know. I don't see why it couldn't."

"So we're going to LA?" Alicia looked excited about the possibility, but Wesley's eyes had gone wide and he'd paled a bit.

"So it would seem," Giles answered with a sigh.

PART 29

"Well, we're not going anywhere tonight," Wyndam-Pryce responded with a yawn. "I think we could all use the rest and we're safe here. We should take that while we can get it."

Wes shared a glance with Rupert before nodding. He didn't like it, but he did have to admit that he was exhausted. His shoulder ached, his head ached, and Giles wasn't going to be put off much longer. Wesley had a brief mental image of Rupert getting fed up with his avoidance and dragging him into one of the bedrooms for their talk.

Shaking his head to clear the imagine, he sighed and gave in.

"Rupert?" He didn't have to say anymore than that, or rather, Giles was up and leading the way down the hall before h could get anymore out. With a quick smile to Alicia, he turned to follow.

"Night guys," she called after him, a hint of laughter in her voice. Even as Wes blushed, he wished she were right in her assumptions. He'd much rather be retiring to the bedroom for much different reasons.

He stopped at the opened doorway into the room Rupert had chosen. "If you need anything Alicia, call us." He had some misgivings about leaving her out there with his counterpart, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He couldn't be with her twenty-four hours a day; he couldn't always protect her.

That thought sent a spear of worry through him, but Wesley made himself shut the bedroom door behind him, joining Rupert to sit on the floor against one wall. There were no beds so they'd have to make do with dust and duffel pillows. Sliding down next to Rupert, Wes knew that should be the least of his worries, but his mind needed to focus on something, anything, other than what was coming.

"So? What's wrong?" Giles slipped and arm around his shoulders, pulling Wes in front of him and kneading the tense muscles in his neck. Rupert was careful not to get too near his wound and the gentle fingers, and the fact that he didn't actually have to look at the older man, helped.

"I, uh, I'm worried for Alicia's safety. I don't like leaving her out there with . . . him. I . . . how can we trust him to take care of her?"

"We don't have to, just yet. There's still a little time for us to learn more about him, to decide whether or not we'll trust him. I know you're worried, but Alicia can't be--"

"By my side all day and night, I know."

"We'll test him of course," Rupert said as his calloused hands slid over his neck, making him shiver. Wes leaned back against the Watcher's chest, trying to force his reluctant muscles into relaxation. "Make sure he has the hand to hand skills to train a Slayer."

"Yes, because the last thing we need is a Slayer who can't hold a stake, but can shoot a 9mm with the best of them." Wes snorted, but his disgust was more than just a little manufactured.

"What as is bothering you?" Rupert whispered the question against his ear, laying his lips against Wesley's neck.

Wes searched for the right words, panic beginning to rise in his throat like bile. If he had to tell Giles, and at this point he was quite sure he wasn't going to be able to avoid that, he wanted to make the other man understand.

"Is it the kiss?" Giles spoke the question against his skin and still it had Wesley's stomach knotting.

"It is . . . and it isn't," Wes muttered without any real thought. He wasn't sure he was capable of real thought just then. Fear caused his heart to race, his throat to constrict, though he refused even to admit to the prickling at his eyes.

God this is absurd! I'm a grown man for the love of--

"How is it about the kiss? How isn't it?" Rupert wouldn't let up, wouldn't give him time to collect himself or his thoughts. The man's arms tightened around him, not allowing him to put distance between them.

"It's . . . I don't know! It's stupid!"

"I don't care. I want to know, regardless."

"I . . . how can I be jealous of that man? He's just lost his lover and . . . I can't do this!"

"You promised we'd talk," Giles reminded, still refusing to let him stand. "I know you're a man of your word."

Wesley went still, mind already spinning for a different method to avoid this conversation, even if he didn't realize it.

"And why did I never notice what a manipulative bastard you are?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Wes froze, clenching his jaw, eyes closed tight.

I can't believe I said that. Oh, god. Oh, god.

Rupert chuckled.

It took Wesley a long moment to realize what the sound was, even longer to realize that Giles' lips hadn't left the skin of his neck.

"You didn't notice because I only bring it out on special occasions." The older man loosened his grip, letting Wes go.

Though he'd been anxious for that very thing not a moment ago, now the simple action hurt. He'd done it. It was over. He'd already managed to screw everything up.

"I'm not going to make you talk to me Wes." Rupert leaned back against the wall, not trying to shift Wesley at all, just withdrawing a little. "I want you to know you can talk to me though, if you feel the need. I . . . I wish you would. Especially about this." The older man sounded sad, and tired.

Wes took a deep breath, unsure what to say. He didn't want Giles to believe he didn't feel comfortable talking to him. It wasn't Rupert at all. More than anything, he wanted to wipe the hurt tone from his lover's voice.

Wesley closed his eyes and began speaking, fists clenched tight. "I . . . I just feel so . . . small, compared to him and part of me . . . wonders if, maybe you wouldn't . . . be more happy with someone like that. Someone more . . . just more."

"Wesley--"

"No! Let me get it out, please." Wes stood, unable to relax, no matter how comfortable his position. He needed to pace, to move. He tried to gather the breath to speak around the lump in his throat. Rupert was going to think him insane. "I . . . I look at him and I see me, but . . . but a me that has confidence and . . . something else, something I can't define." Letting his words trail off, Wesley took a stance before the room's one window, staring out into the night. "And he's grieving . . . and . . . I, I could be too. Just as easily. A vampire attack in an alley. A badly preformed spell . . . I could be grieving too."

PART 30

Wesley didn�t move as Giles stood. Rupert wasn't even sure the other man was aware of him, just a foot behind, waiting what seemed an eternity for the end. His stomach was twisted in knots and words, Wesley's and his own screaming response, circled his mind in a way that almost made him dizzy.

"A badly preformed spell . . . I could be grieving too."

Silence.

One heartbeat, two.

Giles closed the distance, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist, pulling the smaller man back against him. He didn't know what to say first, didn't know where to begin. He ached for Wesley, but was unsure how to put it all into words, how to make those words sink in.

And the first thing he had to say wasn't going to be comforting. In essence, it all boiled down to what decision Wes would make. Giles was terrified it would be to walk away, terrified that he wasn't enough to be worth the fear of hurt.

"Yes. You could be. As could I." At Rupert's words, Wesley stiffened. "But that's always true, of everything and everyone. The alternative is never caring. Could you do that? Do you want to?"

Wes relaxed a little, but Giles could still feel the tension, waiting just under the surface. His own muscles felt the same, ready to do something, even when there was nothing to do. Patiently, Rupert waited for his lover to answer the question he hadn't actually asked, couldn't ask because it would open him up, expose the insides that very few ever saw.

"I know that. I know that in my head, but . . . it's . . . it's worrisome."

Rupert snorted at the choice of words, a smile lifting his lips. "I know. I . . . hope it's worth it."

Wesley sighed, turning in his arms. "You are."

Their lips met, slow and lazy, rubbing over one another as if they had all the time in the world to explore. Giles placed little kisses along Wes' mouth before licking along his lower lip from one corner to the other. Finally, he caught it between his teeth, nibbling gently. Wesley opened to him, tongue darting out to twine with Rupert's.

They were both breathing faster when Giles pulled away, eliciting a small whimper from Wes.

"There's still more I need to say," Rupert murmured against his lover's jaw.

"Can it wait?" Wesley thrust his hips forward, half-hard cock pressing into Giles' thigh.

"No." He'd tried to sound firm, but the word came out on a moan. "Wes, I . . . oh, god," the last was whispered as Wesley's hands clasped his ass, pulling them together. "I can't . . . I can't let you go on thinking that . . ."

He almost lost his train of thought when Wesley began biting his neck, hard enough that he'd have marks. He wasn't going to be able to speak with the other man so close. Sighing, he pulled away, putting some distance between them.

"Wesley, please. I can't let you think that you're somehow less than . . . Wyndam-Pryce. You're an amazing--"

"Rupert, don't." Wes shook his head, his smile clearly false. "I don't want this. I don't want you feeling you have to cater to my insecurities. It . . . it only makes things worse."

Giles sighed, studying Wesley's face as if he'd find some clue there on how to go on. "All right," he finally threw up his hands. "I don't know what to say. Except to tell you that it's you I . . . want. Not him. You."

Wesley licked his lips, as if he would speak, but instead smiled and nodded. "I�m starving."

Rupert accepted the change in topics, unable to do anything else. "Did you find anything in the cupboards?"

"Two cans of peaches and a tin of soup I wouldn't eat if you paid me."

"Well, peaches it is." Giles led the way out of the bedroom, stopping just before the door to the kitchen when he heard Alicia's voice. Wesley stopped beside him, about to ask a question before he too heard the young Slayer.

"So, it's a lot like here, at least . . . the stuff I know about." There was a pause and Rupert was about to enter, but the girl's next words stopped him. "Tell me about the Slayers here."

"Uh, I'll try. What . . . what do you want to know?" Wyndam-Pryce didn't sound entirely happy about the turn in conversation.

"What happened to Buffy here?"

Giles straightened, closing his eyes. Even as part of him screamed that he should walk away, he remained, listening intently. Wes laid a supportive hand on his shoulder and Rupert rubbed his cheek against it in thanks.

"Buffy? She, uh, she was killed destroying a very old vampire called the Master. I never knew her myself."

"Oh. Poor Buffy. She . . . she was really nice to me, you know? Everybody was, mostly. Was . . . was Rupert her Watcher here too?"

"No." There was a little laughter in the man's voice, but it was nearly buried by the weariness. "He, uh, well . . . he was somewhat of a rebel in his younger days and, well, it stuck with him for quite some time. He never thought he'd be assigned a Slayer . . ."

"Then . . . then he was and . . . oh, god," Alicia said the last on a near-sob, but quickly regained herself. "A-after her, after Buffy, who was called then?"

"A young woman named Kendra. That was just before I came to Sunnydale. When . . . when she was killed by a vampire named Spike--"

"Spike killed her? A Slayer?" Alicia sounded indignant, as if angry about the accusation on Spike's behalf, and Rupert had to shake his head.

"Yes. Spike. You sound as if you know of him."

"I've met him. He works with Buffy in Wes and Giles' dimension."

"Works with the Slayer?" Wyndam-Pryce might have had a cracker shoved down his throat the wrong way for all he sounded like he was choking.

"Yeah. There's some kind of chip or something in his head. Some group called the Initiative put it there."

The silence from the other side of the door seemed ominous. When it was finally broken, Giles flinched at the pain in Wyndam-Pryce's voice, flashing back to the days just after his own Slayer's death.

"The Initiative?" Alicia must have nodded because he didn't hear her speak. "They . . . did . . . It was fighting the Initiative that killed Faith."

PART 31

Giles looked to Wesley, finding the younger man's jaw clenched once more, his stance rigid. He laid a hand on his lover's arm and was reward with a nod of reassurance.

"Tell me about her?" came Alicia's soft voice. "Why would she fight them, the Initiative? If . . . weren't they helping, putting chips in vampires?"

"At first they weren't bad to have around, but . . . there was this . . . thing called Adam and . . . we managed to kill it, but . . . she didn't survive the wounds . . ."

Again, silence. Giles contemplated leaving, knowing he probably shouldn't be listening, but it didn't matter in the end. Wesley just stood there, staring at the door, apparently rooted to the spot and Rupert wasn't going to leave the man to hear it out on his own.

"In-in Wes and Giles' dimension she . . . she's in prison. She killed a human and . . . she tortured Wes." Alicia's voice was small, unsure. At her last words, Wesley gasped, eyes flying to the door in confusion. "He doesn't know that I know. Cordy wanted to make sure I knew I was in good hands. She told me some of it, not the details . . . I wouldn't . . . I wouldn't want to know that."

"She . . . Faith tortured him?" It was Wyndam-Pryce's turn to sound indignant.

Wesley looked furious, but at what, or whom, Giles wasn't sure. He tried to get his lover to look at him, but Wes refused, eyes fixed firmly on the door, mouth set in a grim line.

"Yeah. I . . . I think it was really bad. Which, which is why . . . I figure that he's gotta be pretty strong, you know? Cause, even though Faith did what she did, Cordy told me that Wes didn't give up on her. Told me that he kept the Council from getting to her. Wesley's never said a bad word about her, not to me."

Wes remained stiff, eyes falling shut to hold back tears.

"She . . . she wasn't like that here." Wyndam-Pryce's voice had gone soft, the tone of memory seeping in. "She had to come to Sunnydale, had to guard the Hellmouth. Neither of us knew anyone here, both of us were far from home. She was . . . troubled at first. She didn't want to trust me, or . . . anyone. It took a while, but . . . we had to depend on each other. She came around."

At the last, Wesley turned, stalking back to the bedroom. Sighing, Rupert entered the kitchen, giving his best false smile to Alicia. Freshly opened tin of peaches in hand, he returned to the bedroom to find Wes sitting against the wall, staring off into space. The younger man's expression was impossible to read, the look in his eyes something Giles could only call bittersweet.

"Wes?" Rupert held out a plastic fork, sliding down the wall to take up the space beside his lover.

"Hmmm? Oh, thank you."

"You seem thoughtful." That was an understatement, but Giles thought it best not to appear too worried.

"It wasn't like that," Wesley sighed, fiddling with the fork in his hands.

Rupert didn't bother mentioning that he had no clue as to which part Wes was referring. He only waited, hoping his lover would continue.

"I . . . I didn't help Faith for . . . for her own sake."

The silence stretched between them and Giles made himself ask the question, though he kept his voice low.

"Then why?"

"Angel."

Giles felt his eyebrows rise.

"He was convinced that Faith . . . that she could be redeemed. He, he wanted to help her. The Council wanted to kill her. The two weren't compatible."

Rupert didn't dare delve further into that minefield, though questions spun in his head like tiny tops. Instead, he let the conversation lapse into silence, scooting closer to feel the warm weight of Wesley at his side.

"She thinks I�m strong," Wes murmured, sounding confused by the words, even coming from his own lips.

"As do I," Giles returned.

"I don't want to let you, either of you, down. I . . . I don't think I could bear that." Wes wouldn't look at him as he spoke, eyes instead focused on fishing a peach out of the can Rupert held.

"I have complete trust in you Wes, and your abilities. All we can do is our best and I know that, however things turn out, you've always done that."

"Maybe. I sometimes wonder though . . . about Faith. He got through to her and . . . I'm glad he did. I'm glad she had a better . . . well, I hope it was a better life here." Wes stared at the peach he'd speared with his fork, a half smile on his face.

"But you feel as if you failed, at home?" Rupert kept his voice soft, glad to have the man talking to him, afraid to call attention to that fact. He didn't want Wesley to clam up again.

"Not . . . not entirely. I . . . I know I made mistakes, I know . . . I wasn't what she needed, but . . . and please don't hate me for this, but neither were you. None of us were."

"I could never hate you, Wesley." The smile he got in return for those words made Giles' stomach knot. "You should do that more."

"Eat peaches?" Wes look genuinely confused and Rupert had to laugh.

"No, smile. You should smile more often."

"I'm . . . I'm working on it," Wes replied. They stared at each other for a long moment, eyes locked. Giles breathing picked up, his heart thumping away as if he were a schoolboy on his first date.

Why does he effect me this way? Make me breathless to feel his lips. Even as he thought it, Wesley closed the distance between them, tongue darting out to lick at the peach syrup still on Giles' lips. Rupert groaned at the feeling, some part of his mind frantically reminding him to keep quiet, and set down the peaches.

PART 32

Rupert managed to put the peaches aside just before Wesley grabbed at his shirt, drawing him in for a real kiss. Giles, thrilled to have the other man taking the lead, opened his mouth to the younger man's searching tongue. He settles his hands on Wes' hips, stretching his fingers to touch as much as possible, cursing the fabric between his skin and his lover's.

Wesley's hands were on his face now, palms dragging over the beginnings of stubble. Wes' touch, so full of the passion the man too often held at bay, sent the blood rushing to Rupert's cock. He groaned at the feel of his lover's tongue, probing his mouth as if desperate. He returned each lick, each nibble and caress with equal fervor, but never took control.

Wes' pressed against him, all but sitting in his lap, body trembling and muscles taut. Rupert wanted nothing more than to lay the other man on the floor and strip him, but he held back until finally, finally, Wesley tugged Giles free of his shirt.

Rupert threw his head back, biting his lip to keep from shouting at the feel of rough fingertips tweaking his nipples. Wes' hot, slick mouth slid along his neck, teeth grazing skin here and there. Grateful for the wall's support, he thrust his hips up, swollen prick grinding against the knee Wesley shoved between his thighs.

"I . . . oh, Rupert," Wes whispered against his shoulder, hands skimming over Giles' sides and back. "I want . . ."

"Tell me Wes," Rupert let his voice drop low, mouth moving against Wesley's cheek. His fingers were already busy with the buttons of Wesley's shirt. The younger man straddled his thigh, cock granite hard and hot enough to warm Giles even through both their pants. "Tell me what you want. Let give it to you."

Last button free, Giles pushed the shirt down Wes' arms, tongue tracing down Wesley's collarbone to nibble at one tight nipple.

"I want fuck you," Wes' voice trembled, the tension there echoed in his body. Giles moaned, forgetting to be quiet, thrusting up once again, head lulling back.

"Oh, bloody hell, yes."

Wesley's hands scrabbled at the button of his slacks, pulling it free with one jerk that had his hand skimming over Rupert's aching dick. Wes' warm hand closed round Giles' erection, touch firm as his thumb traced the head, picking up pre-cum.

Wesley raised that thumb to his mouth and Rupert caught his breath, watching the glistening digit disappear between Wes' lips.

"Keep teasing me like that," Rupert was surprised at how ragged his voice sounded, "and this is going to be over a lot quicker than you might want." Wes smiled, tongue darting out to lap at his thumb. Giles groaned and his lover laughed, diving in to put those lips to use against Rupert's cock.

At the first brush of slick tongue, Rupert bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed, desperate for anything to focus on besides the feel of Wesley taking him into his mouth. Giles' hips bucked of their own volition. Wes pulled away long enough for Rupert to slide down the wall, and then he was back, lapping at the head of Giles' dick, fingers roaming over the older man's balls.

"Wesley!" His voice was strained, desperate. Wes seemed to understand. The younger man stood, pulling the lube and condoms from their bags. Giles struggled to catch his breath as he watched his lover shuck his pants and kneel between his legs.

"Talk to me?" Wes sounded oddly tentative and Rupert could swear that the slick fingers playing over his pucker were trembling.

"Can't wait to feel you, Wes. Can't wait to have you pounding into me, to feel your cock inside me. Oh, fuck . . . ." the last emerged on a breathy whisper as Wesley slid two fingers into his channel, hard and quick, the shock making Giles' cock pulse in time with the younger man's driving fingers.

"I . . ." Wes let the words trailed off, his fingers still stretching, eyes trained on his hand.

Giles looked to his lover and finally realized how nervous the man was. He wanted to comfort, but found words impossible as Wes' finger stroked over his prostate. He arched into the touch, a moan bursting from his lips before he could still it.

"Please," was pretty much all he could manage.

The fingers left him and Giles fisted his cock, stroking slowly as his hungry eyes watched Wesley rolled a condom on and slick himself. The younger man paused for a moment, their eyes locked, a slow smile spreading over Giles' face in response to Wes' much more hesitant one.

Wesley rubbed the head of his cock against Giles' pucker and Rupert was surprised to find himself whimpering. A hair away from begging, the Watcher hissed as Wes pushed into him, popping past the guardian ring of muscle and sliding deep. Neither of them could control the groans.

"So . . . so bloody tight," Wesley panted, going still. "Never . . . never done this before. Not with another man."

Giles wanted to respond, but the words gathered in his throat, merging into a drawn out moan. His body trembled, all his muscles coiled, waiting, desperate for Wesley to move, but unable to make his need clear. Finally, Wes stirred, hands clutching and Rupert's hips as he withdrew with a shivering sigh.

"God, oh . . . oh, Wes . . . I--" the words were stolen from him as Wesley plunged in again, deep and hard. Giles bit his lips, chewing them ragged to keep from shouting at the feel of the younger man's dick throbbing against his channel walls.

"So . . . so, good, so good, so . . ." Wesley threw his head back, his whispered chant brushing Rupert's ears and pulling him closer and closer to the edge. His hand frantic on his cock, Giles wrapped his legs around Wes, pulling the leaner man tight to him as his balls tightened and he came roaring his lover's name.

Wesley shuddered, hips snapping, rhythm lost, desperate to reach the edge, desperate to come. Giles rode out his orgasm, muscles clenching hard as Wes worked himself into a frenzy.

"Rupert." It was soft, nothing more than a sigh as Wes jerked once, twice, then fell forward onto his chest as if his muscles refused to hold for even another moment. "Rupert," he said again as they both fought for breath.

"I'm here," Giles murmured, one hand sliding into Wesley's hair, the other rubbing at his back. With a contented sigh, Rupert pressed his lips to Wes' scalp.

"That was . . . thank you."

"For what?"

"More than I can say." Wesley smiled as he pushed himself away, and for the first time since Wyndam-Pryce had knocked on their door, Giles saw real joy in his lover's eyes. It had been only hours, but felt more like days.

He'd missed that.

Shit, Rupert thought, even as a grin broke over his face. What have I gotten myself into?

PART 33

Giles sat in the back of the van, munching discontentedly on some dreadful thing the drive-thru had claimed was breakfast. Still, he was hungry, not about to touch the can of soup that was all that remained in the pantry.

"So, the question remains," he said, loudly enough for Wesley and Wyndam-Pryce, who took up the front two seats, to hear. "Are we going to wait for whoever Travers sends, or just head for LA?"

"Ripper and I are . . . I'm near certain Travers has nothing to do with it. Stuffy, traditional prat he may be, but that's exactly why it's unlikely Travers would siphon money to Wolfram & Hart." Wyndam-Pryce pulled the van onto yet another side street. They were driving just to be moving, really. It was better than sitting around, doing nothing, or feeling like it. "Travers isn't the only one you talked to, is he?"

"No, I . . . I also talked to Stevenson," Giles hated to admit it, hated that he'd blundered into this situation without so much as a thought. He'd assumed that things would be similar enough to home that it wouldn't matter. He'd made a foolish mistake and now it was likely they were all paying for it.

"Why him?"

"Where we come from," Wesley took up the explanation, "he's a friend of Rupert's and a lot more amenable than Travers."

"Hmmm," Giles could almost see Wyndam-Pryce pursing his lips the way Wes did when he thought. "He wasn't on our list of suspects, but now that I think about it . . . it could be him. Of course, Wolfram & Hart could have had people waiting in Sunnydale for you to show up. Considering it was vampires that attacked us, I think that might be it. Regardless, I think we should go straight to LA. We'll have more people to help there, more resources. We can't trust anyone from the Council until we know for sure."

"I'm afraid I agree. We can't risk it." Giles sighed, offering the rest of his breakfast to Alicia who accepted with an attempt at a smile. Growing Slayers were always hungry. Not so much as with growing boys, but still there. A pang of homesickness suddenly washed over Rupert, hitting him with how much he missed the children. He allowed himself a moment to wonder what they were doing, and hope they were safe, before turning his mind back to the subject at hand.

Alicia had been quite all morning, not her usual self at all. Wesley kept throwing glances at the rearview mirror, so Rupert knew he wasn't the only worried for the young Slayer. It could just be the anxiety of meeting these new-but-not people, but he wanted to make certain.

That thought led his mind down another path.

"Wes? Are you going to be all right with this?"

"I'll do whatever's necessary, Rupert. You know that."

"What? Why wouldn't you--oh, meeting people you already know well and yet not at all. . . yes, I know just how . . . disconcerting that can be." There was something in Wyndam-Pryce's voice that wasn't very friendly. Giles could all but see Wesley bristling at the comment.

"What about you, Alicia?" Rupert cut in quickly, hoping to refocus Wes' attention. The younger man had insisted on sitting with Wyndam-Pryce, saying they had things they should discuss for the Slayer's sake. Still, Giles would have liked to keep the tension to a bare minimum.

"I'll . . . I'll be okay. I mean, I have to get used to them eventually. Right WP?"

"I don't know why you insist on calling me that," Wyndam-Pryce sighed.

"Cause there's no way I'm gonna say, 'Wyndam-Pryce' every time I want to get your attention." Alicia smiled at the snort that came floating back to them.

Conversation ceased as Wyndam-Pryce pulled onto the highway. Giles wasn't entirely happy to be heading to LA. Beyond his worry for both Wesley and Alicia, he didn't particularly want to see Angel. He knew, intellectually at least, that this wasn't even the same Angel that had become the Angelus who had tortured him, broken his fingers . . .

Rupert's gaze slid down to his hands, lying against his knees. He'd had to work hard to get them back to full strength. Learning to play the guitar again had been a new torture all its own; his familiar, long loved, acoustic suddenly turned to a hated chore.

Shaking away those thoughts, and the memories that huddled just behind them, he turned to Alicia.

"Are you all right?" He kept his tone soft, to keep the others from overhearing their conversation. "You seem . . . distracted."

The Slayer smiled, a little shyly, and he was reminded of Buffy at that age, before . . . before so much had happened.

I'm turning into a melancholy sentimentalist, Rupert sighed to himself, knowing the cause and yet refusing to think about it just yet. All Wesley's fault.

"It's just . . . Slayers, they . . . they don't live long." She looked away at the end, as if ashamed to voice the fears behind that short sentence.

"Buffy has . . . lived quite some time," Giles tried to make his voice reassuring, tried not to think about the statistics. "I . . . I honestly believe that it was because she never let convention rule her. Slayers didn't have friends before Buffy, but those friends have proven to be her greatest strength."

Alicia thought about that, her head tilting. "I'll remember," she said solemnly and he wasn't quite sure whether she was speaking to him or to some thought in her head. Then her eyes focused on him once again, the seriousness in such a young face making his heart ache. "Do you think that, one day, I might be as strong as Buffy is?"

He smiled, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not sure you aren't already. You lack training, not strength."

She ducked her head, but couldn't hide the pleased smile that lit her face. Rupert sat back, nodding to himself. She'd live. She'd survive and he would not consider any other possibility.

"Damnit!" came Wyndam-Pryce's voice from the front seats.

Giles was immediately tense again. "What is it?"

"We're being followed."

PART 34

"You're sure?" Wesley glanced into the side view mirror, noting three cars, none of them familiar, though that meant pretty much nothing.

"Yeah. That white sedan, I saw it a couple of times in Sunnydale."

"Couldn't they just be going to LA too?" Alicia delivered the question, which was actually more of a whined plea, while standing to look out the back windows on the van's doors.

"Sit down!" Wesley, Giles, and Wyndam-Pryce all snapped together.

Alicia's eyes went wide, but she sat and that was all Wes cared about at the moment. Standing, in a mobile van wasn't a good idea . . . especially a van that was suddenly going very fast . . .

Wesley sunk into his seat, bracing his hands against the armrest on the door and the little compartment between the seats. Eyes flicking to the speedometer, Wesley knew he'd never admit to the squeaking sound that pushed its way from his lips.

"What are you doing?" Giles voice was calm, as if he were no more than curious.

"Putting some distance between them and us, or trying to. Doesn't seem to be working." Wyndam-Pryce didn't sound nearly as unruffled as Rupert had. That both worried and delighted Wes. On the one hand, at least he wasn't the only one nearing a panic attack. On the other . . .

"Can we let Giles drive?" Alicia was the one to say it, but Wesley agreed wholeheartedly, if silently. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he found the Slayer huddled up near the back of the van, eyes wide as basketballs, hands clenched around Rupert's forearm. The grip had to be painful, he could see it in the little crinkles around Giles' eyes, but the Watcher said nothing.

"I'm not stopping until they're out of sight. Not after that last attack." Wyndam-Pryce kept glancing in the side view mirror and Wesley had the urge to scream at him to keep his eyes on the road. Swallowing that, quite obvious, warning down, Wes struggled for a composed voice.

"I, unfortunately, agree that we can't simply pull over to the side of the road, but we can take an unexpected exit. It isn't as if they want us to know they're following."

Wyndam-Pryce shot him a glance that suggested he wasn't entirely sure Wesley hadn't grown another head. "Yeah, right. We can do that."

The man jerked the wheel to the right, crossing the exit division so close to the end that Wes was, for a second, convinced they were heading straight for a tree.

"What that entirely necessary!" Wesley shouted, knuckles livid, hands shaking from the force of his grip.

"Um, sorry," Wyndam-Pryce actually sounded contrite, perhaps even sheepish. "I . . . got caught up."

"Please do try not to kill us!" Rupert shouted from the back, no longer unruffled.

"Did . . . did the car follow us?" Alicia seemed the least effected. Wide-eyed, but not nearly as pale as the rest of them.

Wesley's eyes went automatically to the side view mirror. "No, but the one behind it did."

"Bugger!" Wyndam-Pryce growled. "Do you think they had more than one car on us?"

"Calm down," Rupert sighed, moving closer to the front seats. "It could be anyone. You didn't see this car before, in Sunnydale, did you?"

"No."

The exit ramp left them with little choice but to turn right. In which direction laid a gas station, a restaurant, and two other businesses of indeterminate type.

"But," Wyndam-Pryce continued, staring at the nothing, "I think it unlikely someone actually intended to come here."

"You honestly believe they'd be that well prepared?" Giles shook his head, clearly disbelieving. Wes knew better though. Wolfram & Hart were notoriously well prepared.

"Yes!" Wyndam-Pryce insisted, once again glancing into the side view mirror. "Besides, I wouldn't put it past Wolfram & Hart to have us followed by a bus full of nuns. You don't know these people, Rup--Giles."

"It doesn't matter," Wes cut in, his eyebrow rising at Wyndam-Pryce's blush. "Just get back on the highway. They won't follow. It would be obvious. Just . . . go."

"I can't. Not from here. I need to turn around."

"So? There's a perfectly could gas station right over there." Giles' voice was taking on an annoyed edge.

"They're right behind us." Wyndam-Pryce ground out.

"They won't do anything right in front of everyone, right?" Alicia came to join them near the front, sitting with her back to Wes' seat.

"We don't have many choices at the . . ." Wesley let his words trail as Wyndam-Pryce turned toward the gas station. The other man's jaw was clenched and Wes rolled his eyes at the other man.

The van sputtered.

Wes sat up straighter, staring as the dashboard began to shake.

"That can't be good." No sooner had the words left his mouth there was a loud grinding and the engine stopped.

Wyndam-Pryce stared for a moment, shaking his head. Then he tried to restart the vehicle. It sputtered, but wouldn't turn over.

"Oh, just lovely," Giles snorted, shaking his head.

"Um, guys?" Alicia's voice drew Wesley around in his seat quick as a breath. Eyes landing on the back windows, he saw what Alicia had.

Three men and one woman, all in suits, all getting out of the car behind them.

"They could be . . . ummm . . . well," Alicia shook her head. "I'm coming up blank, guys. What could they be but what I think they are?"

"Depends," Wyndam-Pryce growled. "Do you think they're Watchers?"

"Well, there go my hopes," Alicia muttered as Wes turned back to the front, his eyes catching on Wyndam-Pryce as the man reached under the seat, pulling out another gun. He glanced at Wesley before turning and handing it to Giles.

Rupert looked at it for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

"Just remember," he said, slipping the weapon into the waistband at the back of his slacks, pulling his sweater out in an attempt to cover it. "They're humans."

"As if they can't kill us just as easily?" There was something of a sneer in Wyndam-Pryce's voice.

"I only meant that we'll be arrested if we shoot them outright," Giles returned, the look in his eyes sending shivers down Wes' spine.

Part 35

"Alicia, get down." There was a hard tone in Wesley's voice that surprised Rupert in a vague, it doesn't really matter at the moment, way. The Slayer didn't hesitated, ducking down behind his seat. Giles threw their coats over her, but that was all the cover they could give.

Wesley and Wyndam-Pryce were already getting out of the van. It would be more to their advantage to meet his threat, if that's what it was, without already being pinned down. Giles suffered a moment of indecision, unsure whether he should with Alicia or go to Wes. Knowing the other man was in more danger, the decision made itself and Rupert scrambled over the seat and out the passenger door before Wesley could close it.

The Watchers approached quickly, two to either side of the van while Wes and Giles backed up so that they could both see Wyndam-Pryce as well.

One of them shot a confused look to the woman, who only shrugged.

"You didn't meet us," the woman began, looking to Giles as she spoke.

"The meeting isn't until later," Giles responded, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. There was something wrong with this picture, beyond the obvious, of course. "How did you find us? Why are you following?" He kept his voice calm, as if he were merely curious. A glance at his companions showed that they too were more uncomfortable than only a few moments ago.

It seemed the air was getting thick.

"Travers didn't call you?"

Rupert tried to focus on the words, but they jumbled together. Blinking against the way the world seemed to be swaying, he finally realized what was happening.

Magic.

He couldn't go for the gun, not this out in the open, not without any overt provocation. Instead, Rupert did the only thing he could. He stumbled forward, all but throwing himself at the woman. It was she who'd been speaking; she was their best bet as the caster.

The woman moved aside easily and Giles fell to his knees on the concrete.

"This is the sorcerer every one talks about?" The woman's voice was close to his ear. Giles focused on it, closing his eyes to shut out the swaying world.

"Get away from him."

Rupert couldn't be certain, but he thought the voice was Wesley's and not Wyndam-Pryce's. He wanted to speak, to tell Wes not to interfere, not to get himself hurt, but he had to concentrate. The magic pouring over him couldn't be coming from just one source; it was too strong for that. No one person, human, could contain that kind of power.

"Now this is interesting," came the woman's voice again, farther away this time, but heavy with magic. "Two Wesley Wyndam-Pryces . . . as if one weren't more than too much."

Giles knew he was being watched, knew his reflexes were too slow for a physical attack. Unfortunately, he couldn't fight that much power alone. He shuffled a little, toward the woman's voice, as if he were trying to stand. With his eyes closed, the swaying wasn't so bad.

"I recommend you stay down--" the woman's words cut off as Rupert grabbed her leg, pulling hard. There were hands on his shoulders almost at once, the woman hit the ground hard and he felt the spell evaporate.

Someone tried to restrain him, but with Giles only half-standing, they were unbalanced. Rupert dropped to his knees, throwing himself forward and pulling his attacker over. The man slid along the concrete, stopping against the tire of the van.

The sharp crack of a gunshot pulled Giles attention to Wyndam-Pryce, who was struggling with one of the Watchers. His gun lay on the ground, a few feet away. Wesley swept in, grabbing it off the ground and pointing it at the only unengaged Watcher.

"Rupert, you might want to help our friend," he said, jerking his head sharply toward Wyndam-Pryce.

A sharp smile on his face, Giles stood, shaking off the last effects of the spell and pulling the Watcher of Wyndam-Pryce. The man turned at once, fist cracking into Rupert's jaw. Before Giles could respond in kind, there was the click of hammer being drawn back.

"I'm not sure you want to piss me off by doing that again," Wyndam-Pryce growled, a .22 pressed to the back of the man's skull.

The Watcher froze.

"Are you all right?" Wes called from where he stood, never taking his eyes off his own opponent.

"Yes," Giles answered wondering where they'd find something with which to restrain the Watchers. He glanced around, found several people watching them from the gas station, and sighed. The police would be there shortly. They didn't have a lot of time. "Willow hits hard then him."

The last he said as he went to stand by Wes.

"Which is, of course, why your lip is busted," Wesley replied dryly. "So, what are we doing?"

"I'd like to talk to them. We certainly can't just leave them here." Giles threw another glance over his shoulder, watching as the people in the gas station ran about.

"The van's dead," Wyndam-Pryce reminded.

"We can take their car, but we won't be able to get all of is in it."

"Oh, I think the van will be working now," Giles commented, taking the tie of one of the unconscious Watchers and using it to bind his hands. "Wes, why don't you let Wyndam-Pryce cover the two of them while you tie them. Shove them in the van and let's get out of here. We'll worry about the rest on the road."

"You think they did something to stop the van?" Wyndam-Pryce took the 9mm that Giles offered and using that to cover the two men as Wes took their ties.

"Alicia," Rupert called as he finished tying the woman's hands. "Get the van started."

"I can't drive!" came the startled reply.

"You don't have to, just get it started." The sound of the engine turning over was music to Giles' ears.

It took them only moments to load the Watchers into the van, but the sound of sirens was getting loud. Grinning, Giles slipped behind wheel, looking to Wes.

"Do you think you can manage a color spell with Wyndam-Pryce?"

"What do you--oh . . . we'll try," Wesley replied with a strange smile of his own, slipping into the back with Alicia and his counterpart.

Giles looked at the steering wheel, shaking his head. He hadn't had to run from the police in ages, but there were some things you never forgot.

Part 36

With a squeal of tires, the van pulled off, Wes and Wyndam-Pryce chanting in the back. Rupert was thankful for the lack of anything resembling civilization. He'd never have attempted this in a crowded city.

Alicia climbed over the seat, quickly belting herself in before Giles had to tell her.

"What are they doing?" She asked, glancing into the back.

"Changing the van's color. It's a simple glamour really."

"Whoa. What about the license plate?" Alicia looked back to the road, clutching at the armrest as Rupert made a hard right turn onto a gravel road.

"That'll be next," he answered with a grin.

"Are you sure this is the right way? How are we gonna get back to the highway?"

"We'll worry about that after we lose the police. The dust will help. They may not have seen me turn. This far out, they won't be able to get a chopper on us. We only have to keep out of their sight until the spells are done." Rupert looked into the side view mirror, muttering, "It's never been that hard before."

Alicia, apparently, heard. Giles could feel her gaze boring into him, but he kept his eyes firmly on the road. The van wasn't the best of vehicles for this sort of thing, but one worked with what one had.

"You've . . . um . . . done this before?" The question was somewhere between worried and awed. Giles felt his grin widen, but tried to hold it in check.

"Never for a good cause," he chuckled, then caught Alicia's confused look and tried to wipe the smile from his face. He wasn't supposed to be even remotely enjoying this, but he couldn't deny that a little part of him was, in fact, whooping with delight. Much of that was due to nostalgia though, and those were stories Alicia wouldn't be hearing. The rest, well, even he knew it was relief. They'd all made it out alive. Regardless of what he'd told Wes, the fear of losing someone you . . . cared about, it stayed with you. "Never mind."

"How about, 'I'll pry it out of you when there aren't cops chasing us,'" the Slayer responded with a shake of her head. "Then, you'll tell me if any of that has to do with the whole 'Ripper' thing."

Giles nodded, but had no real intention of having that conversation.

Through the windshield he saw the van's coloring shift, the black lightening to brown, and then tan.

"Now the license," he called back, glancing out the side view mirror to find that the dust was too thick to see if the police were following. He couldn�t hear sirens any longer, but that meant little with the crunch of gravel so loud.

"We're on it," Wes called back, the other man's voice making him smile. It was nice to be on the right side of things for once, but the memories still pulled at him and the reminders of Ethan were strong. How could they not? Fleeing the police, using magic to hide their vehicle . . .

At least I'm sober this time around.

"Hold on," Giles warned as he spotted a break in tree line to the right and turned into it. The van bounced and shook, but did what he'd asked of it. A mile down that turn-off, he pulled the van over and listened.

"We're stopping here?" Alicia stuck her head out of the window, glancing back the way they'd come. "Aren't they going to find us?"

"Not once Wes and I ward the area," Rupert reassured the Slayer before leaning into the back. "Come one Wes, I believe we should give ourselves room to move. That will mean warding a fairly large area. We should get started."

"And what are Alicia and I supposed to do while you two are off . . . warding?" Wyndam-Pryce asked, shooting Giles a knowing glare. Even Alicia snickered.

"Wake them up and start asking them questions," Wesley suggested with a glare at Wyndam-Pryce and a nod toward the trussed up Watchers.

"Not the woman," Rupert warned, "She's the spell caster. Don't take that gag out of her mouth for anything. Ready Wesley?"

"Er, yes?"

"Good. Let's start over there." Rupert led the other man into the trees, waiting only until they were out of sight before he turned and pulled Wes in for a fierce kiss.

Wes responded immediately, their tongues sliding along one another, their bodies pressing hard and close. Giles was more then a little out of breath when he finally pulled himself away.

"We really do have to ward," he murmured against Wesley's neck before letting his tongue glide out to lick the man's salty skin. The feel of Wes in his arms was reassuring, a release for the fear he wouldn't let himself show just a short while ago. If Wyndam-Pryce's gun had landed just a little differently. If the bullet had hit . . . anyone, Wes, Alicia, him, even Wyndam-Pryce . . .

"Mmm, yes . . . uh, what, what brought on this sudden burst of passion?" Wesley pulled away only enough to meet his eyes.

Rupert smiled, running a thumb over Wes' bottom lip. He couldn't say really. There were many answers, but . . . some he wasn't ready to say aloud.

"I don't know. Perhaps the excitement of the drive?"

One of Wesley's eyebrows rose as he studied Rupert.

"Just so I understand," he finally said, "driving recklessly turns you on?"

"Something like that," Giles replied before nibbling gently at his lover's chin.

When he pulled away, he found Wes' eyes slightly glazed. The younger man shook his head, smiling.

"Please, when we get home, remind me to find a place that has bumper cars."

Giles' laugh was loud enough that Wyndam-Pryce and Alicia had probably heard it.

"We need to do the wards," Rupert said, pulling away with reluctance.

"Yes, but no one said we have to return directly after," Wesley commented with a saucy smile.

Part 37

They returned to find the van's back doors open, Alicia sitting cross-legged just inside them, slumped and worried. Wyndam-Pryce had the Watchers awake, sitting on the gravel, still tied, but only the woman gagged.

Rupert took in the Slayer's posture and Wyndam-Pryce's pacing and deduced that they'd gotten little in the way of answers.

"Have you told them what I'll do if they don't answer?" he asked, taking a casual seat next to Alicia. Wesley sent him a glance, one eyebrow raised. He must have read something on Rupert's face, because he nodded minutely and began to circle the Watchers like a shark, his eyes just as dangerous.

Giles watched him for a moment, unable to look away even though he knew Wyndam-Pryce was speaking to him. He'd never seen Wes use that expression before, never seen the man slip so easily into a part that, as far as Rupert knew, when against his very nature. He looked . . . dangerous and . . . damn sexy.

"Rupert!" Wyndam-Pryce hissed, closer than Giles had expected him to be. A little sheepish, but not so it showed, Rupert turned to look at the man, blinking casually.

"Yes?"

"I realize he's very pretty, but try to keep your mind on the matter at hand," Wyndam-Pryce growled, clearly annoyed.

"And you try to keep yourself composed," Giles shot back, never letting his annoyance show, keeping his face blank. The Watchers were all entranced by Wesley's little performance, but they all had to keep up the image and while Rupert knew he'd been caught out, so to speak, he wasn't about to let it ruin the show.

"What should we do with them?" Wesley stood behind the Watchers, purposely taking up a position where he couldn't be seen. He shot glares at both of them and Giles fought a smile.

"Well, I was going to suggest a few things, but," Giles looked to Alicia, hoping his apology was clear upon his face, "we'd need some privacy."

The young Slayer sighed, standing. "Hey, you guys get them to talk, I'm happy. I already threatened to beat the snot out of them, though. If you cut any of their balls off, start with the one on the right." With that casual remark, she jumped to the gravel and sauntered away into the trees.

Giles glanced to Wyndam-Pryce, his eyebrow near to meeting his hairline.

"He called her, and I quote, 'a snotty little bitch'," Wyndam-Pryce answered, eyes focused on the Watcher about which he was speaking.

Rupert didn't even have a chance to respond. Wesley grabbed the man by the hair, pulling hard until the man's head was bent all the way back. Looking down into that face, his own expression blank and cold, Wes growled, "did you now?"

His throat stretched to view, Giles watched the man swallow hard, but refused to speak.

Wesley studied the man for a long moment before reaching into his waistband and pulling out the gun he'd earlier retrieved.

Giles made to stand, but then thought better of it. He knew Wes, the man wouldn't do more than scare the bastard. He couldn't help the little voice that wanted him to regain control of the situation, but he could force himself to ignore it, for the moment.

"Give me a reason not to shoot you just so your friends will talk," Wesley growled, so calm and composed it was almost painful to watch, more so for Rupert who hated to see Wes put in such a position.

The Watcher stared at him, swallowing hard as the muzzle of the gun pressed against his head.

"You won't do that," commented another of the Watchers, though his eyes told a different story, flitting between Wesley's hand on the gun and his friend's head.

Rupert stood at that, giving his best Ripper smile. "Are you sure that's the case?"

The man licked his lips, glancing back to his friend with pleading eyes.

"We are Watchers," the third man commented, struggling against his bindings. "If you think we're going to let you get away with this you've got another thing coming. They won't stop sending us out. The Slayer's too important to let you corrupt her."

"What?" Wes pulled the gun back, tossing the man's head forward with just a little more force than was necessary. Giles had to bite back his approving smile, looking a question at Wyndam-Pryce.

The other man shook his head, clearly confused.

"If you think we're letting you hand her over to Wolfram & Hart, you're wrong," the man spat, still struggling though it was likely only making the knots tighter.

"What makes you think--" Giles began, only to be cut off.

"We know about the money you've been stealing!"

Giles looked once more to Wyndam-Pryce, whose face showed nothing but outrage.

"Us? You think . . . shit. They think Rupert and I . . ." the man shook his head, sitting down hard on the van's bumper. "We're not the ones you need to be after," he said with a sigh.

The Watchers wouldn't believe him of course, Giles wasn't even sure if he believed him. Was it possible that Wyndam-Pryce was playing them? Using them to get to stolen money and . . . Alicia.

Damn it all to hell.

end part 37